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luvismenu · 1 day ago

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Something Stupid — Kim Taehyung One-Shot

navi ,, m.list ,,

warnings: ANGST. unspoken love, one-sided love, co-workers, Taehyung's POV, tae doesn't speak much, he's just a little sad guy. lowercase intended.

wc: 3.6k

pairing (well not really): quiet taehyung x fem!reader

a/n: apology one-shot for discontinuing the art of love 😞 (worst kind of apology ik but idc huhu suffer w me <3) i teared up writing this. don't let this flop i swear 🫵🏼

November 21

a year ago.

it was the day i met you.

it was your first day at work. you were glowing, so full of excitement, and so happy to be starting your dream job. i could tell from the way your eyes lit up that you were ready for this, ready for everything.

i remember how i welcomed you, and you looked at me, and you smiled.

“thank you! i’m ___, nice to meet you.”

there was something in the way you smiled that made my heart skip. it was simple, but it made me freeze for a moment. i couldn’t help but stutter.

“i-i… i’m kim taehyung, nice to meet you too…”

you nodded, still wearing that bright smile, and then turned to greet the others. and i just stood there, watching you.

i didn’t realize it at the time, but i couldn’t stop stealing glances at you. the way you came in every morning, the way you greeted everyone with a bright “good morning!” and how you always wished everyone to have a great day, no matter what.

even though we barely talked, even though you never really spoke to me much, it still made my day. just seeing you, hearing your voice, feeling the warmth you radiated. it was genuine, simple, but it made everything feel a little better, a little easier to bear.

November 28

you baked cookies, and handed out small bags, each tied with a neat bow. you didn’t miss anyone in the office, not even me. you made sure to thank everyone for making you feel so welcome.

everyone was happy to receive them, and so was i. but i overheard a few people talking behind your back, saying you were trying too hard, that it was all a little much.

but when i looked at you, all i could see was that you just wanted to fit in, wanted to make everyone around you feel comfortable. i saw it in the way your eyes shined, even though they were tired, like you were trying to prove something.

your dark circles told me you probably stayed up all night baking those cookies. i wanted to tell you how much i appreciated it, how i felt like you didn’t need to push yourself so hard. you were perfect just the way you were.

“i hope you like them, mr. kim! let me know if you prefer chocolate cookies, i have those too!”

but i couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“these are fine…”

December 10

the office holiday party was approaching, and the excitement was tangible. decorations were put up, and the air smelled sweet. everyone was talking about their plans, about what they were wearing, about who was bringing what dish.

and there you were, always the one to make sure everything was perfect, organizing the little details, ensuring no one felt left out. you were always so kind, always so giving.

i watched you from across the room, helping the others with the setup, your smile lighting up the entire space. you seemed so at ease, so comfortable in your role, but i could still see the exhaustion hidden behind your cheerful demeanor. the way your shoulders dropped slightly when you thought no one was looking, the way your eyes would gloss over for a second before you’d catch yourself and smile again.

i wanted to say something to you, tell you how much i admired your strength, how much i wished you’d let yourself rest, how i’d do anything to make things easier for you.

but i never did.

instead, i just kept watching, my words trapped in my chest, my heart pounding every time you passed by, hoping maybe, just maybe, you’d catch a glimpse of the way i looked at you.

"mr.kim, can you pass me the tape?"

“yes,”

December 25

i was walking to a store. christmas had never been anything special for me, but today felt different. i wanted to get you something, something to show you that you matter to me. that you’re someone special.

i found a little keychain; red flowers. when i first saw it, it reminded me of you. so bright and beautiful. i thought, “maybe you’d like this.”

as i walked out of the store, the cold air hit me. it was christmas, so the streets were packed with people rushing around. but i wasn’t in any hurry. i just wanted to buy you something, to let you know how much i appreciated everything about you.

then, i saw you.

a figure i recognized, standing by the candy store, looking at candy canes. the world seemed to slow as i watched you. you were wearing a soft, fluffy coat, a muffler wrapped around your head, your hair dusted with snow, your cheeks flushed from the cold. you were smiling at the candy canes like they were the most magical thing in the world.

i stopped, not sure if i should approach. i had the keychain in my hand, clutching it tight. my heart raced at the thought of finally giving you something, of finally telling you how much you mean to me.

i thought, this was it.

but then, i saw him.

someone else, someone taller, someone who looked like he belonged with you. he walked up to you, took your hand, and smiled at you. your eyes lit up when you saw him.

i froze.

my stomach twisted when he leaned down and kissed you. i watched you smile against his lips, and i could see the happiness in your eyes.

i stood there, completely still.

the moment i’d imagined for so long, the one where i’d finally be brave enough to talk to you, to give you the gift and the words that had been stuck inside me. but it wasn’t for me.

it was for him.

i turned away, my grip loosening around the keychain. i don’t know why i thought you’d feel the same way. i shouldn’t have been surprised, but it hurt. it hurt more than i could have ever expected.

as i walked, i bumped into someone. the sudden jolt made the keychain slip from my hand, and it fell to the ground with a soft clink.

in a panic, i reached out, my hand stretching toward the tiny flowers that had somehow come to mean so much to me. but the crowd was relentless, people moving quickly, oblivious to anything but getting to their next destination.

someone stepped on it.

then another.

and another.

the red flowers, so beautiful just moments ago, was crushed underfoot. pieces of it scattered across the pavement, the petals breaking apart with each step

i stood there, helpless, my fingers trembling as i watched it all happen. i wanted to scream, to shout, to stop the world from moving so fast. but all i could do was watch the remnants of the flower.

i should’ve known.

you were too perfect.

too perfect for someone like me.

January 23

"mr. kim?"

i looked up, surprised to hear my name. it was you, standing there with a soft smile on your face.

“yes, ms. ___?”

you smiled again, this time a little warmer.

"you can call me ___," you said gently, as if you were giving me permission to speak to you like a normal person.

i nodded, too nervous to say anything else. i wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to call me mr. kim, that taehyung was fine, but the words never left my lips. they got stuck somewhere in my chest.

“me and my friends are going out for lunch, and i wanted to invite you too,” you said, still smiling.

"m-me?" my voice caught, the surprise clear in my tone. i couldn’t understand why you’d want me to join you. i barely ever spoke to you outside of work, and i could never bring myself to be as casual as everyone else.

“you always work alone, well i am sure you prefer it that way..” you chuckled. “i don’t know, i just thought you might enjoy spending time with us.” you looked at me with those hopeful eyes, as if you were waiting for me to say yes. as if you genuinely wanted me there.

it felt like the moment when i first met you all over again. everything became still. my heart raced in my chest, and i could feel the weight of your gaze on me.

i could’ve said no.

i could’ve come up with some excuse.

but i didn’t.

"that would be nice," i managed to say, the words barely above a whisper, but enough for you to hear.

you smiled again, and for a brief moment, it felt like the world was just you and me.

February 12

"you know, i like your quietness, mr. kim."

we were walking together, you had invited me to lunch, and you mentioned you had something you wanted to ask me.

"oh..." was all i could manage to say.

you glanced at me, your eyes catching mine for a moment before you looked away, your smile barely noticeable. i felt a little flushed, a little nervous under your gaze. i quickly looked forward, trying to focus on anything else.

you chuckled softly, your voice breaking the silence. "you remind me a lot of my boyfriend," you said, the words casual, like they didn’t carry the weight they did in my mind.

"oh..." i stammered. so it was your boyfriend.

"do you like him?" i asked without thinking. it was a stupid question.

you laughed, a soft, light sound that seemed to come from somewhere genuine. "i wouldn’t be dating him if i didn’t."

my heart sank just a little.

of course, you liked him. why would i even ask? but i couldn’t take it back.

when we finally reached the restaurant, you led us to a quiet corner, and i sat across from you, feeling a strange mixture of comfort and tension. you looked at me, as if expecting something.

"i thought you’d prefer it like this," you said.

and i did. it was peaceful, calm. just like you.

"so!! the thing i wanted to ask you about," you started, leaning in slightly, your voice lowering in a way that made me pay attention to every word. "it’s valentine’s day soon, and i really want to get something cute for my boyfriend."

"oh..." i said again, my voice barely above a whisper.

"don’t take me wrong, but like i said, you remind me of him. you’re a lot like him. quiet, calm. so maybe you could help?" you leaned in a little, and i could feel my face getting warmer.

it felt strange. unsettling. like a weight pressing against my chest.

"i don't know, ms. ___—"

"you can call me by my name," you reminded me, your voice soft. it made me feel even more unsure of myself.

"___, i think you’re asking the wrong person... i-i’m not good with stuff like... valentine’s day," i stammered, my gaze shifting away from you. i couldn’t meet your eyes. the words felt wrong, awkward.

you studied me for a moment, then leaned back in your chair. "that’s okay, mr. kim," you said, and there was something in your voice that made me feel even worse.

what if you were just trying to make small talk? what if i had ruined it? what if you were just being kind, as always, and i made it so... uncomfortable?

"b-but you like to bake, right?" i suddenly said, not really thinking. "so... that’s a good present, i guess. i mean, i would love it. i mean, they were delicious! so.." i quickly added, flushing slightly at how ridiculous it sounded.

your smile returned, this time wider. "that sounds nice!! and i am glad you liked them" you chuckled, and for some reason, the sound of it made me smile too.

just then, your phone rang. you excused yourself, your voice light as you answered the call.

"oh, excuse me," you said, and i nodded in response, trying not to listen too closely.

"hey, honey... oh, i’m just with a colleague right now.” you chuckled. “i miss you too, joon"

it must’ve been him.

i didn’t mind.

i couldn’t. i just sat there, watching you, wishing this moment could last a little longer, even if it meant nothing more than a colleague relationship. even if it was just fleeting moments like these.

and as you spoke softly to him, my smile faded slightly, but the warmth remained.

February 14

valentine's day.

i hated this day.

but that morning, i couldn’t help but notice you. smiling to your coworkers, your friends, as you handed them small boxes of what i guessed were chocolates, all tied with a bright yellow bow.

even though you weren’t smiling at me, just watching you made me feel warm. it softened the bitterness of the day, just a little.

by afternoon, i was at my desk, buried in work as usual. i didn't see you approach, but i felt the air shift when you stood infront me.

“mr. kim?” yourvoice was gentle, like you always were.

i looked up, startled, and you placed a small box with a purple bow on it in front of me.

“happy valentine’s day,” you said, your smile soft but genuine. and just like that, my heart skipped a beat.

you turned as if to leave, but i couldn’t let it end like that.

“___,” i called out, my voice catching in my throat. you stopped and looked back at me, waiting.

“you can call me taehyung,” i said, the words coming out almost too quietly.

you smiled again, that same warm, reassuring smile. "taehyung," you nodded, as if it were something important.

it was.

to me, it was.

