#and never have my life back. so i have stopped myself strategically from getting into them!

[nomairuins]

i like overthink everything now it makes me feel so dumb. i used 2 be able to just talk 2 ppl but nowadays every single thing im like Is that actually going to make them hate me. Yes probably. and then i just dont respond which makes ppl hate me. this is how it is

[olivianott]

BRAIN CHEMISTRY

Tell me I’m not the only one happily not recovered from the deatheatertok (yes that’s why I’ve been MIA😬) and the Lorenzo Zurzolo gifs from the other day? 😭 I could not help myself with this one.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, OCTOBER CAME EARLY TO ME.

ꕤ 1.6k words 

ꕤ deatheater!Theo Nott x fem!reader

ꕤ warnings: toxic ex, deatheater Theodore, pure smut, unprotected sex, explicit content, not for minors, 18+

ꕤ all characters are adults

You knew you were in trouble. That you fucked up. You somehow found yourself at a party in an unknown manor. You and your friend got talking with some people at a pub and now you are surrounded by glimmering Death Eater masks. Everyone is acting as if they are just having fun at a party. But you see their eyes following the two of you everywhere. 

You already know what is going on at these parties. You heard stories, awful stories, from him. You wonder if he is in attendance. No. Stop thinking about him, he didn’t want you anymore. He is one of them after all. 

You try to think of a way out for you and your friend. Get drinks, but don’t drink them, discreetly inch towards the entrance while smiling and acting like you’re having the time of your life, getting through the door and the few steps over the anti-apparition wards and poof, you’re both safe. 

That was the plan. Everything went smoothly, until just before getting through the door, your path is crossed by a tall Death Eater with an overly decorated mask. “Hello, beautiful.” He says while you watch your friend successfully execute the plan and disappear with a crack. 

You turn around and try to escape the lewd gaze of the big Death Eater, but there is another one in your path and you realize you are surrounded. Fuck. This is not good. No, don’t panic, don’t panic.

You panic.

Your vision starts to blur and you can’t seem to think straight. Heart in your throat, the ground becomes unsteady. Another mask enters your field of vision, too close to your face. This mask looks elegant, not overly decorated, but with artistic lines strategically curved around the planes of the artificial face. He grabs you by the upper hand and starts to drag you away from the crowd that formed around you, barking something to the other Death Eaters. You try to fight him off but it’s not working, his grip tightens and when you don’t stop, he loses patience with you and puts his wand under your chin. It doesn’t hurt but the threat makes you tremble in fear.

The man leans down next to your ear and hisses: “STOP IT.” The voice is so hard and threatening but at the same time familiar. 

You momentarily freeze and that gives him time to drag you through the hall and into a bedroom. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He closes the door after you and you finally have time to compose yourself, because he goes to the other side of the room, leaving you alone. While he locks the room with his wand, your mind clears slowly. You suddenly realize why the voice is so familiar. 

Theodore Nott. 

You’ve never seen him in his Death Eater robes and a mask before, but now you can’t stop looking at him. 

Theodore turns around, throws his mask on the bed, and stalks to you so fast, you actually step back in fear until your back is against the door. “Why the fuck are you here?!” He spits in your face, his eyes are feral and full of anger but also fear. 

“It was an accident, my friend thought it would be a good idea to-“ 

“To what? To enter a devil’s lair full of fucking Death Eaters that enjoy killing too much and don’t ask for permission to do anything? Don’t you fucking know what’s going on at these gatherings? Fucking hell!” He is talking quietly but with so much anger, you can actually feel his magic vibrating between you. 

“What’s it to you? You’re one of them now, you look like you’re right at home at this vile party, huh?” 

“Do you really think I like it? That I wanted this? Do you even know where you are?”

“In some nasty pureblood’s manor?”

“Yes. Welcome to the Nott manor.” His sarcastic smile falls off his face as he looks down and backs off of you, finally letting you breathe air. 

Oh. Nott manor. It’s his home. 

“Are you actually hosting this party?”

“Well, as I said, those people don’t ask permission for anything, so here we are. But now you are here and you made this night even more difficult for me. They have set their eyes on you now and they are hungry, in more ways than one. The Death Eaters need their food, and they like to play with it before eating.” 

He says this so matter of factly it takes a while for your mind to catch the whole truth of what you’ve casually walked into tonight. 

“You’re a Death Eater too now.”

“Exactly.” He smirks. 

You’ve missed him so much. His scent brings back memories, and you feel your body heat up despite his arrogant behavior and attempts to scare you off.

“What- what are you going to do to me?” You say breathlessly. Without your permission, your mind shows you pictures of you and him from the past, the little bit of fear just heightening your excitement. 

“Oh please, you know I’m not like-“ he stops himself mid-sentence and focuses his glare on your throat, pulsing with blood rushing through you, your red cheeks, your trembling hands, the rise and fall of your chest. 

“Now I remember.” His mouth curves in this arrogant smirk and his eyes look mischievous at the same time as dangerous. 

“You like danger… you like being scared, amore? Does it turn you on? Tonight you bit more than you could chew though, princessa. And now…. You are trapped in here. With me.” 

You can’t respond to him, but your body does. Your breathing gets more labored and you can’t help your gaze falling to his lips. 

His hand starts roaming down your body while again hovering over you, leaning against the door, the height difference between you more obvious than ever. 

“I- uhh…-“ you are unable to say more. But you close the distance between you and crash your lips against his. 

Theodore groans loudly, takes both your hands in his, and slams them against the door above your head. 

“Oh princessa, you don’t know what you just started, do you?” His hard kisses resume and your mind is filled up with sensations. 

The feel of his body against yours, the hardness of the door digging into your back, his teeth biting your lips, dragging against your throat, his lips sucking on your pulse point. 

Your eyes are closed, but you feel your feet leave the ground as Theodore picks you up and sends you flying on the bed. While crawling over you on the bed, he picks up his mask and puts it on his face. 

Fuuuuck. 

You can barely see his eyes staring down at you from behind the mask, in between the short strands of hair falling down around it. 

The world is a blur now, clothes start flying off of you, his hands tracing your curves. Suddenly he loses patience and flips you over, on your hands and knees on the bed. With his hand under your chin, he makes you look up. A mirror. Your moan is embarrassingly loud. The vision of him in his mask behind you, admiring you through the mirror, hand grabbing your throat… you’ve never seen anything hotter. With his other hand he traces your wetness and groans into your ear: “So ready for me princessa, you really do get turned on with fear and danger. How nasty of you. Was this your plan all along? To get fucked by a Death Eater?”

You can only manage to shake your head no, since he is already opening his Death Eater robes and taking out his beautiful cock. 

“I bet you were hoping to find me here, right? Wanted to make me take you back? Make sweet love and be together forever?“ He chuckles condescendingly at that thought. „Look at you now, writhing under me, dying for me to fuck you like this, with my mask on. Scream for me, princessa.” You can’t see the expression on his face since he is wearing his mask but his words are so degrading and harsh. And still, your eyes roll back into your head. 

And you do scream for him, you can’t help it, you are overwhelmed with sensation, his hands, his cock, his scent. After a while, your arms give out and he pushes your chest down into the bed, holding your hands crossed behind your back, you can’t even move. You are completely at his mercy and the feelings in your head are so confusing. You feel pathetic, under him like this, your body getting rocked by his trusts, but still, the way his cock feels inside you, the way he seems so powerful and in control of you and your pleasure with the way he manipulates your body and mind creates a fog inside your brain. Surrounded by his grunts, you realize he is using you for his satisfaction, seemingly oblivious and uncaring about your comfort or pleasure. You being completely naked, with your face in the mattress while he is still fully clothed behind you is just another layer of the humiliation. But your fucked up brain makes you love it so much that with his whimpery moans in your ear you finally lose control as you feel him lose the rhythm and push all the way inside you, so incredibly deep,  as he spills himself inside you. 

There is no cuddling after. He unceremoniously pulls out and sits in his bed propped up against the headboard, a trembling hand bringing a cigarette to his mouth, while you try to find your clothes and dignity on the floor. 

“Nice show. You were loud enough, so now they know you’re mine and hopefully leave you alone. Doesn’t change anything between us though. You can use the floo to get out of here and I hope to never see you at these things again, you understand me?” He says all of this so coldly and without even looking at you at all, so you quickly throw on your clothes and leave through the floo, throwing a “you’re still the same asshole” at him over your shoulder. 

Sitting on your sofa two days later, you are replaying everything that happened that day in your head. Your brain keeps getting stuck on the fear in his eyes when he dragged you to the room, a shaking cigarette in his hand after the sex, a slight tremble in his voice while he kicked you out of the manor after fucking you into oblivion. 

Maybe everything is not as he wants you to believe. He saved you from them after all. 

As always, thank you for reading, hope you liked it. I’m not done with deatheater!Theo though 🤭.

moodboard

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ Your principessa ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚

If you want more: 🖤here🖤

If you need more death eater Theodore 😌

[scarletemeraldpurple]

Kinktober day 14: Somnophillia

Notes: Non-con to dubcon, gender neutral pet names, Mommy kink, reader receives oral (could be any set of genitals)

You’ve grown very close to your neighbor. You got to her for comfort, and you get more than you bargained for.

Agatha was normally the composed one. Always cool and calculated. Knowing exactly when and how to press someone’s button to get what she wants.

But even the most strategic predators get hungry sometimes.

There you were, fallen asleep by her, in her bed, after a movie marathon.

You had had a fight with your mom again, a big one. You sought out your older neighbor, and strangely your closest friend, for comfort. Agatha happily took you in with open arms. You felt so stupid, you were in your 20s yet your mom could still disrupt your life in so many ways. Agatha never made you feel stupid, she understood.

She had suspected you had had a crush on her for a while now. Glowing under any word of praise she offered up. The way you had to steady your breath if she so much as brushed your shoulder. You really did try to hide it, which just made you all the more enticing to her.

And now she had you so close to her. Loose pajama shorts and tank top. Not even under the covers. Your chest rising and falling steadily.

Agatha hovered over you. Careful not to disturb your slumber. She lightly brushed some hair away from your forehead and pressed a barely there kiss. Then she kissed your cheek. And then she ghosted over your lips.

You shifted a little and she held her breath. You just turned your head to the side. Your neck exposed to her.

She just couldn’t help herself. She just needed a little fix. She pressed kisses to your neck. Light at first but you let out a sleepy little sound of pleasure and it spurred her on.

Were you dreaming about her? She gently traced your temple with her fingertip. Immediately she heard her own voice cooing sweet nothings at you. You were dreaming about her.

Licked her lips before pressing more kisses to your neck. Oh she wanted so badly to mark you, but there’d be time enough for that.

She moved down, and slowly pushed your tank top up, exposing your chest to her. Fuck you were so perfect. She brushed a nipple with her fingers and you started to stir, but not wake up.

“What would you even do? If you woke up, would you fight? I don’t think you would, I think you’d just give in hm? ” Agatha whispered.

Agatha moved further down, between your legs now. Palming you over your clothes. You bucked against her hand in your sleep.

“Bet that feels nice huh baby?” She smirked.

She kissed you in the spot she had had her hand on. God she wanted to taste you, but she didn’t want you awake just yet. She pressed more and more kisses. And your hips kept shifting.

“Please.” You said.

She looked up, your eyes were still closed. She smiled. “Sleepy little slut. Well, if you think you’re dreaming…”

Agatha gently tugged your shorts and underwear down. And breathed against your core.

You whimpered in your sleep. You were having the most wonderful dream. Everything just felt warm and pleasurable. And Agatha was there. Agatha…oh shit you were dreaming about her in her bed. You shot up, awake, to find her between your legs, about to devour you.

“A-Agatha?”

“Hi sweet pea. Have a nice dream?” She said with a devious grin.

“I-I uh…” you didn’t know what to do, you moved to pull your shorts back up but she stopped you. Pinning your wrists down on your hips.

“Ah ah ah, little love, just let me have my fun now. You can go back to sleep if you like, I don’t mind.”

You just looked at her in shock. “Have your fun?”

“Yes babydoll, do you know how long I’ve wanted you like this? God I didn’t want to lose control like this, but I couldn’t help myself baby.”

“Really?” You smiled shyly.

“Really, angel. So you just relax now, I’ll take care of everything.” She assured you.

You laid back down and held tightly onto her hands. You couldn’t believe this was really happening. You figured she didn’t see you as anything more than the silly, emotional, younger neighbor that kept her company. Knowing that she wanted you, that you made her lose control. That she just Had to take you. You shivered before her mouth even made contact.

“It’s okay baby. I’ll make you feel so good I promise.” She cooed before licking a long stripe against you.

“Fuck you taste even better than I imagined babydoll.”

Her tongue made firm circles where you were most sensitive and you gripped her hands tighter.

She squeezed back smiled up at you. “I got you baby, you’re doing good.”

You were going to cum stupidly quickly from her mouth.

“Mommy” you moaned out without thinking. Then you picked your head up to explain yourself.

“Cum for Mommy baby. You’re so perfect for me.” She said before sucking hard where you were most sensitive.

You convulsed as you came, grateful to have her to hold on to.

She kissed her way back up your body, taking note of all the places she wanted to mark.

“All mine now isn’t that right baby? Mine. My little angel.” She whispered in your ear before kissing your lips.

You bit her lip eagerly. You sucked on her tongue when she started to explore your mouth. You still couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

She chuckled when you two finally broke apart. “Not so shy anymore hm?”

You shook your head and got under the covers with her properly, laying your head on her chest.

“Did Mommy properly tire you out now?��

“Yes Mommy.”

Agatha kissed your forehead. “So good for me. Get some rest now angel.”

[drdemonprince]

At one point he was down in between my legs, fingering me, and he made a throwaway comment about probably being Autistic. 

I leaned back, trying to relish what pleasure I was getting. “Well, we can talk about that subject, if you like,” I said vaguely, not really wanting to bring my professional life into things. 

He kept working away at my body, kissing between my lips and thighs. “Oh I know who you are,” he said suddenly. “Your book changed my life. In a way, I guess this is me thanking you.” 

I made him exit my body and we went to the kitchen to hash it out. It turned out he was a big fan of many things I’d written. 

“I’ve seen you around the neighborhood many times,” he confessed. “But you posted online that you don’t like when people come up to you, and so I always decided to leave you alone.” 

He said, “Your book is the reason I got divorced, actually. My ex-husband was a therapist, and when I showed him your book and said I thought I might be Autistic, he didn’t believe me. We have been separated for a year.” 

He asked, “Did I just make this weird, telling you when I did that I was a fan?” I told him that if he’d said it sooner, I would have never fucked him at all. 

People never realize that when they approach me, what they are doing is dragging me into work. It doesn’t matter whether I was at breakfast, or an orgy. I was just some guy standing there, enjoying his beer, but now they have made me the known scholar and author. And sure, my job might be meaningful, but that doesn’t mean I like to work. 

I tell my friend that I no longer want to be a public figure, and that I am planning how to make it all end. She tells me, “You’ve got to do what is the best for you, even if it’s something that the rest of us wants and can’t imagine giving up.” 

I ask myself, did I want this? It would be more flattering to say I didn’t, and play the role of the hermetic author whose work developed its own life purely because it was so good. But that isn’t true. 

From the moment I got a Myspace account in high school, I was publishing essays about my political views. I serialized multiple novels on Tumblr, guerilla marketing them with giveaways and custom-made images until they hit the Kindle sales charts. I have made memes, tried starting viral trends, coined phrases, and given hundreds of hours’ worth of media interviews. I write prescriptive nonfiction, for Christ’s sake. Of course people seek guidance from me. I offer it up! 

I have been strategic about how I dress, and my video backdrops, and retaken clips of myself speaking over and over again until they sounded right. I’ve hosted debates with my most vicious critics while I’m in the shower, started public beef with creators who had larger accounts than I did, and rushed to my keyboard when upsetting news broke, because I alone was possessed of the most correct take on it.

I wanted this. I didn’t know what this was, this internet fame I was chasing, but I did all I could to make it mine. I thought that by writing so much, I would one day be able to escape myself, maybe really feel connected to other people. Instead it has meant never being able to stop thinking about myself: how I am seen, what I am working on, how it all fits together, what comes next. It has also meant being spoken about, theorized about, and criticized, and developing a firm exoskeleton of disdain between myself and the world. 

I believe now that that it is immoral for any person to be listened to by ninety thousand other people. Holding authority and status like that runs counter to my anarchic ideals. I am not more important or correct than anyone. I should not be trusted to tell people which commodities to buy, which companies not to support, what to read, what to think, what words to use, or how to conduct their lives. 

All the other animals know there is no one way that a creature “should” live. There is only the way that it does. The world has no consciousness, no beliefs. It cannot pass judgment. We only feel so watched and evaluated because we have covered the planet with so many millions of our eyes. But we can stop performing dignified human goodness at any moment. 

I think that celebrity is an evil, corrupting force that pits the human instinct for bonding against itself. Instead of appreciating the singing of our friends around the fire, we stream Chappell Roan until stalkers break into her house. Rather than playing card games together, we stan Twitch streamers, filling up their chats with highlighted messages until they acknowledge us. We long to be famous novelists because then we would have the social permission to write, and we don’t have the money or time to enjoy the activity on its own. 

I wrote about Chappell Roan, stalker stans, and how turning art into content creation ruins the work, and the creator's life. It's free to read in full (or have narrated to you by the app!) on Substack.

[aryxchse]

hello!

i see ur requests are open so i have one (potentially) if ur willing to write it!!

yk how we get some glimpses into a dark percy jackson in the HoO series when he’s protecting annabeth… what if we got some of that for jason grace? potentially like the reader, she’s threatened by a minor god or monster or anything, so jason kinda goes unhinged? maybe like, he takes the air out of the opposing party’s lungs or anything else kinda unhinged?

i hope any of this makes sense lol thank uuuuu

🫶🫶🫶

dangerous storms / jason grace x female! reader.

a / n : I WAS THINKING THE EXACT SAME THING BECAUSE WHY THIS MAN HASN'T BEND SOMEONES OXYGEN ALREADY???

warnings : jason grace's angry self, airbending type of shit, cursing, DANGEROUS JASON I REPEAT DANGEROUS JASON!!

jason grace was a calm man.

he was rational, he would think before he act and he never made a move with his feelings. call it him being roman, or his father being literally the king of the gods, or maybe him growing up with a wolf raising him. jason grace was always the type to show his powers through strategic thinking.

well, everyone has boundries right?

he had a thin line in between destroying one thing or everything when it camed to you. if you're fine, then no one has to fear for anything. if you're okay, safe and healthy, no one has to panic.

but if it's the other way, than everyone should pray. even the non-believers. because jason grace can be scary and intimidating when he wants to. and he's so damn good at it.

things weren't supposed to go this way. you weren't supposed to get kidnapped by some giant. the plan wasn't this way, then why, why we're you in danger?

jason stopped being rational. his brain only said 'why, why, why' for like, an hour now. jason wasn't thinking straight. jason wasn't thinking.

"jason, we're gonna save her," piper tried to charmspeak him, but it didn't worked. the girl who put gaia back in sleep, couldn't calm down the son of jupiter.

percy jackson, who was feared by most monsters, demigods and even gods, was afraid how jason acted at the moment. but he didn't judged, he knew he would act the exact same way if something happened to annabeth. which, he did.

he was the only one who would go down with him if he asked. boundries we're boundries, and percy knew that very well.

"jason, we can make a plan." piper tried again. she was trying from the moment they got you. but it wasn't working and she started to get anxious.

"yeah, man. she's strong, she could be on her way back here even-" leo tried his best too. he couldn't recognise his best friend right now. he should've been like percy, who wasn't judging jason's madness and ready to go down with him. but he couldn't—it was like leo meeting jason for the first time, again.

"i already have a fucking plan." jason snapped, but he was quiet. which, it didn't help with the gang's fear. "and you guys are not involved."

"you sure?" percy asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. "my hands been itchy these days, and riptide is no better."

jason wanted to smile, but his situation didn't allowed. instead, he softened his gaze, just a bit. "thanks, but i'll handle it myself. it's my war now."

percy nodded, giving a look at the team. 'if someone wants to stop him, they have to go through me.'

"go get em', tiger." he joked. and jason flied away, not answering.

