#i blame my current header for this

[bittersweet-folder]

Oh btw babyloves I'm 4112 words in in the fic on Editor Wonwoo and there's A LOT to write plus I made a new banner?

Is this good?

Or the previous one was better?

AND READ THE TAGSSS!!

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

You came — you called. | Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

credits for the header - ghost's pic by the very talented @ave661 ✦ Word count: 2.2k ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: After being abused by your current date, in need of comfort, you call your ex-boyfriend and recurring fling, Simon, to talk. ✦ TW and general warnings: SFW, some kisses here and there but no smut, angst, you guys are in a complicated situationship, fluff, sensitive content (domestic violence) ✦ AO3 | Masterlist edit: I wrote a part 2 in case you're interested <3

A/N: I really need to finish my already started requests, really do but inspiration ONLY gets to me when I'm randomly existing and then a random prompt comes in mind and arghhh gotta write 😭 but I promise - if anyone reading this sent me a request, know I've started it already and I WILL finish. also, thinking really a lot about making a part 2 for this piece and making it smutty. pls let me know if anyone's interested! anyways, not proof read, hope y'all enjoy, x

━━━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━━━

It’s the same place as the last time you saw him. Ironic, maybe. You still smoke the same cigarettes he offered to you once in a promise it would help you calm down from your anxiety; it did. It did a little too much. You still wear that same necklace you refused to get rid off even after you dumped him, after you promised you’d never see him again, never talk to him again. God, hope he doesn’t get mad at that.

Truth is you’ve been failing at that for quite some time. You’ve been seeing him way more than it’s necessary, but contrary to how things used to be before, now every moment with him is a single time that ceases to exist once you get home. He texts; you ignore. He doesn’t text anymore till the next time he misses you. You ignore it till the next time you miss him. This time isn’t much different, only you have a bit more of a reason to be here, unsure if he’ll show up, smoking this damned red Marlboro and feeling like shit. Like absolute shit.

You exhale the smoke, your hair tied back in a ponytail through the cap gap. Hiding yourself.

His big broad figure fills the door in, and he comes inside. To your big surprise, he decided lastly to come; Simon looks at you with a bitter look on his face, his dirty blonde hair trimmed, his beard done, wearing one of his thousand black tight t-shirts and a pair of jeans. He looks the same as ever.

“You came.” You say, surprised as he pulls the chair back and takes the seat in front of yours. 

“You called.” He replies simply, his body relaxing spaciously in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Yeah, I did.” You let out some more smoke before discarding your cigarette on the ashtray. “But I thought you were still mad at me.” 

He looks at you in silence for a couple seconds, and scoffs.

“And that never stopped you from calling, did it?” He snorts impatiently. “Did something actually happen or are you just lonely and needing someone to help you fall asleep?” You feel derision in his attitude and his voice is dripping with venom and bitterness.

You close your eyes. Can’t blame him, can you? You had your own good reasons to break up with him, although stupidly, without thinking twice - without thinking that you’d end up missing him. Trying to find him in all the wrong places, wrong guys. 

“Well go on, Simon, what else do you still have to tell me?” You mimic him, crossing your arms and your face a little twisted in irritation facing him. “I was single, I still am. I had the right to be with someone else.” 

“I never blamed you for that. I never fucking blamed you.” Simon wipes his mouth with his hand, his ever icy expression breaking into frustration the second you open your mouth again.

“You are blaming me. You-”

“I fucking am not. I’m angry at the poor fucking choice you did. Getting rid of me for that fucker? You’re making a joke out of yourself, even for someone like me that’s fucking downgrading.” He snaps, regretting it the second later and squeezing his eyes for a moment. 

You remain silent. He’s right. He’s absolutely right. 

You stare into the distance of the window by your side, silent - embarrassed, regretful. Your hands together over your lap and your silence put together make him raise his head at you once again, in a sigh.

“I shouldn’t be here. Our conversations won’t ever end in anything good but me taking you to bed, if that’s what you want then I’ll gladly do it without all the trouble.” He states. You tremulously raise your eyebrows and your lips curl in a small hurt smile. 

Ouch.

You know he said it to hurt you. You know he’s angry, he’s hitting all the right buttons to get under your skin, he can’t help it. He can’t help but to be a bastard sometimes, he never learnt different.

Your eye stare down your own hands, you feel your lips tremble and the lump in your throat gets bigger each second. It's hard to hold back the tears, but for your dignity, you try. There's no less brutal way to admit something like that, so you vomit the words all at once.

“He hit me, Simon.”

His eyes open, the pupils slowly dilate like those of a shark that has just tasted blood for the first time.

Simon has blood on his hands. From too many people, more than you could count. And even if that's his job, never in all those hard years with him - you swore - had you ever seen him so pissed off.

The veins in his temples stood out and he swallowed bitterly, his mind empty; If he wasn't an extremely restrained man, then he would have gotten up and taken action right now. A thoughtless attitude that he might later regret - maybe.

“Tell me his address.” He snaps, his blood boiling enough for you to almost feel the heat increasing in his flesh. 

“Simon, no.” You immediately cut him off, shaking your head, almost crying at this point. "That's not what I called you for, I don't want you to hurt anyone. I broke up with him, I don't have anything to do with that son of a bitch anymore, I just-"

He interrupts you with a gesture and claps his hands to his face. He brushes his own skin roughly, as a self-reminder that if he gives in to his own anger, he'll let you down.

When he makes room for his eyes through his hands again and sees your reddened

face, tears streaming down your cheeks - he dies inside. 

He promised he’d always be there for you. He promised he’d never let you down, he’d always protect you, he’d kill for you. He said it plenty of times and you were completely aware that it was true. 

He couldn’t possibly let you down.

“No, please, I can’t- I just can’t when you cry.” He mutters, getting up from his seat and offering his hand. “You come with me. Please?”

━ ⟡ ━

The hot steaming water falls over your head, sweeping your tears as you hug your legs. Simon's fingertips brush calmly your back, he contours the bruises on your lower half like he's grieving. The silence fills in the bathroom if not for the sound of water dripping on your head. He pours some water on your back to soothe your pain - even if you're not feeling any at this point. 

"Why did you not call me before?" He asks, with painful confusion in his raspy voice. His hands are shaking and you know it's pure anger and his own incapability of holding himself back when it comes to feeling anger. You sigh, tired. 

"I don't know. I felt like I'd be unfair to you." You try to explain, your hands caressing your shins while the water runs through your skin. "And because I didn't want to get you in this state." 

His eyes narrow as he stares at you, and you shrug in response. It's clear to him why you don't like to get him stressed - he could never hurt you, but he was a danger to others.

��He waves his hands to shake off the water and stands up, grabbing and opening a clean towel for you.

You stand up, your eyes don't dare leaving his. He silently admires you, although his mind can't think much more than how guilty he feels for letting this happen to you - even though there was nothing he could do about it. You dry your feets on the mat and turn your back so he can wrap you in the towel, and he does so. 

Simon calmly brushes the towel against your shoulders, drying a bit of the water that drips from your whole body and once he’s done wrapping you in the towel, he places his hands on your back and leads you to his room.

His smell is everywhere around and what used to be intoxicating and lustful for you, is now soothing and quiet. You sit on the edge of his bed, silence seeming to be now a whole conversation between the two of you.

Your hand reaches for his and places it on your cheek. You look up at him with kitty eyes, your thumb circles the skin on the back of his hand till it finds the scar you were looking for – one of his oldest ones, according to himself. You close your eyes and snuggle into his hand, giving it a light, calming kiss.

He caresses your cheek and moves your hair from your face.

“I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” He says in a whisper. You nod, and he comes back moments later with a clean shirt of his. You tug it in your neck and quickly put it on letting the fabric run free on your body, loose. 

He starts removing rubbish from his bedside table – an ashtray, an empty can of energy drink, a gun. As you notice he seems to be trying to empty the room for you, you speak out.

"Wait, where are you going?" 

"I'll be in the living room if you need me for anything." He says simply. Before he can leave the room, you stop him by wrapping your hand on his arm. The sudden motion makes him turn around to face you, his dark eyes gazing at yours and seeming already aware of what comes next – a protest. 

"Simon." You use a warning tone, and he closes his eyes. 

"You don't want to have me around now, kitten. I'm far from calm…" He argues, calmly looking down at you now. The proximity burns you, he's too close. 

"I'm not scared." You mewl, your hands on his tough chest, he doesn't move a muscle. Your hands start trailing up to his neck, and you get on your tiptoes to wrap your arms better around him; Simon closes his eyes, drunk by the overwhelming feeling of having you so close to him. He misses you. 

One of his hands holds your wrist before you manage to curl up on his neck, and the other one gently holds on your waist. He bends down enough so he can reach your tiny self. He gives you what you want - his lips slowly catch yours in a slow, calm kiss; the warmth of his lips against yours is medicine to you – soothes all of your pain, eases all of your anxiety. He squeezes on your waist and pulls back once he starts feeling heaty and his breath starts to become uncontrolled, needy. He breaths against your lips, his eyes barely closed and his breath catching on his throat like panting. 

You stare at his lips before going back to his eyes. 

"Stop." He snarls, raising his head a bit, avoiding your face and the closeness you impose on him now. It feels wrong. You need space.

You close your eyes, you understand. It feels wrong. 

After all of this time of failed attempts to let go, to sound nonchalant and be away from each other – after all the fails and the sex, devoid of feeling type of sex, rough, delicious but raw sex, he wants to fuck you straight. He doesn't want to be angry, he wants to take you and make love to you. 

You understand. Feels wrong.

"Will you be fine here? You need to rest and I need to take a walk, clear my head." He mutters, avoiding your eyes for the sake of restraining himself. You nod. 

"I'll be alright. You'll come back, right?" You ask, looking at him - looking for his eyes. He stands back from you and nods. 