June 13

it was the day you were transferring to a different city.

it was the last time i saw you.

you were a little emotional. there were tears in your eyes as you bid goodbye to your coworkers.

i didn’t expect you to talk to me. i stayed at my desk, silent, watching everythin

it was sad.

hell, it was heartbreaking.

then i saw you walking towardsme, and for a moment, i froze.

“taehyung, i—” you started, your voice soft, hesitant. you looked down, a little sad. “i wish i got to spend more time with you.”

that’s when everything around me shattered. again.

“i regret not becoming a good friend of yours,” you said, your voice wavering, “i… i tried.”

you looked up, your eyes glistening.

“you’ve always been so quiet, so reserved,” you said, letting out a nervous laugh. “i guess i never knew how to reach you. but i wish i had.”

i wanted to say something, anything. but the words got stuck in my throat, just like they always did.

“i hope… you’ll let someone in someday,” you continued, your voice growing softer. “you’re a good person, taehyung. i hope you know that.”

i felt my chest tighten, my heart aching with every word you spoke.

you turned around to leave, taking a few steps, and something inside me broke.

i love you.

you froze for a moment, then turned back to face me, confusion etched across your features. “did you say something?” you asked, your voice tentative, uncertain.

i said it. but it was all in my head.

i hesitated, my chest tightening. “you are a good friend, ___.”

your eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, we both just stared at each other. your gaze held something i couldn’t quite place.

was it surprise? sadness? relief?

“thank you, ___,” i added, trying to steady my voice.

your lips curved into a soft smile, one that reaches your eyes. the smile i love.

“thank you, taehyung,” you said softly.

you gave me a small nod, and then, with one last lingering glance, you turned to leave again.

i stood there, rooted in place, watching as you walked away, your figure growing smaller with every step you took.

i wanted to chase after you. to call out to you.

but i didn’t.

instead, i stayed silent, clutching the words i couldn’t say louder in my chest, where they would remain forever.

you disappeared around the corner, and with that, the last piece of you i had left slipped away.

and all i could do was whisper, too late for you to hear.

“i will miss you.”

November 21

today.

the day that started everything.

it’s strange how vividly i remember it, even after all this time. it feels like it was just yesterday when you walked into the office for the first time, bright eyed and full of energy, ready to take on the world.

i miss you.

a lot.

i don’t know where you are now. i don’t know what your days look like, or how you’re living your life. i don’t know if you’re happy, if you’re struggling, or if you ever think back to those days.

but i know one thing for sure. you’re strong.

no matter how tough things get, you always find a way to smile and keep moving forward, like nothing can hold you back. you don’t dwell on the past, don’t let it weigh you down. you just... keep going.

maybe that’s what i admired about you the most.

maybe that’s why it hurts so much now.

because you were always moving forward, and i was always staying behind.

i think about you every day. the way you smiled, the way your laugh lit up even the dullest corners of the office. i think about how you never seemed to falter, even when things were tough.

but i also remember the small things. the moments when you were quiet, staring out the window like your mind was somewhere else. the way your hands trembled slightly when you were overwhelmed but still tried to keep it together.

i wish i could’ve told you then how much you mattered. how much your presence alone changed everything for me.

but i never did.

and now it’s been so long, and i don’t even know if you remember me. if i was just another face in your story.

maybe i was.

but you were everything in mine.

“hey, taehyung, can you get these copies for me?” jimin’s voice broke through the quiet hum of the office.

“yeah, sure,” i said as he placed the stack on my desk.

he lingered for a moment, his teasing smile creeping onto his face. “you look happy today,” he said, raising a brow. “thinking about someone?”

i looked down, avoiding his gaze. “someone…”

he doesn’t miss a beat, his eyes catching something around my neck. “nice necklace you got there. what is it?”

i held the pendant gently, a faint smile tugging at my lips as i showed it to him.

“uh... a red piece?” he guessed, leaning in to get a better look.

“it’s a flower,” i muttered, my fingers brushing over the broken piece of petal.

he squinted, then tilted his head. “that looks like a piece of broken glass.”

“it is,” i whispered, my voice soft as i stared at it. “beautiful, isn’t it?”

jimin gave me a look, clearly confused, but he didn’t press further. “right, okay.. uh i’ll see you later,” he said, walking away with a shrug.

i closed my eyes, clutching the small, shattered piece in my hand.

even now, i couldn’t forget you.

your eyes.

your laugh.

your cookies.

your smile.

how could i ever forget you?

i would keep you in my heart, even if it hurt. forever.

i hope you’re happy.

i hope you’re smiling the way you always did, bright, warm, as if the world didn’t weigh on your shoulders the way it did on mine.

i hope whoever stands beside you now knows just how lucky they are. i hope they see you for everything you are. your kindness, your strength, the little quirks that make you... you.

and i’m glad

truly glad that..

that day...

i didn't go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like..

i love you.

📜 permanent taglist:

@lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle

@internetrando64 @jkvias @134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @beigerin @nikidream24 @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04

#kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung #taehyung angst #one-sided love #taehyung oneshot #one-shot #bts oneshot #bts taehyung #taehyung x reader #angst #unspoken love #sad stuff

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dailyhmsw · 2 days ago

Note

HIHIHI!!!! i’ve been seeing that you’re accepting asks now and it’s been such a joy to read them and know this entity (you :]👋) of daily awesome art better. as a bystander who follows you. your work is so neat and i will never hush up about it‼️‼️

as for my ask….hmmmmm…..what’s your favorite like…aspect of either an element you included in ur personal hms designs, or one you’ve seen in others’? it can be themes, color palettes, psychology, demeanor, metaphors—anything! examples include celestial theming, how a character thinks/a struggle they’re dealing with, or parts of their design that mean something literally or metaphorically. objective observations??

i’m really inspired by how creative the cj fandom is. no design is superior over another ofc, as how people interpret the characters reflect what they like and see the fellas as. interpretation is an art form! wow. writing that makes me realize that chonny’s fandom came from him interpreting music into his own thing (and ergo hms narrative), and then the fans interpret that narrative into their own thing. the loop never ends 😔💀/silly

FIRST AND FOREMOST, THANK YOU ^_^ !!! i agree also, the fandom never fails to inspire me, everyone in it is so crazy talented and makes me even MORE insane about the stupid guys from my songs,,

NOW favourite aspects,, there are a lot of things i love seeing on different hmsw designs but one thing i will always be insane for is when people make them look distinctly inhuman,, i will forever preach about robot/android mind or creature animal heart or whatever the fuck soul is (empty vessel?) because whatever they are they're NOT humans!!! not entirely!! and i love when people write this into their behaviour too! making mind stiff and speak more robotically while heart is always fidgeting and jittery and he has claws and these massive uncontrollable wings.. auaygauaghj

another thing is when people include aspects/colors from the others into their designs,,,.... for example heart with red accents or mind with purple accents and so on..,, or better yet when people include orange in their designs AUGH. it's so good

CELESTIAL THEMING IS ALWAYS BANGER of course heart and mind as the moon and sun is absolutely perfect, but i also like when people throw other planets into the mix?? and i love soul as the stars, it fits him well, but i'm personally subscribed to the headcanon of soul as the sky,, which holds the sun and moon,,,,

something i do personally is to always break up their faces, if that makes sense? with heart's blindfold, mind's screen and soul's shadow/clouds ...,, the face is something that makes your brain recognize what you're seeing as a fellow human, but as previously stated, i love when there's something Wrong with them, so maybe their faces being broken up makes them look much less human...,, hehehe

there are countless things that i love to see on these character designs and if i wanted to rattle them all off we'd be here forever. but i'm just saying, i haven't seen a single design that i haven't liked!!!!! i'm talking a lot about visual details here because once i get started on their psychology i never shut up and i don't want this post to be too long HJAHAHHA but yeah!! cheers!

#dailyhmsw asks #chonny jash #cj heart #cj mind #cj soul

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usomads · 2 days ago

Text

Finisher // Roman Reigns x Reader (Pin Me Pt. 2)

Author’s Note -> Hiiii everyone! So many of you requested a part two to Pin Me, which again thank you so much for all the love on the first part. I honestly didn’t think of making it multiple parts when I first wrote this, but here we are and here it is lol! Happy reading!

Plot -> After pinning the Smackdown Women’s Champion in your mixed tag-team match with Roman Reigns, you gained popularity and with that your first singles title opportunity. You’ve never been more nervous for anything in your life, so your Tribal Chief helps ease your nerves before your match…

Pairings -> Roman Reigns x Fem!Reader (Y/N)

Warnings -> Cursing, Oral Sex (Fem!Receiving), Fingering, Gagging, Implied Smut, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 3.0k

(time skip to the first Smackdown episode after Saturday Night’s Main Event)

“I’ve been your Smackdown Women’s Champion for nearly five months now, and since becoming your champion I have proved that I am the irresistible force and nobody can take this title from me. Not Bayley, not Naomi, not Tiffany, and esp-” Nia’s promo was cut short by your entrance music hitting, the crowd rising to their feet and popping loudly for your theme. Since pinning Nia at Saturday Night’s Main Event, you had taken the WWE Universe by storm; your social media following went up, more and more people were recognizing you in public, you had gotten exactly the recognition you wanted all along- and it was all thanks to Roman Reigns.

Since last Saturday and your “celebration” post-match, you’ve grown closer to Joe. You were getting to know each other better, spending more time together, and what you initially thought was a one-time thing in the heat of the moment was clearly not. Joe got his hands on you every chance he could, it didn’t matter where or when, if he wanted you he was going to have you. And who were you to turn down your Tribal Chief?

Now, you two hadn’t defined your “relationship” just yet but you both were perfectly fine with the way things were at the moment- taking things slow and really getting to know each other (among other things) before making anything official. You were doing pretty well for yourself; you were gaining more traction than before and you had a fine ass man to go home to- you had zero complaints with how your life and career were going at the moment.

You emerged from backstage, microphone in hand, as the crowd roared at your entrance. You signaled for production to cut your music, walking confidently to the ring as you spoke. “Now, Nia, I know damn well you didn’t come in the ring to talk all this mess about ‘no one can beat me’ after last week… did you hit your head too hard during our match or something because I,” you paused, signaling to the crowd filling the arena, “as well as the entire WWE universe remember very clearly that I pinned you last week at Main Event.” The crowd cheered in response, boosting your already high confidence as you smirked at Nia. “If you’re soooo confident you can beat me one-on-one, then do it. Put your title on the line next week and let’s see how much of a ‘force’ you really are.”

“Oh, Y/N…” Nia mocked you, “it’s so adorable that you think you’re a threat to me and my title. That win you got last week, pinning me? Was pure luck.” Nia stepped to you, with little distance between you too as she glared down at you, “But unlike you, at least I don’t have to sleep with anyone to get my main event spots, I work hard for what I have. Do that first, then come talk to me.” That wasn’t in the fucking script, is she serious right now? Oh, if she wants to improv, best believe I can too. You swung without thinking twice, using the microphone in your hand to hit her on the side of the head. It was time for a fight.