‎ ⚡️

you would fight for your life if you weren't hanging up by the chains on your wrists. your feet we're dangling in the air, and arms hurting from carrying all your weight. the sick giants put some fancy greek dress on you, making your hair prettier while you were unconscious.

the giant fucking fell in love with you, and it certainly did not liked jason.

jason. we're was he? what happened to him?

well, you we're about to find out.

"oh dear," the ugly beast purred, his big hands finding your tiny body. you disgusted, squirming under his touch to get away. but it was no use.

"you'll be all mine once i make the potion." he rambled, drool on his chin that showed you how hungry he was for you.

"in your fucking dreams." you spat, eyes shooting daggers. you we're jason's girl, and your own person, most importantly. "i'm already taken."

the giant growled, mixing the sound with his sick laugh. "that jupiter boy? he got nothing compared to me sweetheart!" he yelled and his voice echoed through the big cave. where we're you, even? "he has to kill me to get you!"

"be careful what you wish for." the sound made you melt instantly. how was he able to find you? well, you didn't cared to be honest. he was here.

jason's eyes we're nothing like before. it was like his own eyes had their storms and thunders. one part of you we're amazed, while the other got scared. you knew he wouldn't even touch you if it ever hurt you, but you we're scared for him. not from him. for him doing something he'll regret for the rest of his life in order to protect you.

but, jason seemed to not give a damn.

"you tiny little demigod! you have no chance against me, you don't even have a god next to you to kill me!" he yelled, leaving you dangling in the air again. you wanted to call jason's name, but your voice muffled through the lightning.

"i don't fucking need a god," jason hissed, taking position. "i'll send you tartarus myself."

it all happened quickly. jason was so fast, unlike the big giant trying to capture and kill him. he was like a lightning himself, moving in light speed. there was a blonde thing moving, and you couldn't understand if it was his hair or sword. also there was little lightning sparkles that helped you figure him better.

then, the next thing you knew, jason was on top of the beast's face. he quickly called a lightning before stabbing his sword into the giants eye. it growled, but didn't falled.

"this is what you take for hurting my girl. my loved ones." jason said, his free hand going up in the air. you thought he was gonna make the giant eat some lightning, but it didn't go that way.

"remember my name in tartarus," he flied up again, taking a large air with him. the beast suddenly started to choke, holding it's neck desperately. "and make sure your friends does too."

it was the last thing giant heard before falling down, his oxygen flying in the air and dissapearing. jason immediatly flied towards you, cutting your chainst and holding you by the waist before you fall.

"jason," you breathed out, crying. you couldn't believe what you just have witnesses, but you figured it was the best to not mention. you we're happy that you we're safe now, in his arms.

"baby," he panted, hugging you so tight. you guys slowly landed on the ground, jason still clinging on you. "thank gods you're alive."

"i got scared," you admitted. normally, you would rather die than admit someone you're scare. but it was your jason, who could you tell if you're not gonna tell him? "he was gonna- jason, he was gonna make me one of them."

"shh baby it's okay," he cupped your face, his own tears matching you. but he had a smile, a smile that appeared once you we're in his arms. "i'm here. no one's touching you ever again okay? i'm here." he gently wiped your tears away, kissing you after.

you relaxed the moment your lips met, but it wasn't very long until you both heard footsteps again. jason quickly picked you up in bridal style, flying away from the little crack of the cave.

later that day, you both layed together in his quarters at argo ii. everyone decided that they shouldn't ask questions, like they didn't asked percy and annabeth after they got back from the tartarus.

even coach hedge let you snuggle eachother, because he saw how hurt jason was. he needed you for his own sake, to stay sane.

jason was the child of storm after all, he knew how to be scary when he wanted to. he kept it all inside when you we're near and safe. but if something slightly happened to you, he knew how to show them real power.

[ghost-proofbaby]

you showed me colors (eddie munson x fem!reader)

"YOU SHOWED ME COLORS YOU KNOW I CAN'T SEE WITH ANYONE ELSE."

summary: the soulmate au based on "illicit affairs" by taylor swift that almost no one asked for.

warnings: ANGST, HURT/NO COMFORT, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, strategic use of pet names, allusions to sex but none described, reader is referred to as a girl a few times, no use of Y/N, canon compliant. not really edited (cause i'm not putting myself through this shit again).

wc: 15.1k+

a/n: im genuinely sorry for once. blame @abibliophobiaa and @breddiemunson for this. also, thank you @hellfire--cult for helping me with the header!!! please take all those warnings very seriously. please. (also shout out to ash who got her own divider sort of so she'd know when to stop reading because my baby doesn't like angst 😅)

The first thirteen years of your life, you only had second hand accounts to trust when it came to colors. 

The sky is blue, soft and dreamy, nearly translucent until grey wisps of clouds would overrun it on stormy days (although, the clouds, you could make out). Most grass is green, verdant and rich as it sprouts from the hard dirt. Even the yellowing strands are most likely gorgeous, a sign of life and death, a sign that someone once stood atop the green and held their ground. Roses come in a rainbow of shades, but everyone seems to adore the staunch red ones the best. The plush pink of a lover’s kiss-bitten lips, the warm brown fur of the dogs you passed by on the street, the deep violet of the plums your mother proclaimed as her favorite fruit. A range of colors you had only ever heard of, never experienced yourself. 

For thirteen years, all you had was stories. Nothing tangible, nothing solid in your palms. Mere crumbs of a promise of what you would have one day, when you met your soulmate.

When you met him. 

It wasn’t the most pleasant of circumstances in which you two met. You’d spent a lot of your childhood fascinated with the concept and lost in daydreams about it – maybe they’d be a stranger you caught the eye of on the train, or maybe they’d be the one making your coffee at a quaint cafe in a big city someday. Whoever they would be, you wanted them to be made of all the fairytales. You wanted a meeting to challenge every romantic story you’d been fed through your youth, you wanted a love that would shake the very Earth you wandered from the first time your eyes met theirs. 

Your reality seemed as far from earth-quake inducing as they could get, at the time. Looking back, though, you wish you could plead and change your youthful mind. Because the day wasn’t perfect, the situation was terrible shades of melancholy, but none of that really matters; what matters is that on that sunny Wednesday afternoon, you met him. 

Scraped knees. You had scraped knees, sitting embarrassed and frazzled beneath a tree as you tried to sink into the shade surrounding its base and erase the memory of what had just transpired. You could still hear all the other kids’ taunts echoing through your mind, cruel and unnecessary words that were suited to follow you the rest of your days. Comments on your looks and teases of things you couldn’t change. Seeds of insecurity that were hard to swallow at the beginning of your teen youth. 

You were still picking at the edges of your open wounds with slow drying tears still coating your cheeks when his shadow joined the tree’s. 

“Are you alright?” 

You looked up immediately to find a boy standing there. Your eyes had traveled slowly, taking in his baggy jeans with patchwork knees and his oversized faded t-shirt first. Even with the hand-me-down clothes, you could recognize his gangly limbs beneath it all. A frail frame and hunger-panged face. An overgrown buzz cut, no doubt prickly as the hairs stood to attention. Sunken in eyes brimming with concern for you. Whatever shade they were, they had to be dark; they were nearly black in the shades of grey your eyes could currently pick up on.

The thing about soulmates, is the colors don’t happen until you touch your soulmate. 

“I’m fine,” you stubbornly replied, wrapping your arms around your shins and tucking your knees beneath your chin despite the sting. 

“You don’t look fine.”

“Then stop looking.” 

He threw his hands up defensively, shrugging a bony shoulder, “Sorry.” 

He wasn’t sorry. Even with the wince that graced his face, he wasn’t sorry for checking in on you. You knew it the moment you caught the broken skin on his knuckles, nearly matching the cuts on your knees. You had fallen on the pavement as you’d tried to run away from the bullies, determined to not let them see you cry. The entire ordeal had been mortifying. You wished you would have just stood there and cried, let them hear your sobs and let them crown you the school’s newest crybaby. 

“What happened to your hands?” you sniffled, moving to wipe at your nose. Your cheeks were drier now, the skin nearly stiff where the tears marks remained. 

When you mentioned it, he suddenly shot his hands out before him, flexing each hand for emphasis as he looked down with boredom, “What? The cuts? Carver has sharp teeth, ‘s all.”

“Carver?” One of the kids who had just partaken in tormenting you. 

“Yeah,” the boy nodded, suddenly plopping himself onto the ground beside you. You flinched and he grimaced in a silent apology once more, “I think he was in the middle of saying something when I punched him, but that’s not surprising. He always has his big mouth open-” 

He was cut off mid-insult by a soft snort of laughter. Looking up, all of the previous annoyance at his injured knuckles melted away as he caught you fighting back your laughter. 

“What? I say somethin’ funny?” he was biting back his own grin, raising an eyebrow. 

You only laughed more, shoulders shaking now with entertainment rather than sobs. “I- Yeah, sorry, I just- God, you’re right. Carver does have a big mouth.” 

“The absolute biggest.”

“Bigger than the Atlantic ocean.”

His chuckling joined yours, along with a face splitting grin and eyes that you swore shone between the monotonous tones. “God, bigger than the fucking Pacific ocean. Every ocean, as a matter of fact.” 

You both leaned back against the rough bark of the tree, just close enough you could feel his heat through the summer air but not quite touching. Not yet. You let the back of your head thump against the trunk and tried to not think about any of the debris sure to end up in your hair. 

“So…” you sighed once the two of you composed yourself from your laughing fits, “I’m assuming you punched Carver?” 

He only nodded in answer.

“Can I ask why?”

Part of you wanted to assume that the two events were connected; Carver bullying you, and this boy punching him. But you didn’t want to make such a bold assumption about some stranger. Fellow peer or not. 

“Because he made fun of you.” 

The assumption wasn’t so bold. Your chest constricted, you remembered the sting of your knees, heard the echoes of the other students’ laughter at your fall once more. 

“You punched him just because he made fun of me?” you tried to force out a joking tone, as if it wasn’t a big deal, as if it wasn’t making your heart swell, “You don’t even know me.” 

“Doesn’t matter. He made fun of you,” the boy said with concrete decisiveness. There wasn’t a quiver of doubt to be seen, as if the logic made perfect sense to him. Your heart swelled more, painfully so. He looked down at one of his hands for a moment, before suddenly shrugging and rolling his head to look at you, sticking it out towards you, “I’m Eddie, by the way.”

A certain security blanketed the moment. This kid, Eddie, had punched a guy for making fun of you. You’d never even spoken to him before that day, much less would you have considered bruising your own knuckles for him. But he had for you. Without hesitation, apparently. Just some boy with a sliver of a gap still between his front teeth, a promise of freckles across the bridge of his nose, and blood on his hands as a reminder of your honor. 

Teachers were certainly going to be coming to find the two of you soon. There would be consequences, most likely more on Eddie’s part than yours, but that didn’t matter. There, in the shade of an oak tree of a middle school you’d soon be departing only to join the ranks of some awful high school with bigger and badder bullies, with larger and crueler problems than skinned knees, you had a friend. 

“I’m-” you started, reaching out your hand to meet his halfways. But you stopped, because the moment your palm met his, it happened. Suddenly, quickly, unexpectedly. It nearly gave you an instantaneous migraine; the flood of color was so overwhelming. 

The first color you saw was the soft, whiskey brown of his eyes. Two warm and comforting orbs, blown out to be as wide as your own, as his face echoed back the same shell-shock on your own. His eyes were brown. Not grey, not black, but something more, something russet. Brown. 

Colors. You were seeing colors for the first time. You both knew what it meant. 

“You,” he breathed out with a boyish grin, letting you catch the pink of the tip of his tongue as he finished your introduction for you, both of your excitement buzzing in the breeze, “are my soulmate.” 

—

Fifteen was the age of awkwardness. Thirteen had been awful, sure, full of changes and growth and such, but fifteen made it seem like a cake walk. 

You wouldn’t have survived it without Eddie. 

Two years into the friendship, the two of you were inseparable. You had always spent your entire childhood assuming that when you found your soulmate, it would all fall into place, romantically speaking. But then Eddie happened. Eddie, your soulmate, fell right into your lap and you realized all of your childish dreams were pale in comparison. 

He was your best friend first and foremost. Even if he hadn’t been revealed as your soulmate on that day, you have no doubt that the trajectory of your friendship would have stayed on this path. From the beginning, both of you decided to Hell with society’s expectations of soulmates. Sure, most people didn’t find their soulmates until later in life, when it made sense for the sparks of romance to fly instantly, but the adults still seemed to expect that when the news broke. Your parents had been concerned, Eddie’s Uncle Wayne had been weary, your teachers had been blatantly confused. 

It was fun for the two of you, though. The thrill of introducing each other as, “This is my best friend. Oh, also my soulmate, but, hey. Technicalities, am I right?” 

Most of the kids in your grade hadn’t met their soulmates quite yet, especially those first few years. A sense of superiority sprouted in both of you to be able to know, to experience, to lavish in a world of color. To have the weight of finding your better part lifted off your shoulders so soon in life. 

You and Eddie had an entire lifetime to figure out the romantic aspect of it all. For now, he was your best friend, and you were his, and that was enough. 

Once you two had entered high school, one thing did become very clear: the parading of being soulmates had to cease. 

Jason Carver had been enough of a menace in middle school, but grew into a fully formed monster once he joined your ranks in high school. People were not kind to Eddie – they hadn’t been in middle school, when he first moved to Hawkins, and they weren’t going to change their tune suddenly in high school. The bullying you had endured had begun to fade, but his age of torment had just begun. 

You never once left his side. It didn’t matter to you if the entire school knew you were soulmates or not. It didn’t even matter that you two were soulmates; he was your best friend, and you would be damned before you left him to battle the tides alone. 

“I hate this,” he mumbled as he sat on the toilet of his shared bathroom with Wayne in their trailer, you kneeling between his legs as you blotted at his split lip with an alcohol wipe, “I should have punched the asshole back.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have,” you scowled, furrowing your brows even deeper in concentration, “And stop talking – you’re making it worse.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but you quieted him with a glare. 

Just as you wouldn’t have survived the Age of Awkwardness without Eddie, he wouldn’t have survived it without you. 

You finished cleaning off the dried blood before tossing the wipe into the overfilled trash can, sighing heavily as you fell back onto the ground and supported yourself against the wall opposite of him. 

You leveled each other into a staring contest, eyes blankly boring into each other with emotionless expressions. 

“You’re lucky Wayne isn’t home, y’know,” you finally broke the silence, shooting a hand out to grab his ankle and give it a squeeze, “He’d probably be driving down to the school right now and-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie waved you off, shaking his head, “I know. Trust me, I know. I think Principal Higgins is starting to hate him more than he hates me.” 

“Principal Higgins doesn’t hate you.”

“You’re right – he loathes me.” 

The hand that was squeezing his ankle quickly traveled up to his knee to slap it, “Eddie.” 

He raised his hands up in the air, lifting his brows for emphasis as he exclaimed, “What? You know I’m right, kid.” 

Kid. The loving nickname Eddie had adorned you with the moment he found out he was a mere six months older than you. You hated it, and he loved that you hated it. 

“The day you’re right is the day pigs fly, old man.”

Old man. The nickname that served as your attempt at a rebuttal. It didn’t work, not as intended. 

He chuckled softly at that, as he usually does when you call him that, and only smacked his palms onto his thighs, “Well, doc, I must say – you’ve done an exquisite job. Am I free to go?” 

You tried to fight your smile, tried to linger in the anger sparked from seeing Eddie hurt. Your disdain wasn’t directed at him; it was always a loaded gun pointed at whoever dared to lay a hand on your boy. You probably could have had a spotless reputation without Eddie Munson in your life, but you’d found your fists quick to fly in his defense. 

Your parents hated it. Wayne secretly adored it, even when he’d still join in scolding you and Eddie alike on avoiding violence. 

“Sure,” you shrugged, before grabbing his calves through denim to stop him. Dark blue denim, a deep shade of navy that you still hadn’t grown used to seeing. You hadn’t even realized jeans came in so many different shades until you met Eddie, and you’d always chastised him when he’d opt for a boring black pair, “But first, a payment is required.”

“A payment?” Eddie tilted his head, looking down at you curiously.

“A payment.” 

“And what would this payment be?” 

“A movie night,” you grinned wildly, finally letting your grip on him go, taking in the chestnut highlights of his curls and the red font of his t-shirt, a band shirt you’d never heard of but that he had recently gotten into, “Snacks provided by my loving host, you, of course.” 

He exaggerated his pondering, bringing a hand to his chin, stroking dramatically. As if he was ever capable of saying no to you. 

“Hm,” he hummed, his voice echoing through the tiny space and encasing you in warmth. As serene as that first summer day when he’d taken the leap of sitting down next to you in the grass, back to a tree, palm in your palm as colors had swarmed your vision, “I suppose that can be arranged.” 

—

Movie nights were a frequent occurrence. A sanctuary from the shit show of your small town. Sometimes, they had been the illusion of a bargain like that night, and others, they were an unspoken agreement. You’d show up to Eddie’s trailer or he would end up on your doorstep, your favorite candies in hand, and the two of you would just know. No words needed as you’d situate yourself on whoever’s couch, legs intertwining and blankets shared across laps. A bowl of popcorn that usually ended up being spilled inevitably. 

Movies were more fun in color. Some of your friends didn’t get it, still living in a world of black and white, but Eddie loved to listen to your rambles about how the vivid shades appeared across the screen. He loved the way your eyes would light up passionately, he loved how you still smiled so widely at special effects that were made more poignant by this gift the two of you had been given. 

Time. You two had been given the time most soulmates weren’t allotted. A gift you always thanked the Universe for. 

The latest Slasher film that had been released was currently displayed on the small television in Eddie’s living room, the two of you practically molded to the worn cushions of his sofa. Wayne had left within the first ten minutes for his shift, bidding the two of you a farewell with the warning of behaving. Vibrant reds splashed across the screen as one of the protagonists takes a stabbing, and while you should be shying away from the gruesome scene, you can’t help but stare in awe.

Even after years of experiencing colors, they took away your breath.

“Jesus,” you sighed wistfully, “How do they even make the fake blood? It’s so… so…”

“Red?” Eddie laughed from the other side of the couch, prodding at your thigh with his sock clad foot, “Probably food dye. Maybe some corn syrup.”

“It’s just so bright,” you eagerly leaned in closer to the TV, squinting with a wide smile, unaware of his stare. 

He was quiet for a moment, simply enjoying your joy. Your awe and wonder at the world, the way it seemed as if you two had just met that day rather than years before. As if colors were still a fascinating color to you. Eddie had grown used to them, let them become a part of his daily routine, but you always seemed to shine a new light on them for him. 

Around you, all the colors seemed a little bit brighter. 

“How do you do that?” he whispered so softly, it nearly got lost in the noise of the movie’s climax.

You hummed in response, eyes never leaving the screen. You were watching the movie in fascination, and he was watching you in serenity. 

His miracle. His gift. His soulmate. 

“You just…” he trailed off, no longer caring about the movie, “You always treat them like they’re brand new.” 

It caught your attention. The way his tone was so… velvety, so caring, so affectionate. You looked at him, “I treat what like they’re brand new?” 

“The colors.”

“Because they are.” 

The same assuredness as he used that very first day. As if it were obvious, as if it were simply a matter of fact and not such an endearing trait. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and it only made his heart clench tighter. 

You were his soulmate. 

“We lived without them for thirteen years, old man-”

“Thirteen years and six months, in my case,” he piped up in interruption, wearing a Cheshire grin. 

You nodded and rolled your eyes, “Yes, in your case. Thirteen years, give or take. I just… I don’t know. They still… they still get to me. I don’t think I can ever get used to them. Are you?” 

“What? Used to them?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t know how to explain it to you, not at that moment. How could he articulate to you that after so many years, the colors had dulled ever so slightly? The novelty had worn off, had run its course. The only time they’d ever become as vivacious as the first time was when he looked at you. 

He couldn’t. He couldn’t explain it to you, so he only shrugged, “I guess.” 

I guess, except when I see the color of your eyes, and I realize they’re my favorite color. Except when I notice the varied shades of your hair, and realize how lucky I am to see them in their full glory rather than shades of grey. Except when you wear that favorite mauve lipstick of yours, and I can’t get over the shape of your lips. Except when you wear that pretty red dress, and your confidence has my head spinning. 

I guess, except when it’s you. 

“Well, that’s just sad,” you huffed, focusing back on the movie after kicking gently at his shin. You lapsed into a comforting silence for a few more minutes, letting the movie fill the air. The same cycle; you watched the screen, he watched you, and the Universe watched both of you with a smile as it knew that the right choice had been made. The two of you were meant for each other. In this life. In the past lives. In the next lives. The two of you were the epitome of soulmates, even if the concept had never existed before. 

Thank the Universe it existed. Thank the Universe that he found you that day, below an oak tree, scraped knees and all. 

His voice shook as he quietly confessed, “I love you, you know that, right?” 

The movie faded in a blur for you instantly. Your neck could have snapped from how quickly you turned your attention to him. “What?”

“I love you,” his voice continued its waver, not from being unsure but from pure emotion. The flood of love that pulsed through his veins currently. 

You smiled, the apples of your cheeks punctuated and the chip in your tooth from your youth he hadn’t had the privilege of being apart of on showcase, “Well, yeah. Duh. I’m your soulmate. You kind of have to love me.” 

“Even if we weren’t soulmates,” he rushed to clarify, suddenly leaning forward and grabbing your knee beneath blankets that smelled of home, “Even if you weren’t my soulmate, I would love you.” 

Your face softened. He wished he would have kissed you in that moment. 

But the vulnerability was terrifying, and all that could echo through your mind is the fact that you two had time. So instead of matching his serious tone, you joked, “Well, it’s a good thing I am your soulmate, then. It might have been awkward for your hypothetically soulmate you would have had instead in that scenario, trying to explain why you love your best friend more than them.” 

“Shut up,” he laughed, squeezing your knee tighter, “I’m being serious, kid. I love you. I really, really fuckin’ love you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“You’re only saying that because I’m the reason you see colors.”

“Fuck the colors,” he was quick to reply, “The Universe can take back the colors, as long as I still have you.” 

There it is. The earthquake you dreamt of as a little girl. The trailer’s across the park never felt it, the kids surely getting into trouble in the forest behind Eddie’s home didn’t notice it, but you felt it. A rumble through your chest, a groundbreaking discovery, a world-ending confession. Your world began, and your world ended, and your world restarted with Eddie Munson. 

“You don’t believe me,” he noted, suddenly shimmying out from beneath the blanket.

“Wait, hold on-”

“Stay here.” 

You stayed frozen in your seat, wide eyes following his broad back and the army green of his t-shirt. No longer a frail frame, face filling out with puberty. He was becoming a man. No longer the young boy who took punches and threw them back twice as hard. 

He was becoming a man, he was your soulmate, and he loved you. He loved you enough he would give up what everyone else considered the greatest gift, just for you. 

Eddie Munson didn’t need colors to love you so ardently. And you knew, at that moment, that the same could be said for you. You would have loved him no matter what. The moment his shadow had spread over you beneath wide leaves and simmering heat, he was destined to hole up in your heart, never to leave again. 

By the time he had returned to the living room, you had paused the movie, eyes locked on where he emerged from the hallway with a polaroid camera in hand and a mischievous grin gracing his features. The camera had been a joint gift from your parents and his uncle the previous Christmas. 

Your eyes weren’t on the camera. They were on him. His hair had grown over the years, wild auburn curls finally surpassing his ears. The awkward style made for ridiculous bed head, something you’d been witness to many mornings after impromptu sleepovers. 

You were fascinated with the way the sunlight caught each strand as they bounced with his eager steps. The trace of gold you could outline. Shades of autumn you loved to run your fingers through when he’d offer the opportunity.

He shook the camera into the air for emphasis, finally catching your eyes’ attention, before he propelled himself back down onto the couch across from you, both of you sitting up instead of being reclined now. “Let me show you something.” 

“O-Okay,” you stuttered out, unsure. 

He fiddled with the camera for a few moments before he brought it up to his face, resting against his cheek as his eye peered into the small peephole. You were so busy memorizing him like that, that the flash of the camera took you off guard and effectively blinded you for a few seconds. 

“What the-” you started with a scowl, hands flying up to rub your knuckles into your eyes in a sorry attempt to rush away the stars blocking your vision. 

“Just wait,” he insisted, snatching up the polaroid the moment it printed from the camera. When you flashed him an unconvinced look, he continued on, “Trust me.” 

He didn’t have to ask twice. You always trusted him with your entire being, whether for better or for worse. 

The polaroid was slow in developing. Eddie hummed to fill the silence, occasionally fanning around the small capture of you that was slowly filling out in color rather than blinding white. You spent your energy on trying to decipher what song was stuck in his head and not focus on how slow those damned photos always seemed to be in coming to fruition. 

It had only been a few minutes, but it had felt like an eternity when you finally gave up on figuring out the song and succumbing to your impatience with a sigh, “This is the world’s slowest magic trick ever.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but tossed you the camera. You thanked the Heavens for fast reflexes as you were able to catch it rather than let it fall to the ground. The two of you would have never heard the end of it if you managed to break such an expensive gift. 

“Hey!” you shouted as you clutched the camera tightly to your chest, “Be careful with this thing, Eddie. It’s fragile.”

His eyebrows raised from behind where he held up the polaroid he took of you to his face, “Is it? Can we really be sure that it’s that fragile if we don’t knock it around for good measure?” 

“We can,” you snappily replied, glaring down at the camera and fighting amusement, “If you want to throw it around, be my guest. But you’ll explain to Wayne why you broke it – not me.” 

“Of course, kid,” he grinned so wide that it spread to his cheeks peeking out either side of the photo still obnoxiously close to his face, “What else is a best friend good for? Basically signed up to be your permanent scapegoat until the end of time the moment I gave you the gift of colors.”

“And yet, I’m the one usually talking us out of trouble,” you dramatically called back, finally looking up at him and holding up the camera, “What am I supposed to do with this?” 

“I dunno. Break it, take a picture of me. The choice is yours, sweetheart.” 

He still hadn’t put the photo of you down, so you finally reached across the sea of blankets to yank on his forearms. Once you were faced once more with those warm doe eyes rather than the blank back of a photo, you narrowed your eyes at him in indecision. 

He was still smirking. Wide enough that his teeth just barely peeked out between his barely parted lips. You recalled the tales of kiss-bitten lips, the way you’d heard adults describe that deeper shade of pink, and for a second, you considered that it would look good on Eddie. Something about imagining him flushed and bruised by love and lust rather than malice made your gut twist stormily. 

“Picture it is,” you muttered, “Put that stupid polaroid down and smile for the camera, pretty boy.” 

“You think I’m pretty?” 

The camera went off mid-teasing, his dimples on full display and eyes shining wonderfully with the flash of the camera. 

“Nope,” you mumbled, “Just said it so you’d keep smiling.” 

It was a lie. A horrible, pathetic, and badly-veiled lie. 

The photos developed faster. Yours is finally in full color and detail by the time the two of you can make out the shape of Eddie in his, and he was quick to toss it to the side before he shoved yours into your lap. 

“There, look.” 

It wasn’t anything magnificent to look at. Just another photo. The same old color of your hair, baby hairs frizzing at the edges. Same old eyes fighting from crinkling in adornment at the boy before you. You weren’t anything special, not in your eyes. But Eddie’s expectant stare told you that there had to be something more there, something he was waiting for you to pick up on. You scoured the background of the photo for pops of color only to come up empty-handed. All you could find were the tired dark tones of the Munson’s furniture and living room behind yourself in the picture.

“Eddie, what am I supposed to be looking at?” you squinted, bringing the photo closer and trying to figure out the useless puzzle he had presented you with, “It’s just a picture of me-”

“Exactly,” he interrupted, “A picture of you. My soulmate. That right there,” he leaned over and plucked the photo from your hands, holding it up tauntingly just out of reach, “Is a picture of the girl I love. A picture of the one person who makes colors worth seeing, and makes colors worth losing.” 

The sentiment had you choked up. 

“You’re my favorite person,” his voice dropped to a whisper, and he held up his hand with his knuckles facing you as he put down the polaroid in his lap, “Have been since that very first day.” 

There was still a faint scar, right there, clear as day. It casted over the knuckles of his ring and middle finger as a permanent reminder of that fateful day. As if the colors weren’t enough, as if the swell of your heart inside your chest wasn’t enough reminder of the love and care you’d always felt pulsing from Eddie.

You reached out to the coffee table suddenly, picking up the photo of him, glad to see it finally developed. You didn’t even glance at it before you held it up to him, “And this is a photo of my favorite person.”

“You didn’t even look at the picture.”

“I don’t need to,” you breathed out, moving the picture out of your vision to look at him dead in the eyes, “He’s right here in front of me. In full color, treating me far kinder than I deserve.” 

His touch was ginger as he pinched the corner of the photo and took it from your grasp, placing it down atop the polaroid of you, “Don’t do that. You always deserve my kindness – you deserve the entire world’s kindness. I’ll kick the ass of anyone who argues otherwise.”

A soft and shy smile ripped at your lips, made the corners and your cheeks ache as you shrugged, “Whatever you say, old man.” 

He only looked at you, only wore the lovesick look of a man face-to-face with his soulmate.

The movie was long forgotten. All snacks carefully put on the table before Eddie threw the blanket off of the two of you and scooted backwards while leaving a space large enough for you between his legs.  

“C’mere,” he beckoned, motioning for you to crawl forward and fit your head to his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. He pressed you impossibly close to him, until your cheek was tight to his t-shirt and your ear was thundering with his racing heartbeat. 

You melted into him easily, letting your own arms encase him to the best of their abilities in this position. You took a few selfish moments to just be there with him, to just let his words sink in beneath your skin and the reality of them weigh heavy on you. The heavier it weighed, the further into his embrace you pressed. 

The warmth of serenity and peacefulness of the picture perfect moment nearly lulled you to sleep. But even in the drowsiness, you felt the kiss he pressed to the crown of your head. 

“I love you, too,” you admitted, muffled by his chest. You hoped he felt the words and wouldn’t teasingly make you look him in his eyes as you confessed, “I love you so fucking much. I couldn’t do this without you.” 

“Sure you could-” he began, but was cut off but the abrupt lifting of your head, just as he fingertips had started on a path down your spine.

“I couldn’t,” you insisted, “I really, really couldn’t. I need you to stick around for a long time, Munson. I’m not in the business of losing my soulmate until we’re old and grey and gross. I want to keep you around until I lose count of all your wrinkles and weird moles.”

He chuckled, and the force vibrated against your shoulder digging into his torso. 

You retrieved those two polaroids before you resettled against him, your back now pressed to his chest as you held the two snapshots side by side for both of you to look out. 

He was right. You think you get it. 

When you look at the photo of yourself, you see nothing extraordinary. But when you look at the photo of Eddie, everything just… the world seemingly stops, all moving parts suddenly snapping into place. A boy vibrant with color and glee, a boy who tugged on every heartstring you’d hung in your chest throughout your lifetime. It sent warmth to every crevice of you, from the top of your head where the ghost of his lips still lingered to the tips of your toes wiggling beside his within thick socks. 

It’s more than an earthquake or the world stopping. Eddie doesn’t just stop or begin your world – he is your world. 

A world of wild hair, charming smiles, unfiltered laughter and fierce adoration. Even the brightest shades out there that you had yet to discover were dim compared to the boy photographed in time for you. 

His arms slide around your shoulders, tugging you in even closer,“Just out of curiosity, what is your cap on wrinkles you can count? Because I’ve seen Wayne, and some photos of my old man, and let me tell you – time is not kind to us Munson men.” 

You rolled your head and pressed a kiss to one of his forearms before smashing your cheek into it, breathing deeply as his fingertips drew random shapes over the spot on your chest that your heart rests beneath. 

“As many as it takes, old man.” 

“Whatever you say, kid.” 

You brought a hand up to curl around the arm, right beside when you kept your cheek nuzzled. He finally laid his palm flat against your chest, and you wonder if he can feel the way each beat of your heart called out his name. It was okay if he didn’t – he had all the time in the world to figure it out. 

—

“I just don’t understand why you’re so mad!”

“I’m not mad, Eddie – I’m fucking pissed!” 

“Okay, then I don’t understand why you’re so pissed!” 

Seventeen is the age of being reckless and redundant. Of big feelings and reckless decisions. It is the time in your life for being an absolute idiot. 

Eddie Munson was proof of it as the two of you stood outside of his van, the whistle of the winds around you two from the impending storm lost on your current screaming match. 

“Figure it out,” you seethed, stomping your feet almost childishly as you began to turn away from him, “And while you do that, leave me the fuck alone.” 

“I- Hey!” he reached out for you, but you’re already quickening your pace and hopping up onto the sidewalk, “Hey! Don’t fucking walk away from me!” 

You didn’t reply, only widening your strides. 

He called out your name, and you heard his frustrated groan before he easily caught up with you. 

Damn him and his newfound height. 

“Would you just listen to me?” he shouted, latching onto your bicep and spinning you around harshly to face him.

You yanked yourself out of his touch quickly, eyes blazing, “Why should I? I’ve seen what I needed to see, Eddie. Just go back inside to your preppy girlfriend. Forget about me. Pretend like she’s never stood to the side while her boyfriend bullied you like- like- like some asshole.”

His hair was longer now. Ringlets that cascaded to brush over the top of his shoulders – shoulders that had broadened impressively as he neared the end of his youth. His newest clothing staple covered them; a denim vest you’d helped him distress and sew multitudes of patches onto, a display of his favorite bands that had only painted a new target onto his back. 

Satan worshiper. That’s what they called your soulmate in terrified whispers amongst the halls at school. That’s what all the PTO mothers’ eyes silently cursed when they’d see him with you at the grocery store. 

He’d made quite the image for himself. And you’d stayed by his side, defending his honor at every chance. Your best friend, your soulmate. 

Only to find him eating the face off of some cheerleader at that goddamned party. 

Yeah, you didn’t need to listen to him. You really had seen enough. 

“She’s not my girlfriend!” he waved his arms wildly, the storm roaring loader with his increased volume.

“What is she then?” you insisted with venom, crossing your arms and effectively closing yourself off from him as you took another step back, “Just some one night stand? Some fun to have before you have to accept that you’re shackled to me for the rest of your life?” 

You hated the way your eyes burned. You cursed the tears gathering as you glared at him viciously, masking all the pain with as much rage as you could muster. 

He wouldn’t even kiss you, his soulmate. But he would kiss her. 

“Stop putting words in my mouth,” he warned lowly, tone no longer making a spectacle of the two of you, “You know that’s not how I see it.” 

“You won’t even kiss me.” 

He was stunned into silence. As you spat out the words, the first few tears slipped.

It was about more than the pretty blonde girl you’d found him with. It was about more than the fact he was kissing someone else. 

“I… What?” he whispered, his entire body going slack with defeat. 

The tears fell more rapidly now as you replayed the moment in your head. The two of you were only at the stupid party for Eddie to deal weed from some weird guy he’d met in the arcade, a way to make extra cash. Cash he claimed he was putting towards your future together. You had no idea how you’d gone from sitting on the couch together to tipsy, joining a circle of fellow peers who momentarily forgot their cruelness between shots of whiskey and pours of vodka. 

You were going to hate the game of Spin the Bottle for the rest of your life. You were sure of it. 

When Eddie’s turn had arrived, when the neck of that dingy beer bottle casted shades of ambers in your direction, you had been so excited. Your heart had been in your throat, your head dizzy with the excitement of him finally kissing you. Your soulmate by Nature, your best friend by choice, finally would be kissing you. You had been so sure it was an affirmation from the Universe that the right choice had been made when it came to the two of you. That it was all real, and the colors weren’t a product of your delusion. 

And then he said no. 

“You wouldn’t kiss me,” you choked out, pulling your arms around your torso tighter to fight back any shivers or shaking, “The bottle landed on me, on your soulmate, and you wouldn’t even fucking kiss me. The one person you should have kissed. And you didn’t.” 

Eddie’s eyes widened in shock, a deer caught in your headlights, as he started to stutter out a sorry excuse. 

You didn’t want to hear it. You only threw your head back in bitter laughter, spinning on your heel and preparing to leave him behind once more.

“Wait,” he begged, grabbing your shoulder this time. 

You shrugged it off harshly, “For what? For you to make up some bullshit excuse for it? I don’t want to hear it, Eddie. I get it. I’m so sorry that I’m your soulmate. I’m so sorry you’re stuck with me. I’m so-” 

He cut you off by rounding in front of you, blocking your escape route and cradling each of your cheeks with determination as he forced you to meet his fiery gaze, “Stop putting words in my mouth! That’s not why I did it, okay? It’s not!” 

Your tears fell more rapidly, so quickly that his thumbs couldn’t have kept up with swiping them away if he tried. Instead, he let them puddle against his palms, focus solely on your eyes as he bore into them and whispered, “That’s not why I said no. And it’s not why I kissed that girl, okay? You’ve got to believe me, kid.” 

“Don’t-” you started, but he shook his head, determined.

“No, no. Hear me out. Please. You know I don’t see it that way. You- You’re- I’m not shackled to you. You aren’t some sort of damnation for me. Do you get that? You aren’t some life sentence or burden – you’re….” he trailed off, and you could see the tears gathering in his eyes. Constellations in his lashes to match your own. “I said no because I’m terrified. O-Okay? I said no to kissing you because… because… what if you’re the one shackled to me?” 

The crack in his voice reverberated through you. Aftershocks rattled your bones at his confession. 

“I- We haven’t crossed that line. And I just… if I crossed that line, and if you decided I wasn’t what you wanted…” his eyes searched yours for answers you couldn’t provide to him, not as your brows creased and your chest tightened, “If I kissed you and you decided that the Universe made a mistake, that I’m not actually your soulmate… I- Fuck, I couldn’t take that, kid. I couldn’t.” 

You’re no longer poised to run, to escape him and all the emotions drowning your lungs. You felt your shoulders drop, your defenses burned to ash as you stood with two solid feet on the quivering ground below you. 

There were a million reassurances on the tip of your tongue, but instead you only said, “Why did you kiss her?” 

The question that had pinned you as a flight risk. Because if what he told you was true, and you did believe him, then it didn’t make sense. Nothing that had happened that night made sense if what he said was true. 

“I don’t know,” he seemed even more confused than you, “And- God, I’m fucking sorry for such a shitty cop-out of an answer. But I just… I don’t know. I just did. She was there, and she kissed me, and I kissed back. I pretended she was you, like a fucking idiot.”

The honesty threatened to shatter you, but you decided it was better to hear his truth than risk being lied to. You could move past the anguish in both your eyes, the confusion and the hurt having brewed – you wouldn’t have been able to move past some half-assed lie in an attempt to save your feelings. 

“I regret it,” he whispered, “The moment I kissed her back, I regretted it.”

“Why?”

An opportunity to seal a bandage over the bleeding wound. A chance for him to make it all better. 

“Because she isn’t you. She isn’t my soulmate - she never could be. It’s you, and it was always going to be you, even if the Universe didn’t agree with me.” 

You took a moment to try and picture a world in which the man stood before you wasn’t your soulmate. A world where your palms touched, and your world hadn’t exploded in technicolor. Another Universe where the first color you had seen hadn’t been warm, brown, honey coated eyes. A twisted timeline where you hadn’t been awarded the gift of memorizing the red of his guitar, his sweetheart, or the calm blue tint his room bathed in every early morning. A world where you don’t know the shade his skin turns in during golden hour, or can’t see the way his few tattoos he’d gathered in the past year on his skin are actually a fading shade of blue-green rather than stark black. A world where you couldn’t pick up the Fruity Pebbles stuck between his teeth as he rushed to class late and you teased him mercilessly for it. A world without color - a world without the guarantee of Eddie Munson. 

A breeze roared by, and you could hear the Universe you were in whispering to stop it, to not do this. Because you weren’t living in a world without color. Your world had burst to life when your palm met his. You knew all the colors of his lifeline like the back of your hand. 

“It wasn’t worth it?” You knew the answer. You still needed to hear him say it.

And say it he did, nodding in confirmation, “It wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t worth it.” 