"Of course." He assures you, before caressing your hair slowly and giving you a calm kiss on the forehead. "Rest. Do not stay awake waiting for me, hear me?" He snarls, grabbing his keys and a hoodie of his, tucking it in and giving you space. 

You sit in his bed and nods, watching him leave by the room door and close it behind himself. Now alone, you close your eyes exhausted by the lack of sleep you've been having for these past few days; it doesn't take you long to fall asleep, surrounded by comfortable pillows that smell like his perfume – woody and whiskey. 

Walking in the streets, with his hands digging in his hoodie's pocket and tough stomps, Simon's face lit up by the light emanating from the street lamps. His body swings slightly to the weight of his steps, and he breathes heavily. 

After several minutes – more than he probably told you he'd take, he stops in front of a very familiar residence. You should know it wouldn't be any trouble for him to find your abuser's house. 

He took a familiar piece of cloth out of his pocket, it had been time since he last wore it. Now seemed like a good moment. A balaclava, full face mask – handmade, with a skull painted on. Simon hugs you and kisses your scars; Ghost wants revenge. 

[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. 

[lostgirlmuseum]

Masterlist ✨

Angst: 🌑 Fluff/Fun: 🌕 Both: 🌓 1K Notes: ✨

Welcome to my masterlist! I currently only write for Bucky Barnes. I’m also in college, so apologies if I don’t post regularly…because I’m 93.2% likely not to 👌 This is really just a fun lil thing I do. I'm definitely not the best, but I try.

Unless otherwise specified, happy endings only here. Real life is sad enough lmao

(headers by me, dividers by @firefly-graphics)

Make the Wave 🌓 (Complete) ✔️

Pairing: BestFriend!Bucky x f!Reader Summary: You invite both your best friend and your boyfriend to a three-day weekend getaway at a beach resort. This trip was meant to be relaxing, but tensions and jealousies rise as both Miles and Bucky fight for your attention. 

Coming Soon To A Tumblr Near You:

nothing :)

In order of most recent to least:

As You Wish 🌔

Summary: You and Bucky are forced to work on Halloween and even when cosplaying as lovers you only seem to bicker.

Dancing Spies 🌕

Summary: You and Bucky are undercover at a ball and he’s not ready to let go of you.

Honey 🌓

Summary: Bucky notices you've been acting really strange lately... like, really strange. And flirty? What happened to you, and are your eyes... glowing?

Solitary Confinement 🌑

Summary: Bucky finds you locked up. (Febuwhump Prompt Day 2)

The Swan and the Soldier 🌔

Summary: Bucky is signed up to act in the Nutcracker against his will. But it isn’t all bad. At least not after he meets the cute costume designer. 

I Like You (A Lot) 🌔

Summary: You can't help but notice the way Bucky becomes uncomfortable around you, and you help him find peace in your touch.

Who the Hell is Daryl? 🌓✨

Summary: Bucky is in love with you, and finally finds the courage to tell you. But what happens when it sounds like someone else is already in the picture? (Miscommunication!)

Pulse 🌕

Summary: Bucky can hear your heartbeat through the wall, and he can tell everything isn’t alright.

Bucky vs. Book 🌔✨

Summary: Bucky rushes to your aid when he finds out you’re upset. He’s never seen you this distraught before.

Stuck (2)gether 🌕

Summary: A continuation of Stuck Together, Bucky deals with the aftermath of now knowing what it’s like to be so close to you. He misses it. He’s scared of it. He needs it.

Stuck Together 🌕 + Part 2 is above!

Summary: Bug Boy and Big Man get into an argument. Luckily, you’re there to save the day! Until you find yourself in a sticky situation. Things get a little too close for comfort.

Give Me A Sign 🌑

Summary: Bucky asks the universe for a reason to live. The universe delivers you.

The Signal 🌓✨

Summary: You and Bucky get separated from the team after an unfortunate mishap, of which Bucky blames you. Except you’re not at fault! You thought… you aren’t too sure anymore.

Maced 🌕

Summary: You think someone’s following you and you mace them. Turns out it’s just Bucky. 

Thank you for being here, thank you for reading, thank you for responding. All my love, Cadence 💖

[dreamsinarcadia]

Mistletoe

In which Heungmin and his best friend find themselves under the mistletoe over the years (and he’s pretty much to blame for it)

pairing: sonny x bestfriend!reader

warning: fluff fluff fluff

Part 2 ➡️

8 years old

“Heungmin,” she ground out with barely concealed annoyance. “Give it back.”

The wishlist that had been oh so carefully curated was currently in the grubby hands of the bane of her existence - the neighborhood’s spawn of satan himself, Son Heungmin.

Okay, maybe that was a little unfair. But she was certain that the boy had made it his life’s purpose to grate her nerves from the moment they had met.

“I think the address is wrong,” he muttered, scanning the paper with narrowed eyes. “Doesn’t Santa live in the South Pole?”

“It’s the North Pole!” she snapped, reaching forward to try and snatch it from his grasp. The entirety of her morning had been spent scribbling furiously in the garden, ignoring her father’s witty comment about smoke practically pouring from her ears. There was no room for error - she would be competing with countless other children for a place in Santa’s list! This had to be perfect.

Of course, perfection was hard to achieve with Heungmin looming over like a storm cloud waiting to unleash a torrential downpour on her. Not to mention his cheeky smile almost sent her over the edge. Clearly he’d accomplished his task of annoying her for the day.

Ambling forward as smoothly as he could (a difficult task when wrapped in dozens of layers upon the insistence of his mother), he plopped down beside her and peered down at the list again.

“A book?” he balked. “Of all the things you could ask for, a book?” He’d grown to hate her newfound hobby of reading books. Ever since the new library had opened in their town, she’d been holed up between shelves of pristine books for hours on end. Heungmin wasn’t exactly fond of the new-found silence he'd become accustomed to; he always looked forward to her sarcastic commentary that always accompanied weekend night football. He missed having someone to stand in the unforgiving winter cold, clad in goalkeeper gloves (her mother’s oven mitts), and endure goal after goal as he practiced his penalty kicks and headers.

“Give it back!”

"No, I don’t think I will," he sang merrily, legs carrying him out of the porch and into the warmth of her home, dashing down the hallway up the staircase, narrowly missing a near collision with the family cat sprawled on one of the steps. He was much faster than she was and he knew it. He was faster than everyone in their grade, his height granting him an entirely unfair advantage over their peers.

"Heungmin, I’m telling your mother!" She warned as he skidded to a halt on the landing, arm practically stretched up to the heavens with her letter to Santa firmly grasped in his hand. With his other hand, he begun to rummage around in his pocket for something.

“Just give it back,” she whined pitifully, realising that her previous threats just fell on deaf ears. From beside him, she tried in vain to jump up and grab the letter from between his stupid fingers.

Grinning widely, Heungmin quickly pulled the letter away from her to hide it behind his back and replaced it with whatever he had managed to finally find in his pocket. “For the price of one kiss, you can have it back,” he offered with a cheeky smile, bringing a basil sprig between their heads.

She looked up at it, physically unable to hold back the eye roll. She’d seen plenty of adults on television sharing an intimate moment below a certain type of greenery during the holiday season. While it was a lovely tradition, it required a specific kind of a leathery-leaved plant. “That’s not even mistletoe.”

“You try finding mistletoe in Chuncheon,” he said with a shrug. “I had to make do with the next best thing.”

“Oh great, so you attacked my mother’s pot of basil leaves?”

“… please don’t tell her.”

Her brows arched in a look of defiance. “Try me.”

He wiggled the basil leaves. “Then say goodbye to your precious letter to Santa.”

Taking a step back, she cocked her head and peered up at the makeshift mistletoe in a moment of contemplation. Her options were limited, true, but it was hardly the end of the world. Just the thought of redoing the list brought her a bigger headache than Heungmin could ever induce.

And so, with tiny hands balled into fists, she took a decisive step forward and stood on her tiptoes to level their gaze.

Heungmin tried his best to mask his excitement, he really did, but nothing could have stopped the immediate bolt of lightning that struck his very being and coloured his cheeks and ears an adorable shade of pink when she yanked him forward to place a kiss on his cheek.

Taking advantage of his moment of disbelief, she reached behind him to snatch the letter from his grasp, call him an idiot and dash down the stairs with a speed that rivalled his own.

Heungmin, watching her disappear around the corner with a dopey little smile on his face, pressed the basil sprig close to his chest.

Christmas was fun.

•

Christmas fics in January? Why not? Truly a product of my own laziness. Part 2 awaits you 🥹

[belethlegwen]

MASTERLIST POST

[HEADER CREDIT TO: @chamomile-g-tea <3]

My name is Belle, I'm a Giantess-leaning G/t fan who writes G/t fiction and enjoys art, writings and getting to chat with people about G/t and other nerdy things. Most of my writing gets posted to AO3, but there will be scattered shorts and writings posted here among the usual mess of my personal blogging and reblogging.

LINK TO MY KO-FI: HERE

If you like what I do and want to toss some support my way, it's extremely appreciated!

WRITING:

The Stranding:

My largest work to date, it is active and currently still being updated.

Almost two years after a man named Henry suffers a shipwreck and is rescued by a woman named Melanie, the two left on a journey to try and return him home, only to suffer a shipwreck of their own. The good news? They made it; Henry is home and is among his own people again. The bad news? To him, and everyone else in his homeland, Melanie is over fifty feet tall.

An out-of-time, out-of-place situation, Melanie has to navigate being integrated into a small military force for a nation that seems to be in a tense, fracturing peace with it's nearest neighbour, and also just navigate a world that has never had to deal with anyone or anything like her before.

[I personally recommend reading until at least Chapter 12 - Nightmares before starting on The Rescue]

The Rescue:

The prequel-piece to The Stranding, and also currently still active and being updated.

Melanie travels to the beach after a storm, as she often does to find driftwood and debris that can be used for crafts to keep herself busy in her lonely life, and sees a ship in distress just off of the shore. Unable to believe what's happening, she is able to rescue a sailor from the nearly-doomed vessel and take him under her care.