You and Nia took turns trying to go at each other, both of you countering the other until she blindsided you out of nowhere with a hit that made you see double for a second. You knew you were done after that, feeling blood trickle from a cut on your head created by her. She continued to attack you while you were down, the crowd booing with every hit she delivered. After your body had slumped in the center of the ring she grabbed you by your hair and pulled you up, showing your beaten and bloody face to the crowd and cameras. “This isn’t fantasy, Y/N, stop playing pretend with Roman and go back to catering where you fucking belong.” She threw your head back onto the mat and exited the ring as security and medical personnel rushed to the ring. You dragged your fatigued body out of the ring and backstage, refusing treatment from medical despite their protests. You walked into the locker room Joe and you now shared, while Joe was screaming at someone on the phone.

“Nick, are you fucking kidding me? There’s gotta be some form of punish- I don’t give a shit what the higher ups thought about it, she could’ve seriously injured Y/N, I-,” Joe paused, turning around and seeing you enter the locker room, “I gotta go. This conversation isn’t over.” Joe hung up on the GM and rushed over to you. “Baby, are you okay? Did she hurt you? Have you gotten looked at by-”

“No, Joe, and I’m not going to. Just please, drop it. I’m over it.”

“Well, I’m not. Why the fuck would she even say something like that? How would she have known about us?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, Joe! Now leave it alone, seriously, I’m not in the goddamn mood.” You went silent, thinking about what you were going to do about Nia. You needed to do something different, something she would never see coming. Your priorities shifted completely after that segment, you now no longer wanted just the title. Your biggest priority, maybe even more than wanting the belt, was to beat the shit outta Nia Jax, no matter what it took.

“Babe, c’mon, you need to sit down. You’re gonna stress yourself into a heart attack if you don’t quit pacing around the room like that,” Joe was currently attempting to calm you down, you had been completely fine this past week you were training and promoting the match, but now that the show had officially started your overwhelming amount of confidence had completely vanished.

“Easy for you to say, title matches are second nature to you. Muscle memory. I have never competed for a title before, I have every right to be freaking the fuck out right now, Joe,” you sighed. “It feels like everything just did a 180 degree turn, like I have so many eyes on me now and they all want me to beat Nia’s ass, and I just don’t know if I-”

“Hey, none of that. Y/N, look at me,” you slowly brought your head up to meet his eyes, the same ones that completely captivated your being just a couple weeks ago. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t. That crowd out there knows exactly what you’re capable of, you know what you’re capable of, and I know what you’re capable of. I believe in you, baby, and if you can’t find it in you to believe in yourself then I’ll believe enough for the both of us. You got this, Y/N, I know you do.” Your heart melted at his words, the soothing and reassuring tone in his voice providing you some much needed comfort.

“You still nervous, baby?” You nodded your head, looking down at your lap as he scooted closer to you on the couch. “I think I have an idea on how we can fix that. Do you trust me?”

“A-always, Joe.”

“Good girl.” He lifts your chin with his finger and passionately presses his lips to yours, resting his palm on the side of your face as you moan into the kiss. Your stomach flutters at his soft demeanor, feeling some of your nerves dissipate as his lips caress yours. He lays you down on the couch, hovering over you as he deepens the kiss. Breathless, he pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours and looking lovingly into your eyes. “You still feelin’ nervous, baby?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed out, “a little less, but still pretty nervous.”

“I guess I’ll have to keep going then, don’t I?” His lips find their way back to yours, resting there for a moment before trailing along your jawbone and down your neck, leaving a few wet kisses at the base of your throat before continuing his path downward. Your breathing had picked up, and you were now looking down at him as his lips left a trail down your abdomen.

“A-are you sure we should… now? I mean, I have my match later and I-”

“Shhh, I promise I’ll be quick. Just wanna take care of you, help my baby out,” he muttered against your hip bone as he teased the lining of your ring gear you had been wearing. You sighed contently, leaning your head back against the arm of the couch and allowing yourself to relax into his touch. His fingers interlock in the lining of your bottoms as he looks up for you, asking for permission to remove them. You lift your hips off the couch, allowing him to slowly drag the material down your legs and throw them to the side. He snakes both hands up your legs, kneading the soft flesh of your thighs before splitting them apart and exposing you to him. Your body was so reactive to him- Joe loved how goosebumps would scatter across your skin at the brush of his lips or how your eyes would flutter closed and your eyebrows would scrunch together with just his touch, but most of all, he loved how how wet he made you without doing a thing to you.

“Fuck, ma, always so ready for me,” you moaned loudly and bucked your hips, desperate for any sort of friction, “you gon’ have to be quiet for me, don’t want nobody to hear us, right baby?” You nodded and bit your lip, trying to hold in your cries and his fingers danced up the smooth skin of your inner thighs and through your folds, leaning down to make his face level with your core and presses a soft kiss on your clit before wrapping his lips around the swollen bud, nipping and sucking while he continues to drag his fingers along your slit before pushing a finger inside. His thrusts are slow, putting his focus on his mouth as he eats you with a burning intensity. His tongue works itself in ways that set your body on fire, the scruff of his beard along with it only adding to the sensation he’s giving you. The lip you’re biting to keep quiet is nearly drawing blood. You want to cry out, you want to moan his praises loud enough for the crowd inside the arena to hear, but you know you can’t so you continue to restrain yourself despite wanting to do the complete opposite.

He replaces his fingers with his tongue now, pumping it inside of you and using one to pin your hips down and the other to draw slow circles into your clit. This time you can’t help yourself; your clit is so sensitive that the second his fingers brushed it, you were done for. He pauses for a moment to remove his t-shirt he was wearing and you whine from the loss of contact, watching as he morphs the cotton material into a ball and hands it over to you, bringing his hand back down to your clit. “Bite down on this, since you can’t keep yourself quiet, I’ll make you.” You hesitate for a moment and look down at him, his features darkening and giving you a sly smirk before nodding his head. You bring the material to your lips before biting down on it, your senses being completely filled by Joe. He goes back to eating you as you moan into the cloth, the material successfully muffling your cries. Joe’s movements become more and more desperate, moving his tongue and fingers faster as he can sense you’re close. You can’t stop your moans now, saliva drooling from the corner of your mouth as you feel yourself getting closer to your release. Your legs begin to shake and Joe, noticing you were close, dives his head deeper into your pussy, trapping you with his mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut as you inhale, breathing in his scent and cologne you were using as a gag, triggering your own orgasm. You came on his tongue hard, shaking and moaning into the fabric of his shirt as he laps up your juices like an animal deprived of water. You even your breathing and throw his shirt back at him, the both of you laughing as he crawls on top of you.

“Oh, you wanna throw things at me do you? I might just have to teach you a le-”

Joe was interrupted by someone knocking on the door to his locker room. “Excuse me, Ms. Y/N? It’s almost time for your match, we need to head to Gorilla to finalize some things real quick.” You both sigh, him getting off of you as you put your bottoms back on in a rush. You make a run for the door to hurry and get to your position, but he grabs your arm to stop you. “You still feeling nervous?” You smiled at him and shook your head, going to thank him but getting cut off. “Good luck out there, baby. I’ll be waiting for you in Gorilla for you to show me that new title,” he kisses your cheek and you blush.

“Thank you, Joe, for everything. I mean it, I wouldn’t be doing this without you.” He gives you a soft smile and ushers you out the door, as you prepare yourself for possibly the biggest match of your entire career.

“Ughhh,” you groaned as Nia dragged you from the center of the ring to the corner, preparing to give you an Annihilator and win this match. From the jump Nia had punished you, much to the crowd’s distaste. It seemed like everybody in the arena had been behind you and you felt it, right up until the bell rang and she started throwing heavy combinations your way. You managed to sneak in a couple pieces of offense but none were convincing enough to give you any sort of edge. Nia got on the ropes, and performed the move. She remained seated on you, trying to get the pin. 1… 2… kick out. You pushed her off of you and sat on your heels, gripping your side. Jesus, my fuckin’ ribs.

Finally to your feet, you unload on Nia as she laid on the ground. Kicks, punches, springboard moves, you threw the whole arsenal but each pin attempt gave a 1 or 2 count, and never close calls. You knew deep down you were going to have to do something completely insane to get this win, so you start stringing things together to get it done. You start by giving her a drop kick to send her to the outside, following her out, then throwing her into the steel steps. You dragged her by the hair to the announce table, laying her on it as you ran to the ring and climbed to the top rope. You made sure everyone near the table had cleared before crossing your heart and doing a senton, landing on Nia as the table and collapsing along with it. You could tell that Nia was nearly to the breaking point, so you mustered all the energy and strength you could to drag her back into the ring and climbed to the top rope once more. You hit your finisher, but wasn’t satisfied. You wanted no doubts, so you climbed up and hit it again, straddling her shoulders and hooking your arms around her legs. The arena was so loud you could barely hear the ref’s count. 1… 2… 3… ‘Here is your winner, and the NEW… WWE Women’s Champion… Y/N!’

You couldn’t even process what had just happened, all you wanted to do was get the hell out of that ring so you snatched the title from the ref and escaped. You slowed down when you made it to the stage, clutching the title in your arms and looking down at it with tears brimming your eyes. Your knees felt weak, and your heart was beating out of your chest. You did it. You triumphantly raised the title in the air, tears starting to fall as you smiled and took the moment in. After the cameras had cut and you had taken a few pictures with fans, you walked backstage only to be greeted with cheers. You made your way to everyone, getting pictures, hugs, and everything else in between before locking eyes with the man you wanted to see ever since your hand was raised. Joe. You practically ran to him, jumping into his arms and wrapping yours around his neck, hugging him tightly. He spun you around and smiled from ear to ear.

“I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, baby. You had a helluva match out there, I knew you had it in you,” he kissed you sweetly right there, not caring who was watching as you grinned widely. “Now, let’s get you home,” he winked at you, setting you down before whispering low in your ear.

“We’ve got some more celebrating to do tonight.”

#roman reigns #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns oneshot

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dudhsd · 3 days ago

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The Class 1-A Support Group: Fuck Endeavor Edition

The sun was setting over U.A. High School, casting long shadows across the classroom where Class 1-A had gathered for their usual study session. However, today’s topic was anything but ordinary. The recent broadcast from Touya Todoroki had left everyone in a state of disbelief and anger, and the students were ready to vent.

“Can you believe Endeavor?” Mineta piped up, his usual bravado replaced by genuine disgust. “I know I'm not free of sin, but damn, Endeavor is… y'know, just the worst!”

“Mineta’s right,” Iida said, adjusting his glasses with a serious expression. “Todoroki, I used to have respect for Endeavor, but now he repulses me. I would like to offer my deepest sympathy to you and your family. Except for him, of course.”

“Thanks, Iida,” Shoto replied, his voice flat but with a hint of appreciation.

“It’s clear that Endeavor only changed because his actions came back to him,” Sero added, crossing his arms. His tone was matter-of-fact, but the anger simmering beneath was palpable.

Bakugou, who had been unusually quiet, made a face that was hard to read.

“Tch, if I was law enforcement, I’d tell Shigaraki that his new name is Frida Goman, and Endeavor is no longer Frida Goman,” Kaminari chimed in, trying to lighten the mood.

“Facts, brother!” Kirishima agreed, nodding vigorously.

“How can people say the villains are too far gone and at the same time say that Endeavor is not?” Tokoyami pondered aloud, his dark feathers ruffling slightly.

“Because he’s a hero,” Jirou replied, rolling her eyes. “Man, the world’s so unfair.”

Deku, ever the optimist, chimed in, “You’d expect at least some of the corruption to be solved by the end of the series…”

“Ah- No need to break the fourth wall now, Midoriya!” Iida interjected, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

“I know this sounds weird, but I totally understand why Dabi became a villain!” Kirishima said, his voice filled with empathy.

“Freal!” Kaminari agreed, leaning forward in his seat.

Tsuyu added, “You could’ve ended up like your brother, Todoroki. Ribbit.”

Yaoyorozu nodded thoughtfully. “Shoto… our class has gone through so much that we should all be in therapy, but you especially, because of the abuse and instability in your childhood.”

“If I was Endeavor’s doctor, I would’ve done some… secret mad doctor operations on him, actually,” Kaminari said with a laugh, but there was a dark undertone to his words.

“Haha!” Jirou chuckled, but her laughter faded as she continued. “You’re supposed to be a hero!”

“Isn’t that justice though?” Kaminari replied, a smirk on his face.

“I can’t imagine if that had been my mother he did all those things to… Oh, I would’ve- UGH!” Kaminari exclaimed, his frustration boiling over.

“Honestly, I think I would’ve offed him in his sleep,” Jirou said, her expression fierce.

“Yeah,” Kaminari replied, nodding in agreement.

“If I was Todoroki, I wouldn’t have like fifty pictures of Endeavor that I throw knives at! But then I wouldn’t have fifty pictures of him because they’d be all knifed up,” Jirou said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Literally!” Kaminari added, his enthusiasm infectious.

“Actually, even though I’m not him, I’m STILL GONNA DO THAT!” Jirou declared, pumping her fist in the air.

“YEAHHHHHH!” Kaminari cheered, the energy in the room shifting to something more lighthearted.

“I must admit, I really only see him as a villain. But that feels like an insult to the villains, because most villains don’t cross… that line,” Tokoyami said, his voice low and serious.

Shoji scoffed, knowing exactly what ‘that line’ meant.

“I’m so forgiving man, like I can forgive anyone, but God, I just can’t bring myself to forgive him!” Kirishima said, his voice filled with frustration.

“I feel the exact same!” Kaminari agreed, the group nodding in solidarity.

As the discussion continued, the students of Class 1-A found strength in their shared feelings, united in their disdain for Endeavor and their support for Shoto. They might not have all the answers, but together, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

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hunters-vigil · 2 days ago

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The Archon's Baby - Chapter 8 - Rest

Previous Chapter

request from ao3: Make one where they have a child but the female character doesn't tell Mavuika that she is expecting a child and distances herself from Mavuika please 🙏🙏

warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, talks about war and death, traveller uses they/them pronouns, the abyss attacking.

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3. Reader is not the traveller. Reader's adoptive sisters are Chasca and Chuychu.

To celebrate 5.2 being out, although it hurts to skip Chasca (I'm saving for Mavuika), I managed to snipe Ororon (and Yun Jin somehow...)

///

Maybe heading down to the contestants lounge to see Chasca before her match was a bad idea. The individual matches were important, but Chasca didn't have an ancient name, so the Night Wars were supposed to be out of the question for her.

"Chasca… please. Could you at least look at me, or are you that ashamed of your little sister that you can't?" Your voice was quiet, tapping your fingers on your arms as you crossed them, you didn't expect Chasca to gently cup your face with her hand. Holding you like you were made of glass she could shatter in a moment of lapsing control.

"I'm not ashamed of you. I was ashamed of my anger. I can usually reel it back in but if Chuychu hadn't calmed me down…I, you know, the Speaker's Chamber and… cause more harm than good. I swore I would always protect you."

"You say that but, my relationship has always been consensual-" you cut yourself off, not wanting to go into so much detail out in the open. Plus the grimace on Chasca's face said enough.

"My match is coming up. Can we talk after?" your eldest sister enquired, readjusting her hat as she glanced towards the doors.

"Of course. You know where to find me." You nodded, heading away to return to the stands, while your sister headed into the arena.

"Hey, you're back!" Paimon beamed at you, while the Traveller waved, offering you a hand to help you down to sit.

"Thank you… wow, Kachina's grown so much." You smiled, observing the individual fights carefully, and trying not to wince too much whenever Chasca took a hit. No matter how heavy or light it was.

Mualani against Kachina wasn't something you anticipated, but watching Kachina take her friend down was impressive. You could hear Mavuika clapping as the announcement was made.

"The winner is, from The Children of Echoes, Kachina! And with that, the winners of this Pilgrimmage have been decided. Put your hands together for our victors as we welcome them to the stage- With her sixth consecutive win, Chasca of the Flower-Feather clan!"

You bit your lip as you clapped, hearing your clan cheer your sister on, while you couldn't help but worry. Chasca had no ancient name, but she was going to participate in the Night Warden Wars anyway?

"Hey…" Chuychu whispered, having approached you during the announcements of the winners, while the Travelller and Paimon were distracted.

"Hey… I spoke to Chasca. She's not ashamed of me." You whispered back, freezing up as Chuychu wrapped her arm around you, pulling you into a hug.

"What made you think she'd be ashamed? She adores you more than me I swear- anyway, I'm more worried about our darling older sister crossing paths with you know who." Chuychu replied, annoying you by blowing a raspberry right next to your ear.

"Don't do that, it tickles!"

"Come on, let's get you some food! Everyone else will be busy, and Chasca knows the Night Warden Wars well-" the doctor tried to distract you.

"She doesn't have an ancient name, why is she even going…" you interjected with a worried pout, looking up to spot Mavuika watching the two of you, much to your embarrassment.

"Believe me, I tried arguing that with her years ago!" Chuychu replied, dragging you off as the Traveller and Paimon disappeared with Kinich, and a confused Mualani, who wondered why she hadn't seen you around much lately.

///

"My love? Are you here?" Mavuika called out as she entered her chambers, having been watching over the Night Warden Wars until her worries about you got the better of her. Despite wishing to speak to the Traveller and their floating companion, she had been unable to, the two had been wisked away by Mualani and headed off to the People of the Springs. No doubt they would return to the stadium when the group, including your sister, returned from war.

As much as she wanted to be there herself, relax in a hot spring with you, see Atea, she was not taking any risks. Not risking you, the baby, her people, Natlan. You were avoiding going back to the Flower-Feather Clan too. Part of your reasoning was due to not wanting to glide, and you were technically a wingless. You only flew with a glider from Mondstadt, a gift you'd received from an adventurer from there.

Turning towards the quiet shushing noise, the archon paused as she took in the scene. You were sat with your feet propped up, gently running your fingers through your sister's hair as she slept with her head in your lap. Completely unintentional, and she would probably get embarrassed about it later, but you didn't mind. Chuychu carried the stress of you, Chasca, and herself on her shoulders. Especially since the argument…

Carefully taking a seat next to you, Mavuika wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your forehead, smiling as you pouted at her.

Neither of you had seen Chuychu's eyes flutter, watching the two of you for that moment, and the moment after, when you finally got your wish, and Mavuika kissed away your pout. Her eyes closed again before either of you saw, your older sister deciding to sleep until she heard a familiar sound of your stomach rumbling, right next to her ears.

"What a wake up call." Chuychu joked dryly, sitting up as you flustered, turning to hide in Mavuika's shoulder.

"How about we get some food?" Mavuika kept the peace, chuckling as you stared at her with wide eyes, "and not just chocolate and xocoatl."

"Ugh." You grumbled, pouting childishly while Chuychu and Mavuika exchanged knowing looks.

///

Lightning and thunder woke you up that night. Chuychu had gone home, but your bed was missing Mavuika. Rubbing your eyes, you walked barefoot out of Mavuika's chambers, heading towards the back room of the Speaker's Chamber, what was technically the archon's office.

"Mavuika?" you whispered, looking around the room that was lit up by the fire in the middle, your eyes lingering on all of the offerings and gifts your lover had received. You'd taken photos of them all, having a weird feeling that they had more use than just sitting on display.

"The Abyss attacked the People of the Springs tonight. They defended against the attack, but they almost lost people, including Atea in the process," Mavuika explained as you walked over to where she was sat at her desk. "You should be asleep."

"So should you." You folded your arms, allowing yourself to be guided to sit in Mavuika's lap after some shuffling.

Mavuika only hummed, your chin resting on her head as she pressed her face into your chest. Your arms rested on her shoulders, playing with her hair as your gaze lingered on the tapestry of a younger Mavuika with her family and the baby saurians.

"Rest as long as you need." You whispered, feeling your archon relax under your touch, her fingers running under your shirt to lay gently on your stomach.

/// Meanwhile...

"Oh, if any of you have the chance to meet the archon, could you give her this for me?" Atea enquired, removing her talisman and holding it out to Mualani and the Traveller, "I also need someone to pass something along to Chasca and Chuychu's younger sister. It's back at my place. Just tell her to open it in private."

"What is it-" Mualani went to ask, already knowing about Atea's talisman, but a package for you? That confused her.

"She'll understand when she opens it." Atea answered vaguely, leaving Mualani to only shrug. It seems like Atea was taking your secret with her to the grave…

#mavuika x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #requested fic #chasca x sister!reader #chuychu x sister!reader #turned into a series

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seeminglydark · 2 days ago

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Just returned from England and my first time tabling at Thoughtbubble, and had the TIME OF MY LIFE! What an incredible convention! The kindness and acceptance from the audience and co-venders cannot be matched. If you haven't ever gone, highly suggested, especially for the queer/punk/alt scene! I can not thank everyone enough who stopped by, gave me fanart, hugged me, recognized my ocs from across the room and came running over, sneakily bought a cat sticker from my friend while i was in the bathroom, stopped and chatted with me, took selfies with me etc! I cannot believe my two fave popular artists BOTH came over and supported me (could it have been the pink vibes we shared?). I cannot believe the kindness and camaraderie. Thank you for that, Kaylee and Clarice. Thank you Roan and Beck. People whos names I didn't catch, followers on tumblr, Carlos for being a kickass neighbor, Grey with your crazy cool jacket, Chloe for putting on one hell of a show, the guys at the coffee shop who cheered us on, Naty from the restaurant showing up to watch us shine, the middle-aged janitor who was excited and i could tell beneath your uniform you were one of us. thank you everyone!