He could have left it at that and you would have offered him your forgiveness anyways. Even if the bond formed between you two didn’t feel like a shackle of chains binding you two together, you knew that there would always be an invisible string wound around your soul and connected to his. You could have spent longer being mad, you could have still walked yourself home and left him broken in the middle of that neighborhood street. But even if you did, you would have eventually found your way back to him. Whether you left in anger, whether you left in sadness, whether you left in mourning – your final destination remained the same. Him.

You may have all the time in the world with Eddie, but even a second spent upset with him felt like a second wasted. 

Not even forever felt like long enough. You knew that now, glaringly obvious by the chain of events the night had followed. 

And so he could have left it at that. And all would be well. Wounds would heal and time would soothe the ache that echoed. But he didn’t. 

He took a step closer. Took a shaky, deep breath. And then another step. One foot after the other until he was toe-to-toe with you as he breathed out, “You’re my future. You’re everything to me. Soulmate or not, you’re all I want. I want to grow old with you until I lose count of your wrinkles, and then some.” 

His chin tilted down, lips daring closer and closer to yours as your stare into his eyes refused to waver. 

Deep, deep brown. Endless, molten, a kind of comforting that says you’re home, you can rest now. How fortunate you were to see the twisting of lively carob and umber rather than lifeless greys. 

Your eyes tried to flutter close, but you couldn’t let them, not yet. Not until he was close enough to feel his breath on your chin before he let out a raspy, “Baby.” 

You folded immediately, took the plunge as your eyes finally shut and you pressed forward with fervent. 

It wasn’t like the movies. It wasn’t fluid and instantaneous. There was hesitancy and there was awkwardness, and your noses bumped one anothers hard enough to make both of you chuckle into the rarity of space left between your mouths as you both gasped in waves of air before returning to one another. His hand took its time before it grabbed your waist, and it trembled the entire time. Your arms shook the entire way they lifted until they wrapped around his neck and shoulders, unsure of where exactly to lay comfortably. 

But none of that mattered. Because he was kissing you – your soulmate was finally kissing you. And you had never kissed another soul before that night, but you knew immediately you’d never want to kiss another soul. 

It wasn’t like the movies or fairy tales, but it was enough. 

And you knew he felt the same way when the kiss was broken by the grin that split his lips just as the sky began to spit out the beginning of its inevitable downpour. 

—

You hadn’t heard from Eddie in three days. Which, fair enough. Finals season was nearly upon you two and you knew he had been stressed. Since the night of that party nearly a year before, you two had become even more inseparable if possible. You two had finally crossed a line, had finally accepted your status of soulmates, and no one would dare to demand the two of you detach from each other’s sides once you made the announcement that you were officially together. 

Wayne had worn a knowing smile. Your parents had simply warned Eddie to not hurt you (as if that was even an option for him at this point). Even Principal Higgins had offered a polite smile when he caught you two holding hands in the hallway, surprisingly not commenting on the public display of affection. You two were officially dating, officially succumbing to the status quo of what soulmates should be. 

Everyone had already sort of known there was something there between you two, but making it official removed any sliver of doubt any of them may have harbored. 

And so it was fine if Eddie needed space. It had been that way before your first kiss, occasionally learning how to stand as your own entities rather than solely a joint force, and it could continue to be that way after your first kiss. 

But after three days, you had started to worry. 

Pacing your room, you told yourself you were being ridiculous. This was fine. Space was good – space was needed. 

Space didn’t help with all your what-ifs, though.

What if he was hurt? What if he was sick? What if he was mad at you? What if the longer you gave him that space, the starcher of a revelation he would have that he didn’t need you? What if the two of you had flown into all of this too fast, too quickly, too soon? It may have taken years to get there, but what if Eddie suddenly decided the last year had been too much? 

You were in your car, driving recklessly down the streets that would lead to his house, before you could even think of another what if. 

If it was that last thought that crossed your mind, if everything between the two of you had become simply overwhelming for him, you convinced yourself it would be okay. It would be just fine, you could handle it as long as he told you as much to your face rather than hiding behind distance put between you. It remained a mantra spinning through your storming mind the entire drive; it will be fine. It will be okay. As long as he says it, I can handle it. Anything for him.

You never considered that one of the other possibilities was more likely. Not until you had your car haphazardly parked in front of the Munson’s trailer, fist banging on their front door before Wayne threw it open with tired eyes and wrinkles bunched in concern. 

“Is he here?” you breathed out in lieu of a proper greeting, breathless from your jog up to the damn porch from your car that you hadn’t even bothered with locking up.

It will be fine. It will be okay. As long as he says it, I can handle it.

Wayne understood immediately, stepping to the side as he nodded and motioned for you to come in, “He’s in his room. But listen, he got some news, and he’s not do-”

You didn’t hear the rest of Wayne’s warning, too busy storming past him and flying to Eddie’s bedroom door. You didn’t even knock, bursting through the door and already fighting tears as you geared up to hear Eddie say that he needed time and space, that he had gotten sick of you, that he wanted to experience more life before you guys really gave any of this a fighting chance. 

“Eddie, can you please tell me why you’ve just up and disappeared-” you cut off your plead the moment you laid eyes on him. 

He wasn’t facing the door. He was curled up in bed, back to you, clad in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. You could see the stubborn knots that had built up in his hair, immediately keyed in on the way he was trying to collapse into himself. His knees were nearly buried in his chest, and if you squinted into the dark room, you’d see the outline of his spine beneath the flash of skin peaking out from where the back of his shirt had raised. 

It wasn’t just the state of him; the state of the room also immediately silenced you. 

Almost as if a war path had been torn through it days before, the bedroom was messier than normal. Eddie was never the most organized or pristine person, but he kept his living space well enough to… well, live. Kept the floor always within sight, tried to never let any collection of trash overflow on the tops of his dressers or desk. He even found himself emptying his ashtrays without your reminding most of the time. Usually, most of the clutter simply came from mountains of papers detailing campaigns or writing new songs, or different sets of dice being left out from planning said campaigns. A t-shirt here, a pair of ripped jeans there – sure. He was a teenage boy. It was expected.

It looked as though a level five hurricane had hit Eddie Munson’s room. 

Clothes strewn everywhere, dresser drawers thrown open and never closed. Beer cans collected across each surface and both ashtrays were overfilling with cigarette butts. You even spotted two half smoked joints on his bedside table. His sweetheart had been taken off of its wall mount and laid to rest on the floor. He would never have let his prized possession be discarded like that. Ever.

Your voice came out weak as you took a step closer to the bed, “Eddie?” 

You’re surprised he heard your whisper. He stirred, and your eyes followed the dust particles dancing in the single stream of sunlight that was bursting through a hole forgotten in his makeshift curtains. Navy blue sheets the two of you once used to make a pillow fort in the Munson living room, thinned to the illusion of a sky blue in some patches.

You’d always warned him they make shit curtains; he’d always shrugged and said it added to his feng shui. 

“Eddie,” you whispered again, knees knocking against the edge of the mattress as you looked down at his broken form, “I… What happened? Are you… are you okay?” 

You hadn’t known how to approach it. Whatever happened was even worse than the first time he’d received a phone call from his dad in prison. 

He mumbled something against the pillow he has one arm curled under.

“What?” you questioned, nearly ready to climb into that damn bed and force him onto his back, force him to look at you if only so you could guarantee there were no tear tracks on his cheeks. 

You don’t have to, though. Eddie finally loosened his grip on that pillow and rolls ever so slightly, just enough for you to see half his face and feel your heart break at the confirmation of tears. Translucent pink eyes, glossy wet cheeks, the tip of his nose glowing as his gaze met yours. He looked tired.

“I’m getting held back,” he croaked, “I fucking- I flunked. I’m not graduating.” 

You nearly sighed in relief. For his sake, you don’t, but the weight on your shoulders lifted immediately. 

“Oh, sweet boy,” you murmured, giving into the need to crawl into the bed. You folded your knees as you situated yourself on the bed behind him, and the moment you’re situated, he wasted no time twisting himself to face you and bury his face into your side, “Why didn’t you call? You had me losing my goddamn mind-“ 

A strangled sob rattled against your side. One of his hands gripped your thigh, fingertips holding on for dear life, “Because your soulmate is a fucking loser.” 

Your chest cracked further, a valley beginning to form as a hand buried into the back of his head, holding him to you as the other hand moved to rub his back in soothing motions.

“My soulmate is not a fucking loser,” you tried to keep a gentle tone rather than scold him at the moment. He didn’t need scolding — he needed patience, he needed care, he just needed you to be there, “Keep talking about him that way, and I’ll have to get the fighting gloves.” 

He wetly laughed into your t-shirt, and you were sure that there would be tear stains when he finally lifted his head, “I’m the one who taught you how to throw a punch, baby.” 

“Exactly. Which means I’ll have you on your ass in ten seconds flat.” 

It was a few minutes of silence that followed; just you holding him, just him clinging onto you. His life line — his single ship of hope in what had been a terribly rocky sea the last few days. An irreplaceable peace settled across all the wounds and damage that had been done in private. You had been right. He should have called you immediately. He should have known that if anyone could make the situation feel less like his world was ending, it was you.

His soulmate.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you questioned in a soft, lulling tone. The endless patterns you’d drawn on his back had nearly put him to sleep, “Maybe be a bit kinder to yourself this time?”

“I just…” he started, finally removing his face from being buried against you, “I sort of had a hunch. O’Donnel wouldn’t round my grade, you know? And I’ve skipped a lot of classes, I know. But hearing Higgins say it just… just…”

“Made it real?” you offered a weary ending to his sentence.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Real. It made it really fucking real.” 

He didn’t feel judged at that moment. He felt seen as you continued on, “It is real, and it sucks. But it’ll be okay, Eds. I mean, I was already planning on the community college for my first year, maybe even taking a year off. If you need any help with classes, you just gotta ask me. Don’t forget I was one of O'Donnell's pets, as unfortunate as it was. I know how to work that woman into rounding up some grade.”

You rambled on a little more, all the while still stroking his hair and back, offering even more solutions. The longer you spoke, the better Eddie felt. You made it all sound so easy — like this was nothing, like it was the smallest of blips in plans that had been years in the making. You weren’t upset, you weren’t disappointed. He deserved your negativity, and instead only received your optimism.

You were with him for the long haul, he realized. Truly. It wasn’t just some one off promise or chain of the Universe holding you to him. He wasn’t dragging you down.

When you finally trailed off, his lids finally heavier than his heart, he sighed, “I love you. You know that?” 

“I love you,” you smiled, “That’s kind of part of the soulmate package, isn’t it?”

“Fuck the soulmate part,” he lifted out of your hold despite everything in him screaming to stay put, to let you to continue to coddle him, “I’ve seen plenty of people be shitty to their soulmates. I watched my dad-“ he cut himself off, throat tightening with memories of his parents. You don’t make him finish that sentence, only nodding in understanding, “The Universe doesn’t force you to be a good person. You choose to be that. Every single day, you choose to stand by my side. You always have. You could have made me feel shitty about this, could have let me see how bummed you really are about sticking out another year here, but…” 

But you didn’t. 

Your eyes softened, a stormy shade of his favorite color, “Do you remember the way you punched Carver that day, before you even knew me?” 

That very first day. The day two souls destined to intertwine had come in contact. The day the Universe had sighed in relief as your palm met his.

He nodded.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you whispered, “You didn’t even know me. And yeah, whatever, maybe the Universe nudged you to do it, whatever. But there’s tons of people who know their soulmates for years and never realize it. Tons of people go to school and never interact with their soulmates. But that very first day… the first day you were at that school, the first day you saw me — we met. You defended me. And that counts for something. And I like to think it speaks more about us than it does about the grand scheme of things,” you brought a hand up, wiped away whatever tears were left on his cheeks with enough tenderness he almost started to sob again, “You didn’t know I was your soulmate. I was just some random classmate, and you defended me without even thinking about it. And I will always do the same for you. Always.” 

You always had, you always will. The two of you had proven, time and time again, that you will always choose one another. It was never about that inevitable bond. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he confessed, quickly moving to keep your palm there, resting on his stubbled cheek, “You deserve a soulmate who isn’t a fuck up. Someone good, someone who can give you the world and someone who… who isn’t repeating another year of fucking high school.”

“You still don’t get it,” you grinned sadly. Your fingertips press into that soft spanse right before his ear, cradling him more urgently on their own accord, “I don’t want or need someone else. You do give me the world- you are my world, you idiot.” 

Idiot sounded perfectly aligned with lover as he leaned forward, burying his face in your neck. Home — he was home as you wrapped your arms back around him, pulled him a little closer in your embrace, clung to him as tightly as he clung to you. 

All the colors in the world, and the only ones the two of you cared about were the ones confined to that small space for the time being, shades of you and shades of him, all overlapping perfectly in sync. 

—

You stay true to your word. The first time Eddie repeats his senior year, and the second time. 

Endless nights are spent studying, you forcing him to focus when he couldn’t, trying to invent new ways to learn that work for him rather than against him. He’s brilliant; you never let your boy forget that. 

It’s nice for a while. Sickly sweet kisses and teasing exchanges. Enough lovesickness to make even those around you two nauseous. Nights spent out by Lover’s Lake, exchanges of promises of a future to come and discussions of whether your kids will have his eyes or your eyes. Kids. You two were discussing fucking kids. And it had scared Eddie half to death to even bring it up, but you hadn’t been phased. You’d answered terrifying question after question with ease, had even joked about what color flowers the two of you would have at your wedding and listened to Eddie describe the house he’d want to grow old in with you in excruciating detail. Sometimes the two of you even brought up what kind of dog you’d have, fantasized about the big yard which would not have a white picket fence (because, according to Eddie, that shit was too cheesy even for him in all his adoration for you). It made Eddie realize that after all these years, maybe you had become the brave one.

You’d both succumbed to the stereotypical soulmate trope. Become exactly what society had expected from the two of you since the beginning. And honestly, you couldn’t even be mad about it. You get it – you got the allure as you had laid with a head pressed to Eddie’s chest, observing all the stars again, a night sky the vision of black and white as your vision went blurry with fatigue. 

“You know, that house sounds awfully expensive,” you yawned, curling a bit tighter into his side. You’re in nothing but his t-shirt, his chest still bare from the night’s activities.

Another new development. Even after all your time together, you two continued to find novelty to explore. New ways to learn each other, new ways to love each other, new ways to further tie your two souls together. An unbreakable knot. If anyone, the Universe included, tried to loosen it, you would spill blood without second thought. 

“Oh, it absolutely will be,” he chuckled, vibrations echoing in your eardrum, “But that’s fine. We’re going to tap into that rockstar money, baby.” 

In between talks of the future, more honest versions had arisen. Eddie and his band. You and your aspirations. Things that neither of you laughed at quite as much as the talk of children or houses with wraparound porches because they were in reach. 

“Do you think you’ll have groupies?” your voice was a murmur, mouth half pressed into his skin as you lazily traced circles on his pec you aren’t using as your own personal pillow. 

It made him chuckle once more, “Groupies? Sure. Don’t think any of them will be very successful, though.”

“Bold of you to assume I meant just you,” you’re able to snark back even half asleep, “Gareth deserves to be fawned over, too. Jeff is definitely a ladies killer.” 

Your hand moved just fast enough out of the way for Eddie to lazily mimic stabbing himself in the exact muscle you were painting invisible imagery across, “You wound me, sweetheart.” 

From this angle, you could catch the exact shade of brown that his faded freckles shone. You could see the differences in tan skin, see where he’d left a pair of sunglasses on his chest during a lake day over the summer and the tanline had remained stubborn. That had been a good day – Eddie had thrown you off the dark, wrapping his arms around you and turning the world to a blur of passing greens and blues before you’d been dunked beneath the lake’s surface. The cold water had stunned you, but him joining you seconds later hadn’t. Always by your side, even when he was being a little shit.

You’ve gone quiet on him, mind overcome with fond memories as the silence came naturally only for a few seconds before Eddie felt the need to fill it again. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, the hand that had mock-stabbed himself now curling around your forearm. 

Your hand against his chest turned to a fist, pressing deeper into the skin, just to feel him closer, before you teased him, “How do you even know I’m thinking? What if my mind is just blank right now?”

“Psychic-soulmate-telepathy powers,” he answered without hesitation. When you only huffed, clearly unimpressed, he pressed a kiss to your temple before whispering in honesty, “You were smiling.” 

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. Usually, you loved memorizing all the colors of him. You loved taking in his doe brown eyes and the harsh blush of his swollen lips. You’d memorize the twinkling of pink staining his skin across his chest and up his neck. You’d pick at the vibrant cherry shade of his painted nails, a sharp contrast from the usual black or sharpie scribbles he’d wear on them instead. 

That silver glint of his rings. The forest green of his plaid boxers. All shades in the palette of Eddie Munson, your soulmate. 

You love him so much, your chest is ready to burst from it. And you told him as much, too.

“I’m just really glad I have you,” you said for only him and only the trees to hear, “I’m really happy you came after me that day.” 

There’s no rush to memorize all his colors and all his shades. You had all the time in the entire world, and then some. The only reason anyone had ever reported losing their colors was due to the death of their soulmate, and he wasn’t in any danger at the moment. He was there, sturdy beneath you, deep breaths syncing with your own. 

If you didn’t learn them in this life, you wouldn’t rest until you found him in the next to finish what you had started. 

“Yeah?” you could hear his grin as he held you a bit tighter. Another deep breath, another expansion of his ribs, and you feel all that time laid out at your feet. A lifetime of learning and memorizing Eddie Munson. A life well spent, “I’m glad, too.” 

“Did you have even a single moment where you…. I don’t know, hesitated coming after me?” your speech began to slur, and you knew you were one foot in unconsciousness at that point. 

“Never,” that same certainty he has always held since day one laced his tone, “Never. I just- I went for it. I made Jason Carver eat his words, and I ran after you. The only thing I’ll ever regret is not throwing a second punch at the asshole.”

Your smile widened, and you knew he felt it. Imagined the comfort he felt at the feeling. Imagined the peace that was washing over him just as it encased you, “But not about coming after me?” 

“I don’t regret coming after you,” he told you, not growing the slightest bit annoyed at your need for constant reassurance. His fingers and palm slowly spread across your lower back, the warmth of their weight carrying you into sleep, “I’ll always come back to you, baby.” 

—

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. 

Spring break was supposed to be nice. Time spent with friends, lazy mornings that you and Eddie slept through, night drives spent screaming out in relief to empty highways because he made it – you both made it. The college transfer was already put into motion, making it so you’d start the fall semester at a University in upstate Indiana. Eddie had taken a few roadtrips with you at his side, already having gotten on the good side of a boss at one of the car shops within range of where you’d be attending. You two had littered his floor with ads for apartments, the ones in your price range circled in brilliant and glaring red. Everything had been perfectly in line. Everything was set in place. Spring break was supposed to be a break to just be kids one last time – it was supposed to be nice. 

But then Chrissy Cunningham happened. And Jason Carver, and an entire town of people who had always hated your soulmate. Suddenly, your own plan for the future had been scrapped, and in its spot a line of new dominos had been placed. One falling down after the other, too quick for you to keep up with.

A group of strangers had banged down on your front door. Had demanded to know where Eddie was, claimed they were friends trying to help him. You hadn’t even seen the news yet. They’d tried to fill you in, but only confused you more in the process, because the words Eddie and murderer should have never been used together in a sentence in the way they claimed the entire town was currently spewing. 

You were his soulmate. They were sure you’d know where he was, but you didn’t. 

That didn’t matter, though. The young boy, Dustin, had been determined. You’d heard all about him from Eddie – about the brilliant mind hidden beneath baseball caps and unruly curls, about the smart mouth you witnessed mouthing off to Steve Harrington first hand as you’d been searching for your boy. 

It reminded you of Eddie. It made you ache. It made you only more voracious in your search. 

And you’d found him – terrified, alone, trembling and crying. A version of him you’d never been privy to had pinned Steve fucking Harrington to the wall of Reefer Rick’s boathouse with a broken bottle to his throat. Wild, scared eyes and hands that shook harder than the day his father had called him and he’d put a goddamn hole through his kitchen wall. More desperation on his face than the day he’d informed you he’d be repeating his senior year for the first time. Shoulders more tense than the night you’d nearly walked away from him over some silly kiss with a cheerleader. 

When he saw you, he’d shattered completely.

The sight of you had him collapsing into your arms, unable to explain himself in full sentences as he gasped and panicked and clung to you. And you had held him, had forced the others to give him time. You were like a feral animal, standing between him and them, friends or not. Your claws and teeth alike had been out, ready to mar anyone who would dare to lay a hand on your soulmate. 

He’d calmed down. He’d explained. And then they had explained and reassured Eddie that he wasn’t crazy. His eyes had found yours over and over, and not a single time did they hold a single doubt for him in them. You believed him; you would always believe him. The cries of the town had been nothing more than static noise. You knew the man before you, you loved the man before you. Your soul knew his intricately, intimately. It would always know him, no matter the circumstance and no matter the troubles to come. In this life and the next.

The colors were never the gift. The gift the Universe had offered you had always been him. 

You stayed with him those short few days. Ran from Carver and his posse, swam in the lake and had kept a level head as you formulated a plan. Find a walkie-talkie. Call for Dustin, call for help. 

When the rest of them had jumped into the lake after Steve, you’d put a selfish hand on his bicep. For a moment, the only thing you were thinking of was him. You couldn’t lose him. 

When he jumped in after Robin and Nancy anyways, you’d followed, no hesitation. 

A dreary, nightmarish world. You’d followed him into Hell – quite literally, it seemed. Except they didn’t call it Hell, they called it the Upside Down. A place made up of all the things children fear, of awful creatures that only served to attack, to kill, and terrible storms of flashing red lightning. A blue tint to the town you’d come to know. Shades of flesh and shades of grey – shades of death – flooded the place. And only you, Eddie, and Nancy could see them. 

Nancy’s soulmate was somewhere far away. Somewhere safe. But she understood that protective stance and the way you’d stuck staunchly at Eddie’s side. She got it. 

A stolen RV, shields made of trash can lids and nails rather than make believe, goddamn spears made at the hand of people all far too young to be handling these things. They were handling the end of the world, and you suddenly hadn’t felt as brave as Eddie always claimed you were. The plan was formulated, and the entire time, you had a sinking feeling in your stomach. You watched Eddie play fight with Dustin, real weapons discarded to the ground, and you listened to Robin whisper the same sentiment to Steve. 

“I just have this terrible, gnawing feeling that… it might not work out for us this time.”

You agreed with Robin. You hated that you agreed with Robin.

And so you stood like a watch dog at Eddie’s side, nearly lashed out when it was suggested you might be more helpful joining everyone else going after this Vecna rather than staying with Eddie. 

It was his turn to put a hesitant hand on your bicep. Brown, russet, umber eyes that flashed with the unspoken question of are you sure you want to do this? 

But he was sure. And just as quickly as you’d followed him into that lake, just as quickly as you had dismissed those awful claims against him, you’d nodded. Because if he was sure, if he was going through it, you would follow him. 

You should have insisted on staying with him and Dustin. 

Because your group of rag tags re-entered that Hellish landscape, and you flinched with each flash of red, not even soothed by Eddie’s hand in yours. And the people around you were now friends; you’d realized in a few short days that you would do almost anything to protect all of them as well, but you knew there was nothing that you wouldn’t do to keep Eddie alive. 

“Hey,” he insists once the two of you stand outside this alternate version of his trailer, somewhere that you should know all too well but that has morphed into something unfamiliar in this world. 

His hand holding yours spins you to face him, a few steps off to the side from the rest of everyone. 

“Hi,” you whisper back, trying to only focus on him. Not the bleak colors of the landscape around you two, but the vibrancy of his shades. You hate the weakness written all across your features, unable to offer him any reassurance in return for all that he had given you over the years. You were terrified. As Robin had said, a terrible gut feeling was gnawing at you from the inside out. You couldn’t help the tears gathering, couldn’t unravel the restriction of your throat. 

“It’s going to be okay, alright?” he does the talking, nodding and lowering his chin to stare right into your eyes. His favorite color now wet with emotion, shining even in the dullest of environments, “Can’t be worse than punching Jason Carver, right?” 

It could be. It could be much, much worse. Everything you two had endured together was children’s play compared to this. But you don’t say that; you nod in dishonesty, biting your lip to stop from letting a whimper escape. 

“I’ll always come back to you, I promise,” he swears so vehemently, voice spitting with determination. Those brows half hidden by the bandana atop his head furrow, his forehead nearly brushing yours.

That, you at the very least, believe. Just as you would find him every time, in this life and the next, he would find you. 

“You better,” you choke out, hands reaching up just to latch onto him one more time. To feel him, sturdy beneath your palms. Alive. Your gift from the Universe, the boy who let you see colors. You almost regret spending so long fascinated with the shades you’d discovered when you should have allotted more time to imprint the features of his face to memory. You should have cared more about that freckle beneath his right eye, the slight crook to his nose, the way each of his calluses feel against your bare shoulders. Shades of blue, red, green, violet, yellow – none of them matter as much as the boy before you. They only matter because they paint the picture of him for you fully. They only matter because he matters, “I still need your rockstar money to pay for that wraparound porch.” 

He laughs at that. And God, he’s gorgeous – his head thrown back, eyes crinkling with genuine joy for the first time in days. No one else catches the tear that slips from one of those pinched eyes, the hidden sadness for only you to catch onto. 

That gnawing feeling – the one you and Robin felt. He felt it, too. 

“Of course,” he finally sighs, opening his eyes back to yours and now holding so many words that neither of you have the time to exchange. It kills you – you don’t have time. You thought you’d always have more time. “Think of this as a test run for that rockstar money. See how a crowd of bats feel about my rockstar skills.” 

“Careful,” your voice cracks, a few tears slipping that he’s quick to swipe away, “I hear they’re a tough crowd.” 

He smiles at your joke, but doesn’t waste his breath on laughing. His lips find yours instead, pouring out every single thought and emotion possible. You feel a tug on that knot you’d tied between you two, everything in your being protesting from pulling back from the kiss. You try to move your lips in a response, to tell him it’ll be fine, to tell him you’ll both return to each other. To tell him you’ll have more time. 

When he pulls back, realizing you can’t, his hand falls from you only to reach into the pocket of his jeans. You don’t understand until suddenly, he’s thrusting a laminated square into your hand. 

You know what it is before you even turn it over. Your entire body strangles down the broken sob as you look down at a polaroid of a younger Eddie. Somewhere safe and somewhere that time is still yours. 

“Keep that safe for me, yeah?” his voice wavers as he produces his own polaroid – the picture of you, “I mean, I’ll have yours, obviously. But… but just… it’s gonna be worth a lot of money once I’m the next big thing in the Upside Down.” 

He’s trying so hard to make you laugh just one more time. It only surges more tears to burn your vision. 

“All I’ll have to show Vecna is this,” you start to joke back, letting more tears stain your cheeks, “And- and-” 

You can’t finish the joke. He gets it, putting a hand over yours, forcing you both to put away those polaroids. 

“I know,” he assures you, “I know. Show him my ugly mug, and he’ll go down without a fight. That’s exactly why I’m giving it to you, baby.” 

Another tear, only for you, slips. You trace it all the way down his cheek, memorize the way his skin looks in the horrid blue tint and try to remember the shade it glows during golden hour instead. 

“I love you,” you say. But once isn’t enough, “I love you.”

“I love you,” he takes your hands in his palms, finally presses his forehead to yours, shares his breath for a moment as he focuses on your sad eyes, “So fucking much. You always were prettier than all the colors combined. Better stay that way till I come back to you.” 

He releases you. Wipes away his tears, has to give you an encouraging shove on your shoulders to force you to join Nancy and Robin’s sides. 

Steve catches your eye, a look on his face telling you he’d been watching the entire interaction. Something yearning crosses his features, and then something clicks. As if this is the first time he’d ever witnessed soulmates. As if he’s the one seeing colors for the first time. 

Maybe that’s why he gives his little speech. Maybe that’s why he tries to plead your case and make sure that Eddie and Dustin don’t do anything stupid. 

After Eddie has made his final request to Steve, to make him pay, he looks at you one last time. A ghost of a grin, wearing his bravest mask to date as he mouths I love you. 

You echo the silent sentiment. A silent prayer. For the Universe to bring him back to you. To bring you back to him. 

—*ash, stop reading here*—

The only way to lose your colors is if your soulmate has died. It’s one of the first things you learn when school first broached the sensitive topic. Your soulmate dies, they take the colors with them. They never told you how the soulmate takes the colors with them – never discussed whether it would fast and sudden like the moment you first touched your soulmate, if the colors would drain from you in real time and leave a path of chromatic grey behind, or if you’d watch them flicker from sight, just as one might watch the life flicker from the eyes of the one they loved.

You’d always wondered how it happened.

You’d been morbidly curious that day in class despite finding it all a bit dramatic. Had looked around a black and white classroom and processed your classmates' different greyscale reactions. Some were forlorn, some were snickering beneath their breath. Some just looked plain bored. It made sense; you were all kids, none of you had ever seen the blue sky or the verdant grass. Only heard about it. Only listened to adults drone on and on about it wistfully. It was never something tangible, something to have and to hold and to lose. 

You wonder how younger you would have looked upon you now. As you faced down an alternate dimension’s fiercest villain, hand paused midair, prepared to launch a lit molotov cocktail with aim to kill, when you suddenly paused.

The shades of the fire burning brightly in front of you have dulled. Microscopically. The smallest of flickers in vibrancy. 

“What are you doing?” Steve screams when he notices your hesitation, “Throw it! Jesus Christ, throw it before-”

Robin cut him off, being the closest to you and reaching over to snatch the ticking time bomb of a bottle, tossing it for you. 

As it explodes against the mangled being before you, another flicker occurs. You swear you feel a stabbing pain in your side, as if that gnawing has taken to ripping you apart.

You swear the bright flashes of yellow amongst the flames have turned to white. The orange has gone so faded, the dullest bits have shadowed over in grey. 

Nancy takes another shot, but you can’t move. You watch it all in slow motion: she doesn’t miss, her shot ricochets dead center, Vecna stumbles before crashing through the wall behind him. 

The world flickers a final time, and all the air leaves your lungs. 

It’s black and white. 

The floorboards, all of your sudden friends beside you, the walls of the old house, the lightning flashing amongst storm clouds in the sky outside.

It’s black and white. Shades of grey monotone. 

As everyone rushes to look out the hole, your knees collide with splintered wood. 

The colors are gone. It’s black and white. 

“Where’d he-” Steve starts to question before he turns and sees you. You’re folding into yourself, no longer breathing as you look down at your palms. Grey. Not a single sliver of flesh tone to be seen. “Are you okay?” 

The colors are gone. 

A cold washes over you like never before, and even if you wanted to take another breath, you couldn’t. It’s not ash burning your eyes – it’s tears, hot and vicious as your face begins to crumple in panic. 

Eddie. 

You don’t even hear them cross the room back to you. Can’t hone in on what’s happened, if the evil has been defeated and if you’d all won. It doesn’t matter; your colors are gone. 

Your hands finally fumble without thought, patting down your person until you catch the corner of the polaroid. You yank it free, breaths finally strangling into your throat without purchase, your shoulders shaking.

It’ll be in color. It has to be in color. He has to be in color. 

That familiar and well loved photo stares back at you. Your boy, curly hair wild and unruly, grin soft and fond. A twinkle captured in his eye and all that adoration that had been rolling off of him in waves somehow frozen in time. 

Frozen in time, frozen in black and white. 

Steve shakes your shoulders, Robin begins to pace and match your panic. They don’t understand. 

Gritted sobs leave your mouth, tears blinding you as you look at the shadow of what must be Nancy.

She understands.

Even through the strangled breaths, earth-shattering sobs that make you nearly incoherent, she knows. 

“Eddie,” you manage to gasp, fist curling around the photograph. 

The only way to lose your colors is if your soulmate has died.

“Eddie,” you manage a mangled sob as Steve pulls back, horror-stricken as he looks down at the polaroid, slowly piecing together what was happening.

Fast and sudden like the moment you first touched your soulmate. Draining from you in real time and leaving a path of chromatic grey behind. Flickering from sight, just as one might watch the life flicker from the eyes of the one they loved.

“Eddie!” 

You’d always wondered how it happened.

You finally had your answer. You wish you didn’t. 

[godisshook]

Casual

Cody is the ultimate fuckboy. He prides himself on never getting attached and only using others for sex. A path of broken people and torn relationships is left wherever he steps foot, and he just doesn't seem to care. He was a horrible boyfriend, but he was my friend regardless. In my defense, we had known each other since grade school, and I can confidently say that this is a recent development. The worst part of it all is nobody else seemed to care (aside from those he hurt of course) about his dating behavior.

I tried to be a balancing force in his life, as much as I could, hoping that I could be a good influence on him, or at least prevent him from doing as much damage as possible. I tried to steer him on the right path, using our friendship to hopefully help him understand, but all my pleas fell on deaf ears. Usually, I was the first to know if Cody had entered a new relationship, but I stopped receiving those all-too-common relationship updates from him for months. Knowing his habit of being a serial dater, it seemed far too suspicious that something hadn't happened in all of this time.

In addition to ensuring Cody doesn't implode by ruining every relationship he had, it was also my plan to make this summer the best of my life, and that meant changing everything. I have only dated one guy, and that resulted in an incredibly underwhelming breakup and an even more underwhelming friendship afterward.

Our gym days had been a sort of ritual between the two of us forever, I always did cardio, while he did weights. We used this time to catch up on each other's days and make plans, all intermixed with some exercise. As one of our many rambling conversations soon circled to the topic of relationships, I used the moment to bring up my grievance with him, in the sternest way I could. Balancing seriousness with a friendly air, I said, "It is wild how you manage to be so bad at keeping a relationship." He replied, "Remind me, you've been with how many people?" With an immediate, "Oh, one!" Keeping up with the banter, I quipped, "But, I mean, at least my one relationship still likes me after." Even as the words left my lips, I knew I had crossed an invisible line. Cody's look at me only proved my thinking, as I glanced over to a blank stare.

The moment suddenly felt intense. I thought I had hit too deep, even gone too far. I steeled myself and prepared a response, but as I did, I noticed a smile appear on his face, soon replaced by a full-faced chuckle. As the sudden shift in emotion gave me whiplash, I could only manage a light laugh, but I felt his strong hand pat my back, as he said "I mean, if they hate me so much, they should take it up with me, but they all knew what they were getting into." The seriousness of his response was dulled by his kind demeanor, but his words hit hard.

He always had that effect on people, where his words never seemed to match his face. I always thought it was a quirk of his, but at this moment, I became aware of just how effective it could be. His disarming smile made it impossible to hate him for long, and his way with words always got him out of whatever jam he found himself in. As if nothing had happened, he said, "You wanna go on the treadmill?" Whether it was a strategic olive branch, or him just genuinely not caring, I did not care to know, I grabbed my water bottle and followed behind him.

As our workout drew to a close, I sat to cool down, and scrolled through my socials as Cody still migrated around the gym. He would soon place himself right between me, and a mirror on the wall. Looking up from my seat, I said, "Why arent you sitting down?" As if he took offense to the statement, he responded, "I have to admire my hard work first." Knowing that this was the least ridiculous thing he could have said, I replied, "Y'know what, knock yourself out." Before I could even properly go back to scrolling through social media, it became obvious why he chose this position, as he lifted his shirt to admire himself in the mirror, and chose to close the distance between us.

Cody had always made it obvious he had feelings for me. But due to my general aversion to dating and knowing his dating habits, there was never a chance for anything to happen. Despite all of this, he flirted as if we had never seen each other, which always yielded interesting situations. This felt like a nice shift from things, and I soon reassured myself, thinking that maybe I did actually get through to him, and all of these months were him reflecting on things. While I most definitely was going to exaggerate my role in this process, despite the true cause, it was fun to think about.

There were many days like that afterward, with quips and banter, and our friendship remained strong. He invited me to the park, an event that seemed very date-like, but one that was incredibly pleasant nonetheless. Weeks filled with the usual late-night texts, sudden house walks, and constant snack trips, things felt so familiar, so, safe. I reveled in this moment, as with our return to college, life would get busy, and we would inevitably fall out of touch, meeting in hurried coffee rushes, or quick workout sessions.

For now, there was peace, and I appreciated it whenever I could. After lounging my day about, I received a sudden text from Cody.

"Come to the gym," He texted.

"What do you mean, it's literally closed," I responded.

There was a second of hesitation, but a speech bubble quickly followed with an,

"I know."

It was weird, but he's had stranger ideas, and so I followed along, wanting to see what situation he had conjured up today. I arrived at the gym only ten minutes later, as it was a quick walk from my place. As I approached the door, I noticed it was already ajar, and in the parking lot, a single black car was parked at the far end. "Cody," I thought to myself. I entered, and the few lights that were on illuminated a path to the far back. With a tinge of paranoia overtaking me, I looked around to see if the cameras were on, but to my surprise, they had all been blacked out. When I finally reached the back, Cody was standing there, expectantly.

In a cool tone, he said, "I've been thinking about what you said a while ago, I do need to get my act together, I wanna do better." A look of surprise came over my face as I replied, "How so, and why does it involve us being here so late?" My question was met with hesitation, a moment of silence, but even that felt like an eternity. Breaking the lull, he responded, "Let me show you." He was serious, there wasn't even a smile to join his words, he wanted me to know he meant what he said.

Things felt different this time, as Cody closed the distance between us, I felt an indescribable heat and urgency emanate from Cody, as if everything in this moment was his world, and was waiting for my word to let loose. I had been able to resist his charms for years, but this moment felt, different. It was as if everything had aligned for this to happen, but it was just right. "I know you can't stand my dating habits, but I did it all to try to replace my desire for you.

My body gave away my feelings in a way words could not, and I leaned onto Cody and laid a kiss on his cheek. I whispered, "I should've done that from the start." The kiss elevated the heat of the moment, and a sharp intensity came over Cody, desire and joy mixing, as he assessed just how he was going to have his way with me.

Suddenly, I felt my knees hit the ground as his warm hands moved expertly around my chin, bringing my gaze up straight to him. "There's a reason I haven't been seeing anyone because it's always been you." His words lit a dangerous spark, and I could not resist anymore. But just as the moment was set to hit a fever pitch, a noise outside brought us back to reality. As the sounds of footsteps drew close, we rushed out the back door, and ran to the forest behind the gym, an escape route we were used to navigating for years. It was exhilarating, it felt like, in this small rush, we were back to being kids again. As we approached the other side, we watched our breaths for a moment, and after looking around to ensure we hadn't been followed, we walked up onto the sidewalk.

The walk was calm and serene, with few words spoken, but many thoughts still communicated. I felt my cheeks redden, a blush overcoming me. Cody took notice of it, but only his eyes gave away his knowledge of things, as he continued conversating as usual. In a second, as if he finally had his chance, he asked,

"You wanna go back to my place?"

It was obvious what his offer entailed, but there was a curiosity nagging at me, and I just had to resolve it. "What are we?" I asked. It was a brave question, I could have gravely misjudged the moment and ruined the friendship right here, but I felt bold, and it was a time for big steps. The usually calm and hesitant Cody became fiery for the moment, responding, "We're whatever you want us to be." It was clear what he intended with this, but it was my turn to hesitate. With uncertainty meandering throughout me, I replied, "Let's keep things casual for now, then." "Fine by me," he shrugged.

His arms went over my shoulder, bringing me close to his chest, where I could feel the intensity of his heartbeat. The rest of the walk back was silent. Where once there was small talk and expectant words, it was now a walk of resolution, one of completion. Finally arriving at his, I splayed myself on his bed, and turned on a movie, as he went to the bathroom to take a shower and change. Even though I snuck a peek (of course) things were relatively PG, likely due to me being too exhausted to actually capitalize off of him being in the shower.

I looked around his room, a place I had been to many times, and once I had seen change countless times over the years, as new aesthetics came in, and old looks went out. It was fun to see all of this change, and made me admire just how long our friendship had lasted. Just as I thought that the situation that I now found myself in could put the whole friendship in jeopardy. I had just told him I wanted to "keep things casual." Which I immediately regretted, not knowing what response he even wanted. With my overthinking taking up every moment, I couldn't truly enjoy the fact that my hot friend wanted to date me.