She helps him adjust to life in her land, which is vastly different-- almost like a different time entirely-- from his own. The biggest obstacle in doing so, however, is that the man isn't even eight inches tall.

[I personally recommend reading The Stranding up until Chapter 12 - Nightmares before beginning this work, but I am also not your real Dad and can not control you.]

The Faerie Spell:

[Can also be found here on Tumblr with the help of this Chapter Directory]

A first-person-perspective written work following Daphne as she attempts to navigate a strange and upsetting curse where a Faerie has stolen parts of her essence so that the Fae can, whenever the mood seemingly strikes them, steal Daphne's height and attain a more human-like appearance to hide that they are a Faerie. While the spell is active, however, Daphne because 5.5 inches tall (give or take a few millimeters).

Can she, or her friends, really navigate this new part of her life and all the difficulties it brings? Or is this spell about to change everything to do with her life?

The Scars We Leave Behind: [written by @adjacentperception and myself]

What's left of a hero when everything is taken from him? What's left of a villain with no identity?

What's left of a man who has no choice but to save the symbol of a system he's fighting against?

Within a city constantly besieged by a super-power fueled war between Good vs Evil, a hero is captured by a powerful villain and their secret organization and forced to play part in a twisting and enigmatic plan; to tear down the systems in place that keep the League of Heroes in an ultimate seat of power to rival the government itself. But… is the system as good as it projects itself to be? Are the villains and their henchmen really as evil as the media says? Is it truly as simple as tearing it down, or does that simply open up space for a new, worse system to enter?

Is the harm we do when we believe we're helping mitigated merely by our wishes to be better? To create something more? To fix what we believe is broken?

Do we hold blame for creating the evil we think we're fighting against, regardless of our intentions?

This work features descriptions of violence, abuse, neglect, and uses adult language, as well as mentions of nudity and sexual topics.

ADDITIONAL LINKS:

ABOUT RECURSIVE FICS: Here

SHORTS AND BONUS SCENE Masterlist

FANART AND COMMISSIONS MasterPost

THE STRANDING CHARACTER DESCRIPTION/REFERENCE POST

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

[choicesholidays]

Spring Fling 2024

Welcome to the Choices Holidays Spring Prompt Event!!

Rules:

Use one of the prompts below in a story or create a piece of art based on one.

Tag @choicesholidays

Use hashtags #choicesholidays #springfling2024

In the header, tell us which prompts you're using and which fandom you're writing for.

Submit work before the Deadline: May 31st, 2024 11:59 p.m. CST

Note: Anyone is welcome to use the prompts, but only Choices works will be reblogged and added to the master list.

Prompts:

They had just settled down at the spring picnic in the town square when....

She'd spent the most beautiful spring day hiking when suddenly she froze on the trail…

All he'd planned was to dig out the plot of land behind his house for his garden, but…

They were halfway into their spring break road trip when…

They'd pooled all their fun money to rent the beach house only to discover…

She'd once looked forward to spring break, but now…

His mother had called him home, but…

They hid in the yard, waiting for…

The May Day spring festival had been nearly perfect until…

No one went there anymore, but we decided to…

The April Fool's prank had gone horribly awry....

It was the year that spring forgot.....

I blamed spring fever for the predicament I currently found myself in.....

Spring is a time of new beginnings, how appropriate....

It was supposed to be just a little bit of spring cleaning, but I was in for the shock of my life when I opened the.....

The spring break trip that changed my life.....

Oh, I haven't seen you since that awkward hookup last spring....

This is the worst/best St. Patrick's Day ever!

We're doing what for Earth Day? You can't be serious....

I just wanted some Easter eggs.....

[synkverv]

the color violet never seemed to glow (until i saw it in your eyes)

Chapter One: fly with me Art by: @ewanmitchellcrumbs Pairing: Alicent/Rhaenyra (Rhaenicent), Laenor/Joffrey Lonmouth (mentioned) Rating: mature Tags & Warnings: alternate universe - 1980s, fluff and smut, angst and humor, period-typical homophobia, body dysmorphia, declarations of love, drinking Word Count: 6,460 AO3: link

Summary: (King's Landing, Westeros, August 1986). Alicent was devastated when Rhaenyra first told her she was moving to the Vale to attend university. So to try and cheer her friend up, Rhaenyra promised to make this the best summer ever. She doted on Alicent, treating her to any and every activity that crossed her mind. But as the date of Rhaenyra’s departure approached, Alicent couldn't help but sink into a depression. She struggled to admit the thoughts that plagued her whole existence: she was in love with Rhaenyra. Perhaps on their final outing together, during all the shopping, eating, sunbathing, drinking, and dancing, she will be brave and say what's always been on her mind. But unbeknownst to her, Rhaenyra has the same idea.

Notes: this is my submission for @hotd-bigbang. and a special thank you to ewanmitchellcrumbs for the header, moodboard, dividers, and for organizing this event so wonderfully!! this was my first big bang and it won’t be my last. it’s been such a fantastic experience. thank you again ewanmitchellcrumbs and it’s been so great working with you!

anyway, thanks for reading! this was initially a one-shot but it grew too long for my liking so i’ve decided to split it up into two chapters (or perhaps more but don’t hold me to that!) chapter two will be posted at a later date, hopefully sooner rather than later.

    The Vale.  

   Once a place that rarely crossed her mind now burrows into her every waking thought.  She hates the Vale.  Rather, she hates what it will take from her.  Stealing away the most prized person in her life and keeping her behind its walls was a worthy enough reason to hate anything.  She thinks about the people there, and she hates them, too.  She hates all the new individuals who threaten to invade her friend's life.  She can’t help but think of those who will replace everyone she had here in King's Landing.  A new friend group, a new boy toy, and worst of all, a new best friend.  Everything Alicent knows and lives will be nothing but a distant memory to Rhaenyra.  Fragments of an old life.  Despite her moping, Alicent accepts nothing stays the same forever.  It’s life’s impossibility.  Change is inevitable.  But truthfully, what nineteen-year-old understands that?  It’s silly to blame a location for her distress, she knows, but Alicent needs something to take the brunt of her frustration.  It helps to focus her attention on the wrong thing, or so she believes it does.  She convinces herself it’s easier to despise a place that means little to her than to despise her friend's choices.  Or worse, to despise her friend herself. 

   She’s lying on her back atop her bed’s grey-green duvet.  Her ankles are crossed and her fingers are laced together resting limply on her stomach.  Her steady breathing conceals the torrent of thoughts racing behind her eyes.  The shades are drawn, keeping the otherwise cheerful room as dark as her mood.  

   Alicent grimaces.

   What kind of person would she be if she hated Rhaenyra for pursuing her dreams and goals in life?  As her best friend, she should support her in all her endeavors.  Even if it hurts.  Rhaenyra wants to attend the same university as her mother.  So, what?   Alicent understands the need to feel close again to one’s late mother if nothing else.  

   Alicent hadn’t seen her mother in four years before her sudden illness last year.  Her father had split up the family when he took up his current job working alongside Rhaenyra’s father in the capital.  At his insistence, Alicent and her brothers came to live in King’s Landing to study and make important connections to aid their careers.  Grayce, however, refused to move and remained in Oldtown with her brother-in-law, Hobert, and his sweet wife with whom she was close.  Otto and Viserys had been friends for longer than either were married but it still shocked the whole family when he chose Viserys over Grayce.  

   Alicent wishes she asked her mother why she stayed behind.  Four years is a long time to spend away from your husband and your children.  Why not come?  Father avoids the question when I ask , she thinks, I doubt I’ll ever know why now .  

   Yet though it seemed their marriage was strained for reasons unaddressed, Alicent watched her father become ever-dutiful and caring for his wife when she fell ill.  Alicent, her brothers, and her father flew back to Oldtown the second they found out Grayce was sick.  They lived at the hospital and Hobert’s home for nearly a full year.  Grayce’s funeral was attended by hundreds of mourners from both the Hightower and Redwyne families.  Alicent and her siblings stayed under their uncle’s roof for another week after Grayce’s passing before flying home to King’s Landing.  It still surprises Alicent that they lasted that long.  Otto had grown noticeably aimless and restless following the funeral, annoying his brother, his sister-in-law, his nieces and nephews, everyone.  Gwayne later told her he suspected that their father disliked being around the family without being the center of attention, but Alicent, at the time, just believed he struggled to express his grief properly.  Losing a mother was hard enough, she couldn’t imagine losing a life partner, the second half of one’s being.

   " Allie, door! " her brother calls from downstairs.  

   She glances at the alarm clock to her right on her bedside table.  Half nine , it reads.  She’s late, as usual .  But Alicent doesn’t care.  She never does.  Not on the first day of summer or today, the last.  Rhaenyra promised to make this the best summer ever, and so far, it had been just that.  Yet the thought of it ending lingered in the back of Alicent's mind the whole time, spoiling even the best moments.  She’ll never let Nyra know though.  She knows her friend feels guilty enough about moving away and she doesn’t want to make it worse on either of them.  They avoid the subject. 

   "Be down in a second!" she shouts.  She hears her brother respond but can’t make out what he said.  Not that it matters.  Gwayne makes snide comments all the time, and they’re so often meaningless.  She checks herself out in the mirror on the back of her door, never one to leave the house unmade or underdressed.  She brushes the wrinkles out of her light jean shorts and straightens her loose, sleeveless white top.  Her crimped auburn hair is full and teased out.  It’s almost hard to the touch from the layers and layers of hairspray, just the way she likes it.  She grabs a couple of makeup products from her organized desktop and returns to the mirror, leaning almost close enough to brush her nose against it.  She quickly slathers her favorite shade of pink lipstick over her lips.  Next, she applies a modest amount of black mascara to her lashes, gently accentuating their natural length.  Father hates if I wear too much makeup… or any , she thinks as she stares at her reflection.  At least he’s not here to see it .  She looks down at her hands and frowns.  The skin around her fingers is red and angry, sporting more than a few scabs.  She used to wear nail polish to distract the eye but she couldn’t keep from picking at the pastel colors.  She grew tired of reapplying the polish day after day, so she stopped.  Her picking has never been worse, never been so obvious.  She hopes Rhaenyra doesn’t mention it.  

   Alicent snatches her crossbody purse from the hook by her door and all but runs downstairs.  She expects to find her friend inside by the backdoor, like usual, but when she gets there, nobody is there.  Garage .  Rhaenyra never knocks at the front door, not since it got Alicent in trouble for ‘bothering’ her father.  Father hates it when Rhaenyra stops by unannounced, or even when it’s planned.  Despite Rhaenyra’s father being his best, if not only friend, Otto disliked her.  It seems she was ever the thorn in his side, much to the confusion of both girls.  He refused to elaborate on his distaste for Rhaenyra no matter how often Alicent would ask.  So, the two girls agreed to keep their rendezvous and plans hidden from Otto.  Alicent only ever tells her Gwayne, the only brother who still lives with her, where she is going and who she is going with (it’s always Rhaenyra).  

   Alicent turns from the back door and crosses the house to the kitchen.  She finds Gwayne sitting at the kitchen island, a math textbook and notebook splayed open before him.  Across the room is the door leading to the garage, cracked open just a hair.

   Without looking up, he says, "Father won't be home until late again.  Make sure you're back before then ‘cause I can’t cover for you."  She nods, knowing Gwayne has plans to see his girlfriend that night.  Alicent turns to leave but Gwayne speaks up again.  "Hey."  She looks back at him, her hand on the garage door handle.

   "Yeah?"

   "Have fun."

   "Thanks," Alicent says, flashing a soft grin.  “You, too.”  She pushes the door aside and sees Rhaenyra leaning casually against her bike, parked inside the open garage.  With her back to Alicent, she doesn’t immediately acknowledge her presence.  Her friend’s eyes are locked on the empty driveway and road.  Alicent smiles as she regards Rhaenyra.  Ever the rebel, she wears a bulky leather jacket over an all too familiar, clearly favored purple tube top romper.  Her long silver-gold hair runs down her jacket like a calm waterfall.  She cradles a black helmet under her left arm and rests her dominant hand on top of a secondary helmet sitting on the motorcycle’s seat. 

   “Does it work now?” Alicent asks as she closes the door behind her, breaking the silence and announcing herself.  Rhaenyra whips around, grinning. 

   "Of course.  I made it here didn’t I?” 

   “You made it all the way to Harwin’s last time, too.”  Rhaenyra flushed, playfully rolling her eyes.

   “Daemon helped me fix it up after it broke down.  It's not gonna fall apart again."  She glanced at the yellow motorcycle and made a face.  "Probably.  Anyway, let's go."  She jumps away from her bike, dropping the helmet beside the other, and takes Alicent’s hands in her own.  "Fly with me," she says, a fox-like smirk pulling at the left corner of her mouth.  Mischief flickers in her violet eyes.  

   "Why is it such a secret this time, Rhaenyra?  What have you planned?"  

   "And spoil everything?  You trust me, right?"

   "Yes, of course I do..."

   "So, hop on."  Rhaenyra pulls Alicent to the motorcycle and drops her hands.  She swings a leg over the seat and plops down onto the fabric seat.  She yanks one of the helmets down over her head and holds out the second for Alicent.  Alicent takes the helmet, puts it on, and sits behind Rhaenyra.  The seat isn’t the largest, but neither of the girls is particularly big.  They fit, but just barely.  Alicent clasps her hands together around her friend’s waist as Rhaenyra fires up the engine.  She held onto Rhaenyra a little tighter than was necessary, but Rhaenyra didn’t complain.  Alicent hates motorcycles, especially this beat-up old thing, but Rhaenyra was proud of her tinkering skills.  So, she ignores her fears.  If it makes Nyra happy, it makes her happy ( it gives her an excuse to hold on to Rhaenyra ).

   Rhaenyra speeds out of the garage and barrels down Alicent's neighborhood street.  Anxious, Alicent leans her body against Nyra for support.  She can’t help but close her eyes as they drive through the claustrophobic streets of King's Landing.  She feels the wind tugging at her hair, the red mess flying behind her like a flag.  Her hairspray fights back as best it can, but she knows the style is ruined.  Oh, well .  It isn’t something she didn’t anticipate.  Rhaenyra’s antics have ruined more than a few hairdos and outfits.  What’s one more?   

   Alicent feels Rhaenyra steering them further and further south, and then the realization comes to her.  She knows exactly where they are going even without looking.  She had lived here long enough.  If she wasn't so terrified, she would smile.  

    A day at the beach, so it is , she thinks when they finally stop.  Rhaenyra had parked along a residential street behind the Conqueror's Boardwalk, sandwiching them in between a gold sedan and a black SUV.  The girls dismount and Alicent looks around at the buildings lining the boardwalk.  She spies countless other people walking about in their swimsuits, coverups, and regular day clothes.  It’s a superbly pleasant day to Alicent.  There isn’t a cloud in the sky but a cool ocean breeze offers some relief from the summer heat.    

   “The beach then?” Alicent asks, giggling softly.  “Why was this a secret?”

   “It’s not just the beach.”

   “What else?” 

   “You’ll see,” Rhaenyra says, flashing a white grin.  “Let’s go!”  And without another word, she dashes off towards the boardwalk.  

   “Wait, Nyra!” Alicent calls after her, jogging after her as quickly as she can.

   “Come on!  Hurry up!”  

   “I’m trying!”  She struggles to keep up since running isn’t her strong suit.  Westerosi people don’t exercise as much as they should.  When she catches up, she finds Rhaenyra waiting outside a cute shop on the boardwalk.  Just Seahorsing Around , reads the sign above the building.  Seahorse decals cover the windows, accompanying numerous more seahorse puns.  She can’t help but smile at the ridiculous place.  From the exterior, she isn’t sure what they sell inside.  Aside from jokes, anyway.  Her friend, however, seems familiar with the shop.  Just as Alicent opens her mouth to ask, Rhaenyra takes Alicent by the wrist and guides her inside the store.

   Though a modest building size, she can’t say the owners don’t utilize the space efficiently.  She eyes the circular racks at the front stuffed with hanging bathing suits of all shapes, sizes, and colors.  Flip-flops, beach bags, coolers, towels, sunscreen lotion, umbrellas, volleyballs, and sandcastle toys for little ones occupy the numerous free-standing shelves and display tables that dot the floor.  By the register, there are various snacks like bagged chips, soda, fruity hard candy, and individually wrapped Twinkies for customers.  She notes that they don’t sell anything that can significantly melt in the summer heat like chocolates and cold treats.  It was anything and everything a beachgoer could possibly want, and Alicent was almost awestruck.   

   “We’ll obviously need to change,” Rhaenyra says, still pulling Alicent along as if worrying she might get lost in the store.  “Unless you prefer your underwear.”  She winks with an open smile.  

   “No!” Alicent says.  “How absurd!”  She giggles as she pictures herself wading in the ocean water in her bra and panties.  “You know, I have a perfectly good bathing suit at home I could have brought?”  

   “That old blue and cream thing?  Nah, you desperately need something new.  Something from this decade.”  Rhaenyra drops Alicent’s arm and stops at a large rack packed with countless hanging suits, one and two-piece alike.

   “It’s only two years old,” Alicent says.

   “Whatever.  It screams Yucksville ‘75, dude.  Now,” Rhaenyra says as she begins fingering through the available options, “treat yourself to 1986.  See, now these are bitchin’.”  She pulls out two hangers and grins.  “Here, hold these a sec’,” she says, shoving the swimsuits at Alicent.  She returns her attention to the rack and grabs a few more choices.  Rhaenyra looks around the store and says, “Ah!” when she spots a changing area at the back.  “I’m gonna try these on real quick.”  Alicent hands back the suits and watches her practically skip into one of the changing room stalls.  

   She laughs to herself and begins to skim through the rack herself.  She wants something that isn’t too revealing nor too prudish like her old blue one-piece.  Yet, she has trouble finding the one .  She isn’t as confident in her body as Rhaenyra is with her perfect figure and curves in all the right places.  Alicent is stick-thin by comparison.  She worries that her bones are too visible, that her veins show through her skin too much, that she’s too tall, and other such silly things.  Still, she wants to be confident in front of her friend.  Even if she has to pretend.  She shakes her head.  She’s supposed to enjoy this day, the last day she’ll have with Rhaenyra, and she can’t let body image issues take any enjoyment away from her.  

   Alicent picks out three different swimsuits, three she would never normally wear.  She thinks they would look stunning on Rhaenyra, so why not on her, too?  

   “So, what do you think?”  Alicent didn’t hear Rhaenyra behind her until she spoke.  She turns around to see Rhaenyra posing in one of the suits, barefoot.  She is holding one hand on her hip while the other frames one side of her round face.  Her grin is infectious as she shows off a deep red bikini with high-cut bottoms and a twisted bandeau top.  Of course, that’s what she picked .  

   “I think it’s very you.”  Rhaenyra’s brows shoot up and her grin widens.

   “Good, ‘cause this is what I liked best.”  Rhaenyra’s eyes drift to the swimsuits Alicent had draped over one arm.  “Those look cute,” she says, that mischievous sparkle returning to her eyes.  Before she says anything, Rhaenyra once more attaches herself to Alicent.  Still grinning, she pulls them over to the changing rooms.  Rhaenyra opens a stall and squeezes the both of them inside, latching the thin wooden door behind her.  Alicent doesn’t protest, at least, not much.  

   “Won’t we get in trouble?” Alicent whispers.