I felt so excepted and so much like i belonged there. what a time! Thank you for everything. i dont know what the future holds for any of us, but now i have a little bit of light to hang onto and move forward. I hope if you came to say hi, i gave you some of that light too.

-RJ

#thoughts on thoughbubble #now im going to sleep for a whole day #i love you i love you i love you

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octahedral-chaos · 3 days ago

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I feel like crying

Worldless is turning One year old tomorrow. An entire year of watching this little obscure, cool-looking game I saw in an All bosses compilation on YouTube, gain an absolutely wonderful, supportive fandom. Of getting so much love and support from everyone, even when things seemed hopeless.

An entire year of making things that didn’t go unnoticed, of making things that brought me genuine joy, and brought joy to others. An entire year of me seeing people make the most drop-dead gorgeous fanworks for this game. An entire year of making new friends, learning new cultures and learning to live again.

An entire year where I finally, finally felt like I’m someone.

Genuinely, thank you so much. Thank you Mystic for finally cracking that Shell of Worthlessness I felt, for being the Edda to my Aven, and for supporting me through Thick and Thin. Thank you Sqarlet for making the more amazing art, offering amazing ideas and for offering guidance for when I’m not too sure what to do. Thank you Indie for cheering me up, for being a radiant, positive force against a seemingly bleak future.

Thank you Peep, for being the very first person who kickstarted this adventure for me, and thank you NoName for creating a game that somehow managed to hit so deeply into my soul, a game that felt like an odd reflection of my wishes; A wish to feel like I had a true counterpart, and to survive through many hardships not alone.

Now I’m not alone, nor a weird person who yaps a lot about games no one likes besides me. I have people who share the same interests as me, I don’t feel alone anymore.

… It was an odd feeling to get used to, I even felt like things were supposed to go awry at times. Yet you lot were the most accepting, kindest people I’ve ever seen.

Thank you. From the bottom of my core, thank you.

~ 🔶 [Aven]

@mystic-131, @spectralgecko, @indiestsnake, @arandompeep and @nonamestudiosbcn

#OCTAfan says stuff #Solarstorm starfolk #Long post

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daouoffroads · 4 months ago

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Please marry me.

#century of love #century of love the series #daou pittaya #offroad kantapon #userrlana #usersasa #rinblr #userpharawee #thank you to everyone who cheered me up yesterday 🥹🩷#edits #drama: thailand

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 months ago

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Poorly Drawn Cats 2: The Squeakwail

(Part 1)

#poorly drawn cats #I had so much fun the first time - so I did it again!#Several of these cats are actually repeats from last time. If they are they are in the same spot as the last post.#So many of you have tuxedo cats! Perfectly camouflaged for fancy parties!#If you are ever feeling a little down about drawing or just about life in general...remember...cats contort in the weirdest shapes.#There is a kitty out in the world right now defying all sense of logic as it contorts to groom itself.#Thank you to *everyone* who sent their cat pics my way. It helped cheer me up a lot.#Might be a while until/if I make part 3 but I very much loved the cat-tharis of drawing all of this.#Now I have to hand deliver these kitties to their owners.

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emblazons · 6 months ago

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"This is only the beginning— the beginning of the end."

STRANGER THINGS SANS VISAGES S04E09 - The Piggyback (Part II of II)

#st gifs #byler #jancy #eddie munson #max mayfield #will byers #el hopper #henry creel #st sans visage #my gifs #useraimz #userallisyn #tuserrae #userkam #usersen #userelz #userpunk #tuserashes #tuserblake #dailystrangerthings #stranger things #and with this—THIRTY FIVE GIFSETS AND TEN MONTHS LATER—I have officially finished st sans visages...until S5 #I can't believe we made it. I started this solely as a means to visually appreciate the series #and now nearly TWO YEARS TO THE DAY of season four...i've finished them. and my gifmaking skills have expanded SO dramatically #even just because of this series. especially color correction omg #anyway!!! thank you SO much to all the people who have cheered me on through every single one of these #especially when the gaps between sets was damn near as long as we all spend waiting for the duffers lmaoooo #.......also if you made it this far: apologies for the final gif cropping out jopper lmao the structure of the shot did NOT lend itself to #everyone being in the square version of the shot #so I centered it around El and ran lmaoooo

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calwasfound · 2 years ago

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if you can’t tell, SAD’s clock 0ut series has been living in my head rent free

#cal draws #the stanley parable #clock 0ut #tsp #stanley tsp #the narrator tsp #racing against my math final which i take in two hours to finish this #thank you to everyone in SAD's discord who joined my streams :]#and for cheering me on #you all were very lovely #@ all my mcyt followers GO CHECK THIS OUT !!!#and @ all my new stanley parable followers welcome and thanks for sticking around :0

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dont-offend-the-bees · 3 months ago

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Lived My Whole Life Before the First Light

Omg here we are. At the end. I'm sad, I've been having such a blast with you guys this week! But all good things... Anyway, this is a strange one, rambling and mournful but hopefully with some sweetness. I hope it makes you feel things, I hope it gives you something, I hope we part on this final day of Painland Week as friends and confidants 💛 Huge, huge thanks to the organisers of Painland Week for putting this magical event together! Special love on this day goes out to @mellxncollie , who has been creating amazing gifs all week and has made beautiful ones for this very fic. It's been so so wonderful to collab with you and everyone should go and look at these wonderful creations at ONCE. Warnings for canonical character death (sorry, Charles) and the stuff that comes with it (i.e. refs to bullying/hatecrimes), non-graphic injury description, and just general mournful grief vibes all round. But hopeful ending bc let's face it, we all know how this played out! 7.3k, M-rated, available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

"Colour! What a deep and mysterious language. The language of dreams."

~ Paul Gauguin

Edwin Payne had always possessed a thirst for knowledge. As a child, he'd wished to learn just about everything there was to learn — every fact in every field. He'd been told, many times, that he could live to be a hundred years old, and still not have enough hours to do so.

Edwin had most certainly not lived to be a hundred. But he supposed that if you added his sixteen years of life to his seventy-three of death, he was getting rather close.

The dead years, however, had been far from conducive to study. Knowledge was hard to come by in Hell. Found either in burnt and bloodied books scavenged from individual damnations, or delivered in the form of cruel trials. He'd been taught a lesson or two in his time, but not on anything so polite and pedestrian as geometry. Edwin's key area of personal study in Hell had been one thing, and one thing only: how to escape from it.

It had taken seven decades, a slew of disembowelments and innumerable failed attempts, but at last he'd passed his final exam with merit. Or at least, a version of him had. But there wasn't much to be done for his original self, whose body lay mouldering on the dollhouse floor beneath a thousand savaged duplicates.

Best not to dwell on it.

He supposed he should have been upset about where the door to Hell spat him out. Not many people would be happy to return to the place where they'd met their untimely, violent demise. But to Edwin, after a small infinity in the blackest pit, stepping back into St. Hilarion's hallowed halls felt like greeting an old friend. Well, friend might be a tad generous. More of an acquaintance, or perhaps a second cousin one barely tolerated. Not a person one enjoyed spending time with, but nonetheless a familiar face.

For a day or so he'd wandered about in a bit of a daze, glancing over his shoulder for any sign he'd been followed from the depths. He'd drunk in every familiar feature, and puzzled over the unfamiliar ones. It was a small change in the grand scheme of things, but he suspected they'd replaced the drapes. They were a lighter grey now than they had been in his time. He wondered what colour they'd chosen — or for that matter, what colour they were in the first place. He'd never thought to ask.

Then on his second day of wandering, he'd stumbled across the old library. And that, for several weeks, had been that.

He'd probably had dreams about this, in his youth. Dreams of being left to his own devices, surrounded by books. All the information he could inhale, with no interruptions. Not even from the other boys. Their voices had startled him a few times, and he was always wary when a gaggle of them descended on the library. But he'd quickly realised that none of them could see him, and so long as he turned the pages quietly, he was free to continue his reading unmolested.

And he did so, continuously, for days. Not even boring old human restrictions like hunger, tiredness or eye strain could stop him now. He read everything he could get his hands on, brushed up on everything, filling in the gaps of the last decades. On the future that had been robbed from him, subsiding into history while his back was turned. He'd sat in his own shellshock when he read not only about how the so-called 'war to end all wars' had concluded, but also how little time had passed before the next one. He'd blushed and skimmed the pages pertaining to the nineteen-sixties free love movement. He'd gazed, thunderstruck, at the moon through the library window; wondering what the Earth must have looked like to the man they put up there.

All these years he'd been trapped in the gutters at the deepest depths of suffering, reaching up towards the light; all that time, humanity had been reaching, too. Up, up and up, all the way to the stars.

It became habit, after that, to gaze at the moon in between books and chapters. An opportunity to gather his thoughts on what he'd just read, to file away the facts, to jot down the most pertinent in his notebook. It was rather a meditative process.

Or at least it had been, until the night he'd seen something else beneath that moon. Something tragically earthbound amidst the gently illuminated greys of the grounds. A hunched and trembling shape against the trees, lurching by Edwin's window. A boy, on the run — his pursuers baying for blood like wolves at his heels.

They could put a man on the moon, but some things never changed.

It would be the first time Edwin had left the library since re-discovering it. Holding aloft the pilfered lantern he'd been using to read into the night, he trod carefully through the darkened corridors. The majority of staff and students were in dorms or common rooms by now, voices a soft patter, bleeding with the light under the doors. No one marked Edwin, or came to investigate the lantern floating past. Though some extinguished their own lights and hushed their voices, mistaking him for a warden. Edwin didn't wish to scare anyone, but he drew some comfort from it. He'd grown tired of being pounced upon in long, black, twisting hallways. How comforting for once to be the root of fear and not merely its captive.

Edwin had to search a little while, but he was already familiar with the best hiding places. It wasn't long before he was creeping up to the attic, minding his ghostly tread upon the stairs. He didn't wish to cause alarm, or send the boy deeper into hiding thinking his assailants had found him.

He crossed the threshold, and at once heard a shuddering intake of breath as the harsh white aura of his lantern bounced off the walls. He supposed there was no disguising the glow. He hung back a moment, conflicted. All he wanted was to offer some light and warmth, but perhaps a floating lantern would be a sight too much for the terrified boy. Well, it was too late for that, now. He stepped into the room proper, peering past the flare of his lantern to the source of the sound. A shivering bundle on the floor, tucked into a nook behind the shelves. Trying to be as small as possible and, by and large, succeeding.

Wide, hunted eyes stared into the light. A voice, low and wary, spoke.

"What do you want?"

It was then that Edwin realised the eyes weren't looking into the light. They were looking at him. He glanced behind himself, just to make sure, but he wasn't mistaken. "You can see me?"

