#i need to brainstorm !!! sob !!!

[tetzoro]

okay it’s time . i’m finally going to write a fallout au .

[iamespecter]

Screaming sobbing and crying the little circus AU is now my new favoritest thing in the world I need ALL INFORMATION about this. EVERY LITTLE DETAIL cus my brain is absolutely reeling with excitement over this

It's not a full-on AU yet, it's still stuck on the concept stage because there is not even a solidified story for it yet (although there's already some contenders that I'm brainstorming). Updates will come slow because I'm taking my time with this, and this is not even a very serious AU lmfao

Anyways here's how Pomni and Caine looks like for this crossover, trying to make them make sense in this kind of setting without getting rid of what made them who they are is... harder than initially thought

I also have a Gangle "design", but I'm VERY unhappy with how it is because it's leaning way too much into Little Nightmares monster designs and effectively erased Gangle's visual identity, which is not the point of this AU (the point is to successfully incorporate the TADC cast into the LN world with as little changes as possible, as well as amplify/twist their personalities to become their grotesque designs) so I'll have to remake her completely

I hope Zooble will be much easier to do than Gangle... ueueueueueueu..... It's always those two that are so hard to do designs of

[ssa-dado]

16 - Sapphire

Aaron Hotchner x fem!teacher!reader Genre: fluff, but mostly whump and angst Summary: Hotch loses a significant bet to you, which triggers a visit to your apartment, where he is joined by his family. While there, Hotch picks up on your relaxed demeanor and her strong connection with his son, Jack. However, he also notices the absence of her engagement ring, leading to a deep conversation about your true desires and the life you're building with your fiancé, Peter. Warnings: heartbreak, mentions of CM cases (2X12, 2X15, 2X23)... why it’s always whumptober in this blog and never kinktober? Kind of unfair Word Count: 10.5k Dado's Corner: I'm so sorry. Feel free to send hate in my inbox or in the comments, I truly deserve it this time. @c-losur3 sorry for turning one of our brainstorming sessions in such a nightmare.

masterlist

That was the very first time Hotch had ever lost a bet against you… and it wasn’t even close. 

You had finished the paperwork with time to spare, working steadily even in your own home office, while he was left scrambling to catch up. Over the years, the two of you had built a history of small wagers and playful bets, and though they never held any real stakes, this one was different. This one mattered more than any before. 

It wasn’t about solving a case, or testing each other with some trivial challenge to see who could push themselves further. This time, it was about something deeper. For Hotch, it was about holding on, about keeping you close in a way that felt necessary, almost vital. The fear of losing you again, of watching you slip out of his life like you had once before, still lingered.

And it was about the electricity between you - the undeniable chemistry, the way you seemed to spark off one another when you worked together. He missed that energy, that connection that felt so natural, like you were in perfect sync. 

He needed to win. 

But he hadn’t.

Now, as Jack’s cries filled the car on the way to your apartment, the weight of that loss settled on Aaron, heavier than he expected. His hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, his jaw clenched in frustration. Haley, sitting next to him in the passenger seat, glanced back at Jack, her brow furrowed in concern. Jack’s wails were louder now, and every minute that passed seemed to make them sharper, more strained.

“Aaron,” Haley began, her voice calm but firm, “maybe we should cancel. Jack’s been upset all evening, and I don’t want to overwhelm him, or her.”

Aaron shook his head, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "No," he muttered, quieter than usual, almost as if he were trying to convince himself. "She insisted. She already has everything prepared, and I need to pick up those reports anyway."

Haley’s lips pressed into a thin line, unconvinced, but she let it go. She knew better than to push when Aaron was like this - focused, determined. "If you’re sure…" she murmured, though her eyes lingered on Jack, who was still squirming uncomfortably in his car seat, as the rest of the drive passed in tense silence, broken only by Jack’s occasional hiccuping sobs.

By the time they reached your apartment building, Jack’s cries had escalated to full-blown sobs. Haley cast him one last pleading look, her expression full of concern. “Aaron, really. We don’t have to do this tonight.”

But Aaron wasn’t ready to turn back. "No," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. "It’s going to be okay. She’ll understand."

Haley sighed softly, holding back her reply as Aaron lifted Jack from the car seat, gently cradling him against his chest. Jack’s small fists clutched at the fabric of Aaron’s shirt, his tear-streaked face flushed from crying. He bounced him lightly, whispering soothing words, but the child remained restless.

As they approached the door, Aaron could hear your voice drifting through the hallway, warm and light as you called out to Peter. “Hun, could you grab the door, please? They should be here any minute!”

When Peter swung the door open, his usual flamboyant confidence softened in deference to Jack’s distress. He greeted Aaron with an easy smile and a firm pat on the shoulder. "Aaron, my man. And Haley, it’s so good to finally see you again," he said, his grin widening as he took her in. "You’re even more beautiful than I remember. Motherhood clearly made you glow even more."

Haley smiled warmly at him, her eyes crinkling at the compliment. "Thank you, Peter. Always the charmer. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?"

Peter’s gaze shifted to Jack, who was still fussing in his father’s arms. His expression softened with sympathy. "And this little guy must be Jack. Poor thing. Rough night, huh?"

"Yeah," Aaron replied, his voice heavy with worry as he bounced Jack gently. "He’s been restless all evening."

Peter stepped aside, waving them into the apartment. "Come on in, make yourselves comfortable. She’s just in the kitchen, pulling the focaccia out of the oven."

The moment they crossed the threshold, the rich, savory scent of freshly baked focaccia enveloped them – rosemary and olive oil mingling in the warm air. The apartment had an undeniable coziness, from the soft hum of classic rock music playing in the background. It was definetely a stark contrast to the high-pressure atmosphere of the BAU. Everything here felt softer, more lived-in, more… home.

Before Aaron could fully absorb the warmth of your cozy apartment, you appeared in the doorway like a quiet breath of ease, your presence soft and effortless. An apron hugged your waist, and oven mitts dangled from your hands, tangible proof of the care you’d woven into the evening.

Your hair, usually held in careful precision, was loosely gathered in a low ponytail, yet a few rebellious curls had slipped free, framing your flushed cheeks like gentle whispers of imperfection, stirred by the heat of the oven. Those small, defiant tendrils danced against your need for control, quiet reminders that not everything needed to be perfectly in place to feel right.

A faint dusting of flour trailed up your arm, adding to the charm of the scene, as if this place - this life - was made for comfort, for easing the burdens of the world outside.

The moment your eyes found them, your entire face lit up with a warm, welcoming smile, one filled with genuine happiness at seeing them.

It was the kind of smile that could make anyone feel at home, and after the long, tense evening, you were exactly the kind of comfort they all needed.

"Aaron, Haley! You made it!" you said brightly, hurrying over to greet them, still wearing the apron tied at your waist. "I’m so glad you’re here. Sorry, I’m a bit of a mess, been running around getting everything ready."

Aaron found himself momentarily caught off guard, taking in this unexpected side of you. You looked different - more relaxed, more at ease, and there was a warmth about you that felt… disarming. It was a side of you he wasn’t used to seeing, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to respond.

Before Aaron could say anything, Jack let out a soft whimper, and your attention immediately shifted to him. You stepped closer, your expression softening as you knelt down to his eye level, your voice warm and soothing. "Hey there, Jack," you murmured gently, the soft lighting around you adding to the calmness in your tone. "What’s going on, little guy? What’s got you so upset?"

Jack’s sniffling continued, his tiny fists clutching his stuffed pine marten tightly, his wide, teary eyes staring up at you. For a moment, it seemed like he might burst into fresh sobs, but then something shifted.

The moment he heard your voice, his breathing slowed, his cries softened. His wide gaze remained fixed on you, and Aaron could feel the change, too - he could feel the tension slowly melting away from Jack’s little body as he began to calm down.

You smiled softly at Jack, your touch featherlight as you gently brushed your fingers over the plush toy in his hands. "Oh, the kuna," you said with a soft chuckle, glancing up at Aaron with a teasing glint in your eyes. "You weren’t kidding when you told me this was his best friend, huh?"

Aaron let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, the weight of the evening’s stress finally beginning to lift. Jack’s tears had stopped, his body visibly more relaxed in his arms. He offered you a small, grateful smile. “Yeah,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of relief and exhaustion. "He doesn’t go anywhere without it."

Haley, standing off to the side, watched the scene unfold with wide eyes, her surprise evident as she took in how quickly Jack had settled in your presence. "Wow," she breathed, her voice low, almost in disbelief. "I’ve never seen him calm down that fast… not with anyone but Aaron."

Jack, now much calmer, gazed up at you with wide, curious eyes, his small body melting fully against Aaron’s chest. His tight grip on his father’s shirt loosened, his fingers relaxing around the kuna. You reached out gently, wiping away the last of his stray tears with a tender touch, your smile comforting and soft. “There we go, little guy,” you whispered. “All better now, huh?”

Peter, who had been leaning casually against the doorway, watching the interaction unfold with a knowing smile, let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "You’ve got the magic touch, babe," he said, a teasing note in his voice, though the admiration in his eyes was real.

Peter crossed his arms, shooting Aaron a meaningful glance, his eyebrows raised. "Didn’t I tell you? She has a gift with kids."

Aaron, still processing how quickly Jack had settled down, offered a brief, tight smile, nodding slightly as his gaze flickered between you and Peter. Before he could respond, Peter’s expression softened, and he turned back to you with a more sincere smile. "You’d be such a good mom," he added, his voice full of affection.

For a moment, the comment hung in the air. You hesitated, the briefest flicker of emotion crossing your face before you waved it off with a casual smile. "Thanks, Peter," you said lightly, though there was a slight tremor in your smile that Aaron didn’t miss. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

Peter chuckled softly, though the warmth behind his teasing was unmistakable. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”

With that, the evening eased into a rhythm that felt unexpectedly comfortable. Dinner was light and full of conversation, the kind that once flowed effortlessly between you and Hotch when you worked side by side. Aaron found himself watching you throughout the meal- studying your movements, catching glimpses of the person he knew so well but with subtle changes that felt unfamiliar.

That’s when he noticed.

Your engagement ring - it wasn’t there.

At first, Aaron told himself it was nothing. You might have taken it off to cook, or maybe it was being cleaned. But the more he observed, the more that small detail began to gnaw at him. Each time you reached for a dish or gestured as you spoke, your hand moved effortlessly, with no absentminded fidgeting or reaching for the ring that wasn’t on your finger.

If you had just taken it off for cooking, you would feel the absence. He knew that. But you didn’t, and that unsettled him even more.

The absence of that ring started to weigh on him, a small but heavy knot in his chest.

Peter, still unaware, smiled at you from across the table as he finished his drink. “We’ve been talking about it,” he said, his tone casual but with an underlying seriousness. “Maybe it’s time we think about having one of our own, you know?”

The words hit Aaron like a punch to the chest.

Every time he’d seen Peter since that night at the bar, his conviction grew stronger: Peter wasn’t right for you. But Hotch’s face remained composed; years of masking his emotions had made him an expert at keeping his true feelings hidden. His jaw tightened slightly, but outwardly, he stayed calm, choosing instead to focus on your reaction, watching closely for any sign of how you really felt.

You deflected with ease, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you glanced at Jack, who was happily babbling, completely at ease. “Jack’s an angel,” you said, smiling warmly. “But I don’t think he looks a thing like his father.”

The table shared a brief laugh, including Haley, who leaned over to rub Jack’s tiny back affectionately. "He definitely has his own little personality," she said with a smile. "But sometimes, he has that same intense stare as Aaron."

But Aaron didn’t join in the laughter. He was too focused on you - on the way you had brushed off Peter’s comment, your laugh just a little too quick, your deflection a little too smooth. He’d seen it a few times tonight, how you dodged certain topics, especially whenever Peter mentioned anything about the future. Something was off, and Hotch couldn’t ignore the way it gnawed at him.

After a while, the conversation drifted, as it often did when you were involved, to philosophy. Your eyes brightened as you began to speak about Plato, a passion filling your voice that seemed to draw everyone in.

"Fun fact," you began, your voice soft but deliberate, a small smile playing at your lips, "Plato believed that the world we live in is only a shadow, a reflection of something far more perfect. Everything we see, everything we touch, it’s just an echo of its true essence."

You glanced around the table, your eyes lighting up as you continued. "Imagine love," you said, your voice growing more poetic, "the love we feel here in this world is beautiful, yes, but it’s fleeting, imperfect. It can break, it can fade. Plato thought there was an eternal, perfect form of love - pure, unchanging. A love that exists beyond us, untouched by time or pain, an ideal we can only glimpse in brief moments."

As you spoke, your words seemed to hang in the air, captivating the room. Aaron couldn’t help but watch you intently, remembering how your passion for philosophy had always been so infectious. Even though part of him had once joked about its "abstract nonsense," he couldn’t deny how your enthusiasm pulled him in.

He felt the weight of your words, particularly the way you described love - an ideal so perfect that it almost seemed unreachable, a reflection of something distant and far from the everyday struggles of life.

You paused, letting the thought settle before continuing. "What we see here - whether it’s a chair, a focaccia, or love itself - are just shadows of something greater, something more real. In Plato’s realm of forms, that perfect love is waiting, eternal and untouched. It's something we can strive for, something we can long for, but never fully possess."

Peter, leaning back in his chair with a grin, shook his head lightly. "Only you could make Plato sound like a romantic," he teased, though his voice held a certain warmth, clearly caught in the flow of your words.

You returned the smile but didn’t stop, a deeper reverence creeping into your tone. "In a way, he was a romantic. Plato believed our souls long for that perfection, for the beauty and truth that we can only find in glimpses here. Every love we feel, every connection we make, it’s just a reflection of something pure that exists beyond our reach. But it’s that longing, that striving for the ideal, that gives love its meaning. Without that yearning, what would love be?"

Your words trailed off as Aaron, now smirking to himself, leaned closer to Jack. With a playful, conspiratorial tone, he whispered softly, “Jack, she said Plato,” his grin widening. He watched Jack closely, half-expecting his son to remember their little “deal” - to cry on cue at the mention of those philosophical names.

But Jack didn’t cry.

Instead, he stared up at you with wide, mesmerized eyes, his tiny face full of wonder and curiosity. It was as though, in that moment, Jack understood every word you were saying. His focus was absolute, his gaze unwavering, as if your voice held the answers to questions far beyond his grasp. For a one-year-old, it was almost eerie how captivated he seemed, his little brow furrowed in concentration, as if he were pondering Plato’s theory of forms alongside you.

Hotch stifled a chuckle under his breath, shaking his head.

So much for their plan. Jack was clearly enchanted.

Noticing Jack’s fascination, you paused, your expression softening as you leaned slightly toward him, your voice gentle and warm. “Oh, are you interested in Plato, buddy?” you teased, your smile widening as you addressed him like he was the only person in the room. “Looks like we’ve got a future philosopher on our hands. Aaron, are you sure he’s your son?”

Haley burst out laughing, covering her mouth as she tried to contain her amusement, and Peter joined in, shaking his head with a playful grin. "You might need to get him a children’s book on philosophy at this rate," Peter added, glancing at Jack. "He’s already hooked.”

Without missing a beat, you and Aaron spoke at the exact same time, your voices overlapping in perfect unison. “Hegel for babies.”

The way you and him had responded in sync, without hesitation, brought a rush of nostalgia for him. It was like stepping back in time, reminding him of all the moments you’ve always shared especially at work, finishing each other’s thoughts, operating with an effortless rhythm that required no words. That connection, that familiar flow between you, was still there, ready to rise to the surface as if nothing had changed.

But something had changed.

Even as Aaron enjoyed the easy moment, his mind couldn’t let go of the puzzle forming around you and Peter. Throughout the night, he kept discreetly watching, searching for subtle signals - anything to explain the absence of your engagement ring.

Aaron’s eyes darted between you and Peter, watching your interactions closely. Was it strained? Were you keeping something hidden behind those well-rehearsed smiles? The more he observed, the deeper his suspicion grew. The playful banter with him felt easy, real, but with Peter, there was a distance, subtle but present.

---

After dinner, as Peter and Haley’s laughter echoed faintly from the living room, you led Aaron into your office to collect the files. The space between you was tense, charged with everything unspoken that had been simmering throughout the evening. As Aaron followed in silence, his mind churned, trying to reconcile the image of you with the life you said you wanted.

Then he saw it.

Your engagement ring.

Sitting on the desk, carelessly placed beside a stack of papers, as though it were something you had tossed aside without a second thought.

For a moment, Aaron said nothing, his eyes fixed on the small band. His heart sank as everything he’d been suspecting solidified. He had convinced himself earlier that maybe you had taken it off for some practical reason, but now, seeing it here, forgotten or abandoned - it wasn’t just off.

It was discarded.

His pulse quickened. He could no longer avoid the truth staring back at him.

“You know,” Aaron began softly, the weight of his words heavier than he anticipated, “even though I didn’t win the bet, the offer is still on the table.”

You glanced up sharply, startled by the quiet intensity in his voice. A flicker of something -uncertainty, fear - crossed your face before you could mask it.

Your hands gripped the edge of the papers on your desk, as if trying to ground yourself in the familiar. “Aaron, we’ve been through this,” you replied, your voice steady but not as confident as you intended. “Teaching at the academy... it’s the only way I can settle down. With Peter, I can finally have a normal life. It’s what I need.”

The words fell from your lips, practiced, deliberate - but hollow. Even as you said them, they felt rehearsed. There was a tremor beneath them, a quiver that Hotch could sense immediately.

He didn’t need to be a profiler to see the cracks forming.

He stepped closer, his eyes unwavering as he searched yours. “Is that what you really want?” His voice was gentle, but there was no mistaking the depth behind his question. He wasn’t asking for surface-level answers anymore. He was asking for the truth, the one you’d been avoiding, even from yourself.

You bristled at the question, standing taller as if the extra inches could shield you from the vulnerability creeping up on you. “Aaron, I’ve made my decision,” you said, more forcefully this time, crossing your arms over your chest, protecting yourself. “Teaching is a stable job. Peter and I... we can have a life together. A normal life. Isn’t that what everyone wants?”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating, as if the air itself had become too dense to breathe. Aaron’s gaze never left yours, piercing through the fragile facade you were clinging to. His eyes flicked down to the ring on the desk, lying there unwanted, untouched, as if even the symbol of this so-called “normal life” didn’t quite fit into the image you were trying to present.

And in that silence, he realized it fully: you were living a life constructed from rehearsed lines and half-truths. Your answer to him was almost identical to the one you had given earlier, only reworded, as if the questions he asked were catching you off guard, pushing you off the script you’d so carefully crafted.

Aaron would have let it slide if you’d been able to offer him some real, grounded reason for choosing teaching over the BAU. He might have accepted your words if you had taken a moment to explain why you needed distance from the relentless horrors of the cases, how the endless cycle of darkness had begun to wear on you, or even how teaching offered you a different kind of purpose, a safer way to make a difference.

But you hadn’t said any of that.

You hadn’t shared anything deeper.

It was as if you couldn’t bring yourself to commit to this life you claimed to want.

And then, of course, there was Peter.

If you’d taken a moment to talk about the life you were building together, if you had described it with real conviction - if you’d said that you wanted to marry him, that you wanted to have a family with him, that the ring lying unworn on the desk was a symbol of a future you were ready to embrace - maybe then Aaron would have believed you.

But you hadn’t.

Not now, and not at any point during the evening. Every time Peter was mentioned, every time the conversation grazed the topic of your future, you deflected. You laughed it off, offering vague, safe answers as if uttering anything more concrete might break the fragile illusion you had constructed for yourself. It was as though speaking those words aloud would make you confront a truth you weren’t ready to face.

You had spent the entire night avoiding anything real, anything that would force you to look at the choices you’d made, at the life you were building with Peter, and the pieces of yourself you were leaving behind.

If this life with Peter was truly what you wanted, then where was the passion, the excitement? Where were the words that could solidify the direction you were headed?

Every evasion, every empty laugh, only confirmed what Aaron already knew. This wasn’t the future you were running toward with open arms.

It was a future you were trying to convince yourself to accept.

The ring on the desk was more than just an oversight, it was a symbol of the disconnect between what you were choosing and what you truly wanted.

And he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“You hate your ring,” Aaron said quietly, his voice cutting through the thick silence that had settled between you. The words landed softly but cut through your defenses, each syllable chipping away at the fragile wall you’d so carefully built.

You stiffened, feeling the accusation burrow into you, your immediate response flaring with anger as you struggled to keep him from breaking through. “Excuse me?” you snapped, the words sharp, but your tone betrayed you, there was a quiver of uncertainty. You felt a wave of panic ripple through you as the walls closed in, as if the room itself were shrinking around you.

Aaron took a step closer, his gaze steady, his voice calm but laced with a gentleness that almost made his words sound like an offering. “You hate it,” he repeated, as if handing you a lifeline, as if he were daring you to take it. “And it’s not just because you took it off to cook or forgot to put it back on. You’ve been taking it off more and more, haven’t you? Because every time you look at it, every time you wear it, it feels… wrong.”

You forced a laugh, trying to brush it off, to slip back into that casual, deflective tone that had worked so well all evening. “Aaron, it’s just a ring-”

“No, it’s not,” he interrupted, his voice firmer, yet still soft, his gaze holding yours, unwavering. He took another step closer, so close now that you could see the resolve etched into his face, the sadness lingering in his eyes. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe a single word of what you just said.”

Your breath caught, the air suddenly thick, pressing down on you as his words struck deep. His expression softened, his voice dropping almost to a whisper, yet it carried a quiet strength that made you feel exposed, vulnerable.

“It’s not just a ring to you,” he said, his tone so gentle it nearly unraveled you. “Nothing is ever ‘just something’ with you. You find meaning in everything. That’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you. It’s the way you look at the world, every little thing matters. You give meaning to things others would overlook, sometimes things they’d never notice. You find depth where others would only see the surface.”

You felt his words dig into you, reaching parts you had tried to bury beneath practicality, beneath a life you had convinced yourself you wanted. He wasn’t letting you hide, wasn’t letting you deflect with empty words or rehearsed responses.

“Even tonight,” he continued, his voice taking on a quiet, reflective tone. “When you spoke about Plato, about the meaning of love through his forms, you weren’t just talking about philosophy. You were talking about yourself. You said the love we feel in this world is a shadow, a reflection of something perfect we can never fully reach. You spoke of it as if you were making excuses for why your love with Peter could be flawed, imperfect, why it could never be what you long for deep down. It was like you were giving yourself permission to settle for less than what you truly want.”

His gaze held you, steady and unyielding, and you felt your defenses slipping, cracking under the weight of his words. He took a breath, and you could see the intensity in his eyes, the way he was letting his own walls down, the way he was stepping into a vulnerability he hadn’t allowed himself in years.