Taking in how I even got to this moment, things seemed so complex. The guy who I had been lecturing for ages on how to be a better boyfriend, somehow wanted to be with me? It seemed like one of those perfect coincidences like the stars aligned in my favor just this once. I was going to take it in stride but still was mired over what he wanted out of all of this. With my thoughts all over the place, it seemed fortuitous that the person to take me out of that lull would be none other than Cody.

His return from the bathroom resulted in him only in his boxers and a sweater, his bulge already noticeable as he walked out. As he sat down, I resisted the urge to drool on the spot. He sat right next to me and started watching TV. I could not resist the urge, and immediately laid my head on his waist, feeling his bulge just inches from my head. Both of us were making moves, but in a way that allowed us deniability, it seemed that we were each taking my words to heart.

We continued watching, only getting ten more minutes before Cody decided to lift off his sweater, revealing his muscled chest. He knew exactly what he was doing at the moment, and as I had to shift my head to accommodate him taking his sweater off, I was now face to face with his toned body. I had to admit, he knew exactly what times he was hottest, and this was definitely one of them. I was mesmerized by him, and he knew he had me enamored.

I decided to still resist, wanting to beat him at his own game. I sat close to him, resting my head on his shoulders, and laid my hand on his bulge, while watching the movie innocently. It was my bravest moment, but I felt his cock pulse under my hand in response, meaning I had clearly succeeded. Cody kept his cool for now, but his face was going flush, it was clear that his body was going to betray his mind when it came to how he felt, and that was most apparent when it came to his dick.

His bulge was getting more noticeable, and it was clear that this movie was no longer the focus of the night. I looked over and met with bedroom eyes from Cody. As his bulge grew, I knew what I was being beckoned to do, but I, always the tease, wanted to extend the heat. I laid a kiss on his cheeks, "You seem so excited to watch a movie with me," I quipped. A strained look came over his face as if he was simply waiting for the go-ahead.

I only gave him kisses, but he returned them with a special intensity. Small pecks became deep kisses, and we began feeling each other up and down. The moment could have gone further, the feeling was there, and the moment had aligned. To my surprise, however, Cody would be the one to stop it in its tracks. Separating from the kiss, he said,

"Please, just stay the night."

I was awoken by the smell of eggs and bacon cooking downstairs, and my nose guided my path to Cody cooking in the kitchen. It was obvious I made the right decision in staying, as Cody was set to dote on me every second he could. Hypnotized by the delicious-smelling food, I could only sit and grab a plate, as Cody said, "Take as much as you want, I made plenty," I confessed, "You are truly my favorite person." "I know," he replied.

I lounged about, enjoying my day by doing absolutely nothing. Even on Cody's bed, I felt a comfort that I hadn't experienced in a long while. Things just felt, right. As Cody ran errands, I watched TV, changing between reality shows and trying to beat commercial breaks. He would return occasionally, and always lay a kiss on my head or, if I had gone into one of my many naps of the day, simply leave a snack for me as he left.

As the lazy day drew to a calm evening, I stood up to go home. I had walked to his with none of my things and had to steal even the clothes I was wearing from his closet. Deciding that I had to go get my things, I stepped out, leaving a note for Cody on his return. Instead of the note greeting him, it would be me, as when I opened the door, none other than Cody was standing right there, having returned. He noticed me holding my stuff and putting things together in a second. Instead of letting his feeling be known through words, he simply dropped everything, and grabbed my waist, laying a deep kiss on my lips. As he drew away from the kiss, he said, "You don't have to go."

His disarming smile once again clouded everything, as it felt as if I couldn't say no. I said, "But none of my things are here." He immediately replied, "We can get it and you can come back." As I finally put the pieces together, I understood what he was truly asking. He had long wanted us to live together, and this was the moment.

I had lived by myself for years, and there would be worse people to live with, so I finally responded, "Y'know what, I can just use your stuff." Cody broke into a full smile from this, and he closed the door behind him and began kissing me continuously. The only moments we stopped were to come up for air, as we took off each other's clothes then and there, leaving on only the more base layers. I felt his bulge press against his shorts and decided to play with him a bit.

Maintaining the kiss, I brought the distance between us closer, pressing straight into his bulge. As I did, a jolt seemed to go through Cody, as he bucked against it, temporarily breaking the kiss. Grabbing me tighter he said, "You do these crazy things, and don't expect me to respond?" Before I could respond, he had lifted me up on his shoulder and was carrying me to the room. Seeing the kitchen and hallway move around me, without my legs being able to do a thing felt, different, but sexy nonetheless.

Finally reaching our destination, he took care as he entered the doorway, and finally getting inside, rushed to throw me on the bed, to which I exclaimed "Hey!" He quickly replied, "Your whole trip here wasn't allowed to be amazing." I giggled at this, and got up on my knees, beckoning the still-standing Cody over to the bed with a finger. He walked over in a sultry manner, and as the distance between us closed once more, I felt up his body, admiring every bit of muscle as I made my way down.

I took him by the waistband, and pulled him onto the bed, resting my body right beside him, able to feel every breath hit me, as his heartbeat pounded against his chest. It was a singular second of peace, we both knew where things would go from here, but in this moment, we were just laying by each other, without a care in the world.

The feeling was nice, but I decided it was finally time to take this to the next level. I moved our bodies closer to each other, and took his face into my hands, laying a light kiss on his lips. He took this for exactly what it was and returned the favor. With that, things heated up faster and faster.

After I initiated things, Cody truly let loose, our hands taking off what little clothes remained on the other's body. His dick, as if it was waiting to be released, bounced up from his underwear, and as I noticed, I could only laugh. "You really wanted this, didn't you?" I asked. "More than you could even imagine," he responded. Instead of taking off his underwear immediately, I teased his prominent bulge, guiding my hands up and down, and was met with a deep sigh in response. Taking a hand to his chest, I moved my hands down, taking deliberate slow care to every point on his chest, to which Cody took my arm to guide me further down once more.

Now noticing the position he had me in, Cody quickly took control, shifting my body under his, and taking my wrists in his hands, a steely stare meeting my eyes. Once again, there was hesitation, as he assessed what to do. Taking advantage of this, I asked with a chuckle, "What? You didn't think you'd get this far?" Instead of a response, however, my words were met with a sudden kiss, his lips pressing into mine, hard. The intensity of the kiss sent a flash throughout me, and his bulge now pressed against my thigh, as if it was waiting for permission to be let out. As a flurry of emotion came over me, I could only muster a single response.

"I'm all yours."

He moved like a man possessed, laying hot kisses throughout my neck, and moved my thigh up, in a moment, he moved down and began eating me out. His tongue worked expertly, and I could only moan in response, pleasure surging throughout me. A fire came over his eyes, as he knew he had me exactly where he wanted me. With a flourish, he took off his underwear, and his cock was finally freed. I gawked at his size, unaware that someone's dick could be that big.

I took the initiative, taking it in my hands and jerking him off. It was now his turn to respond with a low grunt, his deep voice bucking against the pleasure he felt. Taking things into his hands once more, he grabbed the lube from his dresser, and wet his cock. As his tip entered me, I felt a wave of heat overcome me, as my body responded to him entering me.

Soon, he was fully thrusting into me, his cock filling me up entirely. Shocks of pleasure strike through me as he continued fucking me, with me only being able to make small moans, each thrust silencing me again. We fucked for what seemed like hours, trying each and every position. Each time I thought we were done, he would cum again, setting the cycle anew once more. Load after load filled me up, and soon I became numb, after being fucked to my limit. Cody, still full of energy, kept going. I found myself wanting to keep going, for him, and didn't want this moment to end.

I felt as if the world around me was blacking out, with my only focus being Cody's warm face, laying kisses all over me as he continued pounding me. In one final thrust, I was sent to true climax, and everything became hazy. Cody's voice would be the thing to break the fog. I focused on his words with his voice being a familiar sound to my ears.

"I'm addicted to you, did you know that?" He asked.

On the verge of blacking out, I replied,

"I always did."

[tokoumaru]

★ mondstat boys' voicelines about you!

feat. diluc, kaeya, albedo, venti tags. voicelines, pure fluff, gender neutral reader, friends/coworkers to lovers! word count. 3.7k  tw. hinted spoilers (?) in kaeyas and albedos part, mentions of fatal injuries in diluc’s part

synopsis. genshin impact boys and their in-game voicelines about you!

voiceline series. part 1: liyue, part 2: mondstat, part 3: inazuma, part 4: sumeru

diluc ragnvindr

About You (Friendship Lv. 4)

The Knights of Favonius... The majority of them are incompetent both in their actions and in their will. However, I do acknowledge the potential and resolve the minority of them hold. Take (Y/N) of the 8th Company for example, they’re adept at the art of Electro and channel their elemental energy into their catalyst flawlessly. Both their unparalleled combat ability and unwavering sense of justice make them potentially one, if not the only, reliable knights currently acting right now... that’s if they decide to get out of bed consistently.

More About Diluc: A Game of Chess (Friendship Lv. 5)

Angel’s Share is known for being Mondstat’s center of information. Occasionally you’ll find me working at the bar, though sometimes I simply visit in discretion. However, it’s beyond me how (Y/N) never fails to recognize me in spite of the perfect disguise and flawless secrecy I put forward. Despite being known for their indolence, they’re always present at the tavern and somehow insistently challenging me to a game of Chess. It’s been a long while since I played chess with anyone... yet their skills make mine look that of a Grandmaster’s. Although they may have strength almost parallel to mine, it seems their strategic thinking may use a little... haste. Brute force and morality without thorough planning will get you nowhere... It seems that (Y/N) is acutely aware of this fact. I truly applaud them for taking matters into their own hands despite their idle disposition. However, I had never agreed to be their mentor or their chess ‘master’. Still... seeing their persistence makes it hard to decline them.

More About Diluc: The Darknight Hero’s Shortcomings (Friendship Lv. 6)

I’m sure you’re aware of the Darknight Hero’s true identity by now... Witnessing the Knights of Favonius’ incompetence first-hand, I find it impossible to trust them with responsibilities concerning the protection of the city. I didn’t intend for it to be recognized, but it’s true that I’ve taken it as my sworn duty to protect Mondstat from the evil that lurks in the dusk of night... though by no means did I expect to earn such a childish title. Listen, no matter how powerful you are, working day and night without rest will wear you out. Back then, I ignored this blatant fact and instead chose to press forward foolishly, disregarding any long-term effect this choice had on my wellbeing... If not for (Y/N), I would have died at the hands of my own ignorance. That night, there were an alarming number of Abyss Mages situated in Windrise. Despite being aware of my fatigue, I had rushed on to take on more than I could handle... this had been my fatal mistake. Luckily, it was one of the rare nights (Y/N) chose to patrol. At seeing my struggle, they had hastily defeated the rest of the Abyss Mages with no hesitation whatsoever. I owe them my life. Truthfully, I insisted on repaying them for their deeds... However, all they wished for was  for me to stop throwing myself into precarious situations so they wouldn’t lose any more sleep... how befitting of them.

About You: Partners in Crime (Friendship Lv. 10)

From the moment (Y/N) had extended their help on that faithful night, they had insistently accompanied me on my duties as the Darknight Hero, no matter how much I said otherwise. Truthfully, they were only a nuisance at first... managing to fall asleep on most missions. I had no interest in idle chit-chat and only wished to protect the city from the looming evil. Though, after a dreadful night where I had sustained a handful of injuries, they had thrown a fit at seeing me. That night, (Y/N) had repeatedly reminded me that I was a citizen of Mondstat as well, and that it was their duty as a Knight to protect its citizens. I was about to protest, knowing that I had no use for the Knight’s so-called protection... Though, seeing the evident worry on their face, my brewing argument seemed stuck in my throat.. Walking alone in darkness, I had instinctively shunned all those who tried to walk the same path as me. I used to believe that the path to vanquishing all evil had been a lone one. However, seeing the feelings (Y/N) held for me... I have to admit that I was wrong. Despite their rather consistent indolence, they’ve proved their unyielding will to protect the citizens of Mondstat, which they insist includes me… Now, not only do I owe them my life, I owe them my entire being as well. Just as they wish to protect me, I wish to do the same for them... I can’t afford to lose them.

kaeya alberich

About You (Friendship Lv. 4)

(Y/N), eh? When I first met them, they seemed like the naive type, so I decided to joke around with them a little. They were Lisa’s little library assistant, so I had simply asked them for a copy of ‘Legend of the Lone Sword I,’ which was commonly known for being of Liyuen descent. Haha, you’d think someone who’s stationed inside a library would know exactly what books the place holds... To my surprise, the following day they had disappeared completely causing quite a stir among the Knights. It was only until dusk did they reappear at the tavern, earnestly holding the entire ‘Legend of the Lone Sword’ series just for little old me. Ahaha, I was quite stunned, to say the least. I was about to sincerely thank them for all that trouble... until Lisa pulled me off to the side and boy was she angry. I still get shivers at the thought of it...

More About Kaeya: A Long Needed Break (Friendship Lv. 5)

The title of Cavalry Captain is nothing to get excited about. When Grand Master Varka took the rest of the Cavalry for his expedition, it seems that as the Captain, I was left to shoulder the legwork all alone. Oh, woe is me, a Cavalry Captain without any cavalry to captain, running around Mondstat fending off all its evil. I must say, even someone as diligent as I, needs a break at times. Aside from Angel’s Share, the Knight’s library is the perfect place to take a breather. Compared to the hustle and obnoxious paltry of the tavern, the library’s peaceful silence is one that I truly prefer after a long day of tedious work. Speaking of... Lisa’s little assistant, (Y/N), seems to have taken a liking to my company. Instead of the serene silence you’d expect, the library’s usually filled with (Y/N)’s excitedly hushed whispers foretelling stories about the most recent book they’ve read... quite endearing, I must say. Heh, their ardent enthusiasm makes it hard for me to say anything, so they simply can’t blame me for dozing off on them. Although, it seems that they don’t mind my negligence at all, and each time I somehow awake from my little nap with a small blanket laid on my shoulders. It’s truly a shame the library’s oftentimes desolate, the sight of the Cavalry Captain napping with a bright pink shawl littered with floral patterns would prove to be a great source of entertainment for the Knights.

More About Kaeya: Endearing Misadventures (Friendship Lv. 6)

The Reconnaissance, headed by Captain Eula, is usually in charge of scouting Mondstat’s wilderness. *sigh* Though, ever since the Grand Master’s expedition, the Knights have been completely short-handed... So much so that it seems Jean couldn’t help but send (Y/N) and me off to scout the unusual activity happening in Dragonspine. Knowing how protective Lisa is of her little assistant, she couldn’t help but protest fervently... It’s a shame that Eula and the rest were truly too busy to focus on such a newly appeared threat. (Y/N)... Oho, you shouldn’t underestimate them, no matter how docile they may appear. The expedition to Dragonspine went smoothly... except for one faithful instance. Unfortunately, at the inner ruins of the icy environment, we encountered a few Fatui Skirmishers and an idle little Ruin Guard at bay. As it was only (Y/N) and I, I couldn’t help but promptly activate the Ruin Guard. Ahaha, am I truly at fault for trying to use all our means to defeat an enemy? Although (Y/N) was quite appalled at the sight, my strategy was a success and the Fatui Skirmishers couldn’t even hold a candle to such a machine. Well... We were successful up until the Ruin Guard decided to put its sights on us right after. Truthfully, I had already expected this outcome... Though, what I didn’t expect was for the little library assistant to shove me away from the automation in an attempt to save me from its attack. Heh, I didn’t expect such a tiny being to hold such fervor in them. It’s a shame they’re confined to such an idle library when they’re fully capable of decimating a Ruin Guard on their own... It seems like I might have a recruit in tow. Though, I’m not sure I would like to be at the receiving end of their scolding twice. They’re full of surprises, calling their own captain overconfident and reckless to their own face— when they had started shedding a few tears out of their frustration at my carelessness… they’re truly quite fascinating.

About You: At the End, With You (Friendship Lv. 10)

(Y/N)... Truthfully, they had only been a source of passing entertainment for me. Tell me, since when exactly have they been a source of comfort as well? Since when did I come to the library in search of their company instead of for its silence? That... I cannot tell you. Hmm? Do you mean to tell me that my gaze has changed? Ever since that incident at Dragonspine, you say? Haha, it seems that you’ve caught me red-handed. It’s true that I hold (Y/N) dear to my heart, and truth be told, it was a tough decision to let them in. I suppose I’ve encountered my fair share of partings and where my loyalties lie is something I still ponder over... There will come a time when I will have to make an imperative choice between two sides of the same coin. As for (Y/N), I chose to be with them despite knowing what inevitably lies in store for me... It was simply because I have full faith that they’ll stay with me no matter which path I decide to take. You’re happy for me? Why thank you, Traveler. I know you’ve noticed my... inherent loneliness for quite a while now. Hehe, I believe it’s time to rest easy.

albedo kreideprinz

About You (Friendship Lv. 4)

(Y/N)? Ah, they’re certainly a faithful assistant. At first, they had only opted to observe a great deal of my experiments for fear of blunder. It took a while for their nerves to wear off, but once they were confident they wouldn’t err, they had made my results all the more worthwhile. Either way, knowing we share the same passion for uncommon knowledge makes them truly pleasant to work with. Although they may be quite uncoordinated at times, I have absolute faith in their exceptional abilities as an alchemist and most importantly, as my assistant.

More About Albedo: Experimental Mishaps (Friendship Lv. 5)

A number of people call me a ‘genius,’ but I don’t think I'm any ‘genius’ at all. Situated in the isolated environment of Dragonspine, most citizens haven’t seen the number of experimental mishaps that occur. Although my experiments may be dangerous, no one gets hurt most times. Ah... Actually, on one occasion my assistant, (Y/N), had a mild allergic reaction to one of my experiment’s ingredients. They were reduced to constant sneezing, to the point where I had to postpone the proceeding experiment due to their inability to function properly. Normally, I would be quite displeased at having time wasted like this however, it seemed that I had discovered an entirely new subject to study. (Y/N)... How was it possible for one’s cheeks to turn so ruddy in such a short period of time? Did their continuous sneezing prompt the sudden rush of blood in their facial structure? Truthfully, I didn’t notice I was staring at them quite intently until they had bashfully turned their trembling back on me, mumbling incoherent sentences... How could one’s backside seem so small in such a moment? To be able to hold such a fragile part of them... It wasn’t until they had decided to simply run away in embarrassment that I snapped out of my train of thought. To this day, I can’t help but wonder why my sentiments had landed on that specific matter...

More About Albedo: A Need for Data (Friendship Lv. 6)

(Y/N)... Ever since that experimental mishap, I have been inclined to study their disposition; with their consent of course. At the first mention of my proposal, they had quite an explosive reaction and dropped a few volumetric flasks on the floor. I paid it no mind, my attention simply on obtaining their response regarding the matter at hand. Seeing the crimson spill on their cheeks once more, my intrigue had been reignited... I was truly honored that (Y/N) had promptly agreed, albeit a bit bashfully. To formally start the process of this new experiment, I simply decided to sketch a portrait of (Y/N). I asked them to sit comfortably on their usual designated chair in the laboratory... I didn’t expect the process to last half a day- and even in that period of time, the portrait lay only half finished. Reflecting back, it seemed that I was dissatisfied with each stroke of my pencil... Nothing I did at that moment could accurately capture the scene in front of me. What was I lacking? The lighting was ample enough, the view of the laboratory was decent, the coat (Y/N) was wearing was simple and brought them enough warmth, their expression was lax and soft, their cheeks their usual ruddy color, their eyes... Ah, this was a variable I hadn’t expected.