It was also when he noticed something equally perplexing happening to the light. It had started to look... less white. No, in fact it no longer looked white at all, but it had not dimmed, and it bore no resemblance to any shade of grey Edwin had ever seen. It was... he didn't even have the language to describe it. If he had to choose a word, he could only say it looked warm. He'd never seen anything like it. Not in seventy years of Hell, nor in his life before. It simply defied description.

He tore his gaze from it. There were more pressing matters to attend to. "I... I thought this lantern might help," he said, still dumbfounded. He approached, with care — this boy was clearly a victim in this circumstance, but there was a defensive set to his jaw. A wild look in his eyes. A creature caught in a trap was as liable to bite a rescuer as an attacker. "You can simply extinguish it if those boys come up here."

The guarded expression cracked, vulnerability bleeding through. As Edwin drew closer, he noticed that the strange new quality of the light was reflected where it hit the boy. There were notes of something else beneath the pallid grey tones of his skin, something richer. Just as something beyond simple black glistened in his enormous eyes.

"You saw them?" the boy rasped.

"I did. I went to school here a long time ago." Edwin knelt before him, bringing the light closer to the lad’s face and marvelling, quietly, at the strange tones that sprang into sharp relief. Whoever this young man was, Edwin's very perception of the world appeared to be shifting in his presence. "We had bullies, too."

He looked so weak, curled up and trembling. He certainly wasn't weak, Edwin suspected that much. Peeking out from beneath the blanket were shoes and trousers of a kind he'd seen these modern boys wearing out on the sports pitch. The lad was no delicate flower, but at this moment, at the mercy of his wounds, he was helpless.

And if he could see Edwin... then his fate was already sealed.

Edwin looked at the boy levelly, at the fear in his strange eyes. He'd seen that fear upon countless faces these last seventy years, on the wretched souls crying out for respite from their torment. He'd worn a similar expression some decades ago, when a careless act of cruelty had damned him, too.

"Rest assured," he said, gently, offering the lantern. "I shan't hurt you."

He could see the moment the boy decided to believe him. His shoulders slumped, his breath escaped in a rattle of relief. He reached out from his blanket shell, and flashed a sliver of that curiously saturated skin at his shoulder. Against the stark white of the sleeveless vest he wore, the difference was now undeniable. Not grey, not white, but something altogether different. Like his eyes, like the metal at his throat and ear that glimmered in the lamplight. Tones Edwin had never seen before, couldn't even name.

It couldn't be...

"Cheers, mate," said the boy, shivering as he brought the lantern closer. "I'm freezing. Never been this cold in my life."

Swallowing, Edwin nodded. "It's the least I can do."

The boy's lips twitched in a feeble half-smile. "Yeah? You mean you can do more?"

Probably not as much as he'd like. But Edwin nodded again. "Of course."

The light shone upon the boy's face and the dark, waterlogged curls of his hair. Steeped in that impossible hue.

"Stick around a bit?" he asked, his voice very small indeed. "Bit lonely up here..."

Edwin had not come here with any plans to stick around. He'd wished to help, of course. But to say he was unaccustomed to dealing with people was a tremendous understatement. He'd planned to drop off the lantern, check the boy was alright, and slip away without a fuss.

But the boy was clearly not alright, half-alive and fading fast. And he'd seen Edwin, asked him in no uncertain terms to stay. Asked him with all the broken hope in his voice and all the impossible buried, blooming hues in his eyes. And if those colours meant what he had always been told…

Well. How could Edwin begrudge his own soulmate a last request?

"My name is Edwin," he said, as measured as he could manage. "Edwin Payne."

The boy grinned. It wobbled at the edges. "Charlie," he introduced himself. "Charles Rowland."

Edwin hummed. Charles. A pleasant name. Respectable. He thought it rather suited the young man. "A pleasure to meet you, Charles."

Charles chuckled, drawing the lantern closer to himself. "Pretty bloody brills to meet you, too, Edwin."

The colour — for it surely was a colour, Edwin knew of no other word or explanation — of the lantern seemed to pulse, then settle, stronger than before. It illuminated the feeble grin upon Charles' drawn face in hues as yet unnamed.

Edwin would have to find some names. Compare what he could see with what he'd been told, what he'd read. Identify what he could.

While he still had the chance.

"Best thing to happen to me all night," Charles mumbled. "You showing up."

Edwin wished to tell him things could only improve from here; but he knew it to be a lie.

"It is the color closest to light. In its utmost purity, it always implies the nature of brightness and has a cheerful, serene, gently stimulating character. Hence, experience teaches us that yellow makes a thoroughly warm and comforting impression."

~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

"Just didn't seem right. Letting that kid get beat on 'cause he's from Pakistan," said Charles.

His socks peeked out from the blanket, bright white in the lamplight. Interesting — a part of Edwin had always presumed that white would look vastly different with the rest of the spectrum unlocked. It didn't, but there was much less of it. The world was full of more off-whites in more hues than Edwin could've previously imagined. Charles' skin wasn't dissimilar. Pale-ish, but bearing pleasant warm under-and-overtones that made Edwin's look near-translucent by comparison.

"I mean, I'm half Indian," Charles continued. "Why am I so different?"

"That is a fair point," said Edwin, thoughtful, harkening back to some of the history books he'd skimmed of late. "They were the same country back when I was alive."

Fascinating how the times changed, new lines drawn in the sand. Fascinating, and frustrating. In the time Edwin had been gone wars had started and ended, entire countries had been ruptured, borders reshaped. And yet some of life's most persistent mysteries remained unanswered.

He'd not looked much into it, but it seemed little advancement had been made in understanding of the so-called 'soulmate' principle. It had been a frequent enough phenomenon to be common knowledge in Edwin's time, but no one ever had any real explanation for it. Plenty of spiritual explanations, of course. But it seemed no one could point to any tangible scientific reason why a person, upon hearing the voice of a certain other person, had the entire hidden colour spectrum revealed unto them. An entire dimension of the visible world remained inaccessible to the vast majority of the population, and still no one knew why, or even how. Clearly, there was still much research to be done on the subject.

And clearly, the notion of this mysterious person as a 'soulmate' was romantic drivel. Charles seemed a pleasant fellow, but he was a fellow. And two boys could hardly be soulmates, could they? No God-fearing Christian would embrace the concept if that were the case. So no, Charles couldn't possibly be his soulmate. Perhaps the phenomenon represented something else entirely. Like minds? Charles seemed an easy boy to get on with — and Edwin seldom got on with anybody. He even felt at ease sitting beside him on the hard attic floor, nearly touching. Perhaps Charles was simply his universe-appointed fastest friend; the one person in creation who could truly understand him.

Or maybe it was a cosmic fluke, a quirk of biology. Maybe it could have been absolutely anybody in the world.

Yes, that was probably it. Nothing deeper at play than that.

Still, it was a pity Charles would be dead before the night was out. Soulmate or not.

(Definitely not.)

"Right..." Charles mumbled. Followed by a frown. "Wait, what?"

"Hm?"

"What d'you mean 'when you were alive'?"

Edwin looked at him. Charles still seemed rather small, rather sorry. A chilly little lump, all curled in on himself, even now they were side by side and of a height with one another. He looked cold, sallow. Not even the warm hues of the light Edwin had tentatively designated yellow could hide it, cheerful though it may be.

"You ought to move around a bit," said Edwin, standing smoothly. "You must keep your circulation going."

It would do no good, of course. But who knew? Charles might be hardier than Edwin gave him credit for.

"Edwin," said Charles, all seriousness. "What d'you mean when you were alive?"

Edwin's brow twitched. He held out his hand. "Get up, and I shall tell you."

Charles took his hand — and startled. "Fuck — you're colder than me, mate!"

"And for good reason. Come, now. Two or three quick laps of the room. I'll hold the lantern."

"Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead."

~ Wilfred Owen

Edwin had heard some truly hideous sounds in his time. Crunching bones, squelching organs, agonised screams. And yet somehow, the wheeze of Charles hacking up water from pulverised lungs was among the worst to date.

"Are you alright?" Edwin asked, hands clasped upon the table — lest he risk something overfamiliar like a pat on the back.

"I'm fine," Charles deflected, voice hoarse and unconvincing. "Just answer my question.

Charles was looking worse by the minute. The warm tones of his skin that Edwin had grown so fascinated by were receding under sallow grey. A new colour was blooming, in and around his eyes; in the puffy lids underneath, in the spiderwebbing veins across the whites.

This colour was not nearly so puzzling — the veins were a dead giveaway. Edwin had read more than enough crime literature to be able to identify the colour of blood.

So, this was the famous red. A bold colour, possibly quite charming in the right context; which this most assuredly was not. Edwin was no physician, but he'd read a number of medical textbooks. Charles bore all the hallmarks of a man bedevilled with internal bleeding. It was not a matter of whether he would die, but of what would kill him first; the cold, or the injuries.

He tore his gaze away. Anger, bitter and harsh, had him by the throat, had his fists clenching together until his gloves creaked. Who were those wretched boys, to lay hands upon Charles? To break him so? This boy who, insofar as Edwin could tell, hadn't a bad bone in his body? Whatever Charles was to him, soulmate or not (definitely, definitely not), he was his. He was supposed to be his, and soon he would be dead, and Edwin understood, now. Understood how people found themselves mired in Hell's fifth circle, swamped in wrath and rage. For no reason, no reason at all, those boys had taken Charles’ life without a care. Taken his life, and the colour from Edwin's eyes, all in one fell swoop. Soon both would be gone; and if Edwin ever found the hooligans responsible they'd have a formidable haunting on their hands.

"Nineteen thirteen, to..." he counted one, two, three, slowly. Collecting himself. "Nineteen sixteen."

"Bullshit." Charles cocked his head, a small smile of disbelief upon his lips. It was a charming expression, in its impertinence. "When did you go to school here for reals?"

"Nineteen thirteen to nineteen sixteen," Edwin repeated, slower. "I am dead, Charles."

Charles laughed. Edwin raised his eyebrows — and pretended not to be fascinated by the flash of not-red in Charles' mouth, his tongue and gums. What was the word for a light red, again? He was sure he'd read it somewhere...

The laughter died, and Charles' eyes went wider still. "...Oh."

There was more of that not-red than Edwin had thought, actually. The shells of Charles' ears, where the dawning light from the window glowed through translucent skin. He'd never considered that a person's ears might appear a different colour to the rest of them. How many secret tricks of the light had he been oblivious to all these years? How many more had he yet to discover? How many would he never get the chance to see for himself?

Just how much more could possibly be stolen from him?

"I... I dunno if this is, um, bad to ask, or what, but..." Charles swallowed. "How'd you die, mate?"

His lips, too, were redder than the rest of him; although that was fading, rapidly. Cooling at the edges. Edwin suspected that wasn't supposed to be the case.