   “For what?  We’re not doing anything.  Mothers take their little kiddos in with them all the time, what’s the harm?”  She thinks about mentioning that they are two fully grown girls, not a mother-and-daughter duo, but she gives up.  Although Alicent trembles at the mere thought of getting in trouble with authority, Rhaenyra has an oddly calming effect on her.  If she knows about that power, Alicent thinks she could encourage her to do anything she wants.  Hmph, perhaps she already does , she thinks, looking at her friend in the stall with her.  She’s a terrible influence but I wouldn’t change a thing .

   “Fine, I hope you’re right.”  She’ll keep her voice down all the same.  Alicent slings the swimsuits over the top of the door as there are no hooks or anywhere to sit in the tiny stall.  

   Despite her personal issues with her body, she never is shy to change in front of Rhaenyra.  Perhaps she’s a little coy, but Nyra doesn’t have anything different… down there .  She’s seen her friend naked more times than she can count, and vice versa.  Flesh is flesh.  Alicent shrugs off her white blouse, kicks off her black flats, and steps out of her jeans.  She throws the clothes over the door before unclasping her bra and pulling down her panties.  Rhaenyra offers to hold them instead of adding them to the crowd of clothing.  Alicent thanks her, handing them over, and takes one of the suits down to try on.  

   She looks at herself in the mirror hanging on the back wall and huffs.  It’s not to her liking.  Rhaenyra agrees, so Alicent tries the second one on.  She likes it better, but the bottom sags and makes her butt look strange.  Not an ideal look.  She grabs the third which, out of the three, is far superior.  The flounced top and skirted bottom suit her more girlish style while highlighting her bosom and ass.  She loves the rich green shade against her pale skin.  She shakes her head, raking her fingers through her hair to bring it all forward over her shoulders.  Rhaenyra peers into the mirror from behind Alicent, smirking.  

   “I have an idea,” she says.  “Switch tops with me.”

   “Why?”

   “We’ll match.  Or we’ll mismatch together.  C’mon, please?”  Rhaenyra pouts, batting her long white lashes at Alicent.  As always, she can’t seem to say no.  Alicent signs and pulls off her top, Rhaenyra doing the same.  They swap and admire themselves in the mirror, Rhaenyra wearing green up top and red on the bottom and Alicent the reverse.  Rhaenyra shakes her breasts back and forth, making the flounced top flutter.  Alicent feels her cheeks warming and averts her eyes to her own chest.  The red top flatters her figure as well as the other, but the cut wasn’t something she would choose herself.  The top threatens to slip down to her waist any minute.  At least, that’s how it feels.  It isn’t as tight and secure as the tops she typically wears.  Father would despise me in this , she thinks.  And suddenly a thought comes to her.  She wonders if it’s always been her father’s voice in her head that says unflattering and negative things about her body.  Bravely, she pushes the negativity aside.  Father would never allow me to wear this .  But he isn’t here .  She looks at her pink lips and black eyelashes, and a soft smile comes to her mouth.  What harm is one more little secret?   She sighs, pulling the top up as far as she can without showing the underside of her breasts.  But she’ll make do if it makes her friend happy.  And she does seem so happy.  

   They gather up the rejected suits and their clothes then exit the changing room in their new swimsuits.  Alicent tries her best to look inconspicuous while Rhaenyra does not care either way.  Both are barefoot as they carry their shoes in one hand with their outfits resting over an arm. 

   “We just need a few more things,” Rhaenyra says, “then we can properly enjoy ourselves.”  I’m already enjoying myself plenty , Alicent thinks, just being with you .  She nods and follows as Rhaenyra approaches a long shelving unit that almost runs the whole length of the store.  They each pick out a cheap towel and a pair of flip-flops before heading to the front where they browse a rack of sunglasses.  Rhaenyra chooses a pair of traditional black aviators but Alicent picks a gold-framed pair with thin, pink rectangle lenses.  They aren’t ideal for fighting off the sunlight, however, they are simply too cute to resist.   

   “Any snacks?” Rhaenyra says as they near the cashier’s counter.  Alicent glances at the options again and shakes her head.  

   “I should limit my bad habits,” she answers, eyeing the chips and soda.  They each place their towels, flip-flops, and glasses on the counter.  The cashier welcomes them and begins calculating their items on the cash register.  They take turns showing the tags on their swimwear for him to total as well.  He’s a tall boy around their age, in his mid-teens Alicent guesses.  He has silver dreadlocks that dust the shoulders of his teal t-shirt and an otherwise dark complexion.  He smells both spicy and sweet, like gardenias or freshly cut grass.  He’s nothing like the average beach bum, looking out of place and uncomfortable behind the store’s counter.  She senses a longing from him.  He’s familiar to her but she can’t place where they might have met before.  School, probably.  Her eyes lock on the lanyard around his neck clasping a white name card that reads Laenor .  Hm .

   “Y’know, if you’re hungry, there’s an ice cream shop a little way down the boardwalk,” Laenor suggests. His voice is calm and quiet; Alicent has to stain her ears just to hear him.  “Just head towards the pier and you’ll see it on the way.  Wylde Flavors.  They specialize in all sorts of unique tastes… if you’re interested in that kinda thing.”  The girls shoot each other a look before Rhaenyra tells him that sounds like a fine idea.  She thanks him and flashes a tight smile.  “Need a bag?”  Rhaenyra nods her head, avoiding eye contact as she takes a tote bag from Laenor.  He smiles awkwardly in return as she packs their towels, her romper, jacket, and shoes inside.  Alicent shoves her own clothes in the bag and puts on her pair of flip-flops.  Fiddling with her sunglasses, she looks back and forth between the other two, her brows furrowing.  What’s their damage?   

   “So,” Rhaenyra says after clearing her throat, “how’s Laena doing?”

   “Oh, she’s fine, yeah.  Fine, she’s good.  She’s been, uh, overseas all summer but she calls me every night.”

   “Yeah?  What’s she doing over…?”

   “Um, in Pentos, yeah.  It’s some horse racing thing.  She competes now.  Her mare is this beast of a thing.  Scares Papa but you know how he dotes on her.”  Rhaenyra nods.

   “I remember her saying something about wanting to own a horse a few times,” Rhaenyra says with a genuine smile.  “Glad she’s doing that for herself.”

   “Yeah, yeah, we’re all very proud of her.”

   “I expect she’ll be bringing the gold home.”

   “Without a doubt, yeah.  She’d spend all day every day on that horse if she could.”

   “When does she come back home?”

   “Oh, uh, two weeks from Thursday?”

   “Nice.  Well, give my love to her and hope you’re doing good, too.”

   “I am, yeah, thanks.”

   “Good!  Good.  See you ‘round then.”  Rhaenyra throws the tote back over a shoulder, slides on her flip-flops and glasses, and takes Alicent by the arm.  Laenor waves goodbye to Alicent as Rhaenyra all but drags her outside.  All she can do is offer a confused expression in return before.  

   Sunlight splashes off Rhaenyra’s pale skin as they stand on the busy boardwalk, half-blinding Alicent.  She breaks away from her friend’s grasp with a jerk of her arm.  Rhaenyra turns back and Alicent says with a short laugh,    

   “What the hell was all that?”  She poses the question in a friendly way but doesn’t hide her bewilderment from the odd interaction.  She had never seen such an awkward, stiff conversation from Rhaenyra before.  

   “We… dated for a couple of months,” Rhaenyra admits.  “But it wasn’t a serious thing.”  

   “What, when was this?”  Rhaenyra tells me everything .  Why would she keep him a secret?  

   “While you were back in Oldtown.”  Oh .  Alicent’s expression sours.  Mama .  She feels a knot forming in her stomach, weighing her down as her thoughts put words in Rhaenyra’s mouth.  She wants to puke.    

   “Why didn’t you mention it when I came back?  Boyfriends are usually worth mentioning,” she says.  The friendliness is notably gone from her tone now.  

   “I don’t know… Slipped my mind?”  Alicent gives her a disbelieving expression, tilting her head.  Rhaenyra sighs.  “He’s a nice boy and we were hanging out a lot anyway; his dad is friends with mine, yeah?  I thought there was a spark, but… we weren’t the fit I thought we were.”  

   “That’s it?”  It can’t be.  A flurry of images crosses her mind and she shivers with disgust.  She pictures Laenor’s soft hands all over Rhaenyra, and hers on him.  Their lips touching, her head resting on his chest.  I can’t stand to think of you in the arms of anyone else.  To think their fingers brushed against your flawless skin and got tangled in your white hair, it’s torture.  Boys always lick their lips like hungry beasts when they look at you.  But you’re more than a lamb to the slaughter to me.  I wish you’d take me, feed me, eat me .  Rhaenyra looks ashamed, embarrassed, and a different thought grows in Alicent’s mind.  Did he hurt her?   But before she could ponder it anymore, Rhaenyra speaks up.

   “He’s… a queer, all right?  I realized maybe two months in that he was in love with his ‘best friend’ and not me.  I wasn’t going to be his beard.  It wasn’t fair to me and it’s not fair to him.”

   “I see,” Alicent says, relief washing over her in an instant.  “That was probably the best thing.”  

   “Yeah,” Rhaenyra says.  “Don’t, like, tell people.  He really is a nice boy and I’m not sure he’s… comfortable with himself yet.  It’s not exactly cool to be like that, y’know?”  Yeah, I know .  

   “My lips are sealed.”  Alicent pinches two fingers together and drags them across her lips.  Changing the topic, she says, “So how about that ice cream place?”  Rhaenyra brightens in an instant.

   “It’s a brilliant idea for such a hot day!  Come.”  And with that, Rhaenyra has her hand around Alicent’s wrist again and pulls her along.  There’s something desperate in the way Rhaenyra clings to Alicent. 

   Laenor had been right, the ice cream shop wasn’t terribly far away.  But although Alicent expected to stop in a similar-sized building to Just Seahorsing Around, they instead find themselves at a small stand on the boardwalk.  An older woman greets them, telling them to take their time deciding what they want.  The girls thank her.  Alicent squints at the stand’s menu, frowning as she reads through the ‘unique’ options.  Peanut butter and chocolate chip?  Mint pistachio?  Cookies and cream and strawberry?  Lazy creativity, she thinks.  She glances at Rhaenyra who seems more delighted with the choices.  She rolls her eyes, smiling.  At least there are still normal flavors for me.  