About You: The Meaning of this World (Friendship Lv. 10)

When master had left me with my final assignment, I was completely lost. To find the truth and meaning of this world was something far beyond the limit of my abilities, I had believed it was beyond my being as well. Thus, the only task I was able to complete was the journey to Mondstat. Although deeming my final assignment almost impossible, there was nothing I could do but earnestly uncover the rest of the unknown, hoping to find at least a single clue. Relationships, especially ones that are built on love, had only been a trifling matter to me. I had once seen relations with people as taxing and time-consuming cycles... To be proven wrong by my own assistant, (Y/N), had been quite a pleasant surprise. Our relationship was certainly an experiment which yielded results that required an entire lifetime’s worth of attention… Thanks to them, I felt the refinement of my own emotions. Whenever they were with me, an influx of unknown feelings had garnered within my being and subconsciously, the urge to hold them close had overtaken the tedium of relations. I must ask you a question... when parents speak to their children about ‘the meaning of this world’, do they simply mean the pursuit of a happy life? This may only be wishful thinking, but if this was what master had intended... perhaps I may have already found the answer.

venti/barbatos

About You (Friendship Lv. 4)

(Y/N)! They have amazing taste when it comes to beverages of the alcoholic variety, after all, they’re the tavern’s best bartender! My sincerest apologies to Charles and Master Diluc themselves, but the way (Y/N) brews up your common Dandelion Wine and turns it into something special is truly worth a song or two. As we’re both avid alcoholics, it’s a given we both get along truly well— two peas in a pod I must say. Mwuhahaha... Don’t tell Master Diluc, but they like to sneak me some Apple Cider on the house, truly the kindest being to ever grace the lands of Teyvat!

More About Venti: The Dawn of the Winery (Friendship Lv. 5)

Ah, Traveler! By any chance, have you seen my darling (Y/N) around? My tummy sure is rumbling, but I can’t get caught pilfering food from Dawn Winery again... Usually, my brave little bartender would swoop in to save me during these times of hardship but it seems like they’re nowhere to be found. Hmmm, they must already be at the orchards waiting for me then. Hehe, they’ve always claimed to know me like the back of their hand after all. Shh... You mustn't say a word about this to Master Diluc, Traveler, but I can’t say this has been the first time (Y/N) and I snuck around like this. Ah yes, I can still remember the first time they’ve ever extended their kindness to a simple wandering bard such as me. The dawn of the day was still approaching and I had spent my entire night drinking away at the tavern! It was only until Huffman kicked me out did I realize just how famished I truly was... and that day I just so happened to have heard that Dawn Winery had just restocked their apple supply. Why, just the thought of it makes my stomach churn! Well... How should I put it? The chances of success for a drunkard bard such as I to be pilfering apples from an orchard are quite slim, right? It’s too bad I didn’t realize it then, but thankfully just as Master Diluc was about to catch me devouring the last of his fresh apples, my savior (Y/N) came down from the heavens and saved me. Ah, they could’ve handled me a bit better though, although I may be a drunkard, I’m still a person and absolutely not a sack of potatoes to be dragged around. Haha, I don’t mind at all though, considering that they apologized profusely afterwards and even offered to become my personal apple supply from that day on! At heart, they truly are a kind person. Reminds me of another good friend...

More About Venti: Perfect Places (Friendship Lv. 6)

Traveler! Oh my, our courageous Honorary Knight looks quite exhausted, it  must be hard running around the city quelling everyone's needs. Hehe, just between you and me, let me tell you the perfect place to take a quick rest. It’s quite a long way from the city, but the further away the better for you it seems... The view from the tip of Starsnatch cliff is absolutely breathtaking! Paired with the calm breeze that passes right through and you’ll definitely lull yourself to the land of the nod. Right in the dusk of the night when the moon is at its highest peak, you can often see me at the tip of the cliff munching on an exquisite apple. Hehe, you’ll find (Y/N) right beside me as well, who do you think brought the apple? I’ve written numerous songs about them to express my sincerest gratitude, but I don’t think any of them are worthy enough for my darling savior! After all, they serve me a few free drinks at the tavern, give me a whole bunch of fresh apples from Dawn Winery, and continuously choose to stay by my side... In the most innocuous moments, I can’t help but be consumed by an idle guilt stemming from memories long ago. To be with (Y/N), simply adoring the view of the stars above us, basking in the gentle touch of the winds, and happily exchanging petals of plucked cecilias, reminds me that perhaps his sacrifice wasn’t for naught... There are truly no melodies to describe how grateful I am for them. Hehe, it would be nice if the two of us could simply sit on that cliff edge forever.

About You: The Test of Time (Friendship Lv. 10)

To write a song is no easy task, but you’re in luck, after all, I’ve been crowned the “Most Popular Bard of Mondstat” three times in a row. Just look around you, Traveler! The lands of Teyvat are bountiful, its oceans vast, and its firmament ever-lasting— each gust of wind carries the memories of scenes that pass through time and if the citizens of Mondstat would just look around them, they would see that there’s no shortage of inspiration at all! After all, every living being deserves a name to be called upon and woven into a song. Hmm? You want to know about my latest work of inspiration? Ohoho, you’re in luck, my dear friend! Ah, my dearest (Y/N)... It’s truly a shame that songs are confined to a few minutes, there are too many words I want to say to you. Oh Traveler, It’s been a great many years since I felt this arduous passion burning inside me... It’s a feeling I’ve truly missed and I must say I owe it all to my charming savior. To have lived a millenium, I’ve overseen the growth of this city right from the moment it rose forth. I’ve met countless people, both pleasant and unpleasant... It’s been long since I’ve seen someone as kind and as courageous as them. No being is immortal, Traveler, and everyone will soon face an inevitable end. Even if I may be the Anemo Archon, not even I can prolong the lives of those I hold dear to me... and perhaps even I may meet my own fate. To stand the test of time is a wish everyone prays for... I may simply be a passing wind in this longstanding land, but the tunes I leave behind is a mark that no erosion can erase. Remember me, not as Barbatos, but as Venti, a simple wandering bard whose songs he dedicates to his most beloved, (Y/N).

a/n. I think I messed up albedos character AND lore completely. FORGIVE ME!!! he had to be the hardest to write between all the mondstat boys... also i think that it was a bit harder to write established relationships with these ppl so naturally i had somehow made it a friends to lovers typa thing! once again FORGIVE ME IF IT WASNT WHAT U GUYS EXPECTED :<< I am the queen of mischaracterizing genshin men

[shijjii]

The mind is a battle field

Pairing: GN!Reader x Chilchuck Tims Genre: Fluff, Comfort Word count: 852 Reader appearance/notes: None! Note: Just something that I want to make for myself because I am on overthinking as hell today and I juuuust woke up. Overthinking when just waking up is not the way I wanted to start my day so I'm going to fix it by writing a fic for myself! I hope everyone enjoys it though!

The crackling of the fire echoed through the empty hallways, and one adventurer sat there, fiddling with the hem of their bed roll, as quiet as the halls of the dungeon before them.

Thoughts filled their head but no word came out of their mouth, there was just too many going through their mind and they can't choose between all of them to reflect.

Chilchuck woke up for his turn of the duty, he sees his fellow adventurer sitting there and staring at the fire as if answers would pop out of it if they keep staring for a little more longer.

"Hey" He called out, trying to smooth down his bed hair as he sat up on his bed roll. The fellow adventurer stared up at him with tight lips and hands holding on to each other as if their life depended on it. The crackling of the fire never seemed so loud before that moment but that was the only thing that can be heard after Chilchuck called out.

"Is.... Everything okay?" The adventurer furrowed their eyebrows and gave out a deep sigh. Blinking at the camp fire to at least gather their thoughts "Yeah, I think so. I'd like to think that everything is okay" They answered. Their grip on their own hands not easing up one bit.

A deep sigh, eyebrows furrowing even deeper, grip so tight it's cracking the joints of their bones. Chilchuck noticed every detail, and it was obvious that everything was not okay.

Chilchuck grabbed his neckband, went to grab some water and put the water skin beside the adventurer before heading back to his bed roll to sit and putting on his neckband, getting ready for his duty.

Their eyes snap towards Chilchuck's brown golden orbs, cheek propped on their hand "Everything is obviously not okay. You're about to tear up your hands" The fellow adventurer carefully took the water skin into their hands and drank from it. Giving out another sigh as they finish and close up the water skin.

"I... Feel like I don't bring out that much substance..." They started, making Chilchuck stop fiddling with his neckband

"I feel like I'm so useless and that no one really needs me here. I bet all of you can survive without me. What's the point of my existence here?" The adventurer glared at the floor of the dungeon, lips closed tight together.

"I don't get it. I'm trying to see every interaction, every moment, every battle, that maybe, I was remotely useful at any point" They lower their head, Chilchuck can no longer see their face but the tears that were dripping was seen hitting the floor of the dungeon.

"I- There was no time at all that I was useful. No time that I was able to tremendously help anyone in this party" Their shoulders shook heavily as more tears came down their face, knuckles gone white from how tight they grip their hands together.

To say that Chilchuck was uncomfortable is an understatement. He wasn't used to consoling party members, usually just there to lend an ear but seeing someone full on cry is something new to him. He scratched his head and walked to where the adventurer's bed roll was. Standing there for a minute before deciding fuck it, sitting down beside them and putting an arm over their shoulder. The adventurer choked on their saliva in surprise but recovered quickly.

"You're always of big help. Your heals are always better than Marcille, even she herself goes to you for healing. Senshi likes that you have some experience in cooking and often trusts you with the stuff he makes for dinner. Laios asks you a bunch about spirits and elements, it helps us strategize when we want to kill a monster." He feels the adventurer lean their weight a little bit on him as he was speaking.

"And you?" They ask, sniffling, trying their best not to let their nose drip down but they had already calmed down from crying.

"You've never once thought of me as a child and respected me. You respected my space when I work, rather, I noticed you standing guard behind me whenever I'm trying to work on opening a door or a chest." He can feel the adventurer shuffle from his side to look up at him, as their eyes meet, he sees them smile with the most ridiculous look on their face.

Puffy eyes, red nose, tear-stained cheeks and the brightest smile they can offer.

"So don't think that you're useless or shit. You're not..." He mumbled, standing up and letting the adventurer fall on their bed roll without much thought and heading towards his. Pulling out his bow and arrow before giving the adventurer a glance.

"Go sleep now. I'll take over the watch." Chilchuck hears a little bit of shuffling, he sees them look at him for a bit "Good night, Chil" and head to bed.

That night, it felt warm and fuzzy for the adventurer as they drift off to the dream realm with a smile on their face.

[moseslikellamas]

♱𖣂 Redfork Menace ♱𖣂 pt.19

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!OC

Summary - A dance is held, part 2

Warnings - fem!reader, suspense, adult language, period typical misogyny, condescension, adult language, feelings of shame, feelings of guilt, manipulation, benjicot brainrot, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2k

Pardon the phrasing, but I am having a ball writing this party. This is what I always yearn for in asoiaf, everyone at a big ass party having fun!! Dancing, drama, fights!! This is what life is for.

Shanda weaved her way through the throngs of people crowded inside the ballroom. She could see Martyn talking to a member of house Mudd briefly before she ran smack into Lady Bellena of house Mooten.

“Running is what got you into this mess, slow down a bit! But then if the punishment is a strapping man like that, I might take off in flights of fancy myself eh?”

Shanda did not particularly care for Bellena because she was always in someone’s business and frequently would beat her out for information. But tonight, she was more than happy to play into the lady’s gossiping games.

“Oh Bell, you know I never could sit still. But you simply must tell me, are the ladies truly envious of a brute like that?”

Bellena laughed loudly, a shrill sound like a tree branch scraping along a window, her head thrown back. Her bosom was in danger of falling out of her dress as her chest heaved.

“Don’t play coy with me, I’m sure you’ve taken him for a spin or two.”

When Bellena winked at her, it took a great deal of self control not to lose her cordial facade. Bell obviously wasn’t going to tell her anything without something in return.

“I’m not as crass as that. Though there is a more, shall we say, dynamic man behind the blood stains.”

Shanda then glanced around suspiciously before she grabbed Bellena’s hand and led her to a less crowded area. It was all an elaborate theater to make it seem as if what she was going to tell her mattered. It didn’t but theatrics go a long way in convincing people that something is important. Shanda learned that early on in the information game.

“You didn’t hear it from me but the heir has actually been investigating my mothers death.”

One look at Bellena and Shanda knew she had her complete attention as she crowded closer to her. It had been Martyn’s idea really. They posit that Benjicot was actually madly in love with her and started this whole ordeal to help Shanda discover her mother’s murderer. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t true, it was a good rumor and plausible. Besides that it gave the gossip hungry riverlanders a hidden undercurrent to latch onto. Nothing makes a story juicier than hearing insider information straight from the source.

The lady gasped, “No! Oh I knew it. No offense but I’ve known you long enough to realize there had to be something else going on.”

That irritated Shanda but she ignored it. Instead she nodded her head in a sympathetic manner.

“I know but we couldn’t come out and say it could we? Not with the climate around here. It’s just a shame because we don't have any good leads.”

The lady grabbed her arm and pulled her along as she spoke.

“Well now this is all hearsay but I’ll tell you what I heard about that night. Your mother had stopped in on us on her way out, you know…”

And so Shanda spent the night charming the river house’s strategically. She would tell them whatever angle would get them talking. Then Martyn would come behind and talk about the tragedy of their family being pulled apart. Royce’s job was to spread dissent so the houses did not start talking amongst themselves about whatever her and Martyn were saying. It worked well for them to know all they could but it would be disastrous if the houses figured out it was all a ruse. Which is why they’d went with the plausible story that Benjicot and her were star crossed lovers who started a skirmish to find out the truth.

***

Martyn was growing tired of the idiotic voices of men sounding all around him. When he managed to find a sympathetic ear eventually the conversation would turn to whether his sister's virtue was truly intact. After the third fool wormed it into the conversation, Martyn had dismissed himself. He’d talked to several ladies, who were far better listeners, but he hoped his sister was having better luck than he was. He knew Royce was having a splendid time wreaking havoc on the established hierarchy baked into the river lords. He would catch a glimpse of him standing beside some lord before said lord would turn red in the face and start fuming.

Martyn did not stay inside the ballroom long after growing frustrated with the men. He was just outside the door when the first fight broke out and across the room Lord Tully yelled, “What did I bloody well say about fighting?”

The sound brought a slight smile to his face, the more things changed the more they stayed the same.

Out in the halls he decided to go outside, grab some fresh air before heading back in to try again. He knew whatever was going on right now was likely chaos so he didn’t feel bad about leaving his siblings. Those two thrived under stress but Martyn did not. He enjoyed the building suspense, the moments just before hell broke loose. And he liked the opportunity to view the madness from a distance. Getting a different perspective on the issue was always helpful and he would only be in the way in the middle of the whirlwind.

So caught up in his thoughts was Martyn while climbing the stairs that he almost tripped over the lady sitting on them.

“I beg your pardon.” He said having just barely sidestepped the lady.

“You can say that again.” She snorted before placing her head in her hands.

He stepped in his ascent, looking down the stairs at her. He looked back up at the door at the top of the stairs before he sighed. He could not leave a lady alone on the night of a large party, certainly not sad and on the empty stairwell.

“Come on.” He said instead.

“What?” When she finally looked up and twisted around to gaze backwards at him, he saw it was Lady Blackwood.

“Grab some air with me, it's bad luck to linger in a stairwell anyway.”

He had just made that up but that fact was unimportant in his eyes. The lady looked at him skeptically before she shrugged and stood to follow him up.

Outside the air was cool and fresh, a balm to Martyn’s soul. He took a long deep breath and sighed gazing out at the pond of water surrounding the castle. He had almost forgotten about his unlikely companion when she spoke up, startling him.

“Did you grow tired of our loquacious brethren as well?”

The moon was a pale sliver in the sky, nearly gone. Martyn nodded his head.

“There’s only so many ways to subtly accuse someone of being dishonest and somehow I seem to have heard them all and then some.”

“As if any of the people in there would know the truth if it pulled them under the RedFork.”

Martyn smiled and in the distance the sound of moorhens chittering grew in tandem with the chirping of crickets. A cacophony of night sounds swelled around them. It was close and alive, thousands of creatures all sharing the night sky together. The cloudless sky twinkled with more stars than Martyn had seen in a long time.

***

“Don’t let him see!” Shanda hissed at Royce from behind the banner they were hiding behind. Tucked away in a small alcove, he laughed.

“Sorry! I didn’t think I was going to stay out of it for a moment.”

Shanda clapped a hand over her mouth remembering the shocked look on Lord Wendell Wayn’s face when ser Joth Piper threw the first blow by picking the man up by his shirt with both hands and tossing him. It was hysterical and she was nearly in tears remembering it.

“Shhh! If they didn’t see me sneak in, they’ll hear you laughing!” Her brother tried to say through his own laughter.

“I think we have to send Ser Joth a gift now in thanks.” She said, wiping her eyes. “I will never recover from that image.”

“Forgot him, what about the ser from Mallister that dumped the punch bowl on our lady cousin when he thought no one was looking?”

Through stunted giggles she replied, “Marcelle will be fine but I don’t think Beck will be after half of Seaguard came to the Mallisters aid.”

“Fishy bastards, that's almost why I didn’t make it out. For men so remarkably ‘wise’ why is it they have to travel in packs? Surely one Mallisters is as good as ten?”

Shanda peaked out from behind the banner and grabbed her brother's hand barely hearing him as she pulled them back out into the party.

“Scatter. And don’t find Martyn until you’re alone back in your compartments!”

As children ‘scatter’ was the command they used to ensure if they were going to be caught, it wouldn’t be together. It made her oddly nostalgic as she glanced around the room making sure no one had noticed them. Royce, who was familiar with the phrase, hadn't said a word, just scattered. It was nice to have a moment with her brother where they weren’t fighting even if it was because they’d started a different fight. She had to work hard to stop the laughter from bubbling back up again at the thought.

Instead she let her eyes rove along the less enthusiastic guests, looking for Martyn but not spotting him.

“Care to explain what it is you're scheming up?”

Shanda jumped nearly a foot in the air at the sound of Benjicot’s voice so close to her. When had he gotten there? How much had he seen?

“I don’t know what you mean.” She said casually, still looking for her brother.

Before she could really process what was happening, Benjicot had pulled her back onto the dancefloor and they began to dance.

“I’m a bit busy at the moment.” She huffed annoyed at him.

“I know, that’s the issue. You’ve been stirring the pot all night.” His voice was playfully disapproving. “And I’ve had to field a dozen ladies all night because someone keeps talking about my hidden inner gallant knight. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”

Shanda blushed, embarrassed. She’d been so concerned about keeping the houses from talking amongst each other, she failed to consider they might allude to Benjicot that she was fighting on his behalf.

“There are always some necessary evils when working a plan. Just be glad it painted you in a good light.” She sniffed, looking at his chest to avoid his eyes.

The floor was slowly filling back up around them in the aftermath of the fight. And while she turned out of a spin she caught Bellena’s eye, who winked at her.

“Seems you mended the rift with your brother though.” He mused, staring down at her.

“Maybe. If tonight doesn’t pan out, I am sure he’ll circle back to being angry. He likes to cause fights, luckily for me tonight it was with someone else.”

Shanda shook her head a bit bemused at her own words. When had she become this comfortable around the heir of Raventree? It was almost as easy to talk to him as it was her own family. Somewhere along the line they’d become almost friends. Or maybe it was the energy of the dance, the night felt normal. Like life could’ve been if this feud didn’t exist between them, coloring every aspect of their lives. She finally looked up to meet his stare, finding his eyes twinkling mischievously like always and a lopsided grin on his face.

The song playing was fast and upbeat. They moved swiftly and turned in a never ending circle round and round the room as it went on. But she could not put her finger on the name of the song. The fiddle player drew to a crescendo and butterflies erupted all inside of her. They were spinning so quickly she couldn’t help the golden laugh that spilled out of her.

[greentrickster]

So something good that started in my life last December was that I stumbled into a bit of luck and now have a deal with a nearby geek culture shop to sell plush mages I make. This was extremely fortuitous, because I created the design and concept back in 2017, had made about ten before forcing myself to stop, and, other than gifting one to a friend, still had them all, and was planning to find a holiday donation bin for a charity that accepted handmade stuff, because I was tired of them taking up space in my room. Like literally the only reason I still had them was because life was hectic and I kept forgetting to go check for where any local donation bins were.

This is very exciting, the owner's super nice and helped me set some stuff up so I'm selling on consignment, which means I only get paid when someone actually buys one, but I get a bigger cut of the money when they do.

My dudes, I have an income again.

It's teeny-weeny and irregular, but I have one, and, almost more importantly, a bunch of them sold during and right after the holiday rush, so I get to make more, and it's giving me something to actually do besides working on my mental issues and trying to fill my time while I gain the mental health and stability to get, you know. An actual job. I'm currently making a few more to put in the store, then I'm going to focus on making extra stock to have available for when the local anime convention (and it's stale, stale vendor's hall) arrives this spring.