“I’m not a philosopher, I will never be a philosopher,” he said softly, his voice carrying a depth of sincerity that felt like a confession, “but I remembered every word. And I couldn’t agree more when you said that it’s the longing, the striving for the ideal, that gives love its meaning. You said it yourself, ‘Without that yearning, what would love be?’ So tell me-”

He continued, his voice steady, yet filled with a quiet urgency, “are you really reaching for something true, something that reflects that ideal, or are you just convincing yourself to accept a love that’s flawed because you think that’s all you’re going to get? Are you settling for something safe because it’s easier than admitting you might want something more?”

He paused, his words hanging heavily in the air, his eyes searching yours, cutting through every excuse, every half-truth you’d told yourself. “I know you, and I know that nothing is ever ‘just something’ to you. Not love, not life, not death and certainly not this ring.”

Your hands trembled slightly, and you quickly folded them over your chest, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t want to talk about this,” you whispered, the words barely audible, but the trembling in your voice betrayed the flood of emotions swelling up, threatening to break through.

But Aaron didn’t stop.

He saw the tiny cracks forming, the way you were beginning to buckle under the weight of the truth. He recognized it - the way someone’s guard began to fall when they were too close to a truth they weren’t ready to confront. He had seen it so many times before, sitting across from suspects, unsubs. But this time, it was you, and that difference made this moment more personal, more agonizing than any interrogation he’d ever conducted.

He softened his tone, but his words were as precise and cutting as ever, his profiler instincts turned on you, searching, pushing. “You took it off because it’s become something foreign to you. ” he continued, the words gentle but relentless. “It’s been weighing you down ever since that night at the bar, when Peter overstepped your boundaries.”

The room felt impossibly small as his words hung between you. The memory of that night surged forward - Peter’s laughter, his casual dismissal of your privacy, turning it into something public, something you hadn’t even shared with the people closest to you. He had humiliated you, and you had buried the hurt because that’s what you always did.

“Aaron, stop-” you pleaded, your voice shaking.

But he pressed on, the profiler in him pushing past the walls you had built. “He outed you in front of the team. In front of people who, at that point, were practically strangers to you. For a story. And you didn’t confront him about it, did you? You let it go, just like you’ve been letting so many things go.”

You felt the weight of his words press down on you, your breath coming in shallow bursts as you turned away from him, gripping the back of your chair, desperate for something solid, something to hold onto. “We talked about it,” you said, but even to your own ears, the words sounded hollow, a poor attempt at keeping the cracks from widening.

“No, you didn’t,” Aaron countered, his voice low but unyielding, filled with quiet conviction. “You accepted his apology because it was easier than having the fight you needed to have. And honestly, Peter didn’t even know why what he did was wrong, did he? I had to point it out to him when we were alone at the bar, otherwise, he wouldn’t have noticed. He wouldn’t have realized how deeply he crossed your boundaries, how it made you feel. And now you’re standing here trying to convince yourself that this” he gestured toward the ring on the desk, discarded like something forgotten "is fine. That it’s just a piece of jewelry. But it’s not, and you know that.”

You felt the burn of frustration bubbling up inside you, your composure slipping, but it wasn’t just anger anymore. Beneath the frustration, there was a raw, unspoken hurt that you had kept buried for too long. It was beginning to surface, clawing its way to the forefront, and you couldn’t stop it. “Aaron, you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” you bit out, your voice sharp with desperation, your hands tightening into fists.

But Hotch didn’t back down. He stepped closer, his voice steady, yet full of conviction, a quiet determination that refused to let you retreat. “I know you better than you think,” he said, his eyes softened, but there was still that relentless force behind his words, the same precision he used when interrogating someone, when he was peeling back layers to get to the truth. “I’ve known you for years. I’ve watched you. I know how you move through the world, how you give meaning to things, how you choose things carefully, with intention. I know that Peter gives gifts that are meant to impress people, not you.”

You blinked, feeling your throat tighten further as you fought to hold back tears, but Hotch kept going, his words unraveling every defense you had put up.

He gestured toward the ring, his gaze unwavering, holding yours with a quiet intensity. “That ring? A thin band to make the stone look bigger than it is. -

It’s flashy.

It draws attention, but it’s not elegant.

It’s not thoughtful. -

It’s not you. You would have never chosen that ring for yourself. It doesn’t fit your style - yours is subtle, refined, timeless. You wear things that hold meaning, things that blend seamlessly into who you are. You need something sturdy, something with a thicker band, something that won’t get in the way because you use your hands every day.”

He took a step closer, his words steady, unraveling each piece of the life you’d convinced yourself you wanted. “You’re always writing, always creating, whether it’s notes for your students or lesson plans, or even cooking for yourself at home. You never thought you’d have time for hobbies, but now you’ve found them. You’ve grown, and you need something that can grow with you. He didn’t think about that, about how your hands are more than just hands. They’re an extension of you, of how you express yourself, how you care for others. You pour yourself into everything you do, with a quiet grace that’s always been there and that I’ve always loved about you.”

Hotch’s voice softened, though the conviction in it remained. “We’ve exchanged letters for years - six, to be exact. I’ve watched how, in those letters, your handwriting changes. I know when you let the ink smudge, it’s because the topic is close to you, and you can barely keep up with the pace of your thoughts. You don’t just write; it’s a way for you to let your true feelings flow, to put something of yourself onto the page. You need a ring that reflects that, one that fits the life you’ve built - not something that just looks good, not something that’s just there to be seen.”

His voice softened as he stepped closer still, his gaze locked on yours, searching your face. “That ring, it’s not practical for you. And Peter didn’t even think about that, did he? He didn’t think about how you would wear it every day, how you would feel with it on your finger. He chose something that would look impressive to other people, not something that would make you feel at home in it. And it’s not even your favorite stone, is it?”

You froze, your breath catching in your chest as his words hit you harder than you were prepared for. Your heart pounded in your ears, the weight of the truth pressing down on you, suffocating.

“You don’t even know what my favorite stone is,” you whispered, your voice so quiet, so fragile it barely broke the silence. The words were almost a plea, a final attempt to keep some distance between you and the truth he was forcing you to face.

“Yes, I do.” Aaron’s voice was soft, but the conviction in it was unshakeable.

“It’s sapphire.

Dark blue.

The exact shade of the ink you’ve used for years, the ink you wrote every single letter to me with.”

Your heart stuttered, the breath catching in your throat as his words hit something deep inside you, a place you hadn’t let anyone reach in a long time. You felt your hands tremble, and for the first time that night, you truly looked at him - saw him in a way you had been avoiding all evening.

His gaze was locked on yours, steady, relentless, and beneath the surface of his calm, you saw something raw. Something vulnerable. It was a part of him you hadn’t allowed yourself to see for years.

He wasn’t finished. His voice softened, like he was admitting something that had been buried inside for too long. “That color… it’s the only color you allowed yourself to have, especially at work. I’ve never seen you wear anything but black, except for the day you gave that guest lecture in Quantico. You showed up at the BAU afterward, after all those years of just exchanging letters, and you were wearing a light blue shirt.” His eyes flickered, a ghost of a memory crossing his face. “That’s when I realized. You used that color, blue, for everything that mattered. Everything personal. You made sure to keep it close to you, like it was a part of who you are.”

Your throat tightened, emotion pressing down on your chest like a heavy weight, and you couldn’t stop the memories from flooding back.

“Even when I gave you the anniversary pen,” Hotch continued, stepping closer, his gaze never wavering from yours, “the one I bought for you to commemorate the 200th day you failed to beat me to the office - you didn’t use it once for your everyday reports, did you? After a while, I noticed the ink in the pen was lighter than what you usually used. It wasn’t your blue.”

You swallowed hard, your voice failing you as he kept going, each word peeling back a layer of your defenses.

“But you still wrote with it,” Hotch said, taking another step toward you. “Maybe not for everything, but for the things that really mattered. Like my wedding speech… you wrote that with the pen I gave you. And it ran out of ink right at the last sentence. But you didn’t throw it away, even when it ran dry, did you?”

He glanced at the pen sitting on your desk, displayed carefully like an artifact from another time. His voice dropped, almost reverent. “It’s still here. You kept it, not because of its value, not because of how it looks, but because of what it represents. That pen means something to you, something personal.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle, and then his eyes flickered to the engagement ring sitting on the desk, gleaming in the dim light. “But that ring? It doesn’t mean the same thing to you, does it? You don’t keep it with the same care, the same tenderness. It doesn’t feel personal. It doesn’t feel like yours.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you were frozen, unable to move as his words sunk in. How had he noticed? How had he known? You had never consciously thought about it, but it was true. The color blue, it was the only piece of yourself you allowed into the world. It was a quiet reflection of who you were.

Dark blue ink.

A light blue shirt.

And now, with that ring, none of it felt right.

“What do you think you’re doing, Aaron?” Your voice wavered, your tone fragile and desperate as you tried to find solid ground beneath you. The weight of the conversation pressed down on you like a vice, tightening with every word he spoke. “Why are you saying all of this?”

Hotch stepped even closer, his voice filled with something heavy, something undeniable. “Because I care about you. Because I want you to be happy, just like you told me once, years ago. You told me I deserved happiness, and now it’s my turn to say it to you. You won’t be happy with Peter. Not really.”

His words hit you like a blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You swallowed hard, trying to push the emotions back down, trying to keep your voice steady. “You can’t talk to me about my happiness, Aaron. You’ve found yours. You have Haley, you have Jack. You don’t get to tell me what will or won’t make me happy.”

Aaron’s expression darkened, an intensity flickering in his eyes that took you off guard. His voice dropped, and it was filled with an emotion you hadn’t seen in him in years, something raw and unguarded. “Is that what you really think? That I have it all figured out? Do you want to know why I care so much about you being truly happy? Why I can’t bear to watch you waste your life with someone who doesn’t see you? You really want to go there now?”

You straightened, your defenses rising, your voice sharp as you threw the challenge back at him. “Yes, I do.”

The room fell into a tense, charged silence, a storm of unspoken words swirling between you, years of carefully avoided feelings suddenly laid bare. The air felt thick, heavy with everything you’d both been too afraid to say. And then, quietly, Hotch spoke the words that would change everything, words that broke through every wall you had built, that shattered the careful balance you had clung to for so long.

“I loved you.”

The words lingered, quiet yet devastating, tearing through you with a force that left you breathless. You could feel your heart splinter, every emotion you’d tried to bury rising to the surface, raw and exposed. You had spent so long convincing yourself that he had moved on, that you had made the right choice all those years ago. But here he was, laying everything bare, pulling back the curtain on a truth you hadn’t allowed yourself to imagine.

But he wasn’t finished.

“I loved you,” Aaron repeated, his voice soft, almost broken, like a man confessing to something he’d kept buried for too long. "I’ve loved you for years.”

The silence between you was deafening, the only sound your ragged breath as the weight of his words settled in your chest like a heavy stone. The pain that had been festering for years, the doubts, the regrets, they all surged to the surface at once. And before you could stop yourself, the words came spilling out, raw and trembling.

“You loved me?” you breathed, disbelief trembling on your lips before it hardened into something sharper. Years of hurt and anger bubbled up, mixing with the grief you’d buried for so long. “You loved me?”

Aaron’s eyes searched yours, and you saw the flicker of pain, the vulnerability in his gaze. But it wasn’t enough. Not after everything.

“You want to talk about love, Aaron?” Your voice cracked, the weight of eight years of silence breaking apart, spilling out as though you couldn’t contain it any longer. “The reason I took that job abroad was because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I needed to run from you, from us. I left everyone I knew, everything I loved, and threw myself into a life where I had to start over, day after day. I thought that maybe if I was far enough away, if I was alone enough, I could forget what we could have been. That maybe, somehow, I could leave all the ‘what-ifs’ behind. But it didn’t work. It never worked. It just made it hurt worse.”

Aaron flinched, his face tight with pain, absorbing each word like a fresh wound, but you pressed on, the anger burning in your chest, spilling over.

“And do you know what the worst part was?” Your voice cracked, thick with emotion. “It was your letters, Aaron. -

I lived only to read your letters.

They were my lifeline. Every time I saw your handwriting, it was like being reminded all over again of what we could have had. I read them over and over, hoping that maybe they’d help me remember why I’d made this sacrifice in the first place. But they only made it worse. Every letter, every single one, was a reminder of what I’d lost. And all I could think was, what did we really gain? What did all of this sacrifice really bring us?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, the words pouring out, your voice rough with unshed pain. “I loved working at the BAU. I built my entire life around it, Aaron. That job was my purpose, and I left it because of you. I spent years in Europe, moving from one city to the next, trying to outrun everything that reminded me of us. But as soon as I felt at home somewhere, it would all come flooding back - the memories, the regrets. I’d lie awake at night, wondering what we’d lost, what we’d thrown away. And then, eventually, I stopped. I had to stop. I couldn’t keep living on the hope of what might have been. That’s when I let Peter in, when I started to believe that maybe I could make a new kind of happiness. Not the one I’d dreamed of, but a real one, grounded and steady.”

Hotch’s expression shattered, but you didn’t stop.

You couldn’t.

“You think you know what love is?” you spat, your voice trembling. “I loved you more than I loved myself. I tore myself apart for you because I thought you’d be better off. I walked away because I wanted you to be happy, and I’ve never regretted it, I would choose your happiness over mine, every time. So don’t you dare stand here, six years later, and tell me you loved me. I’m over you, Aaron. I’ve been over you, for a long time now.”

Hotch looked as though he had been struck, his face etched with anguish, and for a moment, it seemed like he might crumble. His voice, when he finally spoke, was rough, barely above a whisper. “You loved me that much… and you just walked away?”

“Yes,” you continued, your voice hoarse with emotion. “I loved you enough to let you go. Now, Aaron, it’s your turn. Let me go.”

Hotch’s face crumpled, the pain in his expression morphing into something raw, almost desperate. His voice rose, his frustration breaking through, spilling out in waves. “But you’re still living a lie! You sacrificed yourself for me, and now you’re doing the same with Peter. You’re going to settle for a life that doesn’t make you happy because you think it’s what you need? You deserve more than this!”

The anger surged up, hot and fierce, and you stepped closer, your eyes flashing. “You don’t get to tell me what I deserve. You think Peter is less? You think I don’t know what I’m doing? I made my choice, Aaron. I’ve built a life with him, and you don’t get to judge that.”

He shook his head, his voice rough and bitter, the frustration rolling off him in waves. “He doesn’t know you like I do. He doesn’t see you the way I do. He doesn’t know how your mind works, how you pour yourself into everything you do, how you can’t sit still in a world that asks for mediocrity. You were never meant to live a quiet life in some corner of the world, pretending to be content with something less. You’ve always needed more. You deserve more.”

His voice thickened with emotion, his gaze hardening as if the truth of his words hurt him as much as it hurt you. “You deserve someone who understands that. Someone who knows you’re not the type to settle. You need someone who’s willing to love you fully, the way you deserve - someone who can see the fire in you and fan it, not extinguish it. Peter doesn’t see that in you. He can’t give you that.”

Aaron’s voice cracked, his frustration spilling into something closer to anguish. “You deserve someone who’s willing to love you as fiercely as I did back then, someone who truly understands how much you’re worth and knows the lengths you’ll go to just to be understood. You deserve someone who sees the way you challenge the world, who knows how hard you fight, and respects every bit of that fire in you.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his voice breaking with the weight of what he was saying. “You were strong enough to walk away all those years ago, to tear yourself apart so that I could have the life you thought I deserved. And if you were brave enough to do that, then you should be strong enough now to stop lying to yourself. You’re pretending, trying to convince yourself that settling with Peter is what you want. But it’s not who you are, and it never will be. You’re not the type to choose a life that asks you to be less than everything you’re capable of being.”

He took a breath, his eyes dark, intense, his voice a mix of longing and frustration. "I know you. Better than you know yourself right now."

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself to stay steady, your voice low, laced with fury. “You think you’re better than Peter because you didn’t overstep my physical boundaries? You’re wrong, Aaron. Right now, you’re worse, you’re overstepping my emotional boundaries - I asked you to stop but you didn’t listen, not even once. You lost the right to tell me how to live my life the moment we walked away from each other. If you can’t respect that, if you can’t let me go, then I’ll make sure to erase myself from your life.”

His face crumpled, his hands trembling at his sides, his entire body taut with the force of everything he was holding back. He looked like he was going to break, like he was fighting a battle that he knew he was losing. He took a step back, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted you to be happy,” he choked out, his eyes meeting yours, raw, vulnerable. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

His words tore through you, unraveling something deep inside. You saw the sincerity in his gaze, the desperation, the sadness. He looked at you one last time, his eyes lingering as if trying to memorize everything, his face filled with a pain that was almost unbearable to witness.

Finally, he turned to the door, his movements stiff, almost mechanical. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, his back to you, and for a moment, you thought he might turn around, that he might say something else, that he might reach out, one last time, to change everything. But he didn’t.

“If that’s what you want,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. “If you want me to let go, them -

I’ll let you go.”

---

Hotch hadn’t heard from you since that night.

The night that left him feeling hollow, stripped bare like a man exposed to a storm he’d never anticipated.

He replayed the words you’d spoken, over and over, each one twisting deeper like a knife, carving wounds he had no way of healing. You’d been his last constant, the one person who had seen him fully, who had known the side of him he kept hidden from everyone else.

Now, you were truly gone, more distant than you had ever been, even when the Atlantic had separated you. There would be no more letters, no careful, handwritten notes, no familiar roughness of paper bearing your looping, blue-inked script, only the echoes of what you’d shared, remnants of a partnership and friendship torn away from him.

And the pain of losing you was so much deeper because you were the one person he never thought would leave.

He was already disappointing Haley on the daily basis, failing to be the husband she deserves as he chose the demands of his work over the family they’ve always dreamed of. The guilt over Jack haunted him daily - the missed milestones, the countless nights he’d spent in hotel rooms instead of by his son’s side.

He had come to accept that his choices had cost him more than he’d ever anticipated, that his absences had created a rift in his family he could never fully mend. But you… you were the one person he’d believed would always stay, the one person who had somehow seen past the darkness and chosen to stand beside him.

And now, you had stepped away too.

The realization struck him with a weight so heavy it almost brought him to his knees. You, who had known him better than anyone, who had been his friend, his confidant, his solace through all of it, were now just a memory.

In some ways, it felt like the final blow, the one that shattered whatever hope he’d clung to that he might still have someone by his side who truly understood.

You had been his last anchor, and without you, he felt adrift, more alone than he ever had before. The pain of it made everything else - the failures, the regrets - seem even sharper, a brutal reminder that he had pushed away the very people who had mattered most.

And now, there was no going back.

With you gone, the work was all he had left to cling to.

But every moment he spent trying to bury himself in case files and late-night profiles only reminded him of what he’d lost. More and more, he found himself imagining how different things might have been if you had stayed - if that night, instead of saying goodbye, you’d agreed to return to the BAU, to stand by his side once more.

How the team would have flourished with your presence, how your calm confidence and unyielding strength would have held them together, even as they all faced their own private battles. And how he, too, would have found a sense of solace, knowing that his partner, his confidant, his best friend, his lost love was there to share the burdens he carried.

In the months since you left, Hotch had watched his team begin to fracture.

Derek, always the strongest among them, had been forced to confront the ghosts of his past. Hotch saw the hurt in Derek’s eyes, the way he hid behind a mask, shielding himself from those who reached out to help. Hotch had tried to be there, to offer words of comfort, but each time he spoke, he felt the words fall flat, hollow, unable to bridge the distance between them.

He knew you would have known what to say, that you would have sat beside Derek and quietly drawn him out, helping him face his pain. Nights after, Hotch would lie awake, wishing he could call you, just to hear your voice, to ask you what he should do.

But he couldn’t.

You weren’t there to reassure him, to guide him, to help him carry the weight he so often bore alone.

And now, you would never be there again for him.

Then there was Reid.

He would never forget the hollow look in Reid’s eyes after his abduction, the way he seemed almost lost, his usual sharp mind clouded with a fear and vulnerability that shattered Hotch’s heart. Reid had always been their anchor, his intellect a shield against the horrors they faced. But that shield had cracked, and Hotch found himself struggling to help Reid rebuild, to provide the guidance Reid so desperately needed.

He knew you would have understood Reid’s pain in a way Hotch simply couldn’t. He could picture how you’d take Reid aside, your quiet, wise words full of empathy, your presence soothing the rawness of his wounds. You would have known exactly what to say, using your own intellect to help rebuild his, weaving in those philosophical insights Reid cherished so much. You had a way of reaching him, grounding him with calm understanding, and speaking to him on a deeper, metaphysical level that only you could.

Without you, Hotch felt helpless, as though he were failing the very people he’d promised to protect.

And then there was Gideon.

Watching Gideon unravel had been like staring into a mirror, reflecting a grief Hotch knew all too well.

Gideon, the man who had faced countless horrors, who had weathered storms that would have broken anyone else, had finally crumbled under the weight of his own loss. Frank’s cruelty had robbed him of Sarah, just as Hotch had been robbed of you. He could see himself in Gideon’s brokenness, could feel the pain that Gideon bore in silence, the same pain that now echoed in his own heart.

You and Gideon had both been his beacons, the ones who had filled the shadows with a light he clung to, and now, with both of you gone, he was left to navigate the darkness alone.

He was left to stumble through the darkness, to fight battles he was no longer sure he could win, knowing that the one person who had truly known him, who had quietly loved him even when he couldn’t love himself, was gone.

Each case, each crime scene was a reminder of all the moments you’d shared, of the life you’d built together, only to watch it crumble. He clung to the hope that somehow, some way, he could find you again, that the life you’d left behind would come back to him. But deep down, he knew that hope was just another ghost, haunting him, whispering of things that might have been.

And now, standing in Strauss’s office, the weight of it all pressed down on him, so heavy he thought it might break him. He met her gaze, the sharpness in her eyes a harsh reminder of everything that had fallen apart.

She watched him, waiting for him to justify himself, to justify the team that had become the only thing he had left.

He could see the doubt in her eyes, the calculation. She saw him as a man on the verge of failure, and she wasn’t wrong. But she didn’t know the cost, didn’t know what it had taken for him to keep standing.

"As your superior, I am questioning your ability to lead your team.”

He took a breath, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. His voice was steady, but beneath it lay a trembling, a fragility that betrayed just how close he was to breaking. “My team?” he said, a hint of defiance hardening his tone. “Let me tell you about my team.”

He thought of Derek, his mind flashing to that moment in Chicago, the pain etched into his friend’s face, the way he’d borne the burden alone because he didn’t trust anyone enough to share it. “Agent Morgan fought to protect his identity from the very people who could save him - why? Because trust has to be earned, and there are very few people he truly trusts.”