   After a few minutes, Alicent orders a medium cup of regular mint chocolate chip.  She thanks the woman again when she is handed the food and a plastic spoon.  Rhaenyra hums, still eyeing the menu as Alicent takes a small bite.  It’s frigid!   She nearly spits her bite out, worrying it will aggravate her sensitive molar.  She holds the bite on her tongue, letting it melt and run down her throat.  I’ll let it warm a little before I have another bite, she thinks.

   “I’ll have, uh, a peanut butter— wait, no.  How about a… Actually, just a double scoop of the cookie dough.  In a waffle cone, please,” Rhaenyra says.

   “Sure thing, kiddo,” the woman replies.  She passes the cone to Rhaenyra and plops two generous scoops of ice cream on top.  They pay separately and walk further down the boardwalk.  Their chatter is nothing special.  

Did you hear the Triarchy’s new song?  

Yeah!  It was on the radio last night.  Even Gwayne said he liked it.  

It was bitchin’.  I wish Whyte Wyrm would come around, I’d kill to see ‘em live.

Maybe I’ll visit and take you to the concert when they come to the Vale.

I’d love that.  

   As they talk, Rhaenyra begins to scout out an area on the beach for them to set up.  Their arms are interlocked, the two girls now walking side-by-side without care in the world.  All the morose thoughts, all the negativity, had vanished.  She’s in a true state of bliss… until she hears it.  Alicent’s chest tightens as a wolf whistle pierces through the air behind them.  She wishes she could drop her food and cover herself up.  She wants to run away and hide from predatory eyes.  She never shows so much of her body, she knows it was a mistake.  

   As if sensing Alicent’s distress, or acting out of her own fury, Rhaenyra whips around to face the whistler.

   “Hey!” Nyra shouts.  Alicent musters up the courage to look back, too.  She’s shocked to see two boys significantly younger than herself perched on the wooden rail of the boardwalk.  Their backs are to the beach, feet swinging below them.  They are an odd couple, to be sure.  She first eyes the one with dark, greased-back hair and a yellow button-down shirt.  He is a large person, comically so compared to his friend.  His friend, the closer of the two and the whistler if his smirk was any giveaway, is easily a third of his weight.  He had sandy hair that was in desperate need of trimming as the bangs were more like curtains for his eyes.  Neither looks old enough to be in high school, but people seem to retain their youth longer nowadays.  Gwayne is almost seventeen, she thinks, and he still has baby fat in his cheeks.  Regardless of their age, they’re too young to be acting like creepy old men.  

   Rhaenyra smirks at Alicent, mischief sparkling in her eyes yet again, and chucks her ice cream cone at the closest boy.  It hits him square in the face, covering his face, hair, and the collar of his tee.  Ice cream drips from his bangs onto his pants and shoes.  He blinks through the food before wiping the rest out of his eyes.  Alicent’s mouth drops open as the second boy guffaws, slapping his friend’s back.  The first boy, his clothes now saturated in Rhaenyra’s frozen treat, growls at the other.  He lunges for the dark-haired boy, tackling him to the ground.  Alicent watches as he drives his fists into his gut over and over again.  Left, right .  Left, right .  Left, right .  The boy on the ground tries his best to block the hits with his arms, grunting as he fights off his small attacker.  She can’t help but compare them to a pissed-off Chihuahua on top of an adult Pittie.

   “Willie, knock it off!  Willie!  Stop!” the bigger boy says between punches.

   “Don’t call me Willie, Jerry !”

   “Fuck you!  You know that’s my dog’s name!”  

   “Aw, named after the dog, boo hoo hoo.”

    Rhaenyra cackles, invariably proud of the chaos she causes.  She takes Alicent’s wrist and draws her away from the ridiculous scene.  They jump off the boardwalk, landing on the sand of the crowded beach.  Rhaenyra doesn’t let go until they find a spot far enough away that neither girl can still see the boys.

   Giggling, Alicent says, “I can’t believe you did that!”

   “Can’t you?”  Her smile falters a bit, seeing a strange glint in Rhaenyra’s violet eyes.  She pushes the subconscious question aside and laughs again.

   “Of course.  It would be unlike you not to cause a mess.”  The strangeness vanishes from her friend’s features as she laughs.  “But now you’ve wasted your ice cream.”

   “It’s all right,” Rhaenyra says, but Alicent knows Rhaenyra wanted the food more than she did.

   “Here.”  Alicent holds out her cup.  “I’ve got more than I can eat.”  Rhaenyra grabs the spoon and takes a modest bite. “Have more than that,” Alicent says with a small laugh.  They take turns with the spoon, Alicent eating much less than her friend.  Before long the girls empty the paper cup, both satisfied.  Alicent tosses the trash in a nearby garbage can like she had seen the guys at high school practice do a thousand times before.  Rhaenyra holds up ten fingers. 

   “A perfect score!” she says.

   “You’re not playing favorites, are you?” Alicent asks with a smug grin.

   “Absolutely not.  I can’t help that the cutest player is also the best.”  Another smile.  Rhaenyra suggests they find a spot on the beach to sunbathe for a while.  As they start scouting, Alicent stops.  

   “Shit.”

   “What?”

   “We forgot to buy sunscreen.  I’ll run back —”

   “Nah, we don’t need it.”   

   “You sure?”

   “Fire cannot kill a dragon.”  Rhaenyra winks.  But I’m not a dragon, Alicent thinks.  Rhaenyra touches her arm, turns, and takes off further down the beach.  Sand kicks up behind her feet like fireworks.  “C’mon!” she calls back.  Alicent watches the sunlight bounce off Rhaenyra’s blonde hair as it dances after her in the wind.  Such impossible beauty.   Her hair must be spun from a spool of silver-gold thread.  Alicent shakes herself out of her daze and follows after Rhaenyra.  When she finally stops running, Alicent realizes how isolated they are.  She can’t see anybody else around, just the sand and the splashing waves.  It’s their private piece of land, for all intents and purposes.  She smiles.  

   “Here?” Rhaenyra asks.

   “Sure, why not?”  It’ll be nice to have the privacy , she thinks.  Rhaenyra drops the tote bag down on the ground and pulls out their towels.  Alicent takes her black and gold striped towel and lays it down over the hot sand.  Rhaenyra does the same, setting hers hardly an inch from Alicent’s.  Sitting down on the towel, she pops off her flip-flops and sets them next to her in the sand.  Both girls lie down on their backs, adjusting to achieve maximum comfort.  Alicent stretches her arms over her head, resting one arm on her forehead and the other on the towel.  She crosses one ankle over the other and steals a quick glance at Rhaenyra.  Her arms are lying still by her sides and her legs are positioned like thin, white mountains, knees to the sky.  Alicent closes her eyes, focusing on her breathing.  If she’s lucky, she’ll get a little nap.   

   She isn’t sure how much time has passed when Rhaenyra’s voice startles her awake.  

   “This is really pleasant,” Rhaenyra says with a sigh.  “We needed this.  It’s not too long now before I leave.”  Alicent’s eyes crack open and she moves her arms down beside her.

   “Do we have to think about you leaving?” she asks, her voice low.  My whole world will change when I can’t see you every day.

   “You’re right, it’s not a happy subject.”  Rhaenyra turns her head to look at Alicent.  “Hey, I’m sorry I brought it up.”  She goes quiet but only for a second.  “Want me to make it up to you?”

   “Is that not what today is?”  Rhaenyra smiles.

   “Partly,” she says as she rolls onto her side, propping her head up with an arm.  

   “Oh?  How else will you make it up to me?” Alicent asks, smirking.  

   “Like… this …”  Alicent feels Rhaenyra’s hand sneak across her bare stomach and slip under the hem of her swim bottoms.  She freezes and so does Nyra’s hand.  The two girls make eye contact, and a silent agreement is made.  Is this real? Alicent thinks as Rhaenyra’s middle finger glides over her soft, dry clit.  It rubs back and forth, massaging gently.  Alicent’s breathing starts to deepen and she speads her legs.  She watches her breasts rise and fall as Rhaenyra’s movements grow in intensity.  

   “I love a shaved pussy,” Rhaenyra says under her breath.  Her thumb rubs against the hairless mons venus as her index and middle finger continue to work Alicent’s swollen clit.  Moisture spreads over her lips and spills down her cheeks, collecting at the bottom of her swimsuit.  Never had she been so thankful for dark clothes before.  She can feel the burning pressure building inside of her, the heat promising an explosive orgasm.  Her right leg quivers and she rolls her hips as Rhaenyra plays her like an instrument.  She hears the panting and the moans coming from her own mouth.  Rhaenyra kisses her flat stomach and she cums.  

   If she could think coherently, she might have been embarrassed she came so quickly.  She might have worried someone might see them.  But she can’t think straight, not when it started and certainly not now.  Her head is empty as her body buzzes with pleasure.  Rhaenyra leaves another kiss on her stomach and pulls her hand out of Alicent’s swimsuit.  Nyra smiles, staring up at Alicent, and sucks on her fingers.  

   “Delicious,” she says.  Both giggle softly.  Alicent turns on her side to face Rhaenyra.  They stay like that for a time, Alicent isn’t sure how long, just looking at each other.  Rhaenyra’s violet eyes seem to glow, saying everything her mouth isn’t.  But what was the ultimate experience, the very thing Alicent secretly dreamed about every night, makes their situation that much harder.  Rhaenyra will leave for the Vale and leave Alicent behind.  She’ll cry and pray to see her at every possible opportunity.  Yet, it can’t soften the sting of separation.  

   Rhaenyra’s eyebrows press together.  “Hey,” she says.  “I hate to see you in this mood.  Why not liven up and party?  Just the two of us, right here.”