Not only that, it means that I can make as many of these things as I want for now! And while it takes about a day to make one mage, I'm flexing hard on my status as a professional ADHD haver by having three or four on the go at once, but in different stages of completion. So if I feel like sewing I can one on this one, but if I want to do some pinning I can work on that one, and the third one's ready to finish stuffing and assembling whenever I feel like it, now I want to take a break to watch anime, oooo~ sewing mood again-!

Like, this is in no way I can turn this into an actual career, just because, like I said, it takes about a day to make one from scratch, going at a pace that's both productive and physically healthy for me and also, given that they're about twenty inches tall, made of primarily minky fabric, and being done by hand, that means that I am selling them for nowhere near what they're worth, because people wouldn't be willing to pay that much. Like, the minimum wage where I currently live is (a ridiculous) $7.50 an hour. If I made one of these guys in six hours, that would mean they'd need to cost $45 just to cover my time, never mind materials and the fact that this is skilled labour, and that is not the price on the tag, let alone my cut. They look deceptively simple for all the tricks and techniques that go into one (never mind the fact that minky is expensive fabric, the craft safety eyes I use are special-ordered and very good quality, and, oh yes, these little fellows are machine washable). I literally cannot make a livelihood doing this.

But, like I also said, it's giving me something creative to do that isn't just more reading, writing, and gaming. I love doing all those things, but this is a kind of physical activity that I've needed in my life, and making something physical is so different than writing, with the wonderful bonus that minky fabric is one of my favorite textures! As long as I'm strategic about my acquisition of materials, I'm not going to be losing money on this, and while it's something I think is going to end up paying dividends more in my mental health than in my wallet, I will be earning money for this. I'm getting paid to make plushies to my heart's content (or until I run out of materials for the moment) while watching anime/youtube and working on my mental health, and, for now, that's not only enough, it feels really good!

[veryimportantsparkles]

"So I don't have the exact equations," Megan spoke at a pace too quick to quite follow, "but for every FOUR Shuppet a Pokemon defeats it gets ONE extra point of Attack...at level 100." Edmond nodded as though he was following, but the lecture was absolute lunacy to him. They pushed forward through the headstones of Mt. Pyre at an absentminded pace.

In most circumstances, Cypress would be eagerly listening in on Megan's explanations of their world's arcane rules. Cypress liked to win, and he hoarded his advantages jealously. Every stat point mattered. But here in the somber halls of this giant mausoleum, he could only think of one thing.

Ghosts. Absolutely wretched things. They weren't immune to his innate powers but he was very aware of his weakness to theirs. Cypress was helpless in this environment, relegated to watching Boynton and the new cactus kid Barbados as they sauntered carefree through the Shuppet with their Faint Attacks. From shoulder to fingertip Cypress could feel himself shaking with fea...rage. Anger at his uselessness. Thus, he took a strategic defensive position at the back of the party...behind Mulberry.

"Wha!" Mulberry yipped, "What are you DOING?" She wriggled around, but Cypress held her firmly by the shoulders.

"Protecting myself from ghosts," he kept his voice as even as he could. Mulberry was like a dear little sister to him and he didn't want her to know he was sca...wasn't scared at all actually.

"Behind ME?" She tried to twist around to look him in the eye. "I'm level TWENTY-FIVE!"

"You're immune to ghosts, Muls. You knew that right?" Cypress never thought he'd be envious of a Normal-type. He supposed they needed something for themselves.

"But they're immune to ME!"

"Well they're also not interested in you so I need you to help me out, Mulberry!"

The two bickered back and forth, while their Dark-type teammates jogged around them. Boynton and Barbados maintained a five-foot radius of safe ground around them, but their aid went unnoticed. "Stop--" "YOU stop--" "But YOU--" "But I--" The fearful fight continued until a lone Shuppet managed to slip behind Barbados at an opportune moment...

"Begone, spirit!" Cypress hoisted Mulberry off her feet like a living shield. In her panic and surprise she could only bark at the oncoming ghost. The assailant gave the two a tired look, assessing the risk and reward of attacking a loud Linoone just to get a shot at a vulnerable Gardevoir. It made a huffing noise and floated away.

"See that? You saved my life, Mulberry." Cypress put her down with a pat on her good little head. Her dignity not quite restored, she barked at him.

[guiraguira]

Hi!!! omg I love your writing so much I can't..!!!! Can you please make a hc about Jakurai with, like, lovesick fem s/o? She's not like Yandere or something, just really really loves him and always compliments him, hugs and kisses him everywhere, even in public without any shame, and says how lucky she is to have Jakurai by her side…

Thank you ahh I love you!! <3

Lovesick for him!❤️

My whole body shakes from the moment I saw this application! I find myself struggling with whether to make it just fluff or include nsfw.

Maybe halfway I lost sight of the request, sorry about that! 😔

I love your writing and you too Anya! ❤️

Warnings: if there is Nsfw but marked separately. (Oral sex, penetration, love bites!)

Jakurai x Reader

° The days where I came home and only slept came to an end since you appeared in her life. Receiving him with a big hug that tries to scare away all the bad vibes that he could be bringing from her work, you complete it by giving her a long and wet kiss. To do this, you get on the bench that is strategically located next to the door since they began to live together.

°There are days that if you sharpen your ear you already wait for him on the bench with open arms before he finishes turning the key in the lock. That immediately destroys any negativity in him, a laugh fills the home and you know that this is caused by your simple gesture of love.

° If he are sitting working at his desk at home, you try not to bother him, but he feels your gaze and stretches casually, inviting you to come closer. Without delaying a second you sit on his lap facing him with your hands on his neck briefly kissing every inch of skin you can find.

° Sometimes you just climb onto him and purr as you snuggle closer without saying a word, patting him gently on the back, kissing his neck at irregular intervals.

° Remember very well when he still refused to let you be the one to show affection, his personality forced him to be the one to start the rounds of care and pampering. He understood, perhaps by dint of your warm kisses in the morning and your tight hug at night that you had more love for him than you could ever name.

° At the end of the day you end up with him lying on your thighs while you caress his scalp with your fingers slowly, whispering sweet words "those beautiful eyes of yours make me tremble, please never stop looking at me" you say while you kiss each one .

° This almost always makes him sleepy, so you make yourself more comfortable so that his great body rests on yours, with his head on your chest and one leg over him, embracing his body in its entirety, cuddling him with your foot so that rhythmic. "My big boy, you are the best thing that happened to me, I love that you let yourself be loved in this way" his short laugh fills your heart. If he is really tired, your affection can bring him some tears of satisfaction.

° If he tries to return your affection, you catch him first and push him back to his original position. "Sometime I could be the one to pamper your body in the same way" he says one day when you have him trapped in your arms while you kiss and lick the area under his chin. "You give what you receive, but my angel you just need to receive, receive and keep receiving" your words cause him to shudder, he knows that he will never be able to externalize as easily as you do all the love that burns inside him for you.

° In public you don't contain yourself either, at first he was reluctant, he felt a bit ashamed that everyone saw how he succumbed to your touches but it didn't last long. The day you went to his office and put his hand on your cheek kissing his palm in front of the nurses and he groaned audibly, he realized he was lost.

°Even though he closed his eyes to escape humiliation, the ones who must escape are the nurses since you don't stop there. You gently squeeze his face with both hands and kiss his nose, in response he places his hands on yours staring into your eyes.

° In front of Doppo and Hifumi you are even less reserved. Caressing his waist where the shirt and pants meet revealing his pale skin to his friends, climbing with your daring until you have your whole hand under his clothes, tracing circles, just pampering his body from him without any double intent. He can continue talking to them normally before realizing what you're doing, for him it's so normal.

Nsfw

° You can spend hours crouching between his legs just licking his penis through his underwear over stimulating him, blowing hot air because you want this moment to last as long as possible.

° Kisses on her lower abdomen and on the inner side of her thighs are the order of the day. Occasionally you can't contain your ecstasy and you end up biting one of those places causing their low moans to become high-pitched and chaotic.

° Those afternoon days when you can't help but ride his cock slowly, feeling its tip to hilt on your walls, gently gyrating your hips, whispering erotic "thank you" in his ear every time he bottoms out inside you have him dead, his heavy breathing and sighs as he clings to your hips enchants you. Neither of them is looking to finish, just feeling the other's body for as long as possible.

° The shame was gradually left behind, he thought that due to his age he could not continue to feel such a great libido, but your constant advances trying to make him give in ended up making him feel like a teenager again.

° The turning point was that day when, having come out of the shower with only a towel around his waist, you knocked him down on the bed and lifting his leg, you traced a line of kisses from his heel to his lips, placing special emphasis on kissing each testicle and dedicating a vague suction to his glans. He still remembers how I gasp under your watchful eye.

° Your hugs from behind usually end with your hands caressing his member putting them inside his pants, his knees tremble and he arches slightly, separating his legs to give you better access. When you catch him off guard is when he enjoys this the most.

° Beneath you, her shoulders reddened by your kisses, glistening from the fine sheen of sweat that covers her entire body, her hair scattered in all directions on the bed and her narrowed eyes giving you an ecstatic look "Surely you must be an angel, Tell me, where do you hide your wings?" Too sensitive to be embarrassed, he just opens his arms to you.

[ladykissingfish]

Idk really really disjointed thoughts but I was thinking about this on the bus in-between the stale cigarette smell and the man ranting about port-a-potties.

so what if Sasori and Deidara go on a mission and of course Sasori is all careful planning and strategizing but Deidara is Deidara, everything is boom bang flash.

and normally things somehow work out for them but not this time. this time, deidara gets horribly injured. bleeding out and nearer to death than he’s ever been.

it’s only by a miracle that Sasori gets them safely out of there and back to the hideout. and he takes him to Kakuzu to be treated because Sasori can’t treat him, he literally can’t. he can’t look at Dei, he can’t be in the same room as him.

and the others assume that it’s because Sasori is furious at Dei, not only for ruining the mission and endangering them, but in the process of saving Deidara, Sasori has to sacrifice some of his more important puppets.

but that’s not it at all.

Sasori could care less about those damn puppets.

but Deidara …

he had never seen Deidara that badly hurt before. and he can’t shake the feeling that it was his fault, because if he had stopped Deidara, if he had yelled or attempted to curb his recklessness even once, none of this would have happened.

eventually, very late at night, Kakuzu comes to him. and he says that Deidara is alive, he’s conscious again, and he’s asking for Sasori. at first Sasori brushes it off and says he’ll see him in the morning but Kakuzu says the kid won’t relax until he sees you.

so Sasori goes, and Kakuzu gives them privacy.

and Deidara is near tears. he’s speaking softly, he’s apologizing for what happened. he says he talked it over with Kakuzu to give half of his pay to Sasori for the next few months, until he can replace the puppets that Sasori lost. and he’s rambling on and on until finally Sasori holds up his hand, temporarily halting Deidara’s words.

and he stands there staring at Deidara in bed, more bandages than flesh, bruises everywhere.

“If you ever presume to make me worry like this again, you’ll no longer have to fear the enemy taking you out; I’ll end your life myself. Am I understood?”

and Deidara looks at him, thinking that surely he heard wrong. “worry”? Sasori didn’t worry about anything; Deidara doubted that word was even in his vocabulary. and even if it was, and he HAD said that —

“Why would you be worried about me? I mean, if I died —“

“I don’t want you to die!!”, Sasori snaps at him, his normally expressionless face a sea of emotions. “I - I —“, and here he pauses, because he can’t see the next words coming from his lips, but he forces himself: “I LOVE YOU, Deidara!”

and Deidara isn’t sure whether it’s the events of the day finally breaking him down, or his exhaustion, or some side effect of the heavy painkillers Kakuzu has him on, but … he starts to cry.

freely, uninhibited, without even bothering to lift his hands to his eyes, he starts bawling.

and Sasori is alarmed, to put it mildly. is Deidara in a great amount of pain? did … did Sasori’s words upset him that much? was —

“I … I love you too, you stupid idiot!” Deidara manages to get out through his tears, and Sasori is floored. no, for real, he has to sit down on the floor to process the confusing emotions going through his body.

Deidara can barely move but he manages to lean up and look over the side of the bed at the redheaded puppet muttering to himself on the floor.

“Hey! That was my first confession, hm! I know you’re an old man but I’m young, and this is a big deal for me! So get up and hug me or something!”

Sasori smiles and shakes his head; how in the world is he going to handle this annoying brat now?

well, no matter.

it’s a challenge, and there’s nothing that stimulates Sasori more than a good challenge.

he gets up, approaches Deidara, leans down and hugs him. awkwardly (he hasn’t hugged anybody in over twenty years) but gently. Deidara’s hair presses against Sasori’s cheek and nothing in the universe could possibly feel softer.

“Do I get a kiss, too?”

he says it playfully, a teasing lilt in his voice, clearly not at all expecting Sasori to act, but 

Sasori cups Deidara’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, moves his lips to the target and gives the blonde what he asked for.

“How was that? Good?”

Deidara nods, and his face is doing its best impression of Sasori’s hair shade.

“Ah, so THAT was all it took to shut you up? I wish I had known this sooner; I could have spared myself many a metaphorical headache.”

or something like that.

Next thought:

so Sasori is dating Deidara and he thinks it’s going good but he starts to worry about their lack of a sex life. he knows that Hidan and Kakuzu are “dating” and he definitely knows they have sex because Kakuzu’s room is next to Sasori’s and Hidan makes no effort to be quiet. and although they’re infinitely more discreet he knows that Itachi and Kisame are experiencing that, too.

but Sasori’s puppet body isn’t exactly equipped with the tool(s) for love-making. and he’s worried. Deidara has never brought it up to him but he knows he’s “friends” with Itachi and Hidan and the three talk all the time and he thinks what if he hears the others talk about it and feels cheated because we’re not having it? after all Deidara is a young, vibrant, healthy 19 year old male and he probably wants it, right?

so Sasori works day and night creating a “human No jutsu” for himself, one that he’ll be able to maintain for a few hours at a time, hopefully long enough to give Deidara a good time.

so he calls Deidara into his room and transforms for him. but. unexpected side effect of being fully human again: emotions. everything that he’s repressed/gotten rid of over the years immediately comes to the forefront of Sasori’s mind and. 

he starts crying.

and Deidara is more shocked than anything. it’s surreal enough to see Sasori as flesh and blood, but to see him cry? insanity.

so Deidara sits down with him and holds him, comforting him and soothing him. and eventually Sasori calms down enough to tell Deidara why he chose to inhabit this form.

and Deidara is flattered beyond belief.

but.

Deidara has no interest in sex.

he never did.

he explains that he likes when he and Sasori hug and kiss, and hold each other, but sex is not something he’s ever even considered. he says Sasori stimulates him mentally and emotionally, and for him, that’s more than enough.

and Sasori cries more.

the big crybaby spends the whole two hours of his human No jutsu just sitting on the floor bawling his eyes out.

but it’s happy tears.

or something like that.

I don’t know, I guess this is what’s living in my head today 🤷🏽‍♀️

[lucadrawss]

Do you mind Info dumping about Ai? I need to know everything about him.

:O

OF COURSE!

Thank you for giving me permission to ramble about my beloved Zexal OC! :D

(I apologise this is so long)

Ai's 15 though people always tell me he looks older. He's about 6ft and stubborn as fuck. I'm aware that's tall for his age but he's a dragon so he's allowed to be tall >:(

His personality was originally a combination of Shark's, Astral's and Yuma's in his first design which I kept when I gave him his current design (I just like the thought of him being an ass but also being kinda nice).

I put alot of thought into his design and what parts of it could represent as I do with all my OCs, every single tiny detail has a reason.

(I draw horns differently now)

I unintentionally gave him similar eyes to Astral but I kept it because it suits him in my opinion.

If you can't tell he's gay, super gay (asexual as well). I tried to make him look as fruity as possible.

Ai normally wears a jacket to cover his scars since he's ashamed of how he got them (bad home life) but at times will feel comfortable with them on show. The gloves cover some scars too, but he hardly takes those off.

I attempt to draw him in platform boots but fail every time. Despite being tall af, he likes the boots so tends to wear them.

The earrings were actually passed down in his family, he got them from his father (who faked his own death basically) when he was 5 and almost always wears them as a comfort item.

Ai doesn't chose for his nails to be that long, they're claws. They grow back pretty quickly so he just gave up cutting them since they stop at a certain length, he just paints them now.

Yes his hair colour is natural, his older sister has it too. He has a good relationship with his sister. (Her names Gi, she's 28 and a paramedic)

Obviously Ai is a duelist. I'm uncreative so he tends to use dragon cards mainly (I know I know boring).

With relationship stuff, currently nothing yet. @renaakabane ships him with Astral though. Idk I think its kinda cute but I'm not entirely sure yet. Though she has me considering it.

He has one friend, Shark. Eventually he ends up becoming friends with Yuma, Astral, the whiny bitch that is Tori, ect, but Shark was one of the only people he really trusted.

The guys a fucking dragon so obviously I'm gonna give him dragon features. He does have the ability for wings but I never draw them. I drew them once, in a sketch, it looks bad, I was exhausted. I have drawn them though for a thing showing the detail of his dragon type. These are his:

The purple fade is because of healing, Ai tore both his wings at some point and thats basically them scarring. He doesn't know how to fly though so its fine. :)

This. I don't necessarily think these need much of an explanation.

I'll explain the fire thing though. Ai's type of dragon obviously has the ability to create fire. Its difficult to do but they can light their sweat, plus they have a gland in their throat that releases an odorless and colourless gas which they can light by creating a spark with their teeth. They're fire resist to a degree so they can still burn and can stand more heat than the average person but again they can't entirely stand it.

His type of dragon can hide their features to appear more human, hence this image where he looks relatively human:

He's a fucking dumbass though he is rather smart and strategic, he's a good student grades wise and is a good duelist too. Anything else? He makes dumb decisions and gets into trouble often. Dumb decisions include doing reckless stuff or eating flowers. Theres more dumb shit he does though.

I like drawing him like this:

He curses so often, isn't afraid to insult people and will physically fight them.

I also tend to go into mental detail with my OCs. Ai has ADHD and anxiety issues (such as PTSD and often has panic attacks, because I base my OCs off of myself a little. All of them have at least some element that reflects myself.)

His hobbies include: drawing, music (guitar, he cuts his nails every time before hand), dancing and dueling.

Ai likes dresses :) (Oh god old art. I really need to redraw this its terrible.)

My friends tend to go on about how its stereotyping because he's a gay guy and feminine but let a guy enjoy a dress come on, his sexuality is not the reason I designed him to enjoy that type of thing. I just wanna be able to draw him in a dress :(

Pretty sure I've gone through almost everything, I'll stop before it gets any longer haha. Thank you for letting me talk about him!

[fearlesspeaknow]

Idk if anyone will read this but I am going to use this as my journal to get this realization out of my brain.

A month ago my husband talked to me about a divorce. This weekend was my moving time into my own apartment. He helped me move but there was a lot of tested patience.

Anyway, drives back and forth from old apartment to new, of course, I have TTPD playing. Yesterday I was headed in my car back to the old place listening to LOML. I started crying because I realized “this is really happening. This isn’t a dream” I allowed myself for the first time in a month to feel the sadness. ICDIWABH then came on. I always felt confused as to why that song even made the album because it’s so 1989 coded but in this moment I realized. Going through a divorce is grief and with grief it’s so quick how emotions can change especially in the face of needing to get shit done. I was tired from moving, feeling anxious, scared, etc. and I wanted to cry but I couldn’t. I had to keep going, I had to keep moving (figuratively and literally), I had shit to do. Life goes on. It doesn’t stop no matter how hard we want it to. The Smallest Man Who Ever lived then comes on and the vibe is sad again. I never pay attention, really, to the track listing and how strategic I know Taylor is with it but in that moment I realized “holy shit. This is what it’s like”. Sad to powerful and strong back to sad.

If you’ve read this, thank you. It’s just something I needed to say and a realization about the album that I’ve just come to and felt. Taylor never ceases to amaze me and TTPD is really a great album and I knew it would come to me in a time where I needed it most (she tends to do this often for me haah). 🖤🤍🩶