He paused, a bitter taste in his mouth as he remembered how he’d failed, how he hadn’t been able to reach Derek in the way he needed. You would have. You would have known how to ease his pain.

“Reid’s intellect is a shield which protects him from his emotions,” he continued, his voice softening, a raw edge creeping into it as he pictured Reid’s broken expression, the hollow look that haunted his eyes. “And at the moment, his shield is under repair.”

Hotch’s chest tightened. Reid’s pain had become his own, a constant reminder of the fragility he’d seen in you, the way you’d fought to rebuild yourself when you’d come back from the edge. You would have been there for Reid. You would have known what to say. But now, without you, Hotch felt helpless, standing by as the people he cared about struggled to hold themselves together.

“Prentiss overcompensates because she doesn’t yet feel she’s a part of the team.” A flicker of pride crossed his face as he spoke of her, her fierce determination, her unyielding loyalty. “She needn’t worry.” He thought of how hard she worked, how much she wanted to belong. He knew you would have recognized it in her, would have encouraged her the way only you could.

He forced himself to continue, his voice growing firmer, even as the sadness in his chest grew heavier. “Every day, Agent Jareau fields dozens of requests for our team. And every night, she goes home hoping she’s made the right choices.” He thought of JJ’s quiet strength, the way she carried the weight of her decisions, never letting it show how much it cost her. He knew you would have admired her resolve, would have understood the strength it took to keep going.

“Garcia fills her office with figurines and color to remind herself to smile as the horror fills her screens.” He thought of Garcia’s laugh, the way she fought to keep the darkness at bay with her light. You would have seen the courage in her, would have understood that her joy was her shield, the way she protected herself from the horrors she witnessed every day.

But it was Gideon’s pain that hit him hardest, and he struggled to keep his voice steady as he spoke of the man who had once been his mentor.

“And Agent Gideon… In many ways, he is damned by his profound knowledge of others. Which is why he shares so little of himself, yet he pours his heart into every case we handle.” Hotch remembered the look in Gideon’s eyes, the emptiness that had consumed him since Sarah’s death. He had seen the same hollowness in himself, the same agony of losing someone you had let into your heart. Gideon had been undone by it, just as Hotch had been undone by you.

He straightened, meeting Strauss’s gaze with a fierce determination. “I stand by my actions, and I stand by my team. And if you think that you can find a better person for the job, good luck.”

Strauss’s expression remained cold, her eyes narrowing. She leaned forward, her voice a sharp blade, cutting through his defenses. “Agent Hotchner,” she said, her tone clipped.

Hotch’s response was immediate, his voice a quiet, simmering intensity. “How do I know you favor your son? I’m good at my job.”

He knew he was good at his job.

He had to be.

It was the only thing he had left, the one thing he could control in a world that felt like it was slipping away.

He’d lost you, just as he had lost so much.

But he wouldn’t lose this.

He couldn’t.

---

Dado's Corner pt.2: I always read this whenever my heart gets broken... To build something meaningful, sometimes we have to tear down the entire house and rebuild from the foundation up.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @kyrathekiller ; @lorereid ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @todorokishoe24

[yet-another-heathen]

I saw ur really informative post on conditioning and said with whumpers uts about using pain again and again

Any advice about caretakers deconditioning?

[ Referring to this post. ]

The first and most important thing is that the caretaker cannot decondition the whumpee. It's not possible. That progress is entirely internal, and requires a massive amount of introspection, self-motivation, and practice from the whumpee themself. No one else can do it for them.

But what the caretaker can do is be there for them while the whumpee fights toward their own recovery. They can be the stability that whumpee needs in order to work through these massive problems on their own.

Deconditioning is awful. It involves repeated failure, over and over and over, working toward lessening the response. And it is incredibly frustrating, painful, heartbreaking, and at times it feels completely hopeless.

Progress is so non-linear that they can spend months improving and then backslide nearly back to the beginning if they get caught off guard. At times it'll feel like they're stuck at the same point and can't get any further. Like a future where they will be free of it may simply not exist.

At many points, your whumpee is going to feel heartbroken. They're going to spiral into, "Why can't I do this? Why can't I make it stop?" and, "I thought I was past this." and, "Will I ever be able to undo what whumper made me?"

A good caretaker can be there to comfort them when things go wrong. They can hold them while they cry. They can listen to them when they go into a sobbing, breathless rant about how much this hurts. They can make sure that whumpee knows they have someone who doesn't think of them as broken or lesser because of what they've gone through.

Depending on if whumpee feels it would help, they might help them brainstorm a reward system. If there's a situation where they're around other people and the caretaker spots the trigger coming, they can try to redirect conversation away from it before it hits. Preferably without anyone realizing they're doing it for whumpee's sake. When whumpee has just been triggered and wants nothing more than to be alone, the caretaker can make sure their boundaries are respected. To make sure they have somewhere safe to go.

Even more importantly, they can also help by highlighting the moments of whumpee's progress. Pointing out their successes, no matter how small. Pointing out how far they've come. Reminding them that the ups and downs are supposed to happen. That trauma recovery is a rollercoaster, not a straight line.

As a whumpee in that state, it's very easy to feel like they're making no progress. That even when they succeed, the tiny bits of success are hollow, because 'they shouldn't be like this in the first place'. Have your caretaker help them see their own victories. Help them actually see the healing as it grows.

A realistically conditioned whumpee does not need someone to fix them. They need someone to be there for them while they save themselves.

---

This was such a good ask, thank you for sending it my way!

[sepublic]

Post-Hoot with Dana Terrace!

            Dana’s put over 200 hours into games she’s missed since the finale; Octopath Traveler, Little Nightmares, etc. Sarah Nicole-Robles cried harder than she ever did when she said I learned a language I’ll never forget, a whole chapter of my life is over, during the King-ceanera. She said the line once and was suddenly sobbing because of how meta it was. 

         Rebecca has a ‘sona during the bit with Barcus in the epilogue sequence. Cissy also cried when watching with her family, her kids asked her about it; Sarah was really excited as she watched the finale.

         No sequel happening, but we can always hope; Dana would like to do more, but Disney owns the IP and needs to give them permission. Dana knew the prequel line in the finale was ham-fisted as hell but still went with it because she was pissed (she said Fuck to express her rage). Rebecca went back to the Anger phase of grief after watching the finale after realizing what they missed, but Sarah was also in Acceptance because it was hard to regret something that ended so well.

         Dana doesn’t cry that much, but TJ’s remix in the soundtrack made her cry. Dana brought back everyone for BBBYYYEEEEEEE, noting this was every character’s last line, and wished Hooty had more lines. Alex improvised a cut line after the Bye with Hooty expressing appreciation for the finale and readiness for his spin-off.

         Dana won’t say much in hopes she’ll get to do more for TOH in the future; A Youtube reviewer (shoutout to all, Zachary Ax, Man of a Thousand Thoughts, Rebecca herself), the Third Bill got it right on Hooty, and Dana won’t be more specific about that.

         They found out about the shortening during S2; They had an ending in mind that Dana had in mind since development, but it needed too much setup and so they couldn’t pull it off. All of Season 2A was written before knowing the cancellation; Follies at the Coven Day Parade was the first episode fully written knowing the show was shortened, hence the tonal change. The Galdorstones was an arc Dana planned more on, as well as the Coven Heads; Bat Queen; It was a hard situation choosing what to leave out.

         There weren’t whole episodes written that had to be trashed; Just one-sentence ideas on a whiteboard never fully outlined or scripted. But Dana is still happy with what came out, because it was pretty damn cool.

         Rebecca Rose once saw someone with a King sweatshirt like hers at Disneyland and said hi, but they just side-eyed her and didn’t respond; Despite this, Rebecca hopes they had a happy day and believes they were just having a bad time. Sarah joked about not being so forgiving.

         String Bean’s inspiration: Owlbert is in the title of the show, String Bean indeed was there the whole time! The S wasn’t completely intentional at first, but Dana flipped the logo around and figured it out. When making the first episode, the logo wasn’t finalized. They always liked the idea of Luz being connected to snakes, it’s what she brought to school and they liked her reclaiming something she terrorized her classmates with. The Snake-Shifter idea specifically; Zach Marcus just said “Snake-Shifter” as they brainstormed ideas and Dana, being a sucker for lame puns, was sold.

         That was indeed Dana being represented as a student in the epilogue! She was Beastkeeping and Oracle; Dana can see the future of the show, and really likes animals. Raine’s palisman was indeed hidden within the violin’s design; Hunter and Dell worked to fix the palismen after Raine broke it trying to stop Belos. The violin is more akin to the staff, anyhow. Dana considered responding to a question about general Caleb, Evelyn, and Flapjack lore, but Sarah insisted she stay silent in case they get to answer it as an actual story later.

         Dana liked to think while writing Thanks to Them; No, Evelyn’s spirit isn’t in Flapjack. But to Philip, he saw Flapjack as the culmination of the corruption in his brother Caleb; He saw Flapjack, if it weren’t for YOU. You can see a hint of it in Masha’s story, Evelyn entices Caleb with Flapjack, who was Caleb’s introduction to magic. Evelyn was probably disguised as a human, and trusted Caleb for seeming reasonable and less violent. Perhaps like Dog owners passing each other by and suddenly becoming friends over this.

         Evelyn and Caleb’s relationship was sweet, from platonic curiosity to romantic. Eda doesn’t know she’s descended from them, nor does Hunter; And Dana has more to say, but will keep it hidden. Luz will stay the majority of her stay in the isles as she goes to college. Camila bought the shack leading to the human world, which allowed Luz to visit during holidays, weekends, etc.

         They never got to explore it, but it could’ve originally been the home of Philip and Caleb, long abandoned; Eda emerges after discovering the portal. In the next thirty years, she fixes up the shack as she builds the Owl House. Dana also advised fans to google Death of the Author, since she’s technically no longer working on the show, and thus gives permission for fans to write their own answers.

         Eda became the Owl Lady before Owlbert, due to the curse; They planned to do an episode where Eda learned palismen carving with Dell, and how Eda reclaimed the Owl identity to carve Owlbert. Dana stills has the outline of that episode in her head…

         According to Rebecca, Caleb and Philip’s graves were in the basement of the shack, based on this church in New Haven Dana passed by every day on her way to school (Gravesfield is based on some places in Connecticut). However, Dana realized the graves didn’t fit into the story. They also had an ‘original’ Belos design for him taking over animals. Marina Gardner did some amazing Belos designs, and Thanks to Them alluded to it.

         The Portal’s eye comes from the Titan’s missing eye!!! Hunter is bisexual, Willow is pansexual, this is how Dana always wrote and imagined them in her mind, but it’s not explicitly stated so technically it’s more headcanon. Dana noted how some people just picked it up. Dana likes to think Amity and Lilith rekindled their student-mentor relationship. Having worked in the library, Amity was interested in Lilith’s knowledge of history. Dana suggested to Zarya(?) from the design team to add notes to Lilith’s museum blueprints. A helicopter passed over and they joked it was Disney trying to stop spoilers.

         Cissy only got her lines and didn’t know any other details about the finale, to Dana’s surprise; Dana explained that people not getting a full script is due to the pandemic. Before quarantine, actors would get the full script. They have to rely on Eden Riegel and Dana for context a lot. Bosook Coburn spoiled Luz’s death to Rebecca Rose during the celebration party. They came up with a lot of designs for dying Luz, trying to figure out how they can hollow out her head how much. Dana mentions it’s up to the showrunner to show how much they want to the actors.

         Thanks to Sarah, they kept in Luz saying her own SFX during her fight with Eda in O Titan, Where Art Thou; She heard someone do it as part of the mock script and wanted it. When Dana voiced Eda and Luz at the end, Dana was crying. There’s a recording of Season 2B and Season 3 of Dana doing a voice-over of the script to get approved by executives.

         Dana clarified everyone would’ve had more of a chance to talk with each other, such as Hunter and Amity; Hunter would’ve talked to Vee, as well as more human realm kids, literally everyone would’ve had a little more time with each other. Dana loves Luz and Hunter’s sibling dynamic. Dana was sorry they couldn’t have Luz and Raine hang out, but they had the Hexsquad storyline. Luz finished high school in the human world, with the renewed motivation that she’ll go back to the isles. Knowing she has a safe space outside of high school made it more bearable, as was the case for Dana growing up.

         Cissy brought up Gus’ hair in the epilogue, which she loved; Emmy Cicierga did the design for Gus and Raine. Harpy Lilith was by Emmy; Dana did Emira, Eberwolf, and Skara’s timeskip designs. The name of the Titan is unpronounceable for humans.

         Dana can’t say much about the Archivists; The Collector never had a flash-forward design, as they age much more slowly than everyone else. Maybe the Collector got just a tiny bit taller. The idea of the Collector came from creepy dolls, as well as a nightmare; John Bailey Owen had a google folder filled with cool references of creepy dolls with a starry aesthetic, liminal minimalist nightmare-scape. They knew who the Collector was gonna be, what role they’d play, but the vibe still needed to be decided.

         Dana confirmed the Collector was always a part of the show before the shortening, and they solidified their placement after the announcement. The Collector has indeed stayed connected with the others, visits occasionally. Dana has seen fan comics on this and teared up.

         Hooty doesn’t have to be vacated from the Owl House if he doesn’t want to; When the door isn’t active, Hooty could be present. The new portal can probably fold up, and Hooty is busy as a curator for Hooty’s new museum.

         Dana said Raine and Eda’s business is their business; Not all love stories end in marriage. It’s their thing and it doesn’t diminish any love, but they do live in the Owl House together (Raine moved in).

         Mattholomule getting a palisman is something Zach Marcus can answer, since he made the character and Dana respects the lore he made. It’s hard to say for Dana if Vee and Masha are dating, since Masha didn’t show up in the finale, but Vee definitely has a crush on them. Again, Dana encourages the Death of the Author approach, if the headcanon makes you happy.

         Alador and Odalia got officially divorced after the finale, and the kids happily lived away from her. They might visit her if they have the energy, but also recognize she’s a toxic influence they can cut off at any point. Dana gave a shoutout to Rachel McFarlane’s voice acting, praising her performance for Odalia.

         In regards to the tower King was born in, Dana has an answer; It was related to a character we all know, who now may have amnesia.

         There was a plan to explore Gus and Willow’s glowing eyes, and do it for other characters; Amity wasn’t going to have that, strong emotions are indeed connected to magic. It was mostly a worldbuilding magic rule they could’ve expanded on, that Dana wishes she did early in the story.

         In the boards, Dawn Han(?) did Clouds on the Horizon, and did the scene of Amity and the twins hiding in the factory as their parents talk about the Abomatons, Alador is worried since it seems like a tad much. Alador had T-rex arms in the storyboard, and it reminded Dana of Remy from Ratatouille, so when they got to the scene of them looking into Alador’s lab, Ratador was drawn in his place as a joke. Dana laughed so hard she decided to keep it in, with Dana handwaving it as Alador’s palisman.

         According to Dana, a show should be appreciated for as it is; But the other way to enjoy it, under the context it was made, is also important to her; Both ways are valid. It was easier for Sarah to voice depressed Luz since she was also depressed. The writers preferred to put their feelings into the show, VS a more happy-go-lucky approach as others did; It was kind of dark for a bit, especially during quarantine. Sarah felt her own experience validated with Luz’s depression, but she and Dana appreciated the balance of having a happy ending too.

         What made the crew hopeful was knowing the characters would always have a happy ending; Luz could continue her studies in full-force, a new family. They KNEW it would end happy. Dana acknowledged how the fandom misinterpreted “I hate the term happy endings,” and Sarah knew about the quincenera when asked during previous Post-Hoots, but couldn’t answer.

         Rebecca commissioned 3D-printed Funko Pops of S2A Lilith and S1 Luz, and gave them to the others as gifts; Rebecca didn’t know about Avi’s appearance until two days before the Post-Hoot, otherwise she would’ve had a Funko of Raine made. Dana’s stand for Luz had to be made with painter’s tape (she appreciated it) due to Rebecca running out of the other kind, and planned to place it beside her Peabody award. Elizabeth Grullon, Camila’s VA, had to call her mom in the middle of a session to translate her line about maduros into English.

        Cissy clarified this wasn’t intended to be the final Post-Hoot! And the video was ended with a BBBBYYYEEEEE!!!!!

[ironunderstands]

I’m gonna brainstorm some Ratio angst ideas for my next fic (feel free to steal them originality isn’t real anyways)

also like all of these are Aventio related

One of his students calls a hit on him for failing them and he’s bleeding out in an alleyway, I actually thought of this one w the help of one of my mutuals (I don’t remember ur tumblr @ aeon of ladies forgive me) I was thinking he passes out thinking he dies, unbeknownst to him Aven saves him, and he wakes up in a hospital unable to do anything for like a few weeks because I think one of Ratio’s biggest fears is being vulnerable, or even just being forced to take a break

@jailgarden suggested this in my inbox actually (I promise I’ll respond to it later properly pookie), but Ratio getting overstimulated and being unable to use his mask/hide like normal. Oh I love this one but I’ll get into it more later

He gets yelled at by a group of his students and just kinda breaks down and gets embarrassed and it like goes viral AUGHH THAT WOULD HURT

Ampherous related angst- like he got kicked out/sent away, he can’t ever talk about being from there, who knows, but I’m just praying we get lore of him there and it’s SAD

ooh what if he gets turned into one of his statues for a while

beat the shit out of him in general like I need Ratio on the floor crying sobbing bones broken losing it begging for help tweaking out please GODD HES SUCH A GOOD TARGET FOR THAT BC HE HIDES HIS FEELINGS SO MUCH UGHH

Aventurine goes to someone else in the Intellgencia guild for help and Ratio questions his worth for the next 3,000 words ooh

he fails at an important task or procedure or something when on a mission with Aventurine and even if it’s not that consequential in terms of their goals, the look of disappointment on the others face kills him

tfw you make a character who’s self worth heavily depends on being useful feel useless

Nous straight up says fuck off I don’t need you or like one of the GS members mocks him (probably Herta or an oc) or basically he gets his intellect demeaned and he can’t actually argue against it so he just kinda flounders (bring up Aiden maybe?)

just incapacitate him in general, Ratio cannot handle that

MIND CONTROLLL OOOHH BUT HES AWARE OF WHAT HES DOIJG GODDDD YESSSS AND WHAT IF OFHERS AROUND HIM ARENT AND THEY THINK ITS REAL OH I NEED FO WRITE THIS HOLD UPPPPP

Alright this is all my sleep deprived brain can cook up for now so enjoy! I’m probably gonna end up writing the first and last ones because yes.

[nayomi247]

I cant believe like... no one in the fandom has done a post like this yet that I can find?? It seems like a staple, and Im sending it here cause your wonderful and need more requests mwuah (´ з `)

What do you think would be some of the Hazbin Crew's ideal s/o? Like, what would attract them/get their attention initially, what they would need in a longtime partner, that type of thing! I would LOVE if you did Lucifer, Alastor, and Vox (my BOYS *sobs*) but feel free to do anyone and everyone you want to!

Their Ideal S/O

A/N: Thank you for this lovely request mwah😙 Also I sprinkled in other hcs to that I thought of while writing this

Pairing: Lucifer/Reader, Alastor/Reader, & Vox/Reader

Work under the cut🤞🏻

I feel like this man would love a clingy lover. Please always hold his hand. Sit on his lap while he does his work. Cuddle him to sleep at night. He LOVES physical touch.

Lucifer:

He'd also want a person he can spoil. He wants you to know he cares. He shows this by gift giving; (another one of his love languages) anything in his power is yours for the asking, you just name it!

As for looks, he wouldn't really care about those. He loves you for who you are.... THOUGH, if you were tall, he'd like to be topped by you. Or if you were short, he would tease you for that and act all proud bc he's taller than someone.

The thing that initially attracted him though was your smile. He always adored it. Just seeing you laugh and be happy always made his heart flutter.

He wants someone who can take care of him. He's a very needy man and is almost like a toddler to some degree. Of course he could do this stuff himself, but it makes him feel better knowing that you're willing to do it for him.

If you're gonna be with him, you have to be nice to Charlie. That's non negotiable. He doesn't want to put you in a spot where you feel like you have to parent her, of course not. All he wants is for his 2 favorite people to get along.

He needs someone who's willing to commit to the relationship as much as he is. He's still a bit hurt from Lilith, and he's trusting you to not break his heart like she did. He would be crushed.

Alastor:

He isn't one to like physical touch very much. Maybe a peck on the cheek here, holding hands a bit there, but other than that he doesn't want to be touched. Don't get me wrong, he loves you a lot! But he's not really the.. touchy type.

I see him more as lover that would like words of affirmation or quality time. Just your presence alone is enough for him. Though if he's with a clingy partner, he'll probably get them a plushy or something of the sort to hug and cuddle when he's in his 'no touch mood'.

He'd like if if you could cook. You could help him prepare jambalaya and other dishes his mom showed him to make. It'd be a great bonding experience.

Like Lucifer, he doesn't care much for looks. As long as you're willing to commit to him as he does for you, then it doesn't matter to him what you look like.

To be completely honest, he doesn't know exactly why he loves you or even fell for you in the first place. But he does, and did. Who is he to question that?

Vox:

This man is also a big physical touch lover. He always has his hand on your thigh, holding your hand, or just touching any place he can.

Please let him spoil you. You'd always have the latest phone and other tech like that. If you want something, he'd be glad to give it to you.

He wants someone that's loyal to him and only him. If he sees anyone else trying to flirt with you (*cough cough* val) he'd go absolutely insane. You are his.

If you could cook, he'd always love to eat your meals, breakfast lunch and dinner. Would 100% brag to the other Vees when he has lunch.

He'd prefer it if you're good with tech. He wants to be able to brainstorm ideas with you and show off his latest inventions. Also it would make it 10x easier to clean his system if you were the one to do it.

He cares more about looks than the other 2, but it's not a deal breaker for him. He'd like it if you were good looking (You're beautiful no matter what though ofc) but it's not a need. Regardless, he'd still call you beautiful and his pretty thing

He fell for you because of your of your personality. The way you walk about and present yourself. You take bullshit from anyone, you know your worth. Much as he does. You're like him, you both understand each other. That's why he sought out your love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm sorry if this exactly what you hoped it would be, I know I added a few random things but I hope you like it regardless :]

Once again thank you for the ask<3

{Taglist}

@wonderlandangelsposts

[mandiemegatron]

𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙃𝙤𝙢𝙚

𝙇𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙖𝙧 𝙥𝙩. 2

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 ; 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙇𝙖𝙬 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙯𝙮 𝙖𝙨 𝙁𝙐𝘾𝙆, 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠, 𝙆𝙞𝙙 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙘𝙚𝙨, 𝙜𝙤𝙧𝙚.

ᴸᵒˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵀʰᵉ ᵂᵃʳ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ʰᵉʳᵉ ♡

A/N: ... yeah. This one hurt. It's rare that my own works make me sob the way this one did, I had to stop at one point and message my beta because it was 😭😭 good god. Just so yall are prepared.

Water anon, this ones for you. You asked for nothing but utter heartbreak and I hope I've delivered.

Thank you all for your patience with this, I'm truly so sorry this took so long but once you read it, you'll understand why. My heart is heavy and now I need to go smoke a fat blunt!

I love yall so much, a huge huge thank you to my beta Moss for their continued support and help.

“... Eustass…”

Kid shuffles in his sleep as a breathy voice rings out his name. He groans softly to himself before turning in his bed, his arm flopping over his face to shield his closed eyes from the beginning rays of sunshine.

“... Eustass…”

Eustass Kid rises from his deep slumber with a start, his eyes shooting open as a voice that once echoed over the entirety of the Victoria Punk sighs in his ears.

He sits up with a grunt, eyes almost frantically glancing over his empty room, only to take in exactly what he already knew - you were not there.

He glances down to his fleshy fist, frowning deeply as he takes in your now torn and tattered shirt - one he had hand picked out for you a few weeks after you'd joined - and he tosses it aside his pillow before holding his exhausted face in that same hand.

There's a rough knock on his door and he grunted again, though this time louder so the knocker knew he was awake.

Heat peeks through the door as he opens it, head tilted mutely as he takes in his Captain.

“... rough night, man?”

Kid huffs and glares at Heat before throwing his legs over the bed and stretching, his stump shaking slightly at the ferocity of the stretch.

“Could have been better.” Kid murmurs honestly, his voice still rough and low from sleep. He slowly rises from his bed and slips into his patterned pants and throws his billowy shirt over his limb, grimacing to himself as the fabric scrapes against his stump.

If Heat notices, he smartly says nothing to it, only giving a slight nod as Kid finally makes his way out of his room.

They're only a few steps out from Kids room when Heat suddenly speaks up, his tone even though clearly careful in his approach.

“We've… had reports about you know who that-”

Kid stops in his tracks, knowing exactly what Heat was about to say and shuts him up with a ferocious glare, lips pressed into a thin line to show his displeasure. Heat simply sighs and walks past him, shaking his head slightly as he mumbles to himself.

Kid huffs again and immediately turns around, deciding to go right to his workshop instead.

He didn't have an appetite anymore anyways.

As Kid enters his workshop, he immediately begins brainstorming ideas, wanting to bury himself in random work just to occupy the rampant thoughts that plagued his mind. He activates his devil fruit and scrap metal whips past him as he sits down, pulling a few boxes out from under his main wooden table and nearly tossing them up top.

Eustass grumbles and mutters to himself, ignoring the aching in his chest as he stumbles upon a few welded pieces of scrap you had been fiddling with, tossing them into a “destroy” box off to the side without a second thought.

Every few days he comes across something else you'd left behind - one day was a small notebook and pen, filled with scribbles of the crew (but mostly him), a handful of necklaces and bracelets over the next few, and now lately, it had been this.

Six months had already passed and to Eustass, it had been an eternity. Nights flew by where he didn't sleep, taken over by a bitter motivation to finish whatever project he threw himself into, desperate to not fall asleep to see you sleeping beside him in his dreams.

An angry and hurt sigh left Kid as he tossed the first box behind him, ignoring the loud clashing of the metal inside hitting the floor like sharp thunder. More of your little inventions fell out, clearly the cause of his distress.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” he furiously mutters to himself as he sifts through the second box. “You're lettin’ some fuckin’ broad take over your damn thoughts like some-”

“Kid, you alright?”

Kids head whips to the door, glaring darkly at Killer who had popped his head in, a deep set frown hiding behind the mask as he takes in the wrecked room. Killer lets out a low whistle before looking back at Kid with a slightly tilted head.

“... you got a pretty big mess there, man.”

Kid is eerily silent as he turns back to going through the box, deciding not to give Killer a response.

Killer blinks a few times behind the mask before sighing heavily and pushing his way into the workshop. He slides into the chair you used to take up and bluntly bites out,

“Kid, enough is enough.”

Eustass still stays silent.

Killer continues, “You have got to snap out of it. You made a mistake, you paid for it, and now you have to live with the consequences. This childish attitude isn't very Captain like.”

Kid freezes, a silent fury burning up in his stomach, threatening to spill out of his throat.

Killer sits back, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he continues his verbal assault.

“Kid, we looked for her everywhere. Either something happened to her, which is out of our control, or she made her choice not to come out, and if that was the case, then it is what it is. But taking your bullshit out on the crew is un-fucking-acceptable, and it's not going to continue to happen.”

Killer doesn't even have a chance to prepare himself as Kid throws himself at the blonde, shouting threats as he aims a wicked fist at the mask. Killers hand grips Kid's fist right before it smashes the mask, the blonde huffing as he struggles against Kid.

“K-kid! Stop man, what the fuck!”

The two struggle, fists flying and finally Kid's fleshy knuckles meet the mask, cracking it right down the eye. Kid suddenly freezes, blood dripping down his clenched fist and staining the wooden workshop floor beside Killer's head. The two breathe heavily, the adrenaline finally running low as Kid furiously croaks out,

“It's fuckin’ bullshit.”

Killer's heart breaks for Kid as he watches the depression eventually seeps through the anger, finally snuffing out the spark of fury in the Captain.

“I gave her everything’, man,” Kid spills out, sitting back on his calves as he stares past Killers face into the bloodied floor, eyes empty and haunted. “I gave her every fuckin’ piece of me and then tossed her away.”

Killer sits up with a grunt, his hand slightly shaky as he gingerly touches the crack on his mask. While the two fought sometimes, it was rare if not never that Kid had ever snapped at his mask like this. Deciding to put his own ache aside, Killer speaks up,

“This is called ‘your actions have fucking consequences’, Kid. Put yourself in her shoes - how would you have felt if you'd come across her fucking some random dude?”

Kid's nostrils flare with a huff, clearly unimpressed.

Killer gestures broadly at his action with a comment of, “Exactly. You expected her to come home with open arms, ready to sleep in the same bed you just fucked some random woman in?”

Eustass flinches as Killer says “home”, having already forgotten the way that word used to fall from your lips, how you'd loved the ship more than most of the crew. Kid squeezes his eyes shut, trying to focus on the pain in his fist as he finally hisses out,

“I get it.”

Killer pulls himself off the floor before he barks back, “Do you? Because it's been months, and you're still sitting here, acting like she didn't have a right to put her foot down. She loved you, man.”

Kid remains kneeled on the floor, his eyes holding an echo of colour as he slowly looks up to his first mate and best friend.

“... I really fucked up, Kil.”

Killer purses his lips together under the mask, giving a soft sigh through his nose before he replies gently, “Yeah Kid, you did.”

Killer holds out a hand for Kid to take, which he does after staring at it blankly for a few moments. When he finally stands, Kid barely gets out,

“... sorry.”

Killer gives Kid a small nod, accepting the apology at face value with a heavy clap on Kid's shoulder. “We're good.”

The two share a moment of silence, their eyes communicating better than any words could say. Killer gives Kid a slight shake before he finally asks,

“You gonna come eat with your crew or you want me to bring you something here?”

Kid shakes his head and honestly replies,

“I gotta get outta here. I'm sitting with my crew, like I should have been doing.”

Pride washes over Killer at seeing his Captain and best friend slowly come back to his senses. “Atta boy, let's go eat some grub, while there's still food left.”

Killer motions for Kid to follow, but the Captain remains in his spot. Killer tilts his head slightly and before he can ask, Kid promises thickly,

“I'm gonna find her, Kil. I'm gonna find her and bring her home, and I'm gonna make it up to her. You'll see.”

Stuck between wanting to support him and wanting to smack the stupid out of him, Killer decides to remain silent, giving Kid only a slight nod before walking out of the workshop.

-

“Lift it just a bit higher, Y/N!”

You huff to yourself and nearly raise yourself up on your toes to hold the metal plate just a smidgen higher. There's a whoop of delight before the metal is finally welded to the wall. You take a few, slow breaths as your arms begin to ache, sweat dotting your forehead as you call out,

“Eh uh, Shachi, you almost done? This is getting really heavy…”

There's a loud whir from above your head and Shachi calls back, “You're good! Move back!”

You let your arms fall down with a groan and you step back, now able to crane your head up enough to see just how the repairs were going. Ikkaku and Shachi clearly knew what they were doing, the redhead following her orders with absolute ease.

“You alright, Y/N-ya?”

A warm hand meets your shoulder and you turn, grinning up at your now Captain as you reply,

“Hey boss! Yeah, I'm good, just wasn't expecting to be doing this much heavy lifting today.”

Trafalgar Law looks down at you with a slight smirk, head tilted slightly as he asks,

“Is this your way of telling me you didn't expect the random sea-king attack?”

You can't help but snicker at his words, playfully jabbing at his side before joking back, “Ha! My gift of foresight doesn't work underwater, apparently. Forgive me, Captain.”

Law gives a soft tsk as your jab, swatting your hand away gently before he half-jokes, “Unfortunately, there will be no forgiveness today. To the infirmary, YN-ya, there's more mess for you to clean.”

You sigh and roll your eyes playfully before flashing him another grin and waving off your fellow boiler suited friends.

It was a very thin line, the one that you and Law seemed to dance on in the last few weeks. For so long, you'd felt like an unwilling guest on the ship, even with how kind and welcoming the Heart Pirates had been; now you'd felt like perhaps becoming a Heart Pirate yourself was genuinely a blessing.

There was what felt like an unspoken rule between you two. Step close, but never so close enough for it to mean something. Say something sweet, but nothing so sweet as to make you ache. Touch gently, but not so often that it might look too gentle.

As precarious and almost confused as you felt about the situation, you did your best to remain as neutral though genuine as possible while dealing with Law, trying to keep your heart locked up lest another Captain decide to crush it in his hand. That was not an ache you wanted to deal with ever again.

You sighed in slight frustration at seeing the main medicine cabinet open and nearly empty, bottles of pills and vials of whatever Law kept in the cabinet strewn over the entire medical bay, along with papers and file folders from the multi drawer desk beside it. You immediately began to pick things up, having to take a few seconds as you tried to remember where everything went, knowing Law would come in at some point and fix any mistakes.

You were about half-way through when the med bay door opened then shut, the soft click of familiar boots echoing slightly until they stopped just behind you. You gave an exaggerated sigh and glanced up over your shoulder, ignoring the slight burn in your cheeks at how close Law actually was.

He was staring at the open cabinet, his eyes moving over each bottle and vial before you jokingly asked, “See any issues, Captain?”

Law blinks before looking down at you, mirth in his gaze as he jokingly snarks back, “Actually, yes.” He leans over your shoulder, his chest pressed against your shoulder blade as he reaches into the cabinet and moves four bottles around. “The dosage was in the wrong order. Always low to high, you know that.”

You turned back to the bottles and hummed to yourself in agreement, mentally noting to always read the fine print in the future. “You're right, good catch.”

He raises an eyebrow with a hum of his own before moving back and resting against the desk beside the cabinet, his arms crossing over his chest as he comments,

“You seem to be fitting in quite well, it seems.”

You placed a few more bottles inside silently, giving a slight shrug before throwing him a small smile. “I like to think so.”

Law nods minutely, tilting his head a little as he asks, “Did Eustass-ya's crew treat you similarly?” He waits a beat before adding almost gently, “If you're comfortable with sharing, of course.”

Your nose bitterly twitched into a scrunch for not half a second before you genuinely replied in a flat tone, “Yes. They treated me just fine.”

You already know what Law's about to ask so you cut him off with an exhausted, “You ask me about Kid every other fuckin’ week, I don't know why you're so nosey about him.”

Law smirked slightly, giving a laughing huff as he leaned back slightly, taking you in before he replied smoothly, “I'm not nosey, I'm just interested in information about my enemy.” He frowns at you mocking him with your hand, your fingers talking at the same speed as him and he snaps, “Don't be rude. Are you a toddler?”

You stick your tongue out at him before frowning, going back to trying to finish your duty with a little more aggression to your motions. “Don't you have anything better to do than bully me?”

Law can't help but chuckle at you, shaking his head with a playful sigh before he stands straight and walks towards the door. He calls over his shoulder, “Dinner is soon, don't be late, or I'll ground you.” He doesn't flinch when a pen whips past his head and embeds into the metal door, instead he frowns and turns back to you with a sharp, “Oi! Don't put holes in my fucking ship! Don't think I won't toss your ass overboard!”

You roll your eyes and place the last few bottles inside before finally locking up the cabinet and moving onto the papers and files splayed over the floor like a shitty confetti toss. You hear Law grumble and rip the pen out of the door before it gets tossed and rolls just off to the side from you. “Don't fuck anything up, Y/N. If you want to even think about taking a step off this ship to explore the island tomorrow, everything better be a hundred and ten percent perfect.”

Your heart sinks slightly at the bite in his tone, knowing you'd taken a step too far. “Yes, sir.” You muttered before kneeling down and beginning to shuffle through the sheets. Luckily, most file folders were nearly intact, only a few pages missing and close by that you could begin matching them properly. You couldn't stop from flinching when the door slammed shut, your head bowed low in near shame as you silently picked up more papers.

You sighed to yourself as you bit back tears, his last question playing over and over in your head as you began to think about your old crew. Cold nights like tonight, you'd be curled up in Kid's red jacket, your tired eyes lovingly watching him as he fiddles over another small trinket or invention, laughs bubbling up as Kid made butterflies flutter around you, a gentle and adoring look on his face as he looks back at you. You angrily wiped at your face as tears streamed down, trying not to let them fall and stain the white sheets around you.

“You made your choice, you made your choice, you're not allowed to cry about it, you made your choice…” your voice cracked in sorrow as you murmured to yourself, your hands pressing against your eyes to try and stop the onslaught of tears. “You did this to yourself, this is your fault, this is your fault…” Your broken heart shattered a little more as the grief took over.

Unbeknownst to you, Law stood outside the door, having cracked it open slightly after he slammed it, curious if you were going to curse him out but his mind fell silent as he listened to you fall apart and blame yourself. A curiosity filled him as you silently wept, your soft whimpers and sniffles clenching around his heart like a fiery grip.

He stalked off to his office after a few more moments, unable to listen any longer to your tears. His mind raced as he tried to think of reasons why you'd blamed yourself, wondering just how bad Eustass Kid broke you for you to get to this point.

He was determined to find out everything, the curiosity growing almost desperately. Every piece of information you could give him about Kid gave Law a step up in the race to becoming the Pirate King, and he decided then he would rip the information out of you if he had to.

A little smirk washed over Law's lips as he thought about it. He was the Surgeon Of Death, wasn't he? Adding you to the crew's roster was mostly a chance to gain any information on Kid and even though Law felt some form of affection for you, his priorities were in order and you were not one, romantically at least. Not that you had to know.

After all, if you'd lost your loyalty to Kid over a little heartbreak, what's to say you wouldn't do the same to him? Law rationalized with himself over and over, ignoring the slight gnawing in his stomach at the thought of manipulating you, instead hardening his heart over and over while trying to silence his mind.

Sometimes he hated the sheer amount of empathy he felt for you.

“Look.”

Kid glances off to the side of the ship where Killer points, his brow ridge furrowing as he takes in the bright yellow submarine that breaks through the waves. He gives a grunt, rolling his eyes before turning away from the sub to take in his crew.

“You all know what your duties are. Those staying on the ship, keep her safe. Those heading to shore, you've got til sundown to be back.”

He gives a nod toward shore just as the Polar Tang settles into a stop, dropping anchor far enough away that Kid questions if that shitty Trafalgar could see the Victoria Punk from their position.

“What do we do about-” Bubblegum is cut off by Killer, who raises a sharp hand and shakes his head. Bubblegum gives him an understanding nod before heading off the ship with Reck, Hip, and UK following behind.

There's a tense silence between Kid, Killer, and the few remaining Kid pirates on deck. Kid's amber eyes narrow as he watches the Heart pirates slowly come out of the sub, lingering on deck before a handful of them jumped ship and began walking towards the same town. Kid grunts again as he takes in the shape of the Heart’s mink, trailing behind a woman who spoke in an animated fashion, her hands moving as if she were telling a story.

It seemed… familiar.

“Is… is that…?”

Kids entire body tenses as Killer murmurs, shock slowly falling over the deck as Dive suddenly shouts, “That's-!”

Not a second later, Kid is jumping off his ship and is rushing towards the mink, ignoring the almost panicked shouts from his crew as his long legs thump against the gravel. His heart races anxiously, getting closer and closer until he's tackled off to the side, shouting angrily as he hits the ground.

“Kid, stop!”

He snarls and lashes out, only to stop as he takes in Killer's mask, mere inches from his face. “Calm down man, think about this.”

Kid goes to reply when he stops and an all too familiar voice calls out from the surrounding trees,

“K-Kid? Killer?”

Both men pull away from each other and look up, both of them surprised and in shock as you stand there, the bear mink just behind you, looking like a nervous wreck.

“Y/N…”

You turn to Bepo and give him a gentle push, telling him to keep going. “I'll catch up.” Bepo looks unconvinced, crossing his arms over his orange jumpsuit and giving you an anxious look as he somehow gets out, “C-captain wouldn't be happy if I-”

You give the mink a dark look, giving him a slight frown as you repeat yourself, “Go on ahead, I'll catch up.”

Kid and Killer stand slowly, watching between you two before Bepo finally gives in, hating to leave you but also not enjoying the look you were giving him. He glares at the two men before finally turning to walk away, though he walks back towards the sub instead, which makes you frown a little deeper.

You turn back to your ex love and Captain, an ache in your chest that felt like a fiery grip and it took you a good moment to finally speak up, your tone curt and to the point.

“... I'm glad you guys are okay.”

Kid bristles, a snarl on his lips though the pain in his eyes spoke louder.

“Bullshit.”

You flinch at the harshness of Kids words, your eyes downcast for a moment as you bite back,

“It's not.”

Killer decides to step in, mediating the situation by genuinely commenting,

“You're lookin’ good, Y/N.”

There's a small smile on your lips at that though it disappears as quickly as it came. You give a slight shrug before replying back,

“I'm…” You struggle to find the right words. “alive, I suppose.”

You look back to Kid and the look on his face makes you want to disappear into the dirt beneath your feet.

“... you fuckin’ left.”

Your heart lurches at Kid's words, one of your hands unconsciously gripping over your heart as you snapped back sadly, “You fuckin’ cheated.”

Kid at least has the mind to look guilty, his arms crossing over his chest as he huffs out a sigh. “... I fucked up, Y/N.” He stares you down as he bites out, “‘M sorry.”

Fury rose in your chest at his apology, the pain you'd felt for the last over half a year finally rising in your throat as you unleashed all your hurt onto him. “You're sorry? You took some whore into our bed, abandoned me on a random fucking island and you're SORRY?!”

Both men take a slight step back, not expecting the absolute rage bursting from your entire form. Kid sneers slightly, trying not to lose his temper as you continue, “You left me behind! You fucking promised me you'd never leave me behind, and then you did. How am I supposed to forgive you?”

Kid huffs and snarks back, “Like this, ‘I forgive you, let's go home’, that's not so goddamn difficult, is it?” His voice goes a few octaves higher when mimicking you which only infuriates you more.

“That easy, eh?! Just so easy for you to welcome me back and what, I just forget it even happened and that you didn't absolutely destroy my heart?!” You picked up a few rocks and began throwing them at Kid, the redhead having to pull his metal hand up to protect his face from your wicked aim. “You! Left! Me! Behind!”

“Y/N, just listen to him!”

You give a scream of outrage towards Killer and whip a rock at him as well, furious at the way he slices it into dust. “You said you weren't going to make excuses for him, so why are you doing it now?!”

Killer then holds his hands up, palms towards you as he asks sharply, “Just listen! No one is making any excuses!”

You throw one more and he catches it, throwing it back so hard it whizzes past your face, slicing a small cut into your cheek. Tears blind you as you scream back, “What did I do to deserve that?!”

“Nothing, goddamnit!”

You wipe at your eyes when Kid shouts, his body shaking in barely contained anger as he continues, “I fucked up! You didn't do anything wrong, I did. I took advantage of your love and I'm fucking sorry, okay?!”

You throw another rock at him and it hits his goggles, cracking the right eye. He doesn't move, continuing to stare you down as he pours his soul out to you.

“I fucked up, I fucked up by fucking some random bitch and ignoring how that shit would've made you feel, I left you behind because you made your choice to fucking run away instead of knockin’ some fuckin’ sense into me so I thought you just… didn't love me.”

Your tears came back full force, your brows furrowing as a weak sob leaves your lips. You go to retort when he cuts you off with an almost depressed,

“But I can't fuckin’ live without you.”

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your heart from further cracking and falling apart. “Kid…” You start, only to stop as he takes a few, slow steps closer as he continues,

“I can't breathe without you, I can't fuckin’ sleep, I can't wake up another goddamn day without you because you are my everything, you are my treasure.”

You stay put as he steps closer still, only a few feet from you that you could reach out and touch him. You're half tempted to punch him but remain unmoved, simply staring up at him with sad eyes.

“Y/N… babe, please…”

Your eyes widen slightly, unable to ignore the tug your soul gave towards his. He rarely, if ever, said please, especially like the way he did just now. Tears well up in your eyes again as he whispers,

“Please come home.”

In a flash, there's a blue swirl around him and he's teleported back to where he stood before, his ass hitting the ground beside Killer as a shout of confusion leaves him.

“Y/N-ya.”

You freeze, panic settling under your skin as you slowly turn to your now Captain, a cross-armed Bepo not far behind him. You sigh a disappointed “tsk…”, giving Bepo a betrayed look before you reply to your Captain with a blank look.

“Sir.”

Kid and Killer both sneer at Law, furious with how smug the scrawny Captain looked. You flinch slightly as Law lays a heavy hand on your shoulder, staring down at you with a thinly veiled warning in his eyes as he politely demanded,

“I'd rather you go back to the ship-”

Kid immediately cuts Law off with a shout of,

“She's comin’ back home, you stupid brick for brains! You-”

Law smirks and summons a room with one hand, the other still tightly gripping your shoulder and you wince, turning in his grasp as best you can to place your hands on Law's chest, giving a slight push as you beg,

“Let them go! Stop it, stop it!”

Law looks back down to you, something unreadable in his gray eyes as you plead for his mercy. “Y/N-ya…”

“Law, please...”

Killer frowns behind his mask, wondering if he was just seeing things or if maybe there was something between you and the Heart Pirate Captain. The way Law looked at you was eerily similar to the way both him and Kid would look at you, like you were an immeasurable treasure, and it infuriated him.

“Y/N.”

You turn back to Kid, eyes watering as you nearly sobbed out, “Please, just go…”

Kid shakes his head with a deep frown on his lips, getting into a fighting position and activating his magnesis, metal hand out towards you as he barks out,

“You're coming home, babe. This little twig ain't gonna stop me from bringin’ you back where you belong.”

“Room!”

At that, Law's hand moves to wrap around your waist and the room activates, surrounding you, him and Bepo in a shroud of blue. “Law, stop! No, please!” Law only tugs you closer, ignoring your half-hearted fists thumping against his tattooed chest.

You feel a familiar tug in the middle of your chest, the feeling causing you to glance down and it's then you remember putting your old harness on this morning under your boiler suit. A wicked grin comes across your face and with every inch of strength you can muster, you shove Law away and shout out,

“Kid, now!”

In a flash, you fly backwards just as Law's hand reaches out to snatch you back, his fingertips just grazing the front of your suit. There was a hint of fear in his eyes as you flew back, though it disintegrates into fury as your back slams into Kid's chest.

A thick, flesh arm wraps around you and there's an overwhelming sense of joy that rushes through you as Kid gruffly promises you, “I got you, babe. I got you.”

Metal hand still outstretched and Killers blades spinning furiously in defense in case Law tried something, the Kid Pirates slowly moved back, making sure to be aware of their surroundings as they stepped away.

“Y/N-ya. I'm disappointed.”

You cling to Kid's arm, glaring back at Law as he speaks.

“I saved your life, and this is how you repay me?” There's a crazed look in Law's eyes as he steps forward, ignoring the warning snarl that Kid gives him as he holds you close. “I took you in, gave you a home, held your hand when you cried and this… this is how you repay all my kindness…?”

You're quick to bite back, “I didn't ASK for you to save me, or help me, or hold my hand, you did that because YOU wanted to! Don’t act like you didn't use me as a fucking pawn!”

Law's head tilts down slightly, the brim of his spotted hat covering his eyes in darkness as he gives an almost exaggerated sigh. He then summons a small room, a soft “Shambles,” leaving his lips and fear grips you as you take in the sight of a heart in one of those strange, blue-ish cubes sitting in his palm.

Tears filled your eyes as you turn in Kid's grasp, looking up at him and throwing your arms around his neck as you sob out, “I love you, I'm so sorry, I love you, I love you-”

Pure agony ripples through your entire body as Law squeezes the heart in his hand, a sadistic smirk on his lips as he calls out, “Did you really think I'd let a Kid Pirate waltz around my ship without some sort of contingency plan?” He squeezes it again and you sob out in pain, clinging to a now anxious Kid.

“Oi, oi! What the hell is that?!” Kid shouts, holding you tightly to him, his flesh hand cradling the back of your head. Killer sneers out, “Is that… her heart?!”

Law chuckles, giving the cube a small bounce in his hand before giving it another hefty squeeze. Your legs give out and Kid is stuck holding your limp body, the pain causing you to black out. Killer moves quick, blades spinning like a tornado but stops just short of slicing Law's head off as the spotted covered man holds a small blade to the heart box, the tip just sinking into the jello like blob.

One of Killer's blades rests not a millimeter from Law's neck, the masked man's eyes wide behind it. Law raises an eyebrow at him, sinking the blade into the blob just a bit more and Kid shouts, “Stop! Stop, you'll kill her, you fuckin’ psycho!”

Kid looks down at you in his arms, blood slowly seeping through your boiler suit where your heart would rest had it not been in Law's hand. Kid rests his metal hand over your chest and closes his eyes, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours as he murmurs, “I love ya, treasure.” He presses his lips to yours for what he hopes isn't the last time, laying your body down and taking a step back.

“... you'd rather kill her than let her come back with us.” Kid's words came out bland, broken but on point. Law's smirk widens, his head tilting slightly as he replies, “Obviously. She's a liability, one that I can't afford for you to gain back.”

Killer finally lowers his blade, taking a few steps back before he nearly hisses at Law, “You're a goddamn freak, you know that?”

Law simply chuckled darkly, giving a wide-eyed grin to Killer as he snaps back, “I am the Surgeon Of Death, aren't I?”

“S-stop it…”

All eyes fall back to you. You're struggling to sit up, tears blinding your vision as you breathlessly beg, “Just… stop it…”

Kid steps closer to you, only to stop as you cough up a sizable amount of blood, your suit and the ground splattered with your life essence. You try to catch your breath, looking up to Kid with a doe eyed sadness as you barely get out,

“I love you.”

Law's heart clenches in his chest, furious that you had the audacity to still spill your heart out to your ex lover, the one that took advantage of all your love. Was he not enough for you? Was his obsession with you not enough for you to want to stay with him? He gave you everything you asked for, and yet here you were, half dead, and you were still singing praises to goddamn Eustass Kid.

Fury overtook the second-guessed pain in Law's chest as Kid earnestly replies to you,

“I love ya, Y/N. I never stopped looking for you.”

Law sneered, taking a deep breath before his hand moved, the dagger sliding into the blob like a hot knife through butter. Your eyes rolled back as Kid shouted, watching as your body fell limp, your back hitting the stained gravel.

Killer gave a shout of disbelief and immediately started slicing at Law again, sword meeting scythe as they hit back and forth for a bit. Bepo went to fight as well when he suddenly felt his mini den den in his pocket rumble.

“Captain! We're ready to ship off!”

Law grins darkly and slices at Killer with a surgeons precision, right down the chest though not deep enough to kill the guy. Law had enough blood on his hands for the day.

“Room!”

Law watches as Kid sinks to his knees, pulling your slowly dying frame to his chest, his flesh hand wiping away hair from your face as he leans down to press a shaky kiss to your lips. Your own weak hand cups his scarred cheek, wiping away the unwilling tears from his eyes as you both murmur your love for each other.

“Captain?”

Law looks over to an anxious Bepo before finally, bitterly, biting out a furious,

“Shambles.”

Random newspapers fluttered over the ground where the two once stood. There was a cold, empty silence as Killer slowly stands, large hand covering the wound on his chest as he slightly limps over to his Captain.

Kid's form shakes slightly as he whispers down to you. A loving smile rests on your lips as you blink slowly up at him, your hand tracing over his face as if preserving it to memory. “I love ya so much, I'm so sorry,” Kid murmurs over and over, bitter and angry tears rushing down his cheeks.

“I love you, Red.”

Kid hisses out a sob, his teeth clenched together so tight he swore they would shatter in his mouth.

“I love you, and I forgive you.”

Kid's head falls to your bloodied chest, his breathing panicked as he holds you tighter. ‘This isn't happening, this is all a bad dream, just a bad dream,’ he thinks to himself, trying to ignore the warmth of your blood tinting his skin.

“It's okay my love,” your voice is a whisper as you grin into his hair. “You brought me back home.”

Killer weeps silently behind his mask as he kneels down, running a gloved hand over your hair soothingly. You flash him a loving smile as you murmur lastly,

“You… are my home.”

Your hand stops carding through Kid's hair and it's then that they know you're gone. “ I love you, I love you, come back, come back,” Kid begs into your boiler suit, his words muffled by the fabric. His hands cling to you, willing for your soul to return to your body as he sobs out.

Killer rests over Kid, holding his best friend like a life line as they both quietly weep over your body, hating that the world would continue to turn while you would sleep for the rest of their lives.

It's late that night, after the town had gone to sleep that the Kid Pirates gathered on the shore, a deep hole dug in the grass just off the sand. Every member stood, holding a candle and a metal flower, watching with teary eyes with some clinging to each other as your body was laid into the ground.

Kid was the last to place a flower down, brushing hair from your face one last time as he breathlessly begged, “Wake up.” He knew you would not wake, but he repeated himself regardless. “Just wake up.”

He almost jumps when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder, pulling him from his broken vision as he glances up to a silent Killer. After a moment, they both nod and stand, finally filling the grave.

Once it was covered, Killer gives Kid a slight shake, trying to keep the red head grounded as he admits softly,

“I think she'd be happy to be buried here. You picked a beautiful spot.”

Kid sniffles, a blank expression on his face as he sadly drawls out, “Nothin’ but the best for my girl.”

Killer gives him another shake before patting his shoulder and walking back towards the ship with the rest of the crew. Kid stays a little longer, his flesh hand gripping tightly around the necklace he'd made for you when he finally made you his. You may have died with it on, but he was going to live with it around his neck until the day he dies.

As Kid turns from your grave, he takes a few steps before glancing at it one last time. “... I'm gonna make you proud, babe. Just you watch, I'm gonna make you proud to be mine.” He brings the necklace to his lips for a chaste kiss before slinging it over his neck, the small rose resting over his chest and warming his skin.

He finally walks away, determination lit anew in his heart. The second he hits the deck, he promises the crew,

“Trafalgar Law will pay for this. I won't rest until his body is 12 feet under, which means we need to catch up to him.” Kid slides into his Captains chair and snarls towards the seas. “The second we find them, I'm going to crush his stupid fucking submarine like a cola can, with him and all his fucking crew inside.”

The Kid Pirates shout in agreement, raising their weapons as they scream out,

“For Y/N!”

Kid leans back and grunts tiredly, keeping his expression furious as he bites out,

“For Y/N.”

Kid can't find it in him to look back towards the shore as they pull away. His flesh hand grips around the necklace for a second and he swears he can still smell your perfume as his eyes slide shut.

Eustass Kid was not in the business of losing, but he knew truly, he'd lost not only the fight against Trafalgar, but a piece of himself as he laid you into the ground.

As Killer slides a beer into his hand, Kid chugs half of it back before slamming the bottle down onto the chairs arm. “Never again, Kil,” he starts, promising his best friend with a clink of the bottle against his. “I'm never gonna make a mistake like that again.”

Killer simply stays silent, his head turned towards the shore to watch as your grave slowly disappears from sight.

“Never again.”

[futuremrscameron]

Parents Rafe and Bahamas reader, please! 😭

a/n: i ended chronicling their journey through/post pregnancy i hope you mind

bahamian!reader and rafe as parents🧑‍🧑‍🧒🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒

first trimester (1-3 months)

bahamian!reader and rafe do not use condoms, just lube, prep, and vibes so it wasn’t a huge surprise when they saw those two pink lines

it’s hard to say who was more excited, he’s always wanted a family of his own and she loves kids and rafe so that’s literally her dream come true

rafe is worried he’ll be just like his dad or he’ll screw up and no matter how many times bahamian!reader reassures him he can’t shake the feeling that it’s inevitable

bahamian!reader and rafe having arguments over baby names. he thinks he should choose the name if it’s a boy and she should choose if it’s a girl. she tells him to shove it which leads to more arguing. they eventually decide to brainstorm together and pick a name they both agree on

bahamian!reader's morning sickness comes in waves, she'll be fine for three to five says and suddenly she's vomiting for days on end. during these times rafe stays home and watches over her, cooking, rubbing her back as she spews acid, tying her hair back/up, and running a washcloth under the water before placing it on her head

the first person that finds out is wheezie. they didn’t tell her, she was eavesdropping overheard them talking about the baby. she was every excited to be an aunt and asked if the baby has kicked yet. rafe calls her an idiot and bahamian!reader slaps his shaved head

bahamian!reader’s siblings are the next to find out. she calls her siblings over zoom to give them the big news and their reactions range from shocked, confused, and excited. the call turns into two hours of parenting advice that she did eyes because she basically raise them all, making plans for a baby shower, and trying to book tickets to obx

bahamian!reader and rafe buy all the parenting beginner books they can get their hands on. they wanna be ready for anything even though they know that’s impossible they’re excited but scared they don’t wanna fuck the kid up

rafe wants to know the gender but she doesn’t care which causes another argument that ends in them sitting down and having a mini therapy session

rafe tells bahamian!reader he wants a son to undo what his father did to him and to be a better father than he was. she assures him that won’t happen and that he’s a different man

rafe takes so many notes during doctor visits and side eyes the doctors every time they touch her stomach or she winced at the cold jelly

bahamian!reader and rafe cried when they saw their baby on the sonogram. rafe took a picture and sent it to the gc named ‘operation boss baby/storks’ by bahamian!reader

topper and kelce are the next people to find out because rafe is very proud of himself and his hard work like they weren’t fucking raw. they’re shocked but excited to be uncles and congratulate him and bahamian!reader. they argue over who’s going to be the godfather. rafe likes watching them fight so he doesn’t immediately tell them it’ll be probably be both of them and bahamian!reader’s brothers

sarah finds out after bumping into bahamian!reader at a flea market and sees her bargaining with the vendor for a box of fruits and veggies. she talks about needing to eat healthy while subconsciously rubbing her belly and sarah puts two and two together. she asks sooooo many questions, how long have the known, who was the first person they told, how could wheezie keep this from her, have they been to a doctor, how far along is she, do they know the gender?

bahamian!reader shows sarah the sonogram and she sobs because it’s so tiny and she can’t believe that’s her niece? nephew? she doesn’t care she loves it already

bahamian!reader tells rafe that sarah knows but before he can spiral she tells him they need to figure their shit out before the baby comes cause she wants all its aunts to be part of their life. when he calms down she tells him that sarah’s been added to the group chat

bahamian!reader's stops at barry's to make sure he hasn't been selling to rafe and vomits in his toilet while trying to intimidate him. he immediately knows she's pregnant and makes her some tea that helped his sister when she was pregnant. rafe sees her location and freaks out expecting the worst but when he kicks in the door he sees the two eating ice cream and watching old telenovelas

bahamian!reader makes him apologize and promise to replace barry's door

bahamian!reader and rafe agree that staying at tanneyhill is not optimal

rose is the last of the camerons to find out. she overheard wheezie talking to someone on the phone and thought it was sarah but it was actually bahamian!reader who was telling her about their recent doctor visit

bahamian!reader and rafe house hunting every night, determined to find a place for their growing family. the night they finally find the one that fits all their wants and needs is one for the history books

bahamian!reader who’s excited to be a mother but knows there’s a chance she might not survive the birth and writes a letter to rafe expressing her love form him and asking him to stay strong for their child and to keep a strong community around him and their child

second trimester (4-6 months)

bahamian!reader and rafe who move into their new house in the winter right when the second trimester starts

bahamian!reader's food cravings are bahamian delicacies which aren't common in obx so rafe calls her siblings so they can walk him through it. she cries when he makes her conch fritters because they taste exactly the ones from the street vendor by her school

bahamian!reader and rafe start to discuss birthing options which surprises rafe because he thought they were just going to the mainland, he'd been researching all the best hospitals, researching their doctors, and scrolling through reviews.

bahamian!reader wants a home birth and like rafe, already has a plan and has done her research

bahamian!reader who talks to rafe about the possibility of her dying during childbirth and has to explain to him that the mortality rate for black women is high so they have to prepare for the worst possible scenario. he understands but he doesn't wanna think about it and doubles down on their need to give birth in a hospital

bahamian!reader who is excited to be a mother but knows there’s a chance she might not survive the birth and writes a letter to rafe expressing her love for him and asking him to stay strong for their child and to keep a strong community around him and their child. she also writes twenty three letters for her unborn child for every birthday so she can give her advice for most of her life

rafe finally agrees to a homebirth after finding the letters after bahamian!reader fell asleep at his desk while writing letter twenty four. bahamian!reader already has a doula in mind, the woman that helped birth most of her siblings, rafe thinks she's too old to still be in her prime and bahamian!reader says he'll eat his words when he sees her work

bahamian!reader and rafe hire a team of midwives from the mainland to help with the birth and buy a ticket to obx for the doula in the bahamas

rafe hasn't touched coke in almost a year and plans on staying clean for his family. he takes up social drinking which bahamian!reader can already see becoming a problem

bahamian!reader and rafe miss partying sometimes but nothing beats staying home and getting a belly massage while watching reality tv. rafe massages her belly with oils recommended by doctors (and kiara) to help with stomach cramps

they feel the baby kick during one of these late night routines and they both freeze. they look at each other, communicating everything with their eyes, waiting for it to happen again and praying it wasn't a fluke. when it happens again they laugh, cry, and kiss

the pogues of course end up finding out one by one. john b’s first cause he saw sarah buying diapers and thought she was pregnant and sarah had to tell him she wasn’t and that bahamian!reader was the pregnant one. kiara sells bahamian!reader some oils that are often used by pregnant women, jj sees her baby bump while she's at the country club, and pope automatically knows shes pregnant when he sees her house a double burger supreme at the wreck.

rafe is at the country club with kelce and offhandedly mentions a baby shower which kelce takes rafe wanting one. he enlists the help of sarah to throw this baby shower and they go all out

bahamian!reader and rafe find elaborate gender reveals lame so they just go back to the doctor's to figure out the sex

it's a girl! rafe is nervous but happy and bahamian reader is excited. they also find out the due date, bahmian!reader is so glad that their baby's gonna be a summer baby

rafe knows kelce and sarah are planning the baby shower but they refuse to let him in on any of their plans outside of asking him vague questions about due dates and

bahamian!reader who spends time with wheezie when rafe is out with barry doing "business". they get along great, wheezie reminds bahamian!reader of her little sister and bahamian!reader reminds wheezie of sarah

rafe really wants to legitimize his business and break away from his father's shadow but it's easier said than done

bahamian!reader occasionally hangs out with barry when he comes over to discuss business and they just chop it up. rafe is only slightly jealous but he's happy they get along

bahamian!reader and rafe who can't wait to meet their baby girl

third trimester (7-9 months)

rafe gets super protective around this time and bahamian!reader's weakening state does nothing to ease his worries

the doula and midwives land in obx and immediately get to work, putting bahamian!reader on bedrest, setting up shop around their house, and prepping the birthing room

bahamian!reader's boobs are sore more often than not these days. rafe feels so bad because on one hand his baby is in pain but on the other hand mommy milkers

rafe definitely has questionable thoughts about her being a mother like it's doing crazy things to his brain he really hasn't thought of it til now and he can't stop

bahamian!reader and rafe come down to two names but refuse to tell when anyone asks because they don’t want to “ruin the surprise”

kelce and sarah are running the baby shower organizing party like the goddamn navy. they sit the parents to be down and show them the baby shower invitations and try to choose a theme but bahamian!reader is too busy watching rafe make johnny cake and how good he looks shirtless

bahamian!reader gets very homesick the closer her due date gets. she's worried that their daughter will never get to see her home and her family

rafe notices she's feeling down and puts two and two together when she cries into her plate of fried plantains

bahamian!reader and rafe come back home from a spa day booked by kelce and sarah to their house covered in decorations and their closest friends screaming 'surprise'. they knew.

rafe tells bahamian!reader he's got a surprise for her and tells her to answer the door when someone knocks. she opens the door and sees her siblings which causes a ten-minute reunion hug and cry

bahamian!reader kisses rafe all over his face until all of her lipgloss is on him and gets really emotional about him doing this for her and is overcome with love and affection she feels like she's gonna burst

wheezie is a welcomed surprise and rafe wants to ask how she got past rose before seeing her not to far from them. wheezie tells him not to let that stop them from having a great time and to remember this day is about them

kelce and sarah are very proud of their hard work and can be found talking to their guests about how hard it was to put all this together but how they wouldn't trade it for the world

bahamian!reader is the guest of honor so of course she gets a crown, a throne, a scepter and a beaded necklace, she feels like the queen of carnival

bahamian!reader catches up with her siblings, asks them about school, work, romances, old friends, how home is and they ask her what it's like living in a mansion

rafe does not like being away from bahamian!reader for long periods of time so he tries to stay close by as he's bombarded with questions about fatherhood and his relationship from kooks and pogues alike

bahamian!reader squeals when she sees barry and runs to hug him. she's glad that he can still spin her around despite her recent weight gain. he apologizes but she brushes him off, tells him everyone else is just early

rafe tells his drug dealer turned ally and business partner that he's late but barry tells him he's operating on "the white man's" time

the party ends with the "reveal", bahamian!reader hits a piñata and pink candy falls out. her siblings and friends wish them congratulations but bahamian!reader is too tired to continue the festivities so rafe being the good man he is kicks everyone out

bahmian!reader convinces her siblings to stay in obx until she gives birth but can't convince them to stay in the house even after going back and forth about how they wouldn't be burdening them at all

rafe and bahamian!reader spend the rest of the next day opening up the rest of the presents

birth/early year

bahamian!reader wants to go to the beach but not just any beach, one in the bahamas. flying is not an option at this point so rafe promises to take her and the baby to the bahamas when they’re ready

rafe is planning the hell out of the labor from what time contractions are gonna start to charging every device that has a camera so they can remember it

bahamian!reader goes into labor a week early and rafe freaks the fuck out while she's calm as a cucumber. he's worried what this could mean no matter how much the midwives assure him that she's fine and that it's perfectly normal especially considering her family history

bahamian!reader is walking around to help with the pain with rafe following closely behind her. she jokes about going up the stairs and his face going pale is equally hilarious and adorable

bahamian!reader falls to her knees after an excruciatingly painful contraction. rafe is panicking and decides that's enough walking around, lifts her up bridal style, and takes her back to the birthing room

the pool is ready and the midwives tell rafe to put her inside but she grabs his arm with a crushing grip, meets his eyes, and tells him to get her siblings. he reassures her he'll call them but she tells him to go pick them up and while he doesn't wanna argue with her especially at a time like this he doesn't wanna leave her alone and he's certain they'll answer and be on their way before they even hang up but she doesn't wanna risk it and now she's crying so he'll do it

he's pretty sure he's breaking every speeding law and passed many red lights but he can afford it. he doesn't even get to finish telling them she's in labor they're already in the car. he breaks some more laws on his way back but it's worth it because he gets to hold his girl's hand and tell her she's doing great as she pushes

bahamian!reader is happy to be surrounded by family at a time like this although she does threaten rafe with the camera while also telling him to get her good side

she's in labor for fifteen hours and rafe never leaves her side once. he needs coffee? the adults send one of the children to get them some (rafe's not sure about it at first but bahamian!reader's younger brother assures him that they've all been drinking and making coffee since they were five)

at the fifteenth hour, bahamian!reader brings her sisters in close and tells them to always wear condoms as she pushes one last time and the baby's head appears. she cries happy tears and feels rafe kiss her sweaty forehead, the doula and midwives tell her to push five more times

bahamian!reader and rafe cry tears of joy and disbelief at the sight of their little girl. she's taken out of the water by a midlife and cleaned up before being passed to her mother and father

rafe cries when he holds her. he can't believe something so tiny and soft and pure is half of him. he's overwhelmed with so much love and affection already he knows he'll do anything for her, for both of them. he promises her he'll be better than his father

bahamian!reader rests for two hours after delivery giving rafe and her siblings ample time to get to know the baby. her youngest siblings were made to wait outside during the delivery finally get to see their niece and the youngest, lil john, is happy he's no longer the baby (he's still a baby just not thee baby)

everyone wants to know her name but rafe refuses to tell them until bahamian!reader is up

bahamian!reader wakes up to rafe at her side with their baby and feels her heart squeeze at the sight of them. he tells her how proud he is of her and thanks her for giving him this bundle of joy which of course makes her cry

their intimate moment is interrupted by wheezie bursting in and asking where the baby is. rose apologizes for her and is followed by all of bahamian!reader's siblings screaming about "a white lady and her baby"

everyone's happy to see that bahamian!reader's up and alive but they all know the real star is the baby

rafe is very warry of anyone else holding her but when he side eyes bahamian!reader's siblings and wheezie she tells him to knock it off

wheezie wants to hold her but is scared of hurting her. bahamian!reader reassures her that it's not hard and she'll be fine. the baby is the spitting image of rafe but like if rafe was biracial

"what's her name?"

rafe and bahamian!reader smile at each other

“wheezie, meet louise.” she sobs.

she's very honored that they named her after her but worries that she'll be bullied in school for having an "old lady name". bahamian!reader cracks up rafe does not find this funny and takes his baby back

after everyone's gotten a chance to hold and look at the baby rafe kicks them all out because "his girl needs rest"

bahamian!reader says she's not tired but rafe doesn't believe it, he lets her have that lie though and tells her it's just so they can spend time with the baby themselves

bahamian!reader and her siblings say goodbye for what feels like two hours but is shockingly only one. rafe has to remind them that they'll see each other again tomorrow because their hotel is max thirty minutes away

sarah comes to visit and comes with a truckload of gifts and is automatically cooing over the newborn. she's talking about wanting to pinch her little cheeks and eat her up when rafe decides to take his baby back. she pouts and says she was just joking but he's not taking any chances

bahamian!reader was worried that louise wouldn't latch but she was proven wrong when she fed her the first time and she latched on immediately. it was more of a struggle to get her to let go

bahamian!reader is worried about the baby weight and what rafe will think and turns to her sisters for advice which was the wrong idea because they tell her to leave him if he says anything and that they'll take care of him

unsurprisingly, rafe has no problem with the change in her figure and says "onlys cucks and virgins have an issue with that". he's very into it actually, constantly grabbing her stomach and thighs and kissing up and down her neck. constantly being told "don't start something you can't finish bey"

bahamian!reader has a tearful goodbye with her siblings after the first month, she's scared that they won't be able to do it without their help but knows they have lives to return to. they promise her that she'll do great and that they'll see her when she visits

the first couple of doctor visits are easier than either thought until the vaccinations. rafe wants to wring the neck of the doctor giving louise her shots and making her cry. bahamian!reader has to remind him that it's temporary and her health

louise is a daddy's girl to her core thanks to rafe spoiling her rotten. when she's not with her mama she's definitely with her daddy, in his arms, behind his back, on his hip, in a stroller, a carrier, or in a pouch

her first social outing post birth is at the country club with rafe. kelce and topper see her and automatically start gushing about how cute she is. kelce talks in a baby voice and topper plays peek-a-boo with her, rafe would mock them if it was anyone else's brat but he knows his daughter is the cutest girl in the world so he understands

topper says she looks exactly like him down to his cold stare and kelce jokes that she's thankfully got her mother's melanin

first time barry sees baby louise is when he makes a surprise visit. he finds rafe on his balcony and is shocked when he turns around and has a baby strapped to his chest

louise loves barry. she's immediately intrigued by him, reaching for him from her pouch surprising rafe and bahamian!reader when she walks in on louise giggling as she pushes her tiny fingers into the dealer's mouth and pulls at his nose

barry says she's lucky she's cute and jokes that she got all her looks from bahamian!reader. rafe says he's lucky he's holding his baby or he'd knock his lights out

rafe and bahamian!reader go all out for her first christmas even though they know she probably won't remember any of it. winter photoshoots, pictures with mall santas, big family dinners, and loads of gifts. rafe promises her that when she's old enough to remember christmas he'll take her somewhere with snow for christmas

rafe gets bahamian!reader a snow globe of her bar in the bahamas and she gets him a new bike, both are left speechless by the accuracy of the gifts and the care that went into getting them they definitely fuck nasty after louise is asleep

bahamian!reader and rafe have no trouble with getting up in the middle of the night to look after a screaming baby because both their sleep schedules were kind of fucked beforehand

bahamian!reader wants louise baptized and while rafe is not against it he's surprised to hear that bahamian!reader is religious

"so what'd you think the cross necklace was for?"

"aesthetic reasons? i don't know."

"that brain of yours for 'aesthetic reasons'?"

they both agree that sarah should be the godmother only because they agree she's the most mature albeit not the oldest. rafe doesn't want wheezy to have all that pressure and power and bhamian!reader doesn't want the twins, two of her younger sister diana and donna, to fight over who gets to be godmother

bahmaian!reader's siblings watch the baptism through zoom but are still somehow the loudest there. sarah sobs at being named the godmother and while rafe looks disgusted at her snot and blubbering they both know he's happy she's there

louise says her first words a few weeks after the baptism. it's 'mama' which rafe says isn't fair because bahamian!reader has been "conditioning her to say it" they both know he's just jealous she said mama before daddy

he gets his lick back when she takes her first steps and wobble runs into his arms. bahamian!reader calls him a smug asshole and takes her baby from his arms

louise's first birthday is a grand occasion and this time they're all hands on deck. bahamian!reader flew out her siblings once again and they help with the party supplies, gifts, invites, and catering

rafe gets a little choked up during the planning cause he's never had a family like this, not since his mother. bahamian!reader and her siblings pinch his cheeks and cheer him up letting him know that he's family now

louise is dressed up in a big pink dress with a tiara to match because she is a princess. the three-layered cake is a castle and there's a bouncy house, she's having a ball

the girls of the family can't get enough of her from the twins, to fourteen year old mia and wheezie, and of course sarah. bahamian!reader find them moment too cute not to take a picture

bahamian!reader taking pictures of the birthday girl, the party, and all of the attendees, her favorite is the one where louise is messily feeding rafe cake

the baby is tired so rafe puts her down for a nap and stays by her side so bahamian!reader and keep talking to friends and family

bahamian!reader does not believe in the 'terrible twos' and even if she did that's something that happens to other peoples' kids not hers. rafe tells her he was a terror at two and she's like "oh i'm sure". if louise is ever extra bratty she blames it on rafe spoiling her and being her father which he knows is fair but does bring up that she is her mother. he sleeps on the couch that night.

bahamian!reader is so excited cause they can finally take their daughter to the motherland. they take the jet of course because it's the fastest and rafe has to hear 'are we there yet?' from a two year old and a twenty four year old

when they touch down in the bahamas they immediately book it to her childhood home where all her siblings still live and it's like she's been given a second wind. she's zooming everywhere from the beach to street vendors to her bar because she wants to show louise everything. rafe has to remind her that they're spending the summer so there's no need to squeeze everything into one day

bahamian!reader is very excited to take louise to the beach because there's nothing like it. she has to explain to rafe that obx's water is nothing like the bahamas

"bey you should know this, you seen it. ya stood in it!"

"wasn't really thinking about how beautiful the sea was at the time babe."

they of course brought a floatie for louise to sit in and get the full experience despite her pouting and telling them she could swim just fine

bahamian!reader pushes a strand of hair behind louise's ear as she speaks in a soft tone. "we know baby we just want you to be safe because the ocean can get really big. bigger than daddy sometimes."

louise's mouth is agape at the thought of something taller than her daddy. "woah. okay mama."

bahamian!reader's new bikini she bought just for the trip get a lot of attention from non-rafes. rafe comes over and kisses bahamian!reader silly in front of them like they're not there and passes louise to her before strutting off to get a beer. the message is loud and clear

louis is very sad when it's time to leave but they promise the beach is still gonna be there tomorrow. she immediately falls asleep in the ride back to the house

bahamian!reader's siblings offer to teach rafe how to play dominoes. she tries to save him but he tells her he can handle it, and in the beginning he does, he wins a round. the next few rounds are a massacre, he doesn't realize he's being swindled until the last round's over and he's lost five thousand dollars

bahamian!reader scolds her siblings for swindling him and rafe for not listening to her

bahamian!reader and rafe having date nights in the bahamas. she takes him out dancing one night which leads to a hot and heavy make out sesh in the alley. the next week they go skinny dipping and their last week in the bahamas they eat from several street vendors

you already know she's got him trained in taking photos like he has a master in cuntology and minored in photography

exhibit a

exhibit b

exhibit c

as the night comes to an end, they stop at a convenience store before heading home.

"you've never tried jarritos!?"

is it really that hard to believe?"

"a little yeah. nah we're fixing that."

that's how he found himself being dragged through the aisles of a 24/7 convenience store. they stop in front of the horizontal fridges, she grins at the endless options. "well, here it is."

"here it is." he parrots back. she looks back at him and rolls her eyes but the smile tells him everything he needs to know. "what flavor you want?"

"you're the expert, what do you recommend?"

"mango."

"mango it is." he watches her open the fridge and grab two mango bottles. there's something about the flickering dying white light above them, the blue dim light in the freezer, the condensation on the mirror and the hum of the fridge. he's already pulling out his camera when she turns and smiles. click!

she grins, ""okay big man! mr. professional! i see you!" she closes the fridge and faces him, one hand on her hip "was it good?"

"with you? always."

she halfheartedly shoves him and walks past him. "thank you." she stops and looks back at him, "i just wanted good photos."

he shrugs and reaches her in three strides. he wraps one arm around her waist, "yeah but i wouldn't have done it without you."

she smiles, "maybe. maybe not. let's go, my baby's waiting for me." he chuckles as they walk up to the cashier, manned by an old skinny dark skinned man with an unbuttoned shirt and a hat. he's looking down at his phone watching what sounds like a soccer game when she clears her throat.

the old man looks up and does a double take. rafe knows that look well.

he turns off his phone and attempts to straighten himself up, "good evening ma'am. little late to be out by yourself no?"

she glares, "don't try it old man."

the man frowns but squints, "hol'on oh my lord gal i didn't recognize you? how you been?"

"i straight, where's your glasses wilson thomas?"

he shrugs, "ah you know those doctors just tryin' to make money." he swipes the drinks and puts them in bags. "last i heard ya moved to north carolina and had a baby? i said "no way" thought it was just sip sip."

she grins, "yeah, i'm a taken woman now." the man finally acknowledges rafe who gives him a cold menacing smile.

wilson maintains his chivalrous act but the couple sees right through him "oh that's good!"

she chuckles as she swipes her card, "uh huh. goodnight thomas." she grabs rafe's hand and leaves the store as wilson calls after them. "hey stop by any time ya hear! i always got a discount for ya!"

they stop a good distance away from the store, she pulls out both bottles, "sorry 'bout him."

"what's his deal?" rafe asks as he accepts the drink from her hand.

she takes a sip and shakes her head, "old perv."

"oh?"

she shrugs, "always got everything in that shack of his though." she says it like it's no big deal but he notices the way her hand balls into a fist.

he looks down at the drink in his hand and taps the cap before biting the bullet. "do you miss living here?"

she stops drinking and looks at him. she swallows, "what's this?"

he wants to find the right words so it takes him a little longer to reply. "you're- you seem... happier here? do- would you wanna stay here?" she looks out to the direction of the ocean and closes her eyes, taking in the smell and the sound.

"i miss it."

he feels like he's been sucker punched in the gut.

"but i love living with you. and yeah i miss my family but you're my family, you and louise. doesn't matter where we are."

how did he get so lucky? "i love you."

she smiles, "i love you."

bahamian!reader and louise are disappointed when they have to head back to outer banks but bahamian!reader promises to visit when they can and tells her siblings their home is always open to them. they apologize to rafe for swindling him but he tells them it's fine cause he did worse at their ages

louise cries until they're at the airport and she falls asleep and doesn't wake up until they're in the sky

louise may be a daddy's girl but she loves her mama. it only becomes a problem on the first day of pre-k

louise stomps her foot and cries, "i don't wanna go mama!"

bahamian!reader squats down to her level and wipes her tears, "oh i know baby but you wanna get smarter and bigger right."

she shrugs, pouting and refusing to look her in the eye. bahamian!reader feel her heart break, seeing her baby sad is one thing but knowing she's the cause of that pain is another.

"okay. no lies, it's hard. it's gonna be hard for me and your daddy to watch you go through the doors and it's gonna be hard for you to be without us for a while. but i promise you, we wouldn't be doing this if we didn't know it would help you. i can't promise you'll have fun but i promise you'll learn something and the hours will go by faster than you think?"

louise rubs at her eyes and her come to a stop, “really?"

"really. and before you know it me and daddy will be here to pick you up and give you a million kisses and biiiiig hugs." she lightly squeezes her to give her an example of the hugs.

louise giggles. "you're silly mama."

she smiles, "i know." she wipes her daughters tears and gives her one last hug. "i love you baby."

"i love you more mama."

"impossible." she smiles and kisses her forehead signaling for the homeroom teacher to take over.

she grabs louise's hand and tells her to wave bye to bahamian!reader, she does and bahamian!reader waves back as she watches the two disappear into the classroom.

louise is already the next kook princess, only three years old and she has everyone wrapped around her cute little finger

second pregnancy

about 3 years after louise bahamian!reader gets pregnant again. they ecstatic but are worried that louise won't be since she's used to getting all their attention. they both know what it's like to have all the love and spotlight on you and suddenly having to share it with another kid

louise is very happy to hear that she's gonna be a big sister and puts her ear against bahamian!reader's stomach trying to hear them. they tell her she won't be able to hear or feel them for a while

they both agree that the second pregnancy was easier because they know all the tricks and hacks and have made a plan A-Z for the birth. what they weren't prepared for were twins

rafe’s shocked when they find out there having twins but bahamian!reader isn’t. she forgot to tell him that twins run in her family

rafe is officially freaking the fuck out, he doesn't know how he can replicate what he did with louise with twins!

bahamian!reader is surprisingly calm for most of her pregnancy, seeing twins as a challenge that she can take on

louise helps keep her stress as low as she can; she cleans up her toys, helps set the table, and keeps bahamian!reader company when she goes on bedrest later in her pregnancy

rafe and bahamian!reader stick to online shopping for baby materials this time

bahamian!reader's cravings have involved from bahamian food to triple cheese totinos pizza and cans of cool whip

jj jokingly calls her huge one time and makes her cry and rafe would’ve beaten the shit out of him if he wasn’t held back by barry and bahamian!reader forgives him

bahamian!reader and rafe agree to make charles, her younger brother, and barry the twins' godfathers because they are the most qualified despite some of their shadier pasts

bahamian!reader wants to have the twins at a high class fancy mainland hospital because she doesn't risk either of the twins. they find a place that's the combination of a high end hotel and a medical facility/hospital and book their stay

it's not a surprise when they put bahamian!reader on bedrest and while she understands she is still pouty

"i'm not pouting." she pouts from what she's started calling "a fluffy prison".

rafe looks up from massaging her feet and chuckles. "looks like pouting. what do you think lou?"

louise nods and points accusingly, "stop pouting mama?"

"louise!?"

the labor is eighteen excruciating hours but it's all worth it when she sees her babies joel and alice, named after billy joel and rafe's mom. he cries when he hears her name and can't stop kissing her and baby alice as he thanks her for everything

the twins give them a run for their money, not literally of course they could afford the diapers but sleep-wise. when one is down the other is awake which sometimes leads to the other twin being woken up, this goes on for a while until they find a good strategy

louise is a great big sister, always playing with the twins and holding thier hands when they cross the street, cheering them up when they're sad, and sharing her toys

both parents can't believe their lives but they wouldn't trade it for the world

[heartfullofleeches]

I know I ask for a lot from y'all, but brainstorm with me [mentions of cheating (not by Reader) [

They've finally done it- Reader, absolute sweetheart, a shy introvert working hellish hours as wait staff at a nightclub doing a job they likely aren't cut out for has finally made enough money to pay off the ring they picked out in preparation to propose to the love of their life. The two were highschool sweethearts and with another close friend from school returning to town for the reunion, Reader sees no better time to pop the question than at dinner that same night to celebrate their return. They've been waiting for an opportunity like this for so long they instantly shoot down their work mates invitation for a party after work and beg on their hands and knees for their boss to give them the night off - the same hard ass boss who can never say no to that overtly sensitive employee of theirs.

Their boss is such a push over they let Reader go early. Reader is so excited they forget to inform their soon to be fiance and head straight home. As they enter the house, there's something almost immediately wrong. Their friend should be here by now - why was the living room empty?... Didn't their partner hate that scent of candle?

What....what is that noise coming from the bedroom?

Reader ease the bedroom door open... and their heart shatters. They rush out of the house, careful not to disturb the two, right back to the only place they know where to go. Reader dries their face of tears and puts on their apron, trying to keep a brave face as they ask their boss to be let back on the clock, but anyone who looks at those eyes knows they're not one and in need of comfort-

Who is the one who gives them said comfort?

• Reader's workmate/only real friend who has aired their not-so subtle hatred of reader's ex. Laid back, bit of a stoner, comes off as pushy/hash at times, but only wants the best for them. They take Reader back to their house for the party where the two hook up with a stranger for a threesome to get Reader's mine off their ex and through his encounter Reader's workmate finally gains the courage to confess their feelings and ask Reader to be theirs..

• Reader's slightly older, hard ass boss drags them into their office when the heartbroken waiter breaks down sobbing on the floor. They warn Reader not to get so caught up over the relationship because people their age never know what they want. Reader's boss gives them a handjob and the rest of the night off to recover in their bed.

• The regular who's had their eyes on the little lamb who looks so out of place in a club like this notices the tears in their eyes and asks what's wrong. They can hardly contain their excitement when Reader begins their sob story. They invite the broken soul into the private room they've booked in the club and claims them in front of jealous onlookers. If it hasn't been implied clearly enough, the Yan in this scenario is a lust demon who has fallen in love with Reader

[Regardless of what is chosen Reader will be Amab as there will be smut and it's what I prefer. No gender for any of the Yans have been decided, but I'm leaning towards amab for the workmate and a bit more on the Fem side for lust demon]

[itsactuallycorrine]

inertia

buddie; 1K words; feelizings realizations; s08e06 spec

If Buck still had his math superpowers, he’s sure he could’ve told everyone how statistically unlikely it is for them to be on a second call where a kid fell down a well.

Even without the powers, he has an inkling: really, really, really fucking unlikely.

And yet here they are, staring at another kid stuck in a pipe, and icy cold dread ties Buck’s stomach into knots the minute Eddie opens his mouth.

Bobby says something about Eddie not fitting, and while Eddie, Bobby, and Chim are brainstorming solutions, Buck knows he needs to get his head back in the game, needs to be here, in the moment, doing his job.

Instead, his mind is cast over four years back, his eyes watch the sky for signs of a storm, his ears ring with the memory of a deafening crack, and his heart beats desperately against the cage of his ribs, pounding and pounding like it’s looking for an escape, any way out. 

“You good?” Hen murmurs to him, sliding him a solicitous glance and nudging her arm into his. 

Mouth dry, he nods. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he manages, and it convinces neither of them. 

Hen doesn’t call him out on it, though, just raises one brow. “He’s not going back down—he’s all right. No cut lines today.”

Buck’s still nodding, doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop. An object in motion and all that, Newton’s first law, he vaguely remembers from one of Christopher’s science assignments last year. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I know.” Nodding, nodding. 

She frowns, brows drawn low in concern, before a small smile pulls at her lips. “That was the first time I suspected, you know,” she says, quiet and teasing, and it’s so unexpected, he’s finally able to force his head to stop, to tilt it her way instead.

“Suspected what?”

“That maybe you weren’t as straight as we all assumed.”

It’s even more unexpected. He gapes at her. “What? Why?”

That skeptical brow goes up again. “Really?” she asks, bone dry. “You can’t think of any reason why someone might have seen you that night and suspected that maybe, just maybe, you felt a little more than friendship for your coworker?” When he stares at her, lost, she softens, grasping his arm as if to steady him for the next blow. “Buck, you were wailing and clawing at the ground like you’d just lost the love of your life.” 

Her words strum at something, buried deep down inside him, and its sonorous echoes bounce within the boundaries of his skin, making his head ring. He inhales sharply through his nose, casting his gaze away, from her, from the team, from the call. It’s not like he doesn’t remember that, remember Bobby bodily hauling him up from ground, holding Buck as he sobbed. Remember them talking to him in their gentle hysterical-victim-handling voices, assuring him that no one had given up on Eddie and they were doing what they could to get him out. Remember the heady relief of Eddie showing up on his own, cracking jokes like he hadn’t almost died, radiating cold and hardly able to stand. 

It had felt like a miracle. It still did. They’d all had their share of them, before and since, but that had been the first time it’d happened for Eddie, to Eddie, since they’d met. The first time Buck had to sit with the idea of losing him, of being left behind in a very real and permanent way, one from which there was no coming back. 

Fully-realized, post-therapy, semi-mature Buck can admit now that he’d never given himself the time or space to process that. Instead, he’d just put it away, on to the next thing. There had been Red, and then Abby’s return, and, in retrospect, an obvious dotted line that connected all three of these events, drawn in tears and sweat and blood and abandonment issues. 

But that didn’t mean what Hen was insinuating. He shakes his head. “It was Eddie,” he says, helpless. “I didn’t—I’m not… I can’t. Hen, I can’t.” It’s the last thing he needs on top of everything going on between him and Tommy, and Christopher still being gone, and all the other ripples finally calming in the wake of last spring. He cannot afford an ill-timed revelation right now.

Her lips part as she stares at him. “Buck, I didn’t mean—” she starts, only to be cut off by Chim’s urgent call of, “Hen, need you over here.” But still she hesitates until Buck gives her a nod. “We’ll talk more later,” she promises, and there is nothing Buck wants less, so he ducks her the rest of shift, and doesn’t even change out of his uniform before he takes off the next morning. 

In his loft, he struggles to keep his mind blank as he showers and changes, but as soon as he lays down, sleep eludes him and the floodgates open.

He closes his eyes against it, the childish thought that if he can’t see it, it can’t hurt him. But it’s there, and real, spilling out and touching everything, an unstoppable rising tide, and Buck curls up into a ball as it picks him up and carries him along, gasping for breath as it buffets him from every side. He wants to fight, wants to push it back, but it’s too much, years and years of moments big and small, touches, looks, words, deeds. 