   “Okay,” Alicent agrees, smiling.  As long as she’s here, she knows Rhaenyra will care for her.  She has to treasure and make the most of the limited time they have left.  

   “I’m gonna get us some booze.”  Alicent nods and Rhaenyra takes off towards the boardwalk.  She lies back down on her towel, closes her eyes, and waits.

[eilaafterhours]

Different Shades: Garnet [Noctis Lucis Caelum]

Content: Smut, Consummation, Breeding Kink, She/Her, FMAB, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Body Worship, Soft

Pronouns: She/Her

Original: Shades of Red: Garnet

Header: @/boosify

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don't forget to like and reblog!

Remember: I’ll block you if I catch your ageless or under age (not 18+) ass in my activity :)

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

A few months ago, if some had pulled you aside, spoken low behind a raised hand and told you:

“Prince Noctis will be proposing to you soon!” 

You would have laughed them off and would possibly still be laughing to this day.

Despite that not happening though…

You now held the title of Princess, having gone through a hurricane of preparation leading up to today. 

Your wedding

or rather 

The Consummation.

You were assured that this was not to secure an heir. 

Just an old tradition that must be upheld. 

That didn’t make you any less nervous

or horny. 

You’d caught his sly glances. It was clear that he was attracted to you.

But sometimes those crimson hungry looks would become something deeper.

A Garnet Devour. 

Finally steeling your nerves enough, you gave yourself one final check in the mirror before hesitantly opening the bathroom door. 

The room that had been prepared for the two of you had only been finished today, giving you no time to admire it before you were shoved into your bathroom, Noctis being ushered in the one adjacent. 

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his bare back facing you, black silk pants hung low.

“You took your sweet time.” 

You startled. His voice had changed. Deeper, commanding, like he was holding something back.

Then your gaze met his.

Garnet.

Full of desire. For you.

As if in a trance, you made your way to him. Nervousness quickly being overshadowed by the dampening need between your thighs. 

Once you were in reach, he extended a hand. Pulling you to sit on his lap, hands immediately finding purchase on your hips. 

Instead of warming you up with pretty words and soft kisses, he instead slipped your robe from your shoulders revealing your breast to the cold air, nipples hardening at the sudden change in temperature.  

He didn’t waste time, mouth latching onto the right bud while his other hand fussed with the other breast.

Your breath hitched. “N—Noctis…” 

His eyes flicked up, red peaking between a current of black.  

You keened, another wave of wanting coursing through you.

“Ah,” He hummed. “I guess we’re skipping this part of foreplay.” You barely heard him in your drunken haze. 

You quickly were snapped out of that though because he roughly shifted your positions. You laid flat on your back now fully exposed while he kicked his pants off.  

Your cheeks flushed at what lay between his legs.

He was unsurprisingly perfectly endowed.

“I can’t blame you for staring.” He chuckled, then glanced at your thighs.

You shyly pulled them shut. 

He chuckled again, telling you to wait a moment, then disappeared into the bathroom. 

You simply laid there in a daze.

But only for a moment because he was already back, lifting your bottom and placing something—a towel under you. 

“Rather not have to call someone in to change the sheets.” He said as those garnet eyes took in every inch of your flushed form, a lot of that attention slick to the wet that coated your inner thighs. 

“Fuck it.” Throwing whatever caution to the wind, he lifted your legs up again 

this time pushing them closer to you and spreading your legs. 

He wasted no time, lips immediately claiming your clit. You threw your head back, biting your lip. Hard. 

He pulled back, “I want to hear you. All of it.” then went back in, dipping his tongue into your pussy then drawing a long stripe back up to your clit. 

That pulled the sound out of you, hands flying into his hair. You swear you felt him smirk. 

He was relentless, building your high faster than you could chase it. At some point, you started rocking your hips in time with his mouth, needing more friction. 

“Ah-aha! I’m—” Right as you were warning him, he plunged two fingers into your very wet pussy, curling them up to push against that spongy part that always made you—

“Fu-ah-ck!” 

Astrals. This was your first time together, and it was like he had already known your body because he did not shy away when you squirted, but instead pushed in deeper, moaning loudly.

You let him indulge until you became too sensitive. “Noctis…” You said gently, sighing when he pulled back. 

And somehow, after an orgasm like that, he made you even more flushed.

His own face was flush, chin glistening, eyes blown and ready for more. 

He wiped his chin, then crawled toward you. He grabbed your face 

and let you have a taste of yourself. 

You had to be light-headed at this point because it tasted sweeter than dessert you’ve had.

“You ready?” He asks, grabbing your hands that had grabbed his face. 

Your own eyes watched as his garnet ones softened, your answer perfectly clear. “Yes.” 

He lined himself up, sliding easily into your sopping wet cunt, groaning as he pushed himself flush against your pelvis.  You moaned loudly, eyes rolling back at the stretch.

And Astrals, was it a stretch. 

“Fuck,” Grip tightening on your hips. “You’re so fucking tight…but you take me so well.” 

“And you make me feel…so full.”

Like you were made for me. Like we were made for each other.

Was unspoken, but mutually agreed upon.

Slow, methodical strokes became rapid pumps in the chase of release. The room filled with labored breathing and slapping skin. You were on the cusp of your release, when Nocits leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. 

One final thrust against that spongy spot, he had you seeing stars, with him close after as your cunt had him in a vice grip. Your fingers carded through his hair as he trailed kisses along your neck.

Just taking time to cool off and exist alongside (inside?) one another. 

Two orgasms and you felt thoroughly fucked out,

but then Noctis suddenly pulled out, flipping you onto your stomach, then slotting back into your puffy pussy. 

He leaned down, pressing you into the mattress. “I want to fuck you full, then eat you out. Will you let me do that?” 

Your eyes rolled back. 

“Fuck yes.”

It was going to be a long night.  

:) Return of the horny, I guess

Uh, this sure is very different (and very better proofread oh my god there are so many errors in the OG one) from the original.

Not even like just my writing has changed since writing my first smut, but the plot itself. The original one was more…aggressive. The only thing I kept the same was the marriage part, lol.

Oh, also we're 1 away from 100 followers.

Also also, no masterlist because there's only two of these. Maybe if I make more then maybe. We'll see ig

1/20/24 Update: And So, there's a Masterlist

Masterlist 

[vaval3ntin]

Prompt : You were sure your girlfriend knew your secret identity, so you were happy to flirt with her both in and out of costume. But today she confessed to cheating on you. With you.

!! All Might X (Gender Neutral) Civilian Reader !!

All might, known to one of the top heroes in all of Japan. With his heroic stature along with his dashing smile he brought countless villains to justice. Before he met you, he never thought of even considering a relationship with anyone. To be fair, he never had time for those kinds of things. So meeting you changed his mind after he bumped into you while he was shopping at the grocery store. He couldn’t help but notice the warm feeling he had when you smiled at him. Of course people have done this many times but yours felt different. You guys started meeting up more than once after that as you just happen to run into each other while he was out on patrol as small might. Everything changed overtime, you made feel less stressed about everything by simply giving a home he could come back to everyday without worrying so much.

After a while you both realized your feelings for each other you decided to wait until he said anything as you were to nervous to even say anything about it, Toshinori confessed first surprisingly. It was actually cheesy, he thought it was best to confess on Valentine’s Day showing up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers. During these times he just simply kept his smaller form as he never showed his hero form due to the possibility of danger. Imagine he showed at your home one day with his hero form, villains could see him then target you to get to him. Many villains were infatuated on ending him as he always seemed to be there for whatever crime they were committing at the time. It was a risk he wasn’t willing to take. Seriously, if you got hurt or even worse than that because of him he wouldn’t be able to handle it. The thought was quite painful to him. As many times as he went out he knew he couldn’t really hide it anymore surely you would’ve gotten suspicious by now. He would always come up with bruises on him blaming it on the fact he was just a clumsy guy after all. So flirting with you whenever he saw didn’t seem much of an issue to him. Every time he would you’d go as red as a tomato, he found it amusing. Though, he wasn’t the best at it he just wanted to see you in a good mood.

One day, to his surprise he got a sinking feeling in chest as you told told you needed to talk to him about something. He gave a nod ready to hear the worst but to his surprise you said you had been cheating on him with All Might, the number one.. aka himself. Suddenly, he let out a small chuckle leaving you confused as he finally straight told you that was him. You blushed in embarrassment as well as slight excitement knowing you’re dating the number hero himself. It He had been your favorite growing up, being a fan before he was even at the top of leader board. Knowing him, he would never let this down knowing how adorable you are when you’re like this in his words.

Author’s Note : This might be updated further in the future as I’m always going back to fix things when I write something but I hope you enjoy anyways as this is my first ever fanfic published here!! Anyways, hope you have a wonderful day dear reader. Requests are currently open, nsfw is allowed before anymore asks!

Credits : Headers - cafekitsune //

[recreationaldivorce]

1, 3, 19!

1. base distro

my main desktop is artix linux; my laptop is void linux; my server is alpine linux (plus some VMs i use for development)

i am not actually the biggest systemd hater i just happen to not use it lol. i actually tried to use debian on my server at first but i couldn't get it to work with my hosting service's network for some reason, but with alpine if i did manual network setup during install it would Just Work. perhaps i can blame systemd for this

3. listening to music

i run a local mpd server and use ncmpcpp as a client, with my music library synced with syncthing. however i'm thinking i should move my music library to my server and stream from there bc my music library is taking up a shit ton of space on my phone and laptop both of which have limited storage (laptop storage is soldered on i think, and i don't think my phone storage is upgradeable either, but tbf i should double check those—in any case even if it were upgradeable that would cost Money and i shrimply don't think a massive music library synced between 3 devices is the wisest use of limited storage). so i may need to look into self-hosted music streaming solutions. although it is nice to be able to listen to music without using mobile data when i'm out and about.

19. file sync/sharing

a bit all over the place. as i said above i use syncthing for a few things but i'm increasingly moving away from that towards my nextcloud just bc if i'm syncing eg a 10GB file, there's no need for it to take up 30GB between 3 devices when i can just have it take up 10GB once on a remote server that i can access from any device only when it's needed. i am still sticking with syncthing for some things that are more sensitive so i want to reduce the number of devices it goes through: ie my keepass db, and some luks headers i have stored. also currently using a bit of a mess between syncthing and git hosting for my dotfiles but i'm trying to migrate to one chezmoi git repo since that can handle differences between devices and is much more elegant than my current glued-together scripts and git repos lol

for file sharing it's a bit all over the place. onionshare or bittorrent for some things, my own nextcloud for personal file sharing with people who can't wrap their heads around onionshare or bittorrent and just want a web browser link. i also use disroot's nextcloud instance for when i need to do the latter but not have it tied to me in any way. also sometimes i just send attachments in whatever platform we're using to communicate like just a signal attachment or something.

ask game

[arenabreadandbiscuits]

OFFERING COMMISSIONS (Art, Writing, Animations, and MORE) Please Read Full Post If Interested and VOTE

-

Waited a week and maybe a few extra days for this person to pay $50 dollars for this commission (lineart, color, and time) and they haven't yet sooo.. since commissions are a serious thing that I've mentioned time and time and time again here I'm just going to post it and let others enjoy the art since if I'm not getting paid, attention from people who will pay and pay on time are ones I'm reaching out to.

They mentioned wanting to pay with mobile deposit which I mentioned over and over again that I haven't used before and even after I looked into it mentioned that I wasn't comfortable with that method of payment. After waiting I've decided to just move on.

If YOU have the funds, are serious about payment, and happy to help someone trying to heal from their disability while also trying to keep a good head and some money in their pocket in the living situation they are in right now please dm me!

I do art and writing commissions: Art - open to headings, pfps, couple pics, OCS, favorite characters and them x OCS

And writing commissions: Fanfic - OC x OC, OC x cc, cc x reader, reader x OC, smut, angst, fluffy, yandere, etc

My commissions aren't cheap except for lineart but it depends on case. The lowest I'll go for an art commission would be $30 and the lowest I'll go for a writing one would be $5 but the highest I'll go for art is $250 with THIS being an example. (< Hazbin Hotel Banner) And $195 for writing up to 10k words.

Here's the picture of the art I drew but wasn't paid for.

I don't like usually posting the faces but I tried everything for a marker or something to cover it but since it's not working here's the time lapse. Anyway this commission made me want to do more pet commissions are well just for practice so if you want your pet and you drawn and are willing to pay money upfront or midway then my dms are open to you. For the most part I won't post it unless you want me to or unless you're like this person.

Poll for engagement to reach better buyers.

Prices can be debated of course, I'm willing to have prices change depending on what art you want, how much time it takes, and what is included in it. Cases most likely will be unique for certain people and things but as long as we both agree on the price I'm willing to accept anyone. I also wouldn't mind Commissions for smut art (OC x Sebastian Michaelis for example..) but that would probably be extra dollars so yeah.

I've opened animation commissions in the past but no one said anything about them so while these prices may change later at some point I feel pretty okay with the prices here. Imagine paying for smut art but basically animation. They will only be lineart until I grow more comfortable with coloring animations and when I eventually do of course I'll price up for cases to get paid what I deserve for my work. Just be patient with animations since they'll take a couple days to get done I'm sure but you'll absolutely get an amazing piece for commissioning me.

Never send me money unless I say I'm ready for it, with this being said I refuse to be blamed if you don't follow the rules and these many posts I've made for how I take and accept commissions. If you have questions ALWAYS ask them before anything else.

My ONLY Payment methods currently are:

CASHAPP

CHIME

VENMO

ONE

RIA

CURRENT

PayPal is an option too but not one I prefer using really. If you can't use any of these payment methods or refuse to please don't bother here with me. Give space for those who actually want and can help me please and thank you. Also if you are an account that shows up and tells me to DM you with no further information I will be immediately blocking you.

I look forward to hearing from many of you! Just please understand my rules, I'm so tired of explaining them all the time haha.

[getosugurusbangs]

hii i finished elephantitis :3 probably not the best thing to listen to while working on my current affairs project but i got a surprising amount of work done 💀 very cool, very nice. i think my favourite song was testostyrannosaurus (did i spell that right 😭😭) anyway i think i might have had my music too loud cuz my ears feel kinda weird now but oh well. also nice header

yay!! i mean… glad you could at least get some work done? but anyways. i think my favorite song off of it is eight-ball, coroner’s pocket. my favorite used to be will they blame me if you go disappearing? and it’s still gotta be my second favorite, but after listening to ebcp more (and within context of the ep) it became my favorite.

i love hail the sun, and elephantitis is probably some of the best music of it’s genre at the very least during the time period it came out. i can’t necessarily recommend it to everyone, since not everyone is into music like this, but if i’m gonna be close friends with someone it’s kind of my mission to make them listen to it 💀

but yeah… maybe not the best songs to listen to very loud but i’m not any better about it sooo.. can’t blame you really. also ty lol. i’ve had him on the mind lately + yoshida is just setting the record straight (or something)

[cupids-chamber]

— Too anon

I'm currently on phone, so I can't link my headers source on my pinned until an hour from now. (Or else it'll get messed up), but here's the link.

I do forget to credit headers, every now and then, especially since I've been using only official art for awhile, but people have kindly reminded me, the one or two times it happened.

You, decided to harass me instead, and by the looks of it, you've been looking for other shit to cancel me with.

"I'm disappointed." And why should I care how you feel? You randomly called me a bad person, which caused me a mini breakdown, then spiraled my inbox with a bunch of allegations, just because you could. Then expected me to reply to your allegations right away.

Not to mention, you said I had a 'big circle', and you're once again blaming my friends for not telling me to credit art, like wtf kind of manipulative behaviour?!?!?

I get reminding me, but you're obsessing over anything I can do wrong, just to get a rise out of me and now you're finally sending a decent ask, which is not even decent, because it's hella manipulative, and you're acting like I should be ashamed when you've been harassing me.

So, like.. please fuck off? I made a mistake, and you could've asked and I'd fix it. Maybe not right away because this blog isn't my first priority right now. And just to put it out there, I was gonna reply yet lost track because a long time friend, finally returned to social media after like a year or so, yesterday.

Now I'm politely asking you to go harass someone else or the next time, I'm going to report you for harassment.

[cringelordofchaos]

My blog theme currently is such a fucking mess.

My pfp is of Stan Marsh, drunk, hugging his best friend Kyle after his depression started rising and he started to see the world as shit, and all his friends left him cuz they couldn't manage being around him anymore - and after this, Kyle still leaves him and his life never takes a turn for the better.

My header is of Lapis Lazuli, getting her wings back on - since her gems been healed by Steven's healing spit. This is when she supposedly gets freed and is free to take off back to her homeworld after thousands of years of being trapped in a mirror, and at first we think her life's really turning out for the better. But it fucking doesn't cuz not long after she gets in a lowkey toxic relationship with another gem in a fusion not made of love and has to be trapped in the ocean for some time

My title is a quote from an earlier Steven universe episode where another character blames Stevens mom for the mess they're in, Steven gets angry and tears appear in his eyes as he yells out "WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT MY MOM? I DIDNT EVEN GET TO KNOW MY MOM! WHAT I DO know is that she saw the beauty in everything! Even in things like this, and even in jerks like you!" it's largely a tragic reality. His relationship with Rose is ... Really really complicated. And despite not having known her he was always subjected to others amazing views and feelings about her - he saw her as something perfect, someone to look up to, at times something he should be, someone he could never be, someone others expect him to be, someone better than him, and he even feels as if others blame him for her not being there - and probably that it'd be better if she was there instead of him. However later he learns his mom did bad things. I haven't gotten that far though, only heard the line "I know my mom did bad things" while my lil brother was watching in the other room, (and he's way too ahead of me) but it seems interesting, like his view of her was probably completely shattered... Cause everyone loved her so much, everyone wanted her to be there...... Whatevs

Either way there are too many emotional scenarios on my blog that don't match the fine of each other WHATSOEVER and y'know what? That fits. Currently I have no idea what's going on, I'm just a chaotic mess bouncing from one thing to another n my blog theme may as well reflect that

[seonghwacore]

hey new users! i know that the first thing tumblr asks you to do to join tumblr is follow blogs similar to your interest, VERY MUCH LIKE TWITTER EH? 😃🤡😃🤡😃🤡

this is a new establishment that disadvantages both old users and new users. since you're a new blog immediately following us, you look so shady without pfp and header and description and our fight or flight response will be blocking and reporting you as spam. you don't get the content you wanna see, old users experience in this hell site declines in quality cus we have to block and report every single day.

talking about user experience, this doesn't look good for tumblr as a business as well. i dont even wanna blame the uix guys behind this web you just get order from "the important ones".

we are currently in the freaking age of ultron era. we are shooting dozens of bots immediately. no mercy. some of em come into my dm, asking if i'd be interested in some sexy smoking hot women. honestly? i would bro. but not from a malicious pornbot.

(they just don't know i already have two malewives... both are cute and sexy...)

you, new users, can get into the crossfire, if you don't immediately give your blog a makeover or state in your description that "i'm new don't block me!!!! i follow you cus im interested in your posts don't shoot me!!!!" you will be immediately blocked even if your blog/url look like this:

(sweet kelly was the one offering me hot sexy mothers that i unfortunately have to refuse)

for a decade tumblr has been a place to enjoy arts, all types of creations ranging from graphics to creative writings. and people can get pretty political here too. we care nothing about your mlm business or nfts. but you can possibly get followers who will tip you, if you post your amazing and genuine creations.

usually, i will immediately block blank blogs but because of this new setting, now i will wait for 3 days to review my new followers and if they don't show any change or inform me in any kind of way, sorry, bullet through your head.