"As I said," Edwin replied, sadly. "We had bullies, too."

"Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay."

~ Robert Frost

He had Charles move around again, though it was clear it would serve no purpose. He was delaying the inevitable. Charles was all but shutting down already; the occasional boost to his circulatory system was hardly going to bring him back from Death's door.

But perhaps Charles would beat the odds. Why not? He seemed a resilient fellow. Perhaps he would, indeed, outlast the night, see another day. Perhaps help would arrive. Perhaps Edwin could give him the push he needed to survive this if he only persisted.

Besides, he couldn't let Charles seize up and expire just yet. Charles had questions and damn it all, Edwin would answer them!

"Actually, you can move around any space however you like," Edwin explained. "It is not that you cannot touch things, you just cannot feel them."

A blessing in disguise, on occasion. Though Edwin had done his utmost to fill up this nook by the window with whatever musty blankets and futons he could salvage, he doubted the floor was comfortable. He himself sat with his knees tucked up to his chest, bracing for discomfort he couldn't feel. It was far from ideal. But he supposed that a hard floor was the least of Charles' problems.

Charles was rapidly declining. That cool tinge upon his lips was growing more prominent, his coughs harsher and more visceral-sounding. But here, at least, he seemed as snug as Edwin could make him. Swaddled like a babe, tucked up against the cluttered old shelves. Perhaps this was warm enough to get him through. It certainly seemed warm, with the yellow light burning merrily on.

It glowed not only off Charles' skin and his eyes, but a myriad small reflective surfaces strewn about the forgotten nook. Edwin was particularly taken with the shimmer of it off what appeared to be a dented instrument — possibly a tuba? — near Charles' head. Metals had always looked very similar to one another, in Edwin's grayscale vision. Now he could see the metal of the horn was a somewhat deeper shade than that of, say, the earring Charles wore. Finally, he could see first-hand the differences between the precious and non-precious metals. Alas, he had few of them to choose from, and little way of knowing which was which. He supposed it safe to assume that the instrument was brass, hence its orchestral designation.

But the metal Charles was wearing was his favourite so far. It had a little of the yellow about it, but richer, more lustrous. Edwin found himself quite transfixed by the way it fluttered and flickered in the light.

He was familiar with the saying all that glitters is not gold, of course. But for want of further evidence, gold seemed as good a guess as any.

"It's stupid, but... I think I'd miss kissing," said Charles. He looked right at Edwin, earring and eyes twinkling with the motion. He did have... handsome eyes. Edwin simply must figure out what colour they were. Of a similar hue but different tone to his hair, to the old wooden shelves at his back. "Do you miss kissing?"

"Mmm-mmmm," Edwin mumbled, with a small shake of his head. "No. Not as such."

How many people had Charles kissed, he wondered? Surely not an abundance, they were of a similar age. Had he kissed someone this month, this week? Today? Before his lips grew cold and chapped, when they were... oh, what was that word for a lighter red? Pink, yes, that was it.

Then again, perhaps he went about with painted lips in every day life. He already wore some sort of cosmetic on his eyes, after all, so maybe it wasn't a stretch for a modern young man. Imagine. A boy, staining the lips of his paramours with lipstick when he kissed them...

Goodness. The world really had moved on.

Edwin cleared his throat. "No," he repeated, firmly. "No, I don't miss kissing."

He supposed it was fine that Charles liked it, though. And maybe he'd get the chance to do it again. He just had to hold on a little longer, outlive the dawn chorus, until the teachers noticed his absence and sent people searching. Then he could keep on living, and kissing and whatever else he wished to do and Edwin...

Well, Charles probably wouldn't have much use for a ghost friend. But at least Edwin could keep the colours. Just a little while longer.

Charles chuckled. It was a bit of a sadder sound than the last time Edwin heard it. "Must've had some shit kisses in your life, mate."

Edwin smiled, tightly. "Something of that ilk."

"Shame we weren't mates," said Charles. "I'd've..."

"You'd have... what?"

A smattering of colour returned to Charles' face, then. It might've been a trick of the light, but Edwin could've sworn his cheeks warmed. "I'd've... well, I'd've found you someone to snog, wouldn't I?" he laughed, drawing his blanket closer around his chin. "Got some fit mates from my old school. And the birds proper fancy the brainy lads."

Edwin frowned. "The... birds?"

"Y'know. Lasses. Girls."

"Oh." For whatever reason, Edwin felt... disappointed. And not just at the apparently abysmal state of modern slang. "Yes. Girls."

He cocked his head, watching Charles carefully. He was a very good looking boy. And he wasn't Edwin's soulmate, couldn't be, but...

Edwin cleared his throat. "Charles?"

"Yeah?"

"Do I look..." He wavered. "...Unusual, at all? To you?"

Charles blinked. "Um. Well. Outfit's a bit retro." His eyes widened slightly, a dash of mortification. "Not being rude! I like it! It's... it's cool."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "I don't mean my outfit, I mean... have you noticed anything different about this room since I walked in?" he pressed.

"Well, yeah."

Edwin inhaled. "You have?"

"Yeah."

He leaned in closer. "What have you noticed exactly?"

Charles smiled weakly. "Well. It... feels a lot less lonely. With you here. Warmer, too." He chuckled. "Daft as that sounds. With you being dead, and all."

Edwin's fingers flexed on his knees — all he could do to stop himself hugging them, wretchedly, to his heart. "Yes," he agreed, dully. "Daft, indeed..."

"Green makes me think of silence, or maybe it’s loneliness. I get the feeling of a terribly distant star."

~ Kobo Abe

Edwin had only ever known one person ‘fortunate’ enough to meet her soulmate.

Aunt Florence had always been a bit of an odd duck. Flighty and fickle, a perpetual embarrassment to her brother — Edwin's father — whose job it had been to lend financial support to her spinster lifestyle. As she alleged it, she'd found her soulmate in the late eighteen seventies. For reasons undisclosed (to Edwin, at least) they had never married. Edwin had never had the pleasure of meeting her mysterious match.

She had always seemed very fascinated with the world around her, Aunt Florence. A trait she shared with Edwin; though while his interest lay in facts, hers lay in aesthetics. He’d seen her dedicate hours to the study of a singular rose petal in her garden. Edwin was told she could do quite beautiful things with oil paints, for those with eyes to see. They were passable, too, in black and white, but lacking dimension.

Once, when Edwin was about nine or so, Aunt Florence had taken his chin between her willowy fingers.

"What lovely eyes you have, my boy," she'd said, in a smoker's croak. Uncouth for a woman to smoke, particularly one of her social standing, but she'd never much cared what others thought of her. Her tobacco-stained nail had nipped his chin as she held him close. "Your mother's eyes. Sea green... You'll find yourself someone who can appreciate them, won't you?"

Edwin, of course, had had no idea what green was, and little desire to find out. Not if finding a so-called soulmate was the prerequisite condition. He was of an age where the fixation that grown-ups seemed to have on kissing one another was both vexing and perplexing to him. A phase of his life that, to be frank, he'd never entirely left behind. He'd extricated himself from Aunt Florence's talons as politely as possible, and given her a wide berth for the rest of her visit.

The next time he'd seen her, she had taken one look at his eyes, and burst into tears.

They all ended the same way, these soulmate stories. It was a law of nature. Death was not neat, or particularly fair. No matter how blissfully happy the pair, someone always had to leave first; and when they did, the colour left with them.

Some, at least, got time to enjoy it all. Before their love — and their colour — died away. A few decades, or years. Months, even.

Some, like Edwin, got far less. Hours, if that.

And some, like Charles Rowland, got no time at all.

"They're out of the dark's ragbag, these two

Moles dead in the pebbled rut,

Shapeless as flung gloves, a few feet apart —

Blue suede a dog or fox has chewed.

One, by himself, seemed pitiable enough,

Little victim unearthed by some large creature

From his orbit under the elm root.

The second carcass makes a duel of the affair:

Blind twins bitten by bad nature."

~ Sylvia Plath

"Shut up, mate. That is brills."

Edwin was inclined to agree. Especially now he could appreciate the full effect. He'd been aware, of course, that his form seemed to partially dissolve into a mirage when he passed through solid surfaces. He'd been unaware that the mirage seemed to possess a certain hue. Not unlike the hue beginning to bleed through the filthy window.

The pre-dawn light was different to the majority of the colours Edwin had identified so far. It was colder. Greyer. Pale and stark against the opaque black silhouette of the distant treeline (interesting, how the trees still seemed black in this light. He wondered if he'd get a chance to see this green he'd heard so much about before the night was over.) If Charles' face was warmed by the yellow lamplight, it was cooled at the edges by the seeping tones through the glass.

This, like the red and the blood, came with an easy reference point. Everybody knew that the sky was supposed to be blue.

Seemed Edwin finally had a word for the sickly tint of Charles' lips.

"Why don't you fall through the floor?" Charles asked, puzzled.

"There are many, many, so-called ghost rules," said Edwin, sagely. He had, after all, spent several weeks conducting his own personal study and compiling the rules himself. "I shan't waste your time listing them."

"Well, I only asked about the floor, didn't I?" said Charles, a teasing lilt to his lip. Honestly, the cheek of the man.

"Because I choose not to fall through the floor," Edwin replied, in utterly falsified exasperation. "Happy?"

Charles had a certain way of smiling; one that spread up from his grinning mouth and into his eyes. Despite the cold, miserable state of the rest of him they fairly shone with warmth, a merry humour. A knowing gleam that said 'look at us, in on the joke'.

Edwin had never been in on the joke, before.

Charles chuckled; and Edwin did likewise, helpless to the draw of it. The magnetic sound. It had his lips lifting of their own volition — even as his heart sank further and further into the floor.

The blue devils, that's what his father had called it. On those rare occasions when he acknowledged Mother's low mood, or found Edwin weeping silently upon his bed. "You've just got the blue devils, my boy. Chin up, now, and soldier on. You've better things to do than mope."

He could feel them, now, those blue devils upon his shoulder. Cold, heavy, and the colour of Charles' bloodless lips. Weighing Edwin down like stones in his pockets. He hadn't felt hot or cold in decades, but now he felt as Charles must have done with the chill lake pressing down upon him, filling his lungs. And unlike Charles, he wasn't sure he possessed the tenacity to break the surface before the bubbles stopped.

He'd fought his way from the pits of Hell itself, and yet this climb seemed more insurmountable by far. He was no longer fighting his way from the dark to the light. There was no light above the surface of this icy water, no light at all. The light was here, the entire spectrum of it; above was only grey, grey, grey, as far as the eye could see.

"Oi," said Charles. He looked so very tired; but still inquisitive to a fault. "What other cool stuff can you do, then?"

Edwin huffed. "I can travel through mirrors, if you must know."

Charles' blue lips parted, breath escaping on a wonderstruck wheeze. "Wicked."

He ought to be more careful with his breaths. He couldn't have had all that many left to draw.

"We love the sight of the brown and ruddy earth; it is the color of life, while a snow-covered plain is the face of death."

~ John Burroughs

Charles Rowland passed away in the small hours of the morning. Edwin didn't even need to look up from the page; he just watched the pinkish tint bleed from his own ghostly fingertips, and made a deduction.

Even before his passing, Edwin hadn't looked directly at Charles in some time. He hadn't been able to bring himself to. The colour in his ailing new friend had diminished all but completely, his skin a sallow patina, his lips a cracked grey slate.

Edwin had only come to know colour on this night, and already he could feel its absence like a hole in his heart. He understood, now, why Aunt Florence had dragged herself so mournfully through her twilight years. Going through the motions of existing. Colour, for Aunt Florence, had been life; without it, there was simply no point living.

Somehow, Edwin found his voice, and he read on. Because Edwin was no Aunt Florence, arty and flighty and prone to outpourings of passion. Edwin was his father's son; he soldiered on. No matter what.

But the ache in his chest persisted, despite his best efforts to quash it. There had been so much yet to see. He'd never witnessed the colour purple — an expensive hue of which he'd heard a great many appreciative things. He'd never seen a flower, any flower, in full bloom, or watched one of those famous sunsets.

In the end, he never even got to see what his aunt meant about his eyes. But he had no reflection anymore, so. Perhaps that one was always a lost cause.

On the topic of lost causes; there was someone else in this room with him, yet. Someone who'd lost far more than a fleeting glimpse of creation in technicolour.

""— I cease to believe,"" Edwin finished reading with a soft, forced chuckle. To no response. He looked up to find Charles standing tall, gaze turned to the window. It was the first time all night he'd been without his blanket; and the first time he'd borne not the slightest shiver.

Well. At least he would never be cold again.

"Not enjoying this one?" Edwin prompted, gently. "Carrados the blind detective was just becoming quite popular in my day."

When Charles turned around, of course Edwin already knew what he would find. Knew what his own eyes would fall upon when they followed Charles’ gaze.

But knowing did not prepare him for the reality. The cold, desaturated tableau of Charles Rowland's demise, illuminated like a crime scene in the stark white light of the lantern. How a person so vital, so vibrant as Charles should be without blood and colour defied all reason. And yet there he lay; bereft of hue, and of life.

Edwin swallowed, and closed the book gently upon Max Carrados. "When you could see me, I knew it was too late."

Charles was silent. For the first time all night. Silent as the grave.

"But I simply..." Edwin hesitated. "I did not want to scare you."

In the corner of Edwin's eye, the lantern guttered and died. Good. It didn't seem right; all that light upon Charles, and not a drop of warmth in it.

"Well. Glad you didn't say anything." Charles' voice was stronger, now. How different he sounded, without the rattle of lake water in his lungs.

Charles looked at his hands. As did Edwin. How strange they appeared, in the bleak grey of Edwin's impoverished eyes. How unsettlingly close to the pallor his skin had taken on in his death throes. And yet he wasn't pallid, not in the slightest. Standing tall, unchained from his ailing flesh, he was more wholly and healthily Charles than Edwin had yet seen him.

"Doesn't feel like I imagined. Being dead," said Charles, thoughtful. "Feels okay, doesn't it?"

In truth, there was nothing remotely 'okay' about this situation. Edwin felt... robbed. He felt robbed. Because he would never know the colour of Charles' skin when it wasn't frozen grey, or beaten black and blue. He'd never see this Charles, standing tall in the dawning sunlight, the way he was designed to be seen. The way he was chosen, by God or fate or an impossible quirk of biology to be seen, by Edwin. Only by Edwin. For he was Edwin's, no more could he deny it.

And Charles would never see Edwin. Not the way Edwin saw him. Because by the time they met, it was already too late. Because in a wretched twist of fate, Charles’ soulmate — his unfortunate, unorthodox soulmate — was dead in the ground before Charles was even born.

And Edwin had thought Hell to be cruel and unusual punishment.

"I sincerely wish we could have been friends for longer," said Edwin, dropping the magazine and standing from his seat on the old trunk. "But Death will come for you, now. You should go with her when she arrives."

He turned, and began his brisk march to the door. What's done is done; and Charles was, unmistakably, done. Done in and done for, done in just about every sense.

So Charles would be off, now. He'd be off, and Edwin would just have to carry him, too. In his head, with his facts and his torments and a thousand tiny heartbreaks. What was another one, in the grand scheme of things? What else was there to do in this fugitive afterlife but keep his chin up, and soldier on?

"Well I'm not ready, am I?” Charles called out. “I don't wanna go somewhere else, yet."

Edwin faltered. Turned. Charles was watching him.

"What if I stay here for a bit with you, instead?" said Charles, preposterously.

"Then you will always be running from her," was Edwin's quick, logical response. But Charles was still watching him with those... those damnably appealing eyes, and he felt the need to defend his case. "Also, I'm not good with other people. And I only just came back to this school after escaping Hell, so. I'm out of practice, to be perfectly frank. So. When the light comes. You stay, and I go."

He smiled, tightly, and turned once more. There. He'd avoided mentioning Hell all night, but it was done, now. No boy with a lick of sense would —

"Well, I'm aces with other people."

… He simply could not be serious.

"Pretty chuffed you got out of Hell, mate," Charles continued, maddeningly blasé. "That sounds hard. Nice job."

Edwin turned on him, incredulous. "That is not how you make decisions," he snapped, taking a challenging step towards Charles. "Just based on whatever you happen to be feeling in the moment!"

"It's how I lived my life."

Charles turned his head, looked down at his own body. Edwin couldn't bring himself to do likewise.

"Doesn't seem all that different now."

Charles looked at Edwin, unflinching. And what a different creature he was, free of cold and pain. Lithe but lax, eyes slightly narrowed in almost catlike contemplation of Edwin. He stood before a hellbound soul, near naked and freshly dead, and yet the easygoing slope of his narrow shoulders bore no strain.

He shrugged, nonchalant. White light glimmered from his dangling earring. "Looks like you're stuck with me.”

For a moment it was nigh on impossible to believe he hadn't seen it, too. Hadn't seen the spectrum unfold when Edwin said his name. Because how else could someone look at anyone, let alone Edwin, with such certainty? As if he'd never been more sure of anything or anyone in his tragically short life.

Breathtaking was not a word Edwin liked to use lightly. In fact, he preferred not to use it at all. Who had ever seen something so rare, so staggeringly beautiful they'd lost their breath? It was the sort of word Aunt Florence would have used; flowery and hyperbolic.

It seemed Edwin owed her yet another apology.

Light flared in the corner. Their eyes leapt to it. It was of no colour that Edwin could see and yet he could feel it, deep in his soul, he knew its shape and colour; blue. A kinder, softer blue than that of bloodless lips and dreary skies. The wild blue yonder that he was barred from forevermore; the one that awaited Charles Rowland with open arms.

Charles looked at Edwin.

Edwin looked at Charles.

Charles smiled, soul glowing lantern-bright in those dark, confident eyes. He didn't move, not towards the light or away from it, but he held out his hand. Planted like a tree, unbending, unbowed. His roots sunk deep into the loamy earth of life; his branches beckoning Edwin into their boughs.

Oh, thought Edwin, when he understood — didn't see, simply understood — the colour that had been gazing back at him all along. That's the word I was looking for.

Thirty years passed, fading into memory, and with them faded the sting. It was hard to mourn the loss of colour when one could scarcely remember what it looked like in the first place. Those fleeting hours blended and blurred amidst the grey years, lost to time; a single hand-tinted frame in a hundred miles of monochrome celluloid.

Though he tried to remember, Edwin struggled to visualise the yellow light that had bathed their faces; the gold that glinted at the cut of Charles' jaw. Pink lips, red veins, the blue stain of death. Such things were impossible to note down in a world of black ink and white pages, and his aide-mémoires soon failed him. The colours fluttered away into the past, scattered to the winds of memory like his mother's smile, his father's voice, Aunt Florence's smoky laughter and the roses she painted on the guest room walls.

But though he could not recall the exact shade of Charles' eyes, nor compare them to any other — not even his own — Edwin knew something about them. Just as he knew Death's light shone heavenly blue. And for once in Edwin's long and tormented afterlife, he felt truly fortunate. Because he'd been allowed to experience only a fraction of what the visible spectrum had to offer; colours he could count on less than two hands.

And yet somehow, by some stroke of luck, he'd seen the best one nonetheless.

"At breakfast that morning I had been struck by the lively dissonance of its colours. But that was no longer the point. I was not looking now at an unusual flower arrangement. I was seeing what Adam had seen on the morning of his creation - the miracle, moment by moment, of naked existence."

~ Aldous Huxley

Thank you for coming on this journey with me, my darlings 💛 Love to hear your thoughts! Reminder to check out Olly's amazing gifs! This one took a little while to come together, bc in my first draft Edwin's feelings/progression were a bit all over the place. But I realised that all the sections of the attic scene (not including the very first one/my inserted flashback about Aunt Florence) could track along the five stages of grief quite nicely and that gave me a good framework to loosely follow, starting in his denial of the implications and ending in devastated acceptance of what he's lost. As to why he didn't like, *tell* Charles, well, what would you do? Be honest? If you were a dead Edwardian ghost boy and you found out your actual soulmate was not only another boy, but a doomed one? One who isn't even seeing what you're seeing. Maybe he thought Charles wouldn't believe him, or would take it badly. Maybe he thought telling him would sway him unfairly into staying when Edwin believed he should go. I think he will tell him, one day. And Charles is gonna be PISSED that he kept it from him so long xD For the quotes, I tried to stick to things Edwin could possibly have read, so pre-1989 things, as I like the idea of him using literature as a framework for understanding what he's seeing. It was really interesting writing about colour from the perspective of someone with no reference for it! Some of the quotes might have ended up anachronistic by a couple of years, tbh people are *shit* at sourcing their quotes and while I could source authors easy enough it was hard sometimes to isolate what specific book/anthology the piece came from, or what year it was published. If I'd have had more time I would have done more digging! Anyway, that's about all I got right now. I dunno when I'll be back, probably (hopefully) in a few weeks with the next chapter of Lonely Bones. In the meantime please, feel free to continue chatting with me in the comments, on my tumblr, come be a pal, I've had the time of my life with y'all this week and I'm not ready to get off this train just yet! Until next time! 💛

#painlandweek #painland week #payneland #dead boy detectives #dbda #my fanfic #PHEW #WE MADE IT GUYS #i think there's some things about this one i might have tweaked/restructured given a little more time #a few things i would have gone into more as well #idk if it's a thorough an exploration of the concept as I'd planned #but all in all not half bad!#and working with olly has been an honour and a delight!!#thank you so much everyone who's been cheering me on this week 💛💛💛#and now i have time to finally go and read all the great stuff you've been writing!!!

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