It’s You can have my back any day and There’s nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you and You act like you’re expendable, but you’re wrong and You don’t have to be anything for anybody.

It’s fond eye rolls and soft smiles and secrets shared and fears unburied and shoulder touches and the right kind of teasing. 

It’s fear and joy and laughter and tears and friendship and grief and comfort and…love. Always love. 

Hen was right; he had been acting like the love of his life had been buried alive, because he had. Because that’s what Eddie was—is—for Buck. 

Fuck.

ao3

[kiss-me-cill-me]

Now We Pay The Price | Pt. 2

Start with Pt. 1 HERE!

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: ALL OF THE SAME WARNINGS AS PART 1, plus more angst, some fluff, general dark themes, depiction of a stick n' poke tattoo, violence, makeshift weapons, fear toxin, Crane spikes someone's drink (not the reader's)

A/N: Back by mildly popular demand lol :) First, I have to give a huge thank you to @cillianslvt for all of her help with brainstorming, concept bouncing, and song picking! She gave me the perfect inspo for this part: Supercut by Lorde.

I wanted to do something a bit different here, so this is told in alternating cuts between the fallout from part 1 (written in past tense) and flashbacks to the reader's college days (written in present tense just to be confusing lol). I probably will be writing one more part for this, but it might be a while before it's out because I kind of want to take a small break from angst haha. But, I hope you enjoy this part!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Somewhere out in the echoing hallway, an alarm buzzed.

“Lights out in five minutes!”

The guard’s booming voice was almost too muffled to understand through the thick metal door. But you weren’t paying enough attention for it to matter. It was the same routine, for the hundredth time. You didn’t need an announcement to know that you were about to be plunged into the dark.

And besides, you had more important things to worry about.

Your fingers traced over the hearts that still littered your bedsheets. Contained to one of the corners for now, but wild and scattered, as if they might be about to spill out over the rest of the white cotton at any moment. Unrestrained.

You clenched your teeth, trying hard to focus on something other than the hailstorm of tremors that seemed ready to wrack your body. Your skin was prickling. If you opened your mouth, you weren’t sure if what came out would be a sob or a scream. You didn’t particularly want to find out.

The familiar sound of a key in the lock was enough to pull you out of your stupor. Quickly, you covered the doodles again, and whipped your head toward the door, hoping.

But no. It was nobody. Some faceless orderly, sent to give you the pills that you never took, if you could get away with hiding them.

Tonight, though, you decided to behave. You had certainly been causing enough trouble lately. And besides, if you were being honest, you could use them. Your mood had been a complete mess all day, and a little stability would be nice, for a change.

You swallowed your pride along with the pills, and flopped back onto the mattress. As soon as the orderly was gone, you inched the sheets back down, exposing the blue stains. Tomorrow was laundry day, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to enjoy them for much longer.

Seconds later, the lights flicked out, and you were left alone with your memories.

The asphalt beneath your feet feels like it’s not even there as you practically skip down the driveway, and you’re not sure how gravity still has a hold on you by the time your hand wrenches open the car door.

“Hey!” You smile as you climb in, whipping around quickly to fasten your seatbelt. Maybe that will be enough to ground you, but it doesn’t seem likely. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“You took long enough to get out here,” he replies, slightly snarky.

But when you finally look up at him, his soft half-smile makes your heart melt, and your legs and arms feel even more weightless than ever. His blue eyes peer over at you from just below the rim of his glasses, and he tilts his head while he waits for you to respond.

“Fuck off, Jonathan,” you laugh, waving a hand in his direction.

He shakes his head, shifting to take hold of the wheel.

As he starts the car, the two of you sit in silence for a moment, and you use the opportunity to take a closer look at him. He’s bundled up tightly in his jacket. A slight chill permeates the air, though you feel perfectly warm sitting next to him.

“I don’t know how you can stand driving around without listening to music,” you say suddenly, reaching for the radio.

It takes you a minute to find anything worth listening to. Static mixed intermittently with snippets of sound fills the car as you carefully turn the dial, until finally landing on something you know. Satisfied, you sit back.

“I don’t know how you can stand listening to this,” Jonathan laughs. “I mean, are you even hearing these lyrics?”

“I like the lyrics!” you insist. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re just cheesy,” he says, dismissively.

You roll your eyes, and settle back with your arm resting against the car door. Before long, your head is bobbing along to the music, and you start to hum.

You’ve only known Jonathan for a few weeks, but already it’s become nearly impossible to ignore the way your heart pounds when you’re next to him. It’s nerve wracking - to think he might not feel that way about you. But you don’t let yourself imagine that possibility too often. It’s better to stay positive, and look to your future together. You honestly can’t imagine things any other way.

At the start of the chorus, your humming turns gradually into words - quiet at first, and then louder when Jonathan doesn’t try to stop you. Soon, you’re singing at full volume.

“You know, distracted driving is the number one cause of car accidents,” he informs you.

When you look over, you notice the small smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

“But music improves mood and cognition,” you shoot back, interrupting your singing to give him a slight shove. “Shouldn’t you know that, Mr. Psychology Major?”

Jonathan scoffs, but mercifully keeps his mouth shut when you open yours to start singing again, rolling down the window to scream into the night.

Your eyes, tight with heavy sleep, shot suddenly open, to be met by the darkness of your cell. Breath heavy, you tried to remember the dream you’d been having. Whatever it was, it had gotten you worked up. So much for the sedatives doing you any good; maybe Crane hadn’t actually upped your dose like he’d threatened to do.

Or he had, and this was just your body’s paradoxical reaction to the sudden increase. Not that you had been taking the regular dose with any consistency.

You considered getting up, but what was the point in that? There was nowhere to go but from one corner of the small room to the other, and you had spent enough time pacing back and forth to last a lifetime.

The small window set high up on the wall of your cell let in a sliver of light, just briefly, as a rotating searchlight made its round, and you closed your eyes again.

The university’s library is calming, in a way. The seemingly endless stacks of books reach out to greet you as you run your hands over their spines, walking slowly down one row and then another. 

You’re looking for something specific, but not a book. You know that he always comes here at this time.

Jonathan is crouched down to reach something on a low shelf when you finally see him. You hover, half-hidden, at the end of the row where he’s kneeling, and watch as he flips through the first few pages of a book. Satisfied, he stands up, and you saunter into the aisle to join him.

“Hey,” you call, softly. “Thought I might find you here.”

Jonathan tucks the book under his arm, and looks at you curiously for a moment.

“Hey,” he echoes, apprehensive. “Don’t you have class right now?”

“Do I?” you ask, stopping next to him. “Whoops. Whatcha reading?”

“Nothing. Just a book for class. Unlike some people I know, I take academics seriously.”

As he talks, he tilts his head to the side and takes a step closer to you, crowding you back against the bookshelves. He’s smiling. Just having fun with you; you’re sure of it. But you can’t stop the warm rush that spreads over your cheeks.

You try to straighten up under his gaze, bringing the tip of your nose close to his.

“I take this stuff seriously, too,” you insist. “Here, I’ll prove it. What’re you studying?”

Before giving him a chance to respond, you reach down and snatch the book from his hand. Brushing a thumb over the cover, you consider the title.

“Phobias, huh?” you muse. “No offense, Jonathan. But you’re not very scary.”

You beam as you watch a blush creep over his cheeks. He’s been doing that around you more often, and every time you notice it, your heart swells.

“You don’t think so?” he drones, taking another step closer.

He’s nearly on top of you as you press back into the row of books, and you feel your heart leap into your throat. Not out of fear, but for an entirely different reason.

“Nope,” you challenge. “Not scary at all.”

“Hm. Guess I’ll have to try harder then.” 

He snatches the book back and starts to move away from you, but before he can get too far, both of your hands shoot out. Your fingers grab onto his sweater, and faster than you have a chance to think, suddenly your lips are pressing against his. Eyes squeezed shut so you don’t have to face his reaction, you hold him. But when you let go of his shirt, he stays there for a few seconds longer, before pulling away.

“That was scary,” you breathe, finally daring to meet his cold eyes.

But, what you see there is softness, mixed with slight shock. The piercing, frost-blue that normally seems to slice through you has taken on a watery quality, as if something has melted, if just for a moment.

You take a deep breath as Jonathan leans back in.

By the time the orderlies had started to wheel their huge bin of laundry down the narrow hall, your white sheets were already torn off and crumpled at the foot of your bed. You weren’t about to take the risk of anyone else seeing the hearts you’d drawn. This way, they were unlikely to be noticed. At least until after they’d already been mixed with all of the other patients’ laundry, untraceable to you.

Before, the worst that could happen was you losing your pen - a sorry excuse for entertainment, but nothing vital. Now, losing that same pen meant losing your one chance at freedom as well, and you weren’t prepared to give that up.

You stood in the far corner of the room, watching silently as two men came in to collect your sheets. They didn’t comment on the fact that you’d stripped your own bed - perhaps too caught up in their meaningless conversation to notice.

When they left, you finally felt able to breathe again. You exhaled, trying to push every last trace of air out of your lungs so that you could start fresh again.

Sitting back down on your new set of sheets, you ran your hand over the blank space that no longer bore even a faint trace of love.

“What are you doing?” Jonathan asks, leaning over your shoulder to peer down at whatever has you so occupied.

“Giving myself a tattoo,” you reply easily. 

“What?”

“It’s just a little heart - see?”

You carefully hold up your wrist to him, showing off the half finished lobe of a heart. One side of it, anyway. It’s slow going, but you’re determined to take your time; to not rush through the impulsive decision you’ve made.

“Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Because I felt like it,” you reply. “Do I need another reason?”

“Did you at least sterilize your wrist - and the needle?” he sighs.

“I used some hand sanitizer. M’sure that’s good enough.”

Jonathan pinches the bridge of his nose, putting his other hand on his hip.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he complains.

“Well, it’s not like I can’t stop now, though - right?” you say, playfully. “You’re always telling me not to leave things half finished.”

Jonathan sits down in the chair next to you, as you go back to carefully maneuvering the needle. Your tongue sticks out from the corner of your mouth, frozen in concentration. You jump, just a fraction of an inch, as the sharp point breaches your skin.

“Give me that,” Jonathan mutters.

He’s already swiped the needle away from you, and is holding your wrist down securely against the table as he inspects your work.

“This isn’t going to heal nicely,” he informs you.

“I don’t care.”

To your surprise, he dips the needle into the little pot of ink that’s sitting on the table between you, and then lines up the point to continue.

“You’re pushing it in way too deep,” he says, peering over his glasses.

When he presses down, the sharp end of the needle barely seems to graze you. It doesn’t hurt so much when he does it. Jonathan’s thumb brushes over the flesh of your palm, soothing you.

“You’re good at this,” you comment. “You’ll make a good doctor someday.”

Jonathan tries to hide his smile, but you catch the small curl of his lips despite the way he’s hunched over, focusing on your tattoo. The second jab is just as painless as the first, and you smile back.

“This isn’t exactly what I picture myself doing for work.” He laughs - just a small hum, but it’s there.

“Right - you want to study the fear of needles. Not be the one jabbing patients.”

“Something like that,” he agrees.

The two of you sit, huddled close in the silence; you watching Jonathan work as he gingerly uses the needle. It’s strangely intimate, and you feel closer to him than you have in a long time. 

Not because you’ve spent too much time apart. On the contrary, you’ve been seeing each other more often than ever. But the more time you spend with him, the sharper you seem to feel his small absences. It has, lately, started to seem like you need to see Jonathan more and more often just to feel normal; like you’re in danger of something bad happening when he’s not there.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“The tattoo means more, now that you’re the one doing it.”

Jonathan keeps his head bowed, trying desperately not to let you see his expression. The tips of his ears give him away, though, as they turn a bright pink behind strands of hair that have fallen away as he leans down.

“Jonathan?” “Hm?”

“It’s polite to say ‘you’re welcome’ when someone thanks you,” you tease.

As he looks up to narrow his eyes at you, you take the chance to lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

The harsh white fluorescents buzzed over your head as you leaned back in your uncomfortable chair. You’d sat in this same plastic seat for probably dozens of therapy sessions. Not once had the miserable thing ever done anything other than give you back pain.

“Are you paying attention?” the doctor in front of you asked.

“No,” you replied.

What was the use in lying, when it was obvious to both of you?

The doctor hummed in annoyance, shuffled some papers, and frowned at her clipboard. 

“Well I suggest you start,” she began, “because what we’re trying to do here is very important. You know your appeal is in the process of being reviewed, and…”

You tuned her out, turning your attention to the much more important matter of planning your escape. Even just thinking those words made you feel strangely giddy. This was something that happened in movies and cheap paperback novels; not real life. But, you had made up your mind, and there would be no going back now. You were going to rebuild your life with the person who mattered most, and doing that meant that you needed to get out of here.

You thought of the ballpoint pen, now modified and hidden, deep within the bones of your mattress. It had taken patience to sharpen the plastic casing against the concrete, and patience was something you didn’t have much of these days. But in the end, it would all be worth it.

“...three counts of manslaughter, and two more of - are you listening?” the doctor repeated. 

“Why should I? We both know that I’ve heard this a thousand times,” you sighed.

The doctor, equally as exasperated, crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. It’s your life.”

“My life doesn’t exist in here,” you whispered. “Not the one I want, anyway.”

“Well, it’s the one you’ve got, so maybe you ought to start acting like it,” she suggested.

You ignored her, and retreated back into the world that only existed inside your memories. Yours… and his, if you were lucky.

The room is dark and full of music. Music, and bodies - swaying in time to the rhythm; draped over furniture or pressed up against walls, as lips meet and hands wander. You pass by two people who look like they’re three seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off, and duck under the raised elbow of somebody else as they pump their fist in the air. A clamor erupts as you pass; some conversation you’re not part of that’s full of hollered laughter and shouts.

You’re looking for Jonathan, amidst all the colors and flashing lights. You’d left him several minutes ago to go and find the bathroom, and got turned around on your way back. The slight buzz of alcohol makes your limbs a bit looser than usual, and you pause to savor the deep thrum that emanates from the sound system. As you close your eyes, your feet sway a little, and you smile.

Jonathan is never interested in going to parties with you, but for whatever reason, he had accepted the invitation tonight. You like to think it’s because he just wants to spend time with you, even if loud, messy gatherings aren’t usually his idea of a good time.

Finally, you find your way back to the couch where you left him. And there he is, smiling that soft half-smile you know so well, from the hundreds of times it’s made your heart do somersaults in your chest.

You frown. Scowl.

Jonathan is leaning forward, hands on his legs as he talks to another woman. Smiles at her. You stop short in your tracks, and watch from a distance as Jonathan tilts his head to her ear, whispering something.

The girl stands up, giggles while she looks down at him for a moment, and then walks off. You see red; a crimson wash that feels slightly too familiar as it drapes over you.

Jonathan, still on the couch, smiles for a moment longer before reaching into his pocket. The girl has moved on by now, and you watch as the affable grin is wiped neatly from Jonathan’s face, replaced by something blank and more difficult to categorize.

There’s a tiny glass tube in his hand. You can’t see what it is exactly, but you can make out the way he removes a cap, and then brings his hand close to the red plastic cup that’s sitting on the table in front of him, right where the woman had been.

Your rage propels you forward, and without time to think things through, you’ve grabbed the sleeve of his jacket before you even realize you’ve reached him.

“Shit- Oh. It’s you,” Jonathan mumbles.

“What the hell are you doing?” you hiss.

Jonathan looks at your hand on his arm. The vial, now empty and still pinched between his fingers, hidden from the rest of the crowd. And then back up to your face.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” he begins.

“What are you doing?” you repeat, your voice wobbling louder.

Jonathan’s eyes dart off to the side, and he stands up quickly. Suddenly, his hand is in yours and he’s dragging you off, heading for a set of glass doors that lead to the back patio.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” he says, and you can barely hear him muttering over the sound of the screeching music and the pounding, frantic whir that seems to have taken over your head. 

By the time you’re outside, the door shut firm behind you, you haven’t calmed down a bit.

“Jonathan-”

“I swear, I’m not doing anything bad,” he interjects. “I know that it… probably looks like I’m-”

“Why her?” you say, softly.

You can’t even stand to look at him as you speak. Your whole chest feels impossibly heavy; as if it’s consuming the rest of your body, piece by dissolving piece.

“...What?” Jonathan looks at you curiously, as you feel yourself fall even more fully apart.

“Why her, when I’m right here, huh?” you demand, tears squeezing out from behind your damp eyelashes, even as you try to blink them back. “I’m yours, Jonathan. I’ve been yours. All you have to do is ask.”

“That’s not… God, I’m not trying to-”

“You don’t even have to try with me!” you cry, voice rising up into a frenzy. Your hands fly to slam against him, pushing him by the shoulders. “You’ve never had to-”

You cut yourself off, and cradle your wrist to your chest. The tattoo that he gave you is settled close by to your heart, and you bring your other hand up to trace absently over the ink that mirrors it.

“Listen to me,” Jonathan says, taking hold of your shoulders. You look up at him, salty tears still welled in your eyes, starting to spill down over your cheeks. “That’s not what I’m doing. This is just… research.”

“Research?” you echo.

“Yes. That’s all,” he assures you. Both of you have started to calm down, and the pressure of his hands on your shoulders finally becomes noticeable. “It’s for… how do I phrase this?”

The sounds of the party are muffled out here, but suddenly a sharp scream rises over the music. Both of you turn to peer through the glass doors, and you catch a brief glimpse of the woman from earlier, just as the red plastic cup falls from her hand. She claws at her face, and sinks to the floor, still screaming.

Your focus shifts back to Jonathan, and you watch as he stares through the glass, his eyes frigid and, suddenly, calculating. His hands are still on your shoulders, and you feel as his grip tightens slightly, as if his fingers are itching to do… something. You can’t say quite what.

“...Fear,” you breathe, quietly.

You aren’t sure exactly what’s going on, but some sort of vague understanding has started to seep into your nerves, mending the frays that had threatened to form. Like healing salve, soothed over all of the tiny rips and tears that had nearly pulled you apart, only seconds ago.

“Yes,” he agrees. “That’s all I wanted her for. I swear.”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s looking at you again, a serious expression on his strained face. His eyes seem to bore into yours, but it’s comforting, just to feel like he’s burrowing into you.

The commotion inside becomes louder; more shouts of alarm rising to join the first, and you hear something crash to the ground. But you’re not paying attention to that anymore; you’re swimming in Jonathan’s eyes as the tears slowly dry from yours.

“Jonathan?” you ask. “Can we go home?”

He turns to look again at the riot that’s quickly developing inside; the bass of the music replaced now by shrill cries that have risen above everything. For a moment, you think he’s about to refuse, and the lump in your throat almost tears through the delicate flesh of your neck.

“Sure. Let’s go home,” he agrees.

You walk, hand in hand, away from the party. Looping around the house and down the sidewalk, your fingers intertwine with his in the night air. You smile, and grab onto Jonathan’s arm, pulling him closer.

Today was the day.

You pulled your sleeve down, trying to cover the now-sharpened pen casing that was held tight in your sweaty hand. The tip of your finger brushed over the point, as you went over the plan in your head again.

If you could manage to be stealthy enough, you wouldn’t even need the pen. Not that you would hesitate to use it, but there was a certain amount of risk that you’d prefer to avoid if at all possible. Things could get messy, and that would be sure to draw attention. For once, you didn’t want Crane to notice what you were doing.

You stayed close to the wall of the cafeteria, practically hugging the stone as you walked briskly. It was important to be fast, but not too fast.

“What are you doing?” asked a sharp voice behind you.

You would have spun faster than either of you could blink, pen at the ready to plunge into his neck. If only you hadn’t recognized the voice.

Crane grabbed you roughly by the shoulder, and you screamed silently behind your eyes.

“Nothing,” you said calmly. “Going for a walk.”

“You’re not allowed to do that,” Crane sighed, already dragging you to face him. His expression was just as drab as the bricks that now pressed into your back. “What’s in your hand?”

Your finger flicked over the sharp point again. This was the one possibility that you hadn’t imagined, of course. The one opponent your weapon was useless against, all because you couldn’t bring yourself to use it.

With your jaw set and shoulders squared, you straightened up to face him. You wouldn’t shy away from his eyes, even if looking at them meant facing the disappointment that lurked, not-so-subtly beneath their surface.

Crane grew impatient awaiting your answer, and grabbed you by the wrist. You let him. It was useless to resist, and the two of you glared at each other as he yanked your hand and your fingers fell open. The story was written over your palm, almost as clearly as if you had used the pen to record it across your own flesh.

Crane picked up the wrecked pen, considered the jagged edge of the plastic, and pocketed it. Without another word, he turned and dragged you out of the cafeteria, heading toward your cell.

Jonathan’s hand in yours is restless; seeming to flutter as his thumb drifts absentmindedly, rubbing back and forth in a way that might be more soothing for him than it is to you. You want to help him, but you’re not sure how. You’ve noticed the anxieties that have seemed to overwhelm him lately, and you wish there was more you could offer him.

“Maybe you should take a break,” you suggest. “We could watch a movie or something. Go for a walk?”

Jonathan shakes his head, and tears his hand away to go back to scribbling on the pad in front of him. The paper is already littered with letters and symbols that mean nothing to you. Three vials full of pale liquid - Jonathan’s pet project - roll gently back and forth on the table.

“I can’t get it right, and I don’t know why,” he snaps, frustrated. “I need to run more tests, but…”

“I could test it for you,” you offer.

Jonathan looks at you with a mix of shock and, maybe, revulsion, and you feel yourself shrink back into your seat.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” he says.

“You don’t have to ask,” you reply. “I’d do anything for you.”

His expression morphs into something that’s harder to read. That’s been happening more and more often lately, and it’s started to panic you when it does. You know him so well, but suddenly, there are sides to him that seem almost foreign to you. You bring a hand up to cup his sharp cheek, and the smile stretched over your own face feels plastic.

“Us against the world,” you remind him.

Jonathan places his hand over yours, only for a moment before pulling away entirely.

“I just… want to know I can do something,” he says. “Something I set my own mind to.”

“You can,” you assure him. “You have.”

“My whole life, I’ve felt as if I’m just reacting to things that are outside of my control,” he continues, almost as if he hadn’t heard you. “I just want to understand why.”

Emotion has crept into his voice, and your first instinct is to pull back. You ignore it. Instead, you place a kiss on his temple, and he lets his head fall to rest on your shoulder. The room is silent for a moment, as you wrap both your arms around him and try to think of something to say.

“You know I’d be lost without you, right?” you ask, gently. 

“That’s because you have a dysfunctional attachment style.”

You stop. His words, flat and unemotional, pierce through you as if he had stabbed instead of spoken them. You can feel the ground opening up at your feet, and struggle to reassert yourself.

“That’s not true. You… don’t mean that,” you flounder.

“Maybe I don’t,” he agrees, halfheartedly. “Who knows anymore.”

Your heart aches. You hate that he’s talking like this is the end of something. A foregone conclusion that’s just out of his grasp, but that he doesn’t even care to reach for. A sentence on a page, half-finished but forgotten.

“You’ve been working too hard,” you decide. “You’re tired.”

“I am tired.”

“Let’s go to bed, then,” you suggest. 

He nods, and you take hold of his hand to guide him, the dark ink of your tattoo pressed up against the blank space on his wrist.

Back in your cell, Crane didn’t bother to lock the door behind him for once. Instead, he stood directly in front of it, hands on his hips as he stared down at you.

“I would say I’m shocked, but I’m not,” he sighed, voice already grinding against itself. “But, what I can’t figure out is this. What gave you the idea that this would go well for you?”

You didn’t answer.

“It’s not as if I don’t monitor you.”

Normally, the admission that he’d been paying attention to you would have made your heart flutter. But now, it felt like there was nothing more than a pit in your chest. The same one that was always there, longing for something that could fill it without being swallowed.

“You’re lucky it was me who found you, and not somebody else.” He moved one hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, just like he always had. For as long as you’d known him. “Don’t you ever stop and think before you act?”

That was insulting. You’d spent plenty of time thinking about this. In fact, it was all you’d been focusing on for weeks - at least when your mind was clear enough to focus. 

And really, he was one to talk. How many times had you helped him crawl out of one failed situation or another? It wasn’t fair for him to talk like everything he did went perfectly, when both of you knew very well that it didn’t.

“Don’t have anything to say?” Crane pried.

You felt anger swell furiously within you, and - as if to prove the point he’d just made - you surged forward without thinking. Crane didn’t have any time to react, and you pressed your lips up against his in a harsh kiss that felt sickeningly void of love. Your cold fingers grabbed at the front of his sweater, and you felt your lips crush into your teeth, desperately searching for some hint of the spark that you felt certain was still there.

Crane scrambled, his back pressed against the hard door, and finally tore you away from him.

“What are you doing?” he spat.

Your eyes were downcast, unable to meet his, and you bit the cracked skin of your lips.

“Who knows anymore,” you replied, echoing his words from long ago.

“You need to control yourself,” Crane hissed. “If you can’t, I’m not going to keep making excuses for you.”

His words might as well have just echoed off the stone walls, vibrating in an empty cell. You weren’t listening. You weren’t even there anymore.

Fleeting as a beam of light. 

Crane collected himself and then left, departing just as the sleek ribbons of past life came to wrap over you again.

You woke, not realizing that you’d fallen asleep. You weren’t sure how long it had been since Crane left, but, judging by the way the lights were already turned out, it had been hours. 

Automatically, your hand went to the top corner of your mattress, intent on blindly tracing over the hearts that had once been there on the sheets. But of course, they weren’t anymore. Instead, though, you heard a clatter as something fell to the floor.

That was odd. Certainly, you hadn’t left anything there this morning. It wasn’t as if you had any possessions to leave.

Groping in the dark, your fingers slid across the floor. Finally, you found it, and held the object up close to your face.

A key.

Your lips curled as you held tight to the metal.

Read Pt. 3 HERE!

[hansslut]

transmasc shauna with a happy trail ⋆🪽

҂ warnings: a bit suggestive towards the end :D

҂ a/n: HAPPY TRAILS AAA >_< !!! i love you transmascs with happy trails <33 i love you women with happy trails <33 i love you non binarys with happy trails <33 i love you everyone with happy trails <33 i love you everyone <33

the request only said shauna w a happy trail and not transmasc shauna but like... transmasc shauna 💦

nghhh happy trails:(( im so obsessed with them...

when shauna first started being on t he was all shy and just a lil baby:(( insecure you wouldn't be with him throughout the whole transition

but you??? you were the literal opposite of what he thought you'd be like, always always supporting him no matter what

helping him doing his t shots when he's scared and then putting scooby doo plasters/hansaplasts on them 😭

when he started noticing some changes he'd deeeeeefinitely run to you and be like "look!!!!!" and then show you his happy trail, unaware of how obsessed you'd become ( no one's blaming you for it tho )

kissing his tummy all the time and babying him as you SHOULD!!!! calling him your pretty boy and your lil prince im sobbing

"you're so pretty shaunie:(" while laying on his stomach and tracing his happy trail or smth

WAIT tracing a heart on his tummy and putting S + your initial in it IM CRYINGGG

when he ever gets insecure you just hold him in your arms and rock him back and forth while caressing his hair and letting him calm down 🥹 "you're the bravest and strongest boy i've ever known, and you're absolutely the most beautiful one to ever exist too. my beautiful boy <3" and reminding him that you're here for him:((

oof it got a bit too sad here let's switch it up a bit

being away from each other but you still want happy trail updates so he sends you a sneaky lil polaroid of him with his hand down his pants and his stomach showing... GULP.

SORRY i had to add that in BUT BACK TO TRANSMASC SHAUNA IN GENERAL!!

not really focusing on his voice until one today when you go for cuddles and he has just woken up and he's like "hey baby" WITH A DEEP FUCKING RASPY MORNING VOICE AND YOU'RE LIKE "hi shaunie 0_0" WAAAA:(((((

also transmasc werewolf shauna <33

him laying on his back for tummy rubs and kissies and you're like :DD HE WANTS MY KISSIES :DDDDD

AAAA i love him

i need to do more abt transmasc shauna and his happy trail

sorry this is a bit shit btw im just brainstorming at 1am when i should be doing homework but im writing this instead

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

So… I just realized I never explained the title? It’s from Eddie’s favorite song, “I Will Always Love You”. If y’all got that, kudos! If not, congrats, you’re just like me! 😂

Part 1 | . . . | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23

They leave the bathroom together, Eddie bowing dramatically as he lets Steve exit first, pulling a chuckle from Steve.

His eyes find Robin as soon as they walk into the living room. He asks a silent question with his eyes—Does she know?—and gets a silent answer: No. He sighs and turns to his sister, who is already looking at him. “Can we talk?” He asks, but she’s already standing and walking towards him.

She ruffles his hair with a familiar hand, poking his arm with her other hand as she grins at him. “Sure thing, bud. Lead the way.”

Steve pauses to sigh at Robin. “Can you brainstorm? Try to figure out how?”

Robin nods seriously. “I’ll fill them in.”

Steve nods and lets himself be led away.

As soon as they’re away from the rest, tucked away in a little side room, Alli hits him with a serious look. “What’s going on, bud? I know what you look like when you cry.” She tugs a piece of his hair and gives him a sad sort of smile.

He tries to smile, but it crumples immediately. “Sorry,” he whispers, trying not to cry.

He fails at that, too, when Alli tuts and pulls him into a hug. “It’s alright, bubba,” she murmurs. She’s taller than him, and it brings him right back to being five years old, scraping his knee outside and running to her because he knew she’d console him.

A sob tears out of his throat, and he hides his face in her neck, waiting for the tears to abate again.

Eventually they do, and he pulls back to wipe at his face, smiling at Alli when she hands him a tissue. “Sorry,” he murmurs again.

She just rolls her eyes and pokes his arm again. “Quit apologizing,” she says. “Now, what’s going on? How do I help?”

He stares at her for a moment. “I love you.”

She softens. “I love you too, bubba, but I can’t help if I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Yeah.” He takes a breath, rakes a hand through his hair. “So this is gonna sound really crazy, but I’m from four years in the future. Or I think I am. Now I’m not sure, because you’re here.”

She frowns. “Do I move, or something?”

“No. Alli…” he sighs again, scrubs a hand down his face. “You-” he swallows down tears. “You died when I was six, on a girls’ trip to Indy.”

She frowns. “That doesn’t make much sense.”

“I know.” Another sigh. He’s been doing that a lot lately, he absently thinks. “That’s why I asked Robin to figure it out.”

Alli nodded. “Your girlfriend, right? Or- no, that’s Nancy—oh, the future—”

“No,” he interrupts. Can’t help the smile. “Nancy and I… something happens, in the future, in the past, and, uh. I broke up with her?”

Alli blinks. Her expression is begging for clarification, so he sighs. “In a week she calls me—and my love for her—bullshit at a party. I don’t know how much longer it is after that, but she and Jonathan Byers hook up while we’re still technically dating.”

Alli’s eyes narrow, turn calculating. “And to think I-”

“Alli,” he pleads. “It’s okay. She didn’t do anything yet, it’s all in the future, remember? But I had four years to think on it and I realized we were never really it for each other, it was just comfortable, you know?”

Alli nods. “So… is Robin it for you?”

Steve chuckles. “In a different way, yeah. She’s my best friend in the entire world. Knows more about me than anyone else. And I’d do anything for her, and I know she’d do anything for me, but… we’re not together. And we’re never gonna get together, either. Neither of us want that.”

She nods. “But you’ve found the person who’s it for you?”

Steve bites his lip. “Maybe.”

A familiar gleam appears in her eye: the one she used to get when she’d sneak him a cookie too close to dinner time. “Oh?”

Steve worries at his lip. “Promise not to hate me?”

“I could never,” she says immediately.

“Alli,” he murmurs. Hates how his voice is shaking. “I need you to promise me, please.”

She stoops to look him in the eye. “I promise,” she says seriously. “I could never hate you, Steve.”

He takes a breath, nods. “Out there right now. Um.” Another breath. “His name is Eddie.”

She grins at him. “I met him. Damn, bubba, you have a type, huh?”

Steve blushes scarlet. “Shut up,” he mumbles, but leans toward her when she tugs him into a hug, hums when her lips press to the top of his head.

“Hey.”

He lifts his head. “Yeah?”

“You know my friend Cassidy?”

Steve narrows his eyes in thought, then nods. “Yeah, you’ve known her forever.”

“Yeah.” She bites her lip on her smile, nods.

“Oh,” he whispers, then begins to laugh. “What are the odds?”

“What are the odds indeed,” she laughs.

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[timetoletmyimaginationfly]

The Last Call

Nanami Kento x You

I give the biggest credit to @namikyento for this idea! Thank you so much for it! I hope you guys enjoy it!

I’ll post more of Our Love Story after this weekend!

(Song Inspiration: we can’t be friends (wait for your love) by Ariana Grande)

You stared blankly at the blank word document on your laptop. The ringtone from your cell phone pulling you out of your daze. You looked at the caller I.D. with a racing heart. All of the hope you had was suddenly gone when it wasn’t who you wanted it to be.

“Emi. Are you okay?” you asked, tone with disappointment but also worry that she called.

“Let’s go out,” she said. “You need a night out.”

“I’m fine.”

“You haven’t been fine for the past four months. I think you got worst,” Emi pointed out.

You were quiet. You felt everything disappear from your grasp. And you hated yourself for letting that feeling consume you more and more.

“You helped me out from my last relationship,” Emi pointed out. “I can’t let it consume you, too. He’s a jerk for leaving you like that. He’s a jerk for that to occur. He hurt you. Show him that you can be happy without him.”

“I—“ For the first time in a while, you let your tears fall. You tried to muffle your sobs, however, Emi heard.

“You’re my sister from another mister,” she said. “If not tonight, then I’m going to come over with both of our favorite snacks and we will watch Legally Blonde, 500 Days of Summer, and maybe John Tucker Must Die.” You let out a breathy chuckle and nodded.

“Okay,” you said as you wiped your tears away. “I’ll get the living room ready.”

The two of you huddled closely together on the couch. A large, fuzzy blanket wrapped around you two as she quickly ate a bag of chips and you slowly ate your popcorn.

“These two, I still wish they ended up together,” Emi said. You nodded, your expression very melancholy.

“But he’ll find someone for him,” you said. All you could think of was him. The love you two shared that slowly disappeared and is forever gone. “We broke up once but he called me and we tried to make it work.” Emi looked at you. You haven’t spoken about the break ups. You indulge in work and an attempt to write a new book. But all of your inspiration was gone.

“And now?”

“I thought it was going to work,” you said, your voice breaking from the tears. “But…but…” You shook your head. You brought your knees towards your chest and buried your face on your knees. “Maybe I did something wrong. It had to be me.”

“No, no, and no! It was never your fault in the first place!” Emi exclaimed. “The asshole hurt you! Because I thought everything was going well! Until I started to barely see him too!”

“Then why?”

“I don’t know. You know him better than anyone. At least, that’s what he always says. So, prove that fucker wrong!”

“Okay,” you said with slight defeat. “I’ll prove him wrong.”

It didn’t happen overnight. But week by week, you would step outside and go about your daily routine. You slowly went back to your morning or afternoon walks. You stopped by your favorite bakery again, a smile becoming bright like it was before.

Today, you and Emi went shopping after you attempted to write something in the morning. You were happy to even start with brainstorming ideas. You made yourself give yourself a “me day”. And Emi never felt so proud before.

“I need new facial products,” you said. “And hair products. I need to take better care of my appearance.”

“Honey, you are gorgeous just the way you are. Your hair, beautiful. Skin, like a baby’s bottom.” You laughed and playfully hit her arm. You blushed from the compliment. It has been a while since you even received such compliments. “Everything okay though?”

“Better than before,” you said truthfully as you looked at her. “Thank you, Emi.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You helped push me,” you said. “And I needed it.”

“Good, good. Shall we do something?”

“After we shop, let’s get some alcohol and drink. It’s been a while.” Excitedly, Emi wrapped her arm around your shoulders. Again, you let out a laugh.

“Finally! My drinking buddy is back!”

The drinking didn’t last too long when you found Emi passed out on the couch by 6PM. In a drunken state, you threw the gray blanket on top of her. You poured another shot for yourself and drank some more.

And more and more, you kept drinking and drinking. You went to your room that lead to a balcony and sat down. A bottle of tequila with an empty shot glass sitting in the glass table. The cold air helping you cool down from the heat radiating within you. You scrolled through your phone. Pictures you didn’t bother to delete angered you. The happiness all gone. And it was a mistake going back down memory lane that you couldn’t stop cursing at yourself mentally. So you poured another drink for yourself to quickly down.

“Fucking jerk…” you mumbled. “I’ll give him a piece of his own damn mind…”

You went through your contacts. You forgot that you deleted his number. You felt your heart break. Much more than it had before. But why? Why would it hurt so much now? You dialed the number you only knew by heart. Your heart was racing as it rang and rang.

“Is everything okay?” That voice. The same, deep voice that brings you weak in the knees. The same voice that brings goosebumps all over your body. And the same voice that made you forget how to breathe and made your chest heavy as hell. “Y/N.”

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” you questioned, words slurred. The alcohol really hitting you to its core.

“You’re drunk.”

“Obviously, Captain Obvious.”

“You shouldn’t call me, sweet—Y/N.”

“Nanami Kento, you jerk! How dare you do this to me.” Your tears slipped, and sobs escaped your lips.

Nanami was in bed, tan slacks still on with his blue button up, the first few buttons undone with his sleeves rolled up. He couldn’t even remember the last time he felt at peace. All he could see with closed eyes were your tears. Your tear-stricken face filled with so much hurt and pain. The sounds of your heartbroken cries before he left your apartment was engrained in his mind. And all he could feel was his own heart breaking every single day.

Every night, he goes home and pours himself a glass of whiskey. Maybe even drink two or three more to help him fall asleep, even if it’s for an hour. Tonight was the first night that he chose to not drink anything. Gojo and Shoko both encouraging him to change his bad habits. And of course, of all nights, you called.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw your name on his phone. And even though it wasn’t a greeting he usually heard from you, hearing your voice again brought him great relief. A voice he missed hearing everyday. Your voice that always makes his heart skip a beat and bring butterflies to his stomach. It made him feel something, even for a moment. But he knew, he just couldn’t lure you back in again.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. He imagined you out in the balcony, your knees hugged against your chest. And it was exactly what you were doing.

“It’s not fair,” you said. “I miss you so much. I still fucking love you and I don’t think I could love anyone else like I love you.” Nanami was silent. He swallowed the large lump in his throat, tears forming in his eyes.

“It isn’t fair…”

“We were so happy, Kento. I never understood why we broke up the first time, but you came back. And I was so happy. You were so happy. We did what we always did. We both worked, ask about our days, and we enjoy every moment we have together. I don’t know what I did wrong. If I did, I’m sorry. I thought I was doing everything right. Did I annoy you? Was I clingy? Was I overbearing?” Nanami took a deep breath, his tears falling. His heart broke more. He knew there was no way that you were in the wrong.

“No. Not at all.”

“But you! One day we spent all day together, you had a freak out moment, we came home, and made love! And the next day, you were distant! You were rarely home. You always went to bed early. You haven’t…I couldn’t…Kento, I needed you so much and you weren’t there for me. And then you break up with me.” You heard him inhale, obvious that he has been crying as well. “I don’t understand why you’re crying.” Nanami couldn’t help but just chuckle.

“You know me so well, sweetheart. Better than anyone else,” he said. His name for you. You always loved it. But tonight, you hated it.

“A-And you know what? I think I’m a great catch! Any guy would wish to have me!” Nanami held in his breath. Because he knew that was true. He glared at every guy that eyed your way flirtatiously. He always pulled you closer to him when the two of you were out, showing everyone that you were taken and his. Nanami got to be the lucky one. He had you. “And I hope you regret letting me go. Sometimes, I even hope you wouldn’t find happiness like you did with me.”

He knows that he wouldn’t.

“But I still love you,” you confessed. Everything you wanted to say to make him feel bad, you couldn’t help but pour some of your love in your rant.

And he still does, too. He sniffled. You heard him, and you cried a little harder.

“I hurt the love of my life. And I hope you find the happiness you truly deserve,” Nanami said.

His heart broke. Because he planned to have a future with you. He planned to love you to the fullest. He planned to be the one to support you. He planned to be the one to give you everything you could ever ask for. But now, all he could do was listen to you cry and keep breaking your heart.

“Goodbye, Kento.”

“Goodbye, my love.”

Immediately, you hung up. You put your phone on the table and hugged yourself tighter as you let your tears spill. You said what you have to say and it was all you could do. Your closure that didn’t feel like a closure. And all you want to do was call him to hear his voice again. To hear him tell you how much he loves you and how he’ll always be there for you. A part of you hoped that he would call you back.

Nanami lied there, tears spilling out of his eyes. His hand rested on his chest with his phone in hand. It was only past 7. A man already in bed the moment he arrived home. Everything you said to him repeated in his mind. Memories of you and him playing over and over. But it stopped when his phone rang again. He had hope. Was it you that called him?

But it all went away when he got a phone call from Ijichi. He wiped his tears away and cleared his throat before he answered.

“Ijichi-san.”

“We need you in Shibuya. It’s urgent.”

“I’ll be there.”

He sat up in bed, looking at his phone. A picture he saved of you that he never had the heart to delete. His favorite picture. A picture where you were busy typing your recent famous book. The smile on your face as you typed. Your smile so bright it added so much light to his dark and brooding life. His only regret was leaving you like this. Heartbroken and in tears. And he’ll regret it, even after death.

[veespee]

Hey!! your writing is AMAZINGGGG and I love how you view characters.

Do you have any headcanons for vinnie everyman?

MOON!!! HI HI you are literally the reason why i made this account and started taking writing seriously,,, sobbing rn

i was planning on making a post about Vinnie but i couldn't come up with any interesting ones, so here are some that i brainstormed. sorry if there are any mistakes, i wanted to make them close to canon but i put some of my theories in there too :)

Vinnie Everyman Headcannons

-(this one's kinda sad so apologies) He sees Evan through HABIT, and HABIT through Evan. Basically: when HABIT jokes with Vinnie, he sees Evan. He sees his jokey and rowdy friend at that moment. But he has to remind himself; that's not Evan, that's a monster. But. When HABIT left Evan's body for some time, Vinnie could only see HABIT. He tells Evan that he doesn't think he's a monster, but i believe in the back of his mind, there's some bitterness. He knows this isn't Evan's fault, but he's still frustrated. He's so confused, no one's giving him answers. Except for HABIT.

That's why i think he's disappointed in a way, he wants HABIT to stay in Evan's body. HABIT is useful, although destructive. He doesn't like HABIT, he doesn't want to like HABIT, but he still needs him. He needs someone to tell him what to do, a higher being that knows more than him.

-^ continuing that, that's the reason why he didn't take Corenthal's warning seriously. He believed HABIT over his own father, biological or not, figure because HABIT is so knowledgeable. He thinks HABIT is so wise, and that's what HABIT wants Vinnie to believe. It feeds his ego, and he keeps Vinnie under his control.

-Also, it's not really hard to be manipulated by HABIT. He talks and acts like he's wise and knowledgeable, and honestly, he's good at it. Vinnie's intimidated by his threats, but also follows him around like a dog. Again, i'm repeating myself, but he's so infatuated with HABIT cause he feels like he's the only one that can answer him. And HABIT keeps him around to feed his ego, and to get his plan going.

-Furthermore, I think his relationship with Corenthal is SO interesting. Although i think Corenthal in general is such an interesting and underrated character, but that's a whole another post. Now, for this one I'll go a bit far from canon, but these are HCs so i guess that's the point lol: Basically, i think Vinnie DOES see Corenthal as a father figure, but he has complicated emotions. He distances himself from Corenthal, possibly out of just bitterness. Now i'm talking about the YouTube iteration, not Fairmount or Princeton, so that means that Vinnie has his own biological parents. However, Vinnie's memory got wiped (i mean, he knows he has parents and siblings, but he can't remember anything about them) so who's the only one he can remember? Dr. Corenthal.

Corenthal falls under someone I believe Vinnie gets attached to; someone who's wise, knowledgeable. He's a doctor, and a much older man, and he knows a lot about the boys' situation. We don't see a lot of interactions between them, so I'll just use my imagination for this part, but i believe that Vinnie is bitter because of how little Corenthal has said. He knows the Doctor knows what's going on, yet he's such a mysterious figure. He only appears a handful of times, and the other information they have about him are from old letters he had written. So Vinnie must be thinking, why isn't he helping? Why isn't he protecting us, if he has so much knowledge? So when Corenthal does contact him, he's suspicious. He doesn't believe him, instead, he believes HABIT. HABIT's there for him, even in a twisted way, and Vinnie believes that there's no way he's being lied to. So when Corenth tries to open Vinnie's eyes, he keeps them shut, and stays blind to HABIT's manipulation. Thus, resulting to Vinnie's death. Thus, resulting to another iteration where Corenthal can't save his children.

alright that's all :3 thank you for reading and thank you Moon for the request!!