#thirteen tries so hard all the time but really shows up in it takes you away/resolution

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

sometimes I'm just vibing and then my brain screams at me "ALL THAT PAIN AND MISERY AND LONELINESS AND IT JUST MADE THEM KIND" and I go a little bit feral

[quin-ns]

The blue (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for

Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)

A/N: first series I’ve finished and I could not be more excited to share! please read the tags and if the subject matter is uncomfortable to you, you do not have to read. this one is a wild ride guys, I can’t wait for you to see what I have in store 🫶

Series masterlist + OBX masterlist

JJ didn’t really understand how this happened, but it did. When he tried to trace it all back, there wasn’t really one big moment. Just a bunch of small individual moments that amounted to… this. This feeling. This thing that kept him up at night that he couldn’t seem to get rid of.

He’d never been in love before, so it took JJ awhile to realize that’s what he felt for you.

Or maybe it was the denial. The moral part of his brain telling him it wasn’t normal. Your mom was married to his dad, so according to everyone else’s rules that made you his step sister—even if he didn’t think about you in that context anymore.

He used to, when you both were younger, before your mom got arrested. A large part of why JJ was so happy when you came into his life was because his dad eased up on him, finding some semblance of happiness with your mom.

But she wasn’t exactly perfect. To be with his dad, JJ always wondered what was wrong. As it would turn out, she had serious issues, but what they got her for was being a tax cheat. It added up how they could’ve met after that.

It was getting to be around… what, a little over a year since that happened? JJ couldn’t really keep track of the months, and you never liked to talk about it.

As much as JJ loved his father, he knew he wasn’t a good guy, even if he wanted him to be. So it surprised him when his dad still let you stay with them, but you’d been around since you were both about thirteen, so even if his dad didn’t think of himself as responsible for you (or even JJ), he at least cared enough to not throw you to the street.

That was about the same JJ got from him, and recognizing that is what brought you closer to him.

Sure, you’d been sort of close growing up, but not really. You mostly spent time with your mom and your own friends. Then, when everything went down, you lost your mom and your friends followed not long after. He saw the puffiness in your eyes when you’d come home and go to your room for the whole night. No one to hang out with after school and nowhere to go on a Saturday night. They had ditched you, apparently deciding that mocking you was more important than being there for you. It made his stomach hurt to see you in such a state. You didn’t smile for days.

So JJ, being the good step brother that he was, stepped in. He took you under his wing and brought your smile back.

You fit in well with his friends, easily becoming a part of the group. They liked having you around, and JJ felt like he got to know you in a way he hadn’t ever before.

It was selfish, but you made being at home easier. You kept him company when he stayed up too late and made sure to wake him up in the morning so he wouldn’t be late to work whatever odd job he had at the time.

Whenever his dad hit him, which started again not long after your mom was locked up, you were there to take care of him.

You were so sweet with him, eyes full of care and touches gentle as you cleaned his cuts or iced his bruises. It made it hurt less.

After one night, when his dad hit him, leaving a cut from one of his rings on JJ’s face, you came to his aid as you frequently did. His dad stormed out, so it was just the two of you as you cleaned his face. You had him sit on the couch and stood over him, one hand holding his face while the other held a cloth to make sure the cut was clean.

As JJ stared up at you, your frustrated words about his father falling on deaf ears, one jarring thought crossed his mind.

You should kiss her.

He’d immediately stood up, snapping himself out of whatever daze he was in, and went to his room. You’d tried to talk to him, but he brushed you off and said he was tired. When he asked to be left alone, which was rare, you did.

He didn’t sleep most of the night, staring up at his ceiling wondering where that thought had even come from. He’d never had it before, but from that moment on, JJ started to become much more aware of everything you did—everything you did for him.

Of course his friends loved him and cared about him, and he did the same for them, but with you, something about it just felt different. You were by his side nearly every moment of the day. You saw things they didn’t, and you were there when they couldn’t be.

You became everything to JJ. There was no other way to put it.

That was a couple months ago, and since then, his realization had morphed into something far more.

JJ was deeply, madly in love with you, which was not something a guy should be with his step sister, but he was. He didn’t really deal with it, just shoved it down and tried to ignore it. It was hard, especially when he was around you every single day, but JJ had done his best.

JJ would catch himself staring at you more than he’d admit, but no one seemed to notice. No one would suspect what he was thinking anyway. He made excuses to touch you, like a hand on your back when moving past you to get something or draping his arm over your shoulder and leaning on you jokingly. The latter made you laugh, and he’d join you, but he’d still feel a loss when you playfully nudged him away and told him you weren’t an armrest.

Sometimes, when he didn’t care how pathetic it was, he’d let himself drink too much, just so he could lean on you when you’d help him inside. When he pulled that stunt, sometimes he’d get lucky and you’d even stay by his side to make sure he went to sleep comfortably. And of course, whenever his dad struck, fists full of misplaced rage, you were there, easing the pain.

JJ resolved to take what he could get, and eventually he’d move on.

At least, he hoped that’s how it would go. Maybe he’d get lucky and—

“Hello?” You waved a hand in front of JJ’s face. “I’m talking to you.”

JJ blinked. He looked at you, zoning back in. In an instant, he remembered what was going on. You and him, along with his three best friends, were all on the beach. The others were in the water, while you had been sunbathing on shore and JJ… well, he’d just been sitting by you, wanting to be in your proximity (and sometimes steal glances when he couldn’t help himself).

But now you were on your feet, leaning down as you dropped your hand. JJ’s eyes fell from your face to your chest, and he swallowed when he caught a glimpse down your bikini top.

His eyes flicked back to your face. Was that too obvious? He hoped not.

“Sorry, what?”

You gave him a confused look, but laughed and straightened up.

“Do you wanna get in?”

He knew you meant the water, and in the distance he saw his friends waving for the two of you to join them.

JJ shook his head, and the action felt as if it were in slow motion. Kind of like when he was high, but much less carefree.

“Um, maybe in a bit.”

If he got too distracted he’d probably drown in the ocean—if the guilt of keeping his secret from you didn’t do it first.

You shrugged, not able to read him the way you usually could.

“If you’re scared, there might be some floaties somewhere,” you teased as you turned your back, heading for the water.

JJ couldn’t formulate a comeback, too focused on the swing on your hips as you walked away from him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed again, questioning his own self what was wrong with him. He’s never experienced such a desperate feeling before. What were you doing to him?

When he opened his eyes, you were in the water, and he had no answers.

He tried to focus on the sand, the water, the sky—anything but you. He even tried to look at Kiara just to see if it would work, but his eyes always drifted back to you, the ache in his chest growing with each passing minute.

JJ didn’t think much of it when he saw Kiara suddenly haul herself up onto Pope’s shoulders, but he felt like he got kicked in the stomach when you climbed onto John B’s.

John B’s arms locked around your legs, the two of you laughing loudly as you steadied yourself. JJ could hear it from shore—you weren’t that far out. JJ knew he was focusing far more than necessary because he saw the way your hands brushed John B’s hair out of his face as he tilted his head back to look up at you.

Even from where he was, JJ could see how you smiled down at John B. It was innocent and friendly, and it made him incredibly jealous.

You and Kiara started to go at it, trying to knock the other into the water.

JJ didn’t think anyone noticed when he stood and walked down to the edge of the sand.

“You’re going down!” Kiara shouted, her hands interlocked with and pushing against yours as you both refused to budge.

You laughed loudly. It was like music.

It took one exchanged look from you and John B to formulate a plan. It was the kind of silent communication that JJ thought you reserved for him.

You let Kiara lean a lot of weight on you, and that’s where your advantage was. In an instant, you relaxed your grip and John B stepped to the side. The other girl, and Pope beneath her, wobbled. It was over in a second. The two shouted right before they crashed down into the water.

“Ha!” you exclaimed, raising your hands in the air while John B whooped and hollered in celebration.

Kiara and Pope emerged, both rolling their eyes. It was their turn to share a look, and as JJ waded into the water, he figured out their plan.

With the two of them jumping at John B, it was easy to knock him off his feet. JJ’s eyes went a little wide when you fell into the water with a crash.

“Did you see that?” Kiara yelled with a grin when she spotted JJ.

“Kinda hard to miss,” he responded, looking around the water. It had been a few seconds and you had yet to reappear.

“They’re just messing with us,” Pope commented on your and John B’s absence, but his words started to sound less sure by the end.

Another long beat of silence passed. The waves grew still.

“This isn’t funny anymore!” Kie shouted.

JJ felt a twinge of panic, awful scenarios flashing through his head. It didn’t matter how unlikely they were.

Suddenly, water erupted. John B arose with a splash, with you clinging to his back. He roared dramatically while shoving water towards Kie and Pope. They screamed as the waves hit them, trying and failing to shield themselves.

“Revenge!” you yelled in a maniacal manner, chin on John B’s shoulder.

“Truce! Truce!” Kie and Pope both yelled, spitting out saltwater.

John B paused, and JJ noticed how close his face was to yours when he turned his head.

“Should we forgive them?” John B deferred to you.

You hummed thoughtfully. “I think they learned their lesson,” you decided. Your gaze, which had been focused on John B, shifted past him. “Hey, look who made it!”

JJ realized you were talking to him. He forced a smile, smothering the jealousy he felt at seeing you and John B in the position you were in. It seemed weirdly close for you two. You and John B weren’t usually touchy-feely-piggyback-ride friends.

John B seemed to pick up on JJ’s shift in demeanor, because his smile was a little more contained as he said, “Hey, man.”

JJ figured his friend didn’t get that he was jealous, which was for the best. Everyone knew JJ was protective over you, and John B probably thought JJ was questioning his intentions as your brother. Why would it be anything else?

“Nice victory,” JJ replied, having nothing better to say. He didn’t even grit his teeth, so he counted that as a win for himself.

Tension eased as you all decided to just chat and relax in the water until the sun set.

Although, JJ kept an eye on John B, noticing how his friend kept an eye on you.

When it got dark and you all began to head back to the shore, JJ found himself at your side. Your steps fell in line with his as you looked up.

“You feeling okay?” you asked lightly. You must’ve sensed his attitude shift, even if it was subtle. “You’ve been quieter than usual.”

JJ couldn’t help the urge to smile at how well you knew him.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied, not wanting to concern you. He liked when you worried about him, but this was the one time when he didn’t want you pressing for him to open up. “Are you?”

JJ reached to ruffle your damp hair. You swatted his hand away before he could do any real damage.

“Very funny,” you grumbled. Your expression shifted to a smile, then softened. There was something careful about it. “If something was up, you’d tell me, right?”

JJ swallowed, trying to avoid the way your eyes searched his. He had to look forward before he could answer.

“Yeah, of course,” he assured.

JJ didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch, but he remembered everyone sitting around the living room.

Wait, no. That wasn’t right.

The porch. Everyone has been sitting on the porch, drinking and laughing together. He recalled cramming himself into a chair next to you, playing it off like a joke. Everyone had laughed, and he got to be close to you, so it worked out.

He also remembered following Kiara and Pope inside, expecting you to be behind him.

Everything clicked.

You and John B had elected to stay outside, and JJ had been sitting on the couch, watching through the window, trying to make out what you were saying through the small opening where the window was cracked for the nighttime breeze.

He must’ve dozed off while waiting for you. That didn’t sound like him—he would’ve been focused on watching you, making sure you made it in. Maybe he had been worn out or you stayed up way too late, or both.

JJ blinked a few times. He was just concerned for your safety, like always. Fenced in porches with lights and his best friend keeping you company could be dangerous…

Yeah, he didn’t even buy that.

It was easier back when JJ believed his own lies and self justifications.

Sitting up, JJ peered out the window. It was the early hours of the morning, right around when it was still dark but you could just tell the sun was about to begin rising. His heart sped up when he found you missing from your chair. You weren’t in any of the other chairs in his view, either.

He stood up, feeling more awake than ever, and went right for the door. He didn’t care about waking anyone inside up.

“Jeez, man,” John B said suddenly, sounding surprised as he looked at him. JJ had just barged out onto the porch out of nowhere. “You good?”

JJ took a second to observe his friend. He half-sitting and half-laying back on the couch against the wall, which made sense because he’d been sitting there before. From inside, JJ couldn’t see him, but he didn’t even think about John B’s whereabouts until he stepped out.

Maybe he was a bad friend for that.

He didn’t feel that guilty, though, because he saw where you were; sleeping on John B with your head on his thigh. You were curled up on your side, facing away from his body, and JJ could see how steadily you were breathing.

JJ looked back at his friend, ready to lash out, but the word ‘irrational’ popped up in his mind and resisted. Just from the scene in front of him, it’s not like he had anything to be mad about.

Jealous, maybe, but not mad. But he couldn’t act on that feeling either. If he acted jealous, that would invite too many questions that JJ didn���t have a good answer for.

“Fine just…” He ran a hand through his hair and then shook his head. “You guys good?”

John B furrowed his brows a little, but chuckled.

“Yeah, we’re fine. We were just talking and she started to fall asleep and I just let her. She seemed tired and it wasn’t a big deal so...”

“What were you guys talking about?”

“I don’t know, stuff?”

JJ leaned back in the doorway. “Like what, though?”

John B tilted his head a little, shaking it ever so slightly.

“Just… life and stuff. Does it matter?”

“I guess not,” JJ replied, giving the appropriate answer. He looked down at you, noticing you hadn’t stirred. You looked comfortable, and that was very conflicting. All of this was. It made his head hurt. “Has she been asleep long?”

John B met JJ’s eyes when he looked back up from you.

“You sure you’re okay?” John B asked, sounding almost concerned. Or at least confused. Maybe both.

But the answer was no. No he wasn’t.

“Yeah, man,” JJ answered with a shrug. “She probably won’t wake up if you wanna get up and go get some sleep.”

John B looked down at you, then at JJ.

He slowly started to move, being extra careful with your head, making sure to put a cushion beneath you before standing up straight.

John B gave a light, awkward smile to JJ as he neared him. He brushed past to go through the door, turning to face JJ.

“You coming?”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna sleep out here,” JJ answered, fighting the urge to look at you. He gave a shrug instead and said, “It’s nice out and I can’t get comfortable on the couch anyway. You can have it—plus I think Kie’s in your bed, so…”

“Right…” John B agreed slowly, glancing at you on the couch again. “You know nothing happened, right?” He looked back at JJ. “We were just talking.”

JJ wasn’t expecting something so direct. “It’s cool man, I know,” he found himself replying. “We’re good.”

John B nodded, albeit slowly. He entered the dark house, and JJ shut the door behind him. As a courtesy.

He then turned, spotted the comfiest chair, and resolved to sleep in that for the night. You had stretched out on the couch and looked too peaceful to disturb, even if he did want to take John B’s place from before.

It worked out perfectly, because it gave him a clear view of you as he decided to let himself go back to sleep.

As his eyes closed, he wondered if John B would peek through the window just as he had.

If he did, he’d see the content smile on JJ’s face as he drifted off to sleep. For yet another night, JJ got you all to himself. He didn’t want it any other way. He wasn’t sure what he would do.

[estxkios]

ROAD HEAD ੈ✩‧₊˚

2007 tom kaulitz x fem!reader

summary: tom is annoying the shit out of you on a road trip so u teach him a lesson :3

warnings: sub tom, risky, semi-sublic blowjobb

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your boyfriend was annoying the shit out of you. you had been in the car with him for thirteen hours at this point.

he thought it would be fun to go on a road trip instead of a plane, saying, “It will be a new experience!” and, “It would be a good time for us to bond!”

“we aren’t already bonded enough?” you would retort.

and now you are here. in the passenger seat longing to get out of this hot, crammed car.

you don’t know how you can last six more hours in this enclosed space with him.

you asked him for aux?

ignored?

you ask him for some of his candy?

he shoves it in his mouth, smiling at you as he finishes the last bite.

what has gotten into him? was it the lack of sleep from the previous night of driving? was it the coffee from the hotel?

“tom you are so fucking annoying today!”

you shout over his loud music as he had turned it up the last time you asked for him to play a different song.

“suck my dick!” he shouts between the lyrics he was obnoxiously singing.

he dances around playfully in his seat and you huff, turning away from him and crossing your arms.

your thoughts start to linger as you stare at the open road, your eyes following cars as they pass by.

what would it be like to suck toms dick right now? would it suck the annoyingness out of him too?

jesus christ, maybe the hotel coffee was getting to you too.

or maybe it was just the urge to fuck your boyfriend.

“do you really want me to, tom?” you spoke over his music.

“do i really— what?”, he turned to you for a moment, giving you a perplexed stare and turning the volume of his music down before looking back onto the road.

“do you really want me to suck your dick?” you blatantly said, staring right at tom, who kept his gaze fixed on the road in front of him.

“babe— what?” he repeated.

“jesus christ you are fuckin’ deaf,” you let out a breathy laugh to yourself at toms confusion, “let me just show you—“

unbuckling your seatbelt, you climb over the center console and snake yourself towards toms seat, situating yourself under the steering wheel, between toms legs.

tom was shifting in confusion as you did this, muttering small what the fuck?'s under his breath.

“babe, what’re you doing..?” his voice trailed off as he connected the dots.

you grabbed the waist of his sweatpants, he lifted his hips up to make it easier for you to take them off, he was very compliant for someone acting so confused.

“what if someone sees us?!” he diverts his gaze away from the road as he says this.

“they will get jealous that you have such an amazing girlfriend.”

he scoffed.

you took his boxers off.

-

tom gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles so white they were nearly blue.

he sucked in a shallow breath between his teeth and swallowed thickly, the sight of your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock was enough to make him cum.

you kept up your fast, desperate pace with your mouth.

he tasted so fucking good.

you moaned around toms beautifully hard cock as you moved your head forward, taking tom all the way.

he took one hand off of the wheel, bringing it down the back of your head and taking a fist full of your hair.

he held your head down on his sweet cock, making your muscles constrict around toms cock as you gagged, your eyes watering.

he let out a guttural moan as you fully took in his pretty length.

“f-fuck baby im s’close!” he takes his hand off of your head, too lost in the pleasure to hold it there any longer.

he tried to keep his eyes open as his climax neared.

you take your mouth of off him with a ‘pop!’

“why’d y’stop?” he whined, looking down at you then hastily looking back up. “you tease me too much..”

“aww, sweet boy can’t take a little bit of fun?” you chuckled, looking straight into his eyes which stayed on the road. you couldn’t tell if it was because he was actually focusing on driving, or if he was too embarrassed to look you in the eyes.

but your attention quickly diverted from his eyes onto his cock as it twitched, just longing for your touch.

tom bit his bottom lip, fidgeting with his lip ring.

his hands kept a tight grip on the steering wheel, which he tried so hard to keep from snaking down towards his cock and pleasuring himself. 

you couldn’t help but smile at how patient he was being.

“hey, tom.” you said casually, “look at me.”

he did as you said, reluctantly “wha-?”

you quickly gripped his cock and brought it towards your mouth, using all the strength in your body to suck him off perfectly.

you swirled your tongue around him, flattening it out every so often.

“holyfuckingshit!” he breathed, “im so fucking close--! mphh- please!”

he was so sensitive he could cum any second now.

you knew it.

he definitely knew it.

you pushed the most of toms cock in your mouth as you could, and with one final moan of your name tom shot his hot seed right into the back of your throat.

the pressure of the seatbelt on toms abdomen as he strained his hips made him whine as he rode out his intense high.

he threw his head against the seat, jaw hanging slack. 

his body bucked forward as you took your mouth off of him.

“so if i want head like this again, all i have to do is annoy you?”

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hope u enjoyed :p

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Fall In Love With A Girl

❝she'll make you feel like the world is on your shoulder.❞

Summary: What can go wrong, will go wrong. That is until you meet the most beautiful woman you've ever seen and her brother's puppy.

Pairing: Modern Helaena Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: ~3.3k

Author’s Note: This is a re-write of an old fic of mine. I'm in my re-writing era and this is Megan's Version. I felt like this would be the perfect time to remind everyone that I love women.

Warnings: language, fluff, women loving women (if you are against this unfollow me?)

There were certain rules to being a veterinary technician.

Number one, waterproof mascara and eyeliner always; you’ll never get used to those abuse cases or having to hold someone’s hand as they say goodbye to their beloved pet. Number two, carry a lint roller on you at all times; it’s best to get the pocket-sized one, because both dogs and cats shed a lot! Especially Bella the Saint Bernard who was due for her yearly check up today. Number three, iron your scrubs! And it’s probably best to keep an extra pair in your car, because it’s more likely than not that you’ll end up getting peed on by someone’s over-excited pup.

Even though you knew these rules by heart and you followed them every single day of your work life, today was an exception. It was just one of those days that absolutely nothing- no matter how hard you tried- was going right. You were covered in fluffy cat hairs, Mrs. Comier’s Jack Russell, Hankie, peed on your leg twice, and you had run out of waterproof mascara. So, when Mr. Langley brought in his thirteen year old Labrador to put her down, he cried and so you cried, and in the end you looked like the raccoon that liked to sneak into the office dumpsters at closing hoping to find some cat food.

Today just wasn’t your day.

It was fifteen minutes until closing time, and you could feel the excitement and exhaustion in your bones. You were desperate for rest, to go home and take a shower, crawl in bed and watch terribly written romantic comedies on Netflix until you passed out. If only you could snap your fingers and make those last few minutes fly by, but that was impossible and unfortunately manipulating time wasn’t a superpower you had acquired yet, so instead you swept and mopped the floors for the sixth time that day.

And that was when you heard it. 

The tiny bell over the door chimed, signaling that a customer had just walked in and you could hear the pitter-patter of doggie feet on the linoleum floors. As far as you knew, there weren’t any more customers scheduled for the day; the last appointment was over thirty minutes ago and they were a no-show. From your spot in the back hallway, you could hear your coworker, talking to the patient and before you knew it, she was charging through the back door. You took one look at her, knowing what her question would be before she even opened her mouth. That shit-eating-grin was always plastered on her face when she wanted something. 

“No,” you said as you swept the dirt into the dustpan.

“Come on, bestie,” she whined. “I really need to get out of here on time tonight! It’s just a simple check-up and she seems really nice! Please will you take them?” 

Not wanting to argue or cause an issue, you sighed, exhaling every ounce of oxygen in your lungs before finally giving in. She was practically beaming with excitement as your shoulders slumped, eyes rolling back as you sat the broom down. 

“Oh, my God! Thank you so much! I owe you, big time,” she went to hug you but you stepped to the side, avoiding her embrace at all costs. 

You simply nod at your coworker as you try to dust some of the cat hairs from your scrubs. It was no use, and you knew that, but still, you at least tried to look more professional. After the day you’ve had, you should have known that clocking out on time was just too good to be true, but you still put a smile on your face as you walked up to the front desk. One day you’d cash in on all of the times she owed you for, but today wasn’t that day. Everything that could have gone wrong today had already gone wrong, and at this point you were only giving in to her for the plot. What else could possibly happen? 

When you got to the front desk, you looked over the counter to see the customer on one knee as she played with the tiny puppy; rubbing its belly and tickling its sides. 

“How can I help you?” You asked with that fake customer service voice.

The young woman turned around and looked up at you, flashing one of the most brilliant smiles you had ever seen, and you could have sworn that a chorus of angels were singing in the background– or maybe it was just the classical music on the radio that your boss liked to play, who knows? She was absolutely stunning though, with her pale blonde hair and striking lavender eyes. 

“Hey, uh- I had an appointment for this little guy,” she replied with a soft smile as she moved to stand.

“Okay,” you nodded, trying to remember to breathe. You could smell her perfume as she took a step up to the counter. “What’s this little guy’s name?” 

“His name is Sunfyre.”

“Oh,” you realized that this was that no-show appointment that should have been here thirty minutes ago. It was then that you looked right past her good looks and lilac scented perfume and let the irritation settle back in. “You’re Mr. Targaryen? You had an appointment with us at 5:00.”

The woman rubbed a hand on the back of her neck and gave you a sheepish smile.

“Not Mr. Targaryen, that’s my brother. I’m Helaena,” then she lets out a sigh. “He’s out of town and forgot to mention that I needed to be here until ten minutes before I was supposed to be here and then there was traffic, and I’m really sorry that I’m late. I hope I can still get him in, I mean, if that’s okay. If it’s too late then I’ll just make another appointment, I guess”

Your eyes widened as she rambled on and then you smiled at her. If it were anyone else, you probably would have told them to make another appointment and kick rocks. But this girl was just so gorgeous and her smile was just so beautiful, and your hopes of getting home on time were already sacked, so you led her back to the exam room and told her that it was no problem.

“Hopefully this doesn’t take too long,” she mentioned as she picked Sunfyre up and sat him on the table. 

Wait, was she actually rushing you?

“I’ve got this stupid thing I’m supposed to go to tonight,” she continued as you checked the puppy’s weight.

She really was rushing you.

“It’s a blind date that Aegon, uh-”

Before she could say ‘Mr. Targaryen’, you nodded your head to let her know that you understood who she was talking about. 

“Yeah,” Helaena kept on, not really caring that you weren’t really listening. “He set it up and I’m just nervous. I’ve never really been on a date- well, I’ve been on dates, but never a blind one. With the way this day has been going, he’ll probably end up being an alien with six eyes.”

“I know how you feel,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What’s that?” She asked.

“Oh, I just agreed with you,” you replied, not really wanting to go into details about your day with a girl who was about to go on a blind date and probably fall in love with someone that wasn’t the vet tech with a piss stain on her leg. Besides, her blind date was with a man which meant your chances were pretty much shot. “About the way this day has been going.”

“You’ve had a bad day, too?”

“I’m going to let Dr. Strong know you’re ready and we’ll try to get you out of here as soon as possible,” you say, ignoring her question. 

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” she replied as you shuffled out of the exam room.

Your boss looked up at you from his desk and raised his eyebrows underneath his glasses. You said nothing and only dropped the puppy’s chart on his desk with a thud, before turning back around and heading into the back hallway. You could hear that Helaena girl sweet talking the pup from behind the door and your expression softened for a moment. But that was only until you glanced at the clock and saw that it was well past closing time, and you should’ve been walking through your front door right now; maneuvering out of your bra and kicking off your non-slip, worn out tennis shoes. Your frown came right back as you looked over the front desk, making sure everything was in order before your boss eventually called you in for an extra hand. 

You sighed as you saw that your coworker had bailed on stamping the outgoing bill statements, a job which was tedious and tiring, and usually ended in cramped hands and sticky fingertips. With a soft groan, you sat down, flexing your toes in your shoes and tried to quickly stamp as many envelopes as you could.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dr. Strong called from somewhere within the office. “Can you lend me a hand for a moment?”

You stood up and tossed the envelopes in the mailing bin before heading towards the back hallway. 

“What’s up, doc?” You asked with a forced grin as you tried to lighten the mood. Your boss, Harwin, had been under constant stress ever since his partner veterinarian, Dr. Tully, quit the practice to focus on his family. 

“Can you draw me up 1cc of Nobivac?” He asked as he scribbled something down in the chart in front of him. “And I’m going to need you in the room when I administer it, there’s a note in the little guy’s chart that says he’s not very good with shots.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied as you pulled the keys to the medical cabinet out of the front pocket of your scrubs.

Helaena smiled at you when you entered the exam room once again. The puppy in her hands jumped in your direction, tail wagging from side to side as he whined for attention. “I think he likes you,” the girl commented as she tried to hold the puppy back. 

“That’s nice,” you replied with a soft smile, not really wanting to make small talk with Ms. I-Have-A-Blind-Date-Can-You-Hurry-Up. “But he’s probably not going to like me very much after getting poked.”

“Probably not,” Helaena laughed. You couldn’t help but feel a little light-headed at the sight of her smile, despite your tough facade. The sound of her laugh was just as attractive, if not more so. “But who knows, maybe he’ll forgive you.”

Dr. Strong stepped into the room, cutting your conversation short to begin his own spiel; informing Sunfyre’s short term owner of the possible side effects of the rabies vaccine, and also why it is important to have one. Information that, hopefully, Helaena would pass on to the absent Mr. Targaryen.

While your boss prepped the puppy for his first rabies shot, your job was to try and distract the little guy as much as possible and to keep him comfortable, of course. Helaena stood off to the side, letting the two of you work your magic, and within seconds- without even so much as a yelp- the procedure was finished and Sunfyre’s tail was still wagging. 

“All done,” you cooed, placing a kiss on the puppy’s wet nose. 

“Looks like he still likes you,” Helaena said as she hooked Sunfyre’s leash back to his collar. “I had a feeling he would.”

You went to say something, but Dr. Strong got there first, sticking his hand out to Helaena for a handshake and saying, “It was nice to meet you. Please tell Mr. Targaryan that we look forward to seeing him at the next visit, which you can coordinate at the front desk.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “I’ll be sure to let him know.”

“You can follow me, this way,” you told her, ushering her and Sunfyre out of the exam room and into the lobby. “That’ll be $115,” you told her after tallying up the total sum of the visit. 

She let out a low whistle and pulled her wallet from her back pocket, “is there any way to leave a tip for your excellent customer service?”

You let out a dry laugh, and bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something that would get you in trouble. “While I appreciate the offer, you should probably save it for your date tonight.” 

“Date?” She asked as she signed the credit card receipt. “Shit, right, my date!” She exclaimed, thrusting the tiny piece of paper your way. “I gotta go!”

You made a face and hurriedly handed her a copy of the bill and a rabies tag for Sunfyre. 

“Good luck,” you told her as she rushed out the front door. “And you're welcome,” you said with a frown after she didn’t even say ‘thank you’. 

Happy that your day was finally over, you couldn’t help but feel like you had just been kicked in the gut. As you finished stamping the monthly statements, your mind was stuck on what Helaena and her blind date– who may or may not be an alien with six eyes– were doing right now. Was he smart? Was he making her laugh? Did he appreciate how absolutely breathtaking her smile was? Did she see him and immediately know that he was the one she had been searching for? Did time stop?

“Hey,” you heard Dr. Strong’s voice from behind you and realized that you had been standing in the same spot for minutes now, holding a stack of envelopes that you had meant to drop into the bin. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied as you came back to reality.

“Don’t forget you’re fostering Nugget tonight to make sure that he doesn’t pull out his stitches,” he told you before disappearing back into the hallway. 

“Ah, yes, Nugget,” you replied, mostly to yourself, as you were sure your boss was out of earshot. “The overweight Chihuahua who looks like he ate one, too many nuggets. I couldn’t be more excited.”

After you locked up and had Nugget on a leash, you said your goodbyes to your boss; happy as ever that- even though it was well after dark- you were finally going home. You picked the chunky Chihuahua up, making sure not to touch his freshly removed manhood and placed him in the backseat, where he quickly made a home. Before you even pulled your seatbelt on, you pulled your hair out of its ponytail and ran your fingers over your tender scalp. It was the first step to comfort after what you were sure was the worst days you might have ever had. You’d take your shoes off if you could,, but you were sure there was some crazy law about driving barefoot, so you left them on.

Nugget stayed quiet for most of the way, until he unexpectedly started to whine. Thinking that he might need to go potty, you pulled over into the parking lot of an ice cream parlor. He hopped out of your backseat gingerly, and led you over to the grassy area where he proceeded to squat and relieve himself. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” you heard from across the parking lot and turned to see none other than Mrs. Blind Date herself, Helaena. Just when you thought this day was starting to get better, she began walking toward you with Sunfyre in tow.

“Oh, hi,” you replied, cautiously looking around for the hot shot that would inevitably be introduced as her date. You didn’t want to ask, but curiosity got the best of you and, “how was your date?”

“Well, I was supposed to meet him here and he never showed,” she replied, looking a bit dejected. “I’m honestly not surprised at all. I mean, if you knew my brother, you probably wouldn’t be surprised either. Besides, what else should one expect from a man?” You laughed at that. “I was just about to leave, but then I saw you, and figured I’d say hello.”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling again at her rambling, unable to help yourself when you heard that there was no date, and that this extremely attractive stranger was somehow still single. “Well, hello.”

Helaena smiled brightly before taking notice of Nugget, who was shaking at the thought of being petted by someone new, and dropped down to a knee so that she could reach him. “Who’s this little chunker?”

“This is Nugget,” you replied. “I’m fostering him for the night.”

“Fitting name,” she laughed, standing back to her regular height. “So, can I buy you an ice cream? I don’t think I said thanks before I ran out of your office earlier and I’d like to make it up to you.”

“Sure,” you replied quickly before you gave yourself a chance to say no. “I mean, yeah, that would be nice.”

Helaena smiled as you fell in step with each other, making your way to the front of the booth. Sunfyre and Nugget were playing with each other; romping around and playing together; putting you and Helaena into a few awkward positions as you had to unwrap their leashes from around each other’s legs. You learned that she was an artist, mostly oil paintings and photography, who lived on the quiet side of the city with Aegon, her brother. And you told her all about your bad day, and what it was like working in a veterinary office, and some of your funny stories from college. 

Before you could even eat three bites of your ice cream, Nugget had coerced you into giving him most of it; which probably wasn’t what his actual owners intended for him to eat after his surgery. Helaena didn’t mind that the ice cream she had bought for you went to satisfying a fat Chihuahua’s sweet tooth, especially not when most of her own ice cream was being lapped up by little Sunfyre.

“Well, I should get home,” you told her after seeing the neon ‘open’ sign of the parlor shut off. “It’s getting late.” 

She nodded, standing up from the bench that you had been sitting on, “It was really nice running into you.”

“I agree,” you replied with a smile. 

“If you’d like to, maybe I can take you to dinner next?” She asked as she nervously ran a hand through her hair. You blinked a few times, wondering if you had heard her correctly or if it was your mind playing tricks on you. “You don’t have to.”

“I’d like to go to dinner with you,” you told her quickly and honestly. 

“Really?” She asked excitedly. “I mean, that’s cool.”

“Should we?” You asked, taking out your phone to swap numbers and she laughed.

“That’s probably a good idea.”

You repeated the numbers twice to make sure she typed in the right ones, and after an awkward hug that seemed like it was almost a kiss on the cheek, you and Nugget happily walked back to your car. As soon as the driver’s side door was shut, you let out a joyous squeal and did a small dance in your seat. Your phone vibrated from the cup holder as you shifted into gear. You picked it up quickly and swiped at the screen until an unsaved number popped up on your screen. Your heart soared at the message that could only have been from one person.

212-555-6789

That was the best blind date ever! ;)

[cordeliawhohung]

Soft Spot - Part 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part thirteen of "soft spot"

taglist | playlist | dissection links

it's hard to clear your mind with so much smoke

warnings: soft and fluffy, domestic simon, slight anxiety, shitty cliffhanger

wc: 3k

The music that poured through your window was different than usual.

Normally your downstairs neighbor would play previously recorded songs through whatever stereo system they had set up in their room, but this sounded more vibrant. Their taste in music was good, so you never had much to complain about, and oftentimes you found yourself opening your window just to have a bit of background noise. What made this time so different was that, for once, it was live music. A guitar. By the sounds of it, they hadn’t been playing for very long, but you weren’t one to judge someone trying to learn. Though their plucking wasn’t good, they had a few strummed chords down pretty well, and by the sounds of it, they had found a progression they really enjoyed. 

Those repetitive chords, along with Boo’s purring, accompanied you as you worked in the nursery. It had taken you a while to get the damn cat to calm down enough that he would stop attacking the clothes while you folded them, and he had properly curled up by your feet. While your son’s due date grew closer, he still made no signs that he was showing up anytime soon, which was both intimidating and comforting at the same time. You tried not to think too much about the prospect of giving birth those days, as you found all it really did was raise your anxiety about the whole predicament. Instead, you did your best to distract yourself with little tasks. Simon was a good help too, whenever he wasn't busy ogling at your swollen stomach, anyway. 

You busied yourself with laundry that morning while you attempted to hum along with whatever tune your neighbor had composed. This laundry was different than any other you had done before as the clothes were significantly smaller than you were used to. You didn’t feel comfortable putting your son in unwashed clothes, as you didn’t even want to think about what sort of infections he could get had there been something on the fabric, and since he was about to show up any day, you figured you’d get that out of the way before your hands were too full otherwise. 

That morning, you had washed roughly seven blankets, a handful of fitted sheets, and about half the world's stock of infant onesies. Most of them were thanks to Johnny, naturally, as he was really the only family you and Simon had. One of them had the words “I’m da bomb,” written on the front, which Simon informed you was extra ironic as Johnny was the demolitions expert. The onesie that had really gotten you was the one that said “World’s greatest nephew.” You cried upon seeing it — damn pregnancy hormones — even though Simon said it was tacky. 

The most useful thing you had been gifted was a whole stack of diapers that had a wide age range, and would certainly last your son at least a year. Most of them had been from the office, actually. Or, at least that’s what they claimed. You had a sneaking suspicion it was actually from someone higher up the chain as an attempt at an apology for Sallow’s behavior on your last day. You did your best not to think about that instance too much, yet it always managed to wiggle into your brain somehow. His biting words, that look on his face as if he had won. Part of you wondered what ended up happening to him. Another part didn’t really care. 

“Sure you don’t wanna take a break?” Simon spoke up from the doorway. 

Halfway through folding a onesie with construction trucks on it, you looked up from your work. Simon was just about as restless as you were since going on leave, and unfortunately for you that meant he spent most of his time checking in on you as if you were a feral old lady. Chuckling, you turned your attention back to folding. 

“It’s laundry, not hard manual labor,” you quipped. 

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” he countered. 

“There’s a difference between relaxing and bed rest, and I think bed rest would make me go insane right about now,” you sighed as you tossed yet another folded onesie into the pile with the others. 

“You’ve been fussin’ over the nursery since this morning,” Simon said. 

“Is it not still morning?”

“It’s one, sweetheart.” 

Blinking away your surprise, you looked at all the clothes that surrounded you. Your nursing chair was quite comfortable, even in your changed state, and it was quite easy to pile clothes and other items high in the hampers as you worked mindlessly. Normally it wouldn’t have taken you so long to do laundry, even with the large amount of clothes you sorted through. Perhaps you had the lethargy of pregnancy to thank for that. 

“Oh,” you said simply. 

Chuckling, Simon crossed the distance of the room and took your busy hands in his as he knelt in front of you. His hands seemed softer those days, and void of cuts and bruises. It wasn’t just the paternal leave that did that, as you two had only been off of work for maybe two weeks at that point. He hadn’t been deployed on a mission ever since he found out you were pregnant. Perhaps you had John to thank for that. You made a mental note to send him a nice box of cigars. 

“Have you eaten?” Simon asked. 

“Not since breakfast,” you answered. 

A simple squeeze of your hands was all that was needed to prompt you up, with Simon’s assistance of course. He always asked questions like that. If you had eaten or drank any water. Said you would need to keep prepared in case you went into labor. Said you would need to keep as much of your energy as you could. Not even ten minutes later, the two of you sat next to one another, eating quickly slapped together sandwiches while you sunk into the couch in the living room. 

Music continued to pour through the open windows, yet it sounded like your neighbor had given up on practicing for the time being. Time moved at a snail’s pace ever since you went on leave, and the music only seemed to exacerbate that. You lived in a limbo — a place frozen in time where the only thing you seemed to do was prepare for something that felt like would never come. 

Once you finished eating, you leaned back into the couch with a heavy sigh. Every atom that made up your body buzzed with restlessness. Your feet began to tap against the floor, knees shaking with the force, and your gaze turned to the window. Fat clouds hung in the sky, but it didn’t smell like rain. If anything, you could nearly make out the scent of the tulips your next door neighbor had growing on her balcony. 

Simon reached over and snatched your plate from your lap, drawing your attention back over to him. He looked at you with a raised brow as he caught sight of your bouncing legs, and you quickly ceased your movement with a huff. Chuckling, he stood up from his spot before wandering off into the kitchen to take care of the mess, and you groaned as you looked up at the ceiling. 

“I’m going crazy,” you whined. 

“That’s what relaxin’ is, sweetheart,” Simon quipped. 

“It’s bullshit is what it is,” you countered. “Sitting around, just waiting for this kid to come like we’ve got some welcoming party set up. I wanna… do something.” 

Simon paused as he came back into the living room, shoulder leaning against the doorway. “Wanna go for a walk?” 

“What, like I’m a dog?” you teased.

He shrugged. “Your words, not mine.” 

A heavy sigh passed your lips as you rolled your head to the side. You hated the stares. You hated the comments and the lingering eyes and the quiet cooing you received while out in public. More often than not you were looked at like a walking enigma rather than a human being. Rather than a mother. Is that what it meant to become a mom? You’d just turn into some spectacle? Is that all you had ever been from the start? 

“Sure,” you finally responded, “could walk around the park or something.” 

That was that. The lift made heading to the bottom floor an easy feat, and once you were settled in the passenger's seat of Simon's car, the two of you were headed off to the nearest park. A gentle breeze toyed with the clouds in the sky and the budding leaves on the trees, and its aroma was intoxicating. Usually there was more rain in the spring time, but you were glad that you had been spared from it that day. 

You weren’t the only people who figured it was a good day to go for a walk. Plenty of other citizens filled the park as children bounced around on playground sets and adults settled down for impromptu picnics. Their laughter filled the air with ease, and its sound felt warm on your ears. It wouldn’t be much longer until you heard that sound more often. Or, at least you hoped you did. You were sure there would be plenty of screaming well beforehand. 

Simon helped you out of the car, face still shrouded with his mask, and the two of you quickly set off on the paved path that weaved throughout the grass and trees. Shadows dotted the land around you as thick clouds traversed far overhead, yet for the most part the sun warmed your skin as you walked. It was awkward walking and carrying around so much extra weight, yet you had gotten fairly good at pushing through despite it. With Simon’s hand in yours, you hardly thought too much about the weight anyways as you were more concerned with the feeling of his skin against yours. 

“So,” you spoke up once the two of you had walked a fair ways down the path, “the mask. Still plan on wearing it once you’re officially done with work?” 

“Maybe,” he pondered.

“Seriously?” 

He shrugged. “It’s so ingrained with me that the tyke’ll probably come out wearin’ one.” 

Your chuckle shook your body so much you felt your son protest inside of you with a swift fit of kicks. He had grown less active as of late, but as far as you knew, that was pretty normal. Still, you wish he had picked up energy a bit more. By the sounds of it, if he didn’t arrive by next week, your doctor planned on inducing you, which was a whole nightmare on its own. 

“As long as he’s got a better sense of humor than you, I think we’ll manage,” you teased. 

“My sense of humor is fine.”

“Uh huh.” 

A fit of giggles snagged your attention as a small group of kids swerved around you and Simon. A bright yellow football spun out in front of the two of you as they kicked it among themselves, making sure to use a flourish of kicks to show off. It seemed as if their game had gone out of bounds, and they elbowed one another as they fought to get it back towards the field. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them and their stubby legs kicking the ball as they ran as hard as they could. 

It was strange to think you’d have to care for someone like that. Sure, your son would start off small, but everyone always said they grew up fast. It was times like that when things seemed to move faster than normal. Everything always seemed like it stood still until you turned around and saw how far you had come, yet something about that moment made things feel like the opposite. Everything else passed by you so quickly, and you were stuck with your feet in the ground. 

Fucking pregnancy hormones. 

Before you could get lost any further in your mind, you gave Simon’s hand a full squeeze, as if demanding his attention. He hummed in response, eyes carefully flickering to you before landing back on the path before you. 

“We still have to decide on a name,” you reminded him. 

“If we had it Johnny’s way, we’d name it after him,” Simon humored. 

A smile pulled at your lips as you remembered his comments. You’re naming him after Uncle Johnny, aye? 

“I’m not naming our son John. That’s such an old man's name,” you countered. “I’m pretty sure anyone with that name isn’t ever born. They just sorta sprout into existence as a full grown man.”

“We could always name him Arlo,” Simon said, the grin evident in his voice. 

“You’re a fucking dick for that one,” you hissed quietly enough that the kids around you couldn’t hear. 

Simon’s grin erupted into a chuckle, and you bathed in the way the warm vibration of it washed over you. Simon always felt like home to you. Patched up and barely holding together by the seams at first, yet his foundation was the only one you had come across that wasn’t cold and dead. His laughter always reminded you of that — that you were safe and warm with him — even though he tried to hold it back more often than not. 

“We’ll figure it out eventually I suppose,” you sighed. 

Even with the steady breeze, the heat of the sun ate away at your skin like a beast. While it felt nice at first, being out in nature and airing yourself out, you could feel your skin perspire uncomfortably, forcing your clothes to stick to your body like a cage. You wiggled your hand out of Simon’s grasp as you wiped your sticky hand on your pants. Being sweaty was always uncomfortable, but it was twice as irritating when you were so far along. 

“Wanna take a breather?” Simon prompted. 

You looked up at him with narrow eyes. How he managed through the thick heat in that dark mask of his was beyond you, and in some sort of way you were a little jealous. Though, you supposed he had earned that right. You were sure he had gone through environments much warmer than London with clothes significantly thicker than his civvies. 

“Sure,” you said eventually, giving in. 

A few paces ahead sat an unsuspecting bench. It was one of the annoying metal ones that had no curve for comfort, yet you knew Simon was right. A breather would do you some good, and you shouldn’t push yourself anyway. The moment you lowered yourself onto the bench, you leaned all your weight back with a sigh. However, Simon stayed standing, despite the fact there was plenty of room for him to sit with you. 

“I’ve got some water in the car, if you need it,” he offered. 

“Might be a good idea,” you nodded. 

Simon paused as he glanced around as if assessing the area for threats. You weren’t quite sure what threats there were to be found in London, but you were certain you would have been fine in a park in broad daylight. Simon seemed to come to that same conclusion, and he quickly waved a finger at you as he took a step back. 

“Stay put.” 

After giving him a half-assed fake salute, you watched as he strolled back down the pavement towards the car until he was well out of view. Another sigh left your throat as you allowed your eyes to rest and soak in what little nature surrounded you. Birds sang to one another in the trees, but the crashing harmony of the seagull’s call created an aura of dissonance. It was some sort of external struggle you weren’t allowed to be a part of. 

At that moment, everything happened at once. The cars driving along the street. Children screaming and giggling. Clouds rolling overhead without a care in the world. A bee flying towards a dandelion. You could smell the sunshine warm the earth with an enticing aroma. Everything existed all at once, all together, with you right in the middle of it. It was perfect. Everything humming in tune with one another. Weaving together to hold you tight. 

It stopped when you smelled the smoke. 

That nauseating aroma was strong enough to nearly make you hurl right there in the center of the park, yet you managed to hold it together. It took a sharp breath and a thick swallow to do it, but you refused to embarrass yourself that way. You hated being vulnerable in front of others. As your eyes flickered back open you could make out the faint sound of rustling grass. It was leisurely. Soft. Like someone couldn’t bother to pick their feet up fully as they walked. 

Your mistake was simple. You looked up. You looked up and you locked eyes with the man who walked by, and you swore that in that moment you would fall apart. And you wanted to. Wanted to crumble into dust so that he would never lay eyes on you again. Yet you were forced to witness the way his lips curled into a smile around his cigarette as if he had any right to be friendly towards you, and you wanted to scream. You wanted to scream further still as he changed course and made a beeline straight to you. 

“Holy shit,” he muttered. 

You hated his voice. Hated the way words rolled off of his tongue. You wished his tongue would turn to stone, or worse, so that he would never have to poison anyone with his words ever again. His chuckle came as a terrible scratch against your eardrums, and you tried your best not to grimace, but you couldn’t even do that much. 

He exhaled his last lungful of smoke before he took the butt out of his mouth and tossed it onto the pavement. The sole of his boot crushed it like it was nothing but a bug underneath his weight, and while you could hear its contents smearing on the ground, you still couldn’t look away from his face. A desert-like dryness plagued your mouth, and you tried your hardest to get your tongue to move, but every time you swallowed it felt like pins were stuck in your throat. 

Years. So many years and still, you were nothing but a scared little girl. 

“What?” he questioned facetiously. “You’re not gonna say hi to your dad?”

[ddejavvu]

Love to think that Anakin purposefully lets you land hits on him during training so that he can go back to his rooms and press and poke his bruises you’d give him. He’d imagine it was you, and it gets him so rock hard

-el (@anakin-skywalker-always)

i had to take a deep breath after i read this... i wanna beat the shit out of him <333

obvious cw for impact play/masochism, don't read if it'll bother you

this post is 18+, minors dni.

you notice that after the first couple of times that you spar by chance, he ends up standing conveniently next to you in your saber class from then on. he tries to play it off as just having found a seat/corner that he really likes and maybe you believe it, maybe you don't, but what he's really after is to get you to beat the crap out of him. he finds out that this is so enticing after only your first session together, because you were partnered together by chance and he'd stayed up a little too late watching a holoshow and after three tries obi-wan probably gave up on telling him to get some sleep. so he's tired and a little grouchy (he's absolutely pissy) but the one thing he's a master at over all else is dueling, right? he flourishes in his saber classes, he steps up to it with a liiiiittle too much confidence, and it only takes one second late for his sleep-lagged brain to register your foot heading for his face until your heel is ramming into his jaw and he's knocked to the floor.

you're not thirteen anymore, you're either older padawans or already knights, so no one monitors your matches too closely. you won't be reprimanded for kicking him rather than swinging your saber, because this class is less about learning the different forms of dueling and more about honing your sparring skills to fight in actual battles. your move had been totally fair, and if he'd just gone to bed on time, he'd have seen it coming and been able to block it, but now he's knocked on his ass with a searing pain in his jaw, wide eyes, and a feeling he should not be experiencing now of all times below the belt. he stares back up at you, and at first, he's pissed. how dare you beat him at his best game, how dare you fight dirty and knock The Chosen One on his butt in front of the entire class? but then he watches your sly smirk as you stare down at him, your saber still ignited as you hold it by your side, and he fully registers what that misplaced sensation is down below, and oh maker he thinks you're so fucking hot.

he's a little slow to get back up on his feet, and he's ridiculously grateful for the loose jedi garb that hides his predicament from you. he nods once, trying not to let it show on his face that he'd actually liked getting k.o'd by you, and gears up for another fight.

he doesn't want to seem too obvious, but he wants to test his theory again. so he lets you win roughly half of your matches, and the other half, he uses the rest of his quickly dwindling energy to overpower you. he has a fleeting thought that you might also be taking pity on him for having such an off day and you might be letting him win, but that bruises his ego too much and that's about the only part of him he doesn't want you to bruise, so he pushes the thought away.

he's careful to avoid your saber, but you quickly catch on that hand-to-hand combat is what usually trips him up, and you're very generous with the punches and kicks you throw his way. every time his body makes rushed contact with the mat below him, whether it be his shoulder slamming against it when you knock his feet out from under him, or his nose cracking against it and leaving behind a dull ache, he lets the pain spread through his body, letting it rush straight south to his embarrassingly stiff cock. he feels so juvenile, popping a boner in class, but he wrestles it down as much as possible before your session is up. he relishes the surprisingly arousing feel of your knuckles smashing against his face or arm, and kriff it feels so good when you knee him just above the dick, somewhere on the left side of his waist. Like you know he's achingly hard beneath his flowy tunics, like you're teasing him.

he passes up the opportunity to eat after the session is dismissed, and rushes straight back to his quarters. he locks himself in the bathroom and sees a bruise quickly forming at his jaw where you'd initially kicked him. peeling away the layers of his robes, he finds several more aching splotches across his tanned skin, a sight that makes him greedy for more. he tentatively pushes his fingers into one on his side and though his instinct is to get away from the pain, his fingers press relentlessly into him as his cock twitches in his briefs. he moans, he audibly and uncontrollably moans at that first contact, feeling the memory resurface of your elbow jamming into his skin and staining it black and blue.

he gets off three times in the bathroom before his next engagement. three times. he tugs on his cock with embarrassing desperation as he uses his other hand to aggravate the painful marks you'd left all over his body, each persistent push of his digits against a bruise flooding shameful heat and pain through him. he cums on his hand, then his stomach, and by the third orgasm he slumps against the wall and zones out while staring at a bruise you'd left on his thigh. he cleans up and gets himself re-dressed, but the bruise on his jaw is still tantalizingly visible. he inspects it, turns his face to the side while his eyes track it in the mirror. his mind conjures up the most delicious image of your mouth latched onto the mark, sucking and biting and making it worse, so much worse. he wants you to make him worse, he wants you to pummel him into the ground and then bite at all of his bumps and bruises until he's blacking out from the pain. his exhausted dick threatens to jump in his briefs at the image so he pushes it down, if only to be on time for his next class or meeting or meditation or whatever else he's got planned for the day. he does, however, revisit the image in his quarters later that night, where he again receives shamefully less sleep than he should. this time, though, he's not taken by a holodrama, he's enamored with the thought of you beating him up further, and he formulates a shoddy, half-baked plan to get you to knock him around some more.

he spends the next few sparring sessions as your partner, once again pretending he's losing to you a fair amount of times. you grow to be friends, if you weren't already, and you even touch the bruise on his jaw before it fades completely. you brush your fingers over it softly, apologetically, like you're trying not to hurt him, when all he really wants you to do is slap the mark, slam your hand against his face so that it gets worse, not better.

after those few sparring sessions, whoever's officially supervising you realizes that you two are always together. he doesn't want either of you to fall into a rhythm of each other's fighting styles, doesn't want things to be predictable or easy, so he bans you from being partnered for a while. he tells you both to find new partners, and while you shoot him a sympathetic smile, anakin's busy glaring holes into the back of the master's head when he walks away. he feels that rush of anger again, like he had when you'd first knocked him over, but this time of course it doesn't fade to pleasure. it burns white hot through his body, how dare they take you away from him? how dare they try to separate you? and he almost feels bad for taking that anger out on the poor man he'd had to partner with. he doesn't feel the need to fake a loss with the guy, and he pulls victories in every single match that they have together, just like he used to before he discovered his penchant for pain. for your pain, for your violence.

he uses this as an excuse, though. to ask you to spar with him outside of your classes. he pitches this sob story about how everyone else in the class isn't as good as you are, and how you're the only one he can't consistently beat. how you two should start sparring on the side, to keep each other on your toes. and of course you agree, because you're friends with him now, and you're somewhat ego-boosted by the thought of being too good at sparring for anakin skywalker to beat.

private sparring sessions are so much better, anakin finds. there's no audience, no one to marvel at how he so easily drops to the mat after a punch from you. no one to call your attention over to them, even for a second. it's just the two of you, and you always lose track of time and spar for hours. it means that anakin leaves your sparring sessions a lot more broken and bruised than he typically did from your classes, which only means more late nights relentlessly jacking himself off while pressing his hand against the marks.

when he does it he snaps his eyes shut, imagining it's your hand. he likes seeing the bruises, but he likes imagining that you're the one aggravating them even more, so he screws his eyes shut and pokes at the spots until they scream with pain. his other hand is busy beating his dick, slicked with his own spit but well-smeared with precum now, as he drives his fingers against his own sore spots envisioning you tormenting him further. his breathing comes hot and heavy and panted as he does it, aching chest convulsing as he spits the foulest stream of huttese curses he can fathom. his teeth are clenched and his fist is too, accidentally squeezing his poor abused red-tipped cock too hard and only hurting himself further. there’s something so carnal and feral and lustful about the thought of you doing it on purpose, you bursting blood beneath his skin and hitting him, staining his skin with the residue of your want for him. he gets off every night, multiple times a night to the vision of you sneering at him, slapping his sore spots and biting at them until he's in agony. he truly doesn't know why his brain has crosswired pleasure and pain, but he'll let you beat the shit out of him any day, if it means he gets to fuck his fist later and pretend you're the one poking and prodding at his bruises until he cums hard.

[ghost-proofbaby]

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

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

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

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

wc: 15.1k+

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

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

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

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

When you met him. 

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” 

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

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

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

“You don’t look fine.”

“Then stop looking.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The absolute biggest.”

“Bigger than the Atlantic ocean.”

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

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

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

He only nodded in answer.

“Can I ask why?”

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

“Because he made fun of you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

You wouldn’t have survived it without Eddie. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Principal Higgins doesn’t hate you.”

“You’re right – he loathes me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A payment.” 

“And what would this payment be?” 

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His miracle. His gift. His soulmate. 

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

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

“The colors.”

“Because they are.” 

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

You were his soulmate. 

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

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

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

“What? Used to them?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

I guess, except when it’s you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, hold on-”

“Stay here.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-Okay,” you stuttered out, unsure. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think I’m pretty?” 

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

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

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

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

“There, look.” 

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

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

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

The sentiment had you choked up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was right. You think you get it. 

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

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

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

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

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

“As many as it takes, old man.” 

“Whatever you say, kid.” 

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t reply, only widening your strides. 

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

Damn him and his newfound height. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You won’t even kiss me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he said no. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

But after three days, you had started to worry. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His soulmate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you didn’t. 

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

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

He nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he saw you, he’d shattered completely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You should have insisted on staying with him and Dustin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—*ash, stop reading here*—

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

You’d always wondered how it happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s black and white. 

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

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

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

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

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

The colors are gone. 

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

Eddie. 

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

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

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

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

Frozen in time, frozen in black and white. 

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

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

She understands.

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

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

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

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

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

“Eddie!” 

You’d always wondered how it happened.

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

[rudeflower]

"take an extra long shower?" JESS ANGST

HI

I'm having a crappy day so I am on my Gilmore Girls rewatch and I reached a point that even when I was a thirteen/fourteen year old kid REALLY STOOD OUT as evidence that Jess has had a fucked up life??

Fandom varies a whole lot on interpretations of Jess's life in New York which is lovely I love that fandom let's us take things as we take them

These range from "Liz is an ordinary mom and Jess is a difficult obstinate kid who is giving his single mom a lot of grief" (I don't love this one but you do you) to "Extreme chaos, Liz was using hard drugs, Jess was severely dangerously constantly abused and neglected" (I land not quite this far but definitely over the median line)

We have a lot of evidence we take out to point in either direction, but there's one thing I don't see discussed often in 3x13

So Jess (a high school student) is keeping the diner open at 11:30 at night, waiting for Luke to come back from his date with Nicole. The diner certinaly is not open until midnight, is Jess keeping it open just so he can catch them when the come in and see what's going on? So they don't walk in on him living his life in his apartment with no privacy?

Jess, certainly without being asked to, has placed himself ready to respond to this situation and take control.

He has fresh hot coffee for them and acts quickly when they walk in

Luke has no idea what he's talking about, and Jess is acting like this is something that both of them are aware of and silently already agreed upon. He's genuinely confused that Luke is confused about the idea of him wandering around after midnight so Luke can have sex in their one room apartment

Then when Luke finally catches on and tries to take Jess aside, Jess is even more confused and maybe a little scared?

Look at Nicole just having the time of her life

In Jess's mind it is a GIVEN that he is going to get out of the way so that Luke can hook up with his date. He is genuinely confused and them ALARMED and argumentative when Luke tries to shut it down.

Luke is a normal healthyish adult who knows that a kid being out in the cold when he doesn't have a friend whose house he's playing video games while waiting around at is a BAD THING. He never planned on Jess leaving??? He's probably a little surprised Jess is up at all, why is the diner open why isn't he asleep? Jess had kicked out Kirk on his own plenty of times, and Caesar is gone, but he isn't about to tell his kid off in front of Nicole.

And he doesn't. When he realizes what's going on he gets Jess out of the room to talk/yell at him. Which is good?

(Luke also literally hits him in the back of the head while Jess is arguing?? I love Luke and I know it's a little bop not a smack but YIKES let's not?????)

Considering how Jess thinks there's two ways to read this.

One is that Jess has been doing this for years with Liz. The adult who is pretending to take care of him (from Jess's POV) coming back to a cramped living space with no privacy is something he already has a routine for. He is awake, he is ready for them to come back, he gets a read on what's going on and then if he doesn't think he has to protect Liz/Luke from the date then he is GONE. It's 11:30 at night? So? He's just going to walk around and stay the fuck out of the way.

Jess is acting out a pattern he's lived over and over, and he doesn't find being booted out into the cold to be unusual, it's confusing that anyone else would.

The second way is that Jess is truly trying to be a bro to his uncle and get him laid. He sees how Luke is a freaking monk and wants to be helpful so he can hook up with this lawyer. He isn't acting out a pattern, he's trying something new.

But fuck that ALSO is not looking good???? It's not ideal at all that Luke has chosen for their living situation to be a big open room, but Jess has adjusted to it and he's willing to take the hit and go out in the cold so that Luke can get laid.

This scenario would show that he truly assumes that Luke is not concerned about his welfare--which is whatever, fine. Okay. Luke doesn't care that Jess has to go out into the cold so he can get laid--Jess is confused that he does.

It also suggests that Jess truly believes it is his job to take care of his guardian, not the other way around.

Overall this scene, while kind of funny, actually has really dark edges to it? Either Jess thinks he has to get out of dodge to protect himself, or he thinks it's his job to manage Luke's social life. Given we know that Liz had guys coming in and out, and it's not likely Jess often lived places with a lot of privacy, he is almost certainly acting out routines he's been taking part of since he was young.

Jess has probably gone out into the night to avoid hearing that shit plenty of times.

And when it was raining, or too cold, or just not an option?

Why do you think Jess needs the music on to sleep?

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box— Quinn Hughes Edition (Fourteen)

23-24 Season Masterlist

previous: thirteen

next: fifteen

i'm desperately trying to catch up i’m so sorry

NOVEMBER 16, 2023

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, _quinnhughes, and 20,566 others

yourusername welcome back to my postgame penalty box update show: quinn finally did me a solid edition!

the first notable thing to happen in this game occurred at 7:05 in the first period— ‼️QUINN GOT A TRIPPING PENALTY‼️the second picture shows him pouting, probably because he knew i was going to be elated over this and he hates to see me happy

AND THEN a flame (ruzicka) tripped petey, which created a 4 on 4 for 1 minute and 17 seconds. nobody scored on the 4 on 4, but guess who did once quinn got out on parole? PETEY! THAT'S WHO! and milsy assisted on it! oh yeah! and quinn did, too! (his 21st assist ;))

this has made quinn have the third most career assists for a defenseman in their first 300 games! did i forget to mention that this was his 300th game? because it was!

onto the second period! quinn got hit and he fell down and hronek tried to throw hands in his honor but neither him nor the flame (pospisil) really succeeded in that, but they both got two for roughing anyways (i’d call it aggressive hugging but whatever works i guess)

then quinny baby let some agression out and slashed coleman (a flame) after he was interfered with while facing him, knocking the stick out of his hands! that's my big brother! don't take that shit! they both got a penalty, quinn's being his second (i cheered) and we had ourselves a 3 on 3 that trickled into the third!

sadly, the universe only liked me a little bit. while i was elated by quinn getting two penalties, it was a hard nuck life tonight (get it?) and we lost 5-2 :(

anyways! congratulations on having played 300 nhl games, huggy buggy! i love you way past infinity🩵

tagged _quinnhughes

view all 204 comments

_quinnhughes (i get it) (you're not funny) i love you way past beyond, sissy!

yourusername okay rude

jackhughes @_quinnhughes i agree

yourusername @/jackhughes i repeat: RUDE

trevorzegras @/yourusername i think you're hilarious and my opinion is worth more than theirs

yourusername @/trevorzegras awww i can't wait to be contractually obligated to love you always <3

trevorzegras @/yourusername i already love you forever

jackhughes @/trevorzegras @/yourusername your love is ruining the vibes

yourusername @/jackhughes i will stab you

jackhughes @/yourusername you're across the country

yourusername @/jackhughes i have my ways

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes rack up those penalty minutes, bro! so proud!

_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 you've been talking to sissy too much

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes no, jack's been talking to sissy too much. i’ve just had the displeasure of being around for it

yourusername @/lhughes_06 you came home from practice the other day and stole his phone to talk to me?????

lhughes_06 @/yourusername don't gaslight our brother like that

jackhughes @/lhughes_06 you actually did that though?

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes don't listen to them. the twins are conspiring against me.

_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 i think you're the one that's conspiring against me

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes your sissy favoritism is showing, quintin

yourusername @/lhughes_06 suck it <3

user24 THE SCARED AND HIGH PICS ARE BACK! THE UNIVERSE IS BALANCED!

user6 you've heard of mr. 305, now get ready for mr. 300

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes she tried to count your total time on ice for all three hundred games

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras did she implode?

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes i don't know but she was going through a lot

yourusername @_quinnhughes i quit when i got to over three days because i noticed i made a mistake and didn't know if made other ones so i didn't want to be wrong and then i cried

_quinnhughes @/yourusername you tried so hard! i appreciate it and i’m proud of you!

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes she is now under my shirt

user79 oh my god quinn's pout is so babygirl😭

_eliaspettersson i’d like more praise

yourusername who do you think you are? the queen?

_eliaspettersson you call me your blonde king

yourusername irrelevant.

_eliaspettersson extremely relevant.

yourusername i love you, you're doing amazing sweetie, now go away

_eliaspettersson i love you, too!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras is she seething?

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes no but she's got the cutest grumpy pout on her face

yourusername @/trevorzegras 2 minute penalty for making me more grumpy. go sit in the bathtub.

user90 flipping my shit over "huggy buggy" that's so heckin cute🥹

colecaufield 300 games just like that, huh? i could've sworn we just played against the michigan wolverines last week! congrats, bud! @_quinnhughes

yourusername ah yes, the first and only time i wore my "i just hope everyone has fun" shirt

jackhughes and then i burned it!

colecaufield @/jackhughes you just threw it in the lake

jackhughes @/colecaufield you couldn't have let me have my moment?

yourusername @/jackhughes he's on team sissy! translation: fuck you😌🤍

jackhughes @/yourusername when was the last time you were nice to me?

yourusername @/jackhughes i sent you a "sorry you're dying" gift box november 5th and you got it on the 10th and umm... WE HAVE FACETIMED EVERY DAY FOR TWO WEEKS

jackhughes @/yourusername you're so obsessed with me

yourusername @/jackhughes i will send you a glitter bomb

colecaufield @/yourusername DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!

jackhughes @/colecaufield you're so unhelpful

colecaufield @/jackhughes <3

_quinnhughes @/colecaufield i'm ignoring all of that to say thank you

_quinnhughes @/yourusername @/jackhughes this is about me so i’m going to need you two to stop

yourusername @_quinnhughes mmf

jackhughes @_quinnhughes what she said

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes i’d take them agreeing as a win

_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 i am don't worry

user82 he has more than one expression now! he's growing!

user64 canucks lost but sissy won! so that cancels out the loss! pemdas!

_alexturcotte remember when you used to root for the flames? what a time that was

yourusername i was rooting for MATTY! there's a difference

lhughes_06 @_alexturcotte you didn't have to experience the mess that she was the entire flames vs stars playoff series with her. it was not "a time." it was hell.

jackhughes oh my god that was a nightmare

_quinnhughes i still get nightmares

trevorzegras i get war flashbacks every time the stars play against the flames

jamie.drysdale i only experienced this through facetimes and not even that was fun

colecaufield @_alexturcotte sounds like we lucked out

_alexturcotte @/lhughes_06 @/jackhughes @_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras @.jamie.drysdale i’m sorry about your lives

yourusername LISTEN I HAD SO MANY MIXED EMOTIONS OKAY?! I LOVE MATTY BUT I LOVE THE STARS! IT WAS TRAUMATIC

jackhughes @/yourusername and you traumatized us!

yourusername @/jackhughes for solidarity!

lhughes_06 @/yourusername what if we didn't want solidarity? did you ever think about our wants?

yourusername @/lhughes_06 not even once

user29 everybody say it with me: FUCK THE FLAMES

liked by yourusername

jackhughes it's a hard nuck life for us

yourusername it's a hard nuck life for us! instead of winning, we get whipped

jackhughes instead of cheers, we cause tears

yourusername it's a hard nuck life!

_quinnhughes @/yourusername @/jackhughes i'm so done with both of you

trevorzegras HA

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras i’m done with you, too

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes that's not new

yourusername @_quinnhughes we love youuuuu

jackhughes @_quinnhughes sooooo much!

_quinnhughes @/yourusername @/jackhughes "mmf" -sissy

[shadowsingercassia]

The Gate To Home | Chapter 4: "Imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry-"

Rhysandxreader (just realized that this part makes it very clear who she ends up with)

Summary: You are an Ironteeth witch and one of Manon's Thirteen. During the third Valg war, all the Thirteen were dead, and you - heavily wounded - fell through a portal. Landing on a far away land, in a war camp, everyone seeming petrified by your iron teeth and nails, you see three males. Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel, your only hopes. But which one of these hopes will help you find your way back into a new home?

Words: 2k

Warnings: torture (mental), mentions of vomit and past abuse, ANGST

I will dedicate this part to:

- the people who think they've failed their younger selves ❤️

- and to the people who are willing to go through hell for their loved ones ❤️

I love you all, and I hope you find your Rhysand in life 🫶

The music came every night, like a lullaby, coaxing you to sleep, and most of the times it grasped away your nightmares, as if locking them up into another place. It kept you sane, or perhaps you were already insane.

A meal came once a day, at a specific hour, but you still couldn't recall for how long you've been here. Was it a few days? Weeks? Months? It could have been a whole year, for all you know.

That corner of the cell was still freezing, but over time, you taught yourself to embrace the chill as it seeped into your bones. Welcome it into your body.

Each night, the music played the same tune. A soft, comforting melody, simple and yet it held so much meaning to you. You thought of that melody as the stars that you were deprived of seeing since in that cell, there was only darkness. The song was your light, the thing that pushed you on to continue. It made you want to keep going, to not break.

But was it even real?

Was your body pitying you?

Or was it something else?

Nonetheless, the music was your savior, your knight in shining armor. It wasn't much, and anyone could have thought of it as simply nothing.

It was everything.

Not only did it make you want to push forward, but it made you want to get out of your cold shell. To talk. To show emotion.

One night, you decided to sing back. Your angelic voice carried on over the melody as you sang your mother's lullaby. It was the same as you remembered it. The same as the one you whispered to yourself when you couldn't sleep. Only this time, you sang it out loud.

The music seemed to answer back, changing to match the song you were singing.As you sang, tears rolled down your cheeks, and your voice faltered, the notes dying in your throat. The melody didn't falter. Likewise, you felt it wrap around you, shield you from the haunting nightmares.You couldn't think straight, any time you tried, thoughts blurred together.

You were broken.

Vulnerable.

Weak.

Broken.

And you hated it.

The meal came, so you could only assume it was late afternoon. Or was it late evening? You couldn't tell.

It was difficult to eat with your hands chained behind your back. Not that you had any intention, either. Most days, you just took a bite or two out of a hard bread, and sometimes you would even take a bite from the tiny piece of cheese that tasted strange.

You struggled to get close to that plate, kneeling in front of it and eating a bite, like a dog. The High Lord really wanted to humiliate you. Even if nobody could see you, you felt a tinge of shame and embarrassment blooming on your cheeks.

Sitting back on your knees, you let out a soft breath through your mouth.

***

Nobody came. Not tonight, or the next night. Not even the next morning, afternoon, or evening.You lost hope. After all, it's no use. No one could have saved you, and if anyone could... it would probably be Manon.

But you're not in Erilea anymore, and you hoped you would go back. You half believed you would fall through the portal again if you were on the brink of death. That was what had brought you here in the first place.

Perhaps that was why you weren't eating much.

Perhaps now that no one is going to save you, you could try to go back. To face death again and fall through that portal again.

You would go home.

But for some reason, there was a part of you that didn't want to. A part of you that believed that Illyria was home, and Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, even Emerie. They were home.

Tears fell again. You were alone. In here, you could be weak. But that didn't mean you liked it.

Weak, weak, weak.

Broken.

Today, the cell was colder. Yearning for warmth, you had curled in on your corner, knees pressed tightly to your chest. Your skin was freezing, and that nightgown you wore did little to protect you from the blistering chill.

For the first time in the days you've been here, the cell door opened. But instead of the High Lord, there was a female. A girl, barely over eleven years old. On her hand sat a candle. She wore a dress, stained with flecks of dirt. Nuzzling closer to yourself, you notice something folded in her hands.

She didn't speak, not as she approached you, each one of her steps were calculated and slow. Careful. The girl was careful, not wanting to scare you.

Crouching in front of you, she unfolded the fabric. It seemed thin but warm enough. A cloak. Gently, she wrapped it around you and fastened the clasp. Enveloped in the warmth of the fabric, you normally would have let out a pleased sigh. But you couldn't. No sound came out of your lips.

Opening your mouth, you tried to speak. So broken. You were so broken that words could not form. Holding a hand up, she silenced your attempts to speak.

"My name is Rhea. I'm sorry for what my father did to you," she said. Her father. She is the High Lord's daughter. Rhysand's sister.

Her violet eyes gleamed with a silent apology as they looked into yours. More tears fell down your eyes, and she wiped them away. "I have to go, don't forget me," she said at last and stood up.

One word managed to get out, "wait."

She did.

Looking over her shoulder, she slowly turned around again. "I vow to you, Rhea, that I will repay the favor. Thank you." Her smile was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. Exactly like Rhysand's.

Even if your word sounded so broken and raspy, she didn't comment on it, and you found yourself wondering if she had been through this type of torture before.

She was gone before you could ask.

The cloak now gave you warmth, keeping you from freezing to death. You owed her a life's debt. Leaning your head against the wall, you relished in the feel of the fabric and let it lull you to sleep.

***

Nightmares, again and again and again. The pile of vomit, now half of it dry, had expanded last night. You didn't know if the music had come, you weren't awake to hear it, and yet still, inside your nightmare, your chest had seemed to lighten as the notes wrapped around you.

So it wasn't only your imagination. It couldn't be. Even in those nightmares, music, music, music. You could hear it as you woke up, once again vomiting from the sight of your parents' severed heads. The images the High Lord made you relive haunted you in this cell. Mental shields long gone, and sometimes, he would even pry again, make you see the memories again and again, and then let go, leaving you to cry and vomit.

It was the worst kind of torture. Worst than Iskra's whip, that had left the three scars on your back. Worst than every drop of blue blood you have lost. Worst than the Valgs.

Illusions.

A voice in your mind had told you that he wanted to try something new. The thing he didn't say was that he wanted to break you into pieces so small nobody would be able to fix again.

You hoped he would just take the memories away, but he didn't want to. It was so similar to Valgs, except from the darkness, and yet the cell was so dark that if you believed it hard enough, you might convince yourself it is indeed a Valg. It started off with small things. The calm before the storm. A hand reaching out or touching you, sometimes it even hit you.

Other times, it teased you, touching you in places you would rather not be touched.

You tried to tell it to stop, but when you did, another came and gagged you. Then came tears, and screams that couldn't be heard.

Today, it was different. The silhouette of a small girl. You recognized her, those innocent doe eyes, and her silky hair. Those eyes, your eyes, flecked with exactly eight flecks of gold. The eyes of the Valg Kings.She stared at you, and her gaze hardened.

Illusion, illusion, illusion, you told yourself.

Real. It felt so real as the girl shook her head in disappointment. Silver lined your eyes, and you let the tears fall. "Y/n..." You whispered to your younger self that stared down at you. That five year old girl seemed to tower over your form, which was slumped down against the wall.

"You're weak and broken. I believed you would be better than that," a sob escaped your lips.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry- I'm sorry, imsorryimsorryimsorry-" the young girl seemed to falter at your apologies. You swore she wasn't just an illusion. Something felt so real about her. This wasn't the High Lord's doing. This was purely your mind, playing tricks on you. Seems like your mind doesn't pity you in the least.

The younger you started again, spitting insults at you, telling you how weak you were, and you could only apologize.

"Imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry-" sobs wracked your body, your head resting on your knees. She stopped, her eyes softening. Illusion, illusion, illusion.

But she didn't say anything more before she vanished. You hoped she would come back and tell you again everything you did and failed her.

***

Rhysand had felt her mental walls shattering and then nothing. He was worried sick.

Devlon had told him, you had found your way back home. To Erilea.

A word swirled in his mind. A hope, now lost. But it ringed in his ears, in his head, in his soul. You hadn't left. He felt it. All of it.

He first went to find you himself, and then he ordered Cassian to search as well. Not even Azriel could track down your scent.

Your scent. Gods, he missed that scent. The way it clung to you and every time you were close, it would drift to him, to tell him about your presence. He missed it so much that he'd kill in order to catch a whiff of it again.

Rhysand would do anything to have you back. In Illyria, with him.

Where you belong. But if you didn't want to stay, he wouldn't force you. As much as he wanted you here, he wouldn't, couldn't, shouldn't force you.

Every night and every day, hour, minute, second, he was off in the skies, searching for you. His beautiful, fierce, sassy witch.

His Y/n.

And if they had put their fingers on you, if anyone had dared touch you, he vowed to himself that he'd kill them all slowly. He was willing to do anything for you. Always for you, everything for you.

He send out a melody. His mother's lullaby, hoping it would reach you, and one day, he had gotten back response. An angelic voice that sang a different tune, and he adjusted the notes to match it. The voice sang until it sobbed, and the notes died on her throat. It was female, the voice was feminine, and he wondered if that was you.

He heard the first few sobs, his heart breaking with each one of them, his chest tight with pain and despair. He was helpless.

Frustrated with himself, he decided to go to Devlon. He approached his office and heard voice. His father. Rhysand couldn't help himself.

Devlon's voice sounded first, "have you decided what to do with the witch?" Then a pause, for one moment, then two.

Finally, his father replied. "I will shatter her." Simple, nonchalant words, as if it was nothing more than breaking a piece of glass.

The witch. His witch. Y/n. His Y/n. He couldn't imagine her break. Rhysand might have seen her in a few moments of vulnerability, but never completely broken.

He barged in.

"Ah, Rhysand, about time," his father turned to face him with a hardened expression.

-------------------------☆-------------------------

a/n: I hope you all liked Rhysand's pov! Also I used a reference from throne of glass kind of, where Celeana/Aelin gives her cloak to Kaltain in Crown of Midnight. I think the name Rhea, that I used for Rhysand's sister means river, but it was the first thing that came to my mind 🥲

series taglist: @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @anarchiii @saltedcoffeescotch @blackgirlmagicforever @okaytrashpanda

general taglist: @blessthepizzaman @amara-moonlight @homeslices @flourishandblotts-inc

comment '🤍' to be added to my series taglist!

comment '💕' to be added to my general taglist!

Love, Cassia ❤️

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels Pt 29

Description: Conchata O'Hara is not a fan of you and makes this clear to Miguel, but it ends up going a little too far when she drags Gabi into it. Pt 30

“Mijo, I don’t like this.” Connie says as soon as Miguel shuts the door.

They’re in a side sitting room, the music, and chatter muffled by the thick door. His mother is wringing her hands as she stands in the middle of the room looking up at him.

He turns to face her, massaging his temples. “You don’t like what?”

“Someone new trying to come in and take Ava’s spot, it’s too fast.” She says, a concerned expression on her face.

“It’s been four years.” He deadpans, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to calm himself down.

He’s never been good at this, even in his original universe, in fact he was worse back there because his mother was worse. Conchata O'Hara spent most of her life after her divorce from his stepfather guilt-tripping, he and Gabriel into running to her side at any given moment. She’d fake health scares, emergencies, claim someone had tried to break in and harm her, anything to trick them into visiting her at Wellvale Home.

But here? Here Gabriel dies much earlier, here his stepfather dies under mysterious circumstances when Miguel was thirteen, here his mother stays kind for a bit longer, this universe’s Miguel is in high school when she begins to change.

Then when Miguel arrived in this universe, he pulled her out of Wellvale and put her into therapy, then a nice apartment where she could bug everyone else before she bugged him. The guilt-tripping lessened, and he found he could actually tolerate visiting her.

“But Ava is still her mother.” Connie says that same disappointed look on her face he saw in the video footage from the day Ava left this timeline’s Miguel.

He counts to ten, then back down to zero in his head. Gabriel was always much better at this than him. He had more patience, in both universes.

“She is biologically her mother, but she isn’t her mom , she made that very clear to me.” Miguel says firmly.

Connie shakes her head. “She’s seduced you, hasn’t she?”

“Y/N?” He asks, both two seconds from laughing while also slightly aroused at the idea.

Would you seduce him? Maybe he’d bring that up to you, a little roleplay? You could be the beautiful assistant that seduces her overworked boss, turns him to putty in her hands…

“Miguel.” Connie snaps.

“No, no, she has not seduced me, she’s an elementary school teacher, Mamá.” Miguel explains.

“So?”

“So? So, she’s Gabi’s teacher, and she loves her job, she would never do anything to jeopardize it.”

“Most mistresses are teachers.” She says, crossing her arms over her chest.

He knows that’s blatantly wrong.

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop them, and the look on his mother’s face is like a sucker punch to the gut. “I—Mamá—I didn’t mean…I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Tu hijo ingrate.” She says, shaking her head in disappointment. “I did everything for you, tried so hard to raise you well, but obviously I failed.” Trsl: You ungrateful child.

“Mamá…” He reaches for her, but she takes a step back.

“I am so sorry that I was such a terrible mother that you would give up so easily, really Miguel, you would abandon the mother of your child when she came all the way here to see you and Gabi, to apologize.”

“How did you know Ava was in Nueva York?” He asks, dread filling his chest.

“She’s my daughter-in-law, and she wanted to see her baby, I told her where you and Gabi moved to.” She says it so simply, as if she hadn’t driven a stake through his heart.

Not for the first time, he feels a wave of sympathy and rage for this universe’s Miguel. “You told her where we are? After I specifically asked you not to?”

“She wanted to apologize.” She emphasizes.

“No, no she did not, Mamá. She showed up and demanded to see Gabi, she tried to seduce me, and she called my fiancée a whore in her own home, in front of Gabi. She was never intending to apologize.”

“Well, obviously your perception of her is skewed because of your new plaything.” She huffs.

“She is my fiancée, I love her, I’m in love with her, and Ava will never be allowed into my home or near my daughter again.” He says with a tone of finality as he stares down his mother.

She rolls her eyes.

“Mamá, I’m sorry, but if you can’t accept that, then you won’t be allowed to see Gabi either.” This’ll break Gabi’s heart, but a boundary has to be put into place.

This would be much easier if he could just tell his mother Ava was dead, but he can’t and he won’t.

“You would keep me from my own granddaughter? This woman really has changed you.” She tsks, tapping her fingers impatiently on her arm.

She has no idea.

“It’s for the better, can’t you just be happy for me?” He asks, both frustrated and saddened that his mother can’t look past her own desires long enough to focus on him.

She sighs and takes his hand in hers. “Miguel…of course I can. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

He smiles slowly. “Thank you, it means a lot to me that we have your support.”

She pats his cheek. “I’m your mother, you’ll always have my support.”

He smiles and takes a step back, turning towards the door and pulling it open. You’re bound to be worried; he’s told you a little about how much his mother loved Ava, how she blamed him for the divorce, and how she treated him and Gabriel, but he didn’t go into too heavy detail. You had been so upset on his behalf, an almost righteous fury blazing through you.

“Sin embargo, no soy la madre de esa puta.” She mumbles. Trsl: I’m not that whore’s mother, though.

Her voice is so soft, and if his hearing wasn’t enhanced, he doubts he would’ve heard what she said.

“You clearly need time to process this news, Y/N, Gabi and I will leave you alone, and you can give me a call in a few days once you’ve calmed down.”

He leaves her behind as he heads back to the table, his eyes focused on you. How you try to cover your smile with your hand when you laugh, and the way you blend so seamlessly with Monica, Brett, and Nancy, his other family.

“Papá!” Gabi calls out to him from her seat beside you.

“Are you bored of the sheep already?” He teases, as he slides into the seat beside you, an empty one on his other side.

“Oh, Miguel, maybe don’t—” You try to warn him, but it’s too late.

Gabi nods excitedly. “I want one.”

“A sheep?”

“I’ll name it Wooly, and it can sleep in my bed with me, and we can go on adventures, and maybe we can buy a farm, and then I can have lots of sheep.” She begins to ramble on and on about sheep, and he sees Monica hiding her face in Brett’s shoulder.

“Did you do this?” He asks, glaring at her from across the small square table.

Monica raises her head, her lips pressed tightly together to keep a laugh from escaping. “No?”

“Brett?” He turns his gaze on the light brown-haired man.

“You know, Miguel, they say animals are really great for children’s social development.” Brett says, giving him an apologetic smile.

“And then a goat tried to eat my dress!” The tail end of Gabi’s ramble catches his attention.

He turns back to see Gabi holding out the hem of her dress for you to see. It’s got ragged bite marks in it, and pieces of fabric missing.

“Oh no, that’s no good.” You say, smoothing out Gabi’s skirt. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to get you a new one for the next gala.”

“I’ll take you shopping, nieta.” Connie says, taking the seat next to Nancy, the conveniently empty one next to him.

Miguel shoots her a look, but she ignores him.

“Really?” Gabi asks, beaming at her grandmother.

“I’d like to come with, if you don’t mind?” You ask, giving Connie a smile.

Miguel braces himself for his mother’s response.

“How sweet, but this is a family thing, we need to find her color for her quince.” His mother’s voice is saccharine sweet, and it turns his stomach.

“But she’s six?” You question, looking to him for guidance.

“It’s never too early to find your color.” His mother says.

“Of course, but children’s favorite colors often change as they grow older, shouldn’t we let Gabi make her color decision when she gets closer to fifteen?” Miguel sees you look towards Gabi, but she’s preoccupied with trying to beat Brett in some odd competition to see who can eat their pasta faster.

“Y/N is right, Mamá, Gabi is too young to decide what color she wants, why don’t we revisit this idea when she’s a bit older?” Miguel steps in, placing a hand on your knee to comfort you.

“You’re a man, Miguel, you don’t understand how important this is.” Connie dismisses him.

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but he’s her father, I’m sure he does.” You say, your smile growing tight.

He adores you, you who is trying so hard to befriend his mother for the sake of his daughter.

Connie smiles at you. “Poor dear, don’t worry, no one expects you to understand.”

You blink at her, stunned. “Oh—um, I mean, I grew up visiting Texas, I’ve attended quinceañeras before, I know how important they are to the family.”

“Yes, but, attending is not the same as hosting.” Connie laughs, the sound thin and mocking.

“Connie…” Nancy says quietly, her eyes scanning the table until they land on Brett and Gabi.

“Of course not, but Gabi is important to me, so anything that’s important to her is important to me.” You try to reason, clenching and unclenching your fingers around the stem of your still full drink.

Brett reads her glance and scoops her up, carrying her back towards the petting zoo, claiming he forgot to show her something super cool and important.

“And that’s wonderful to hear, but you don’t need to worry, really no one expects you to understand how important this is, you’re not her blood, her family, after all.” Connie smiles as she says this, and Nancy hides her face in her napkin.

Rages surges through him, but you beat him to it.

“I’m sorry?” Your grip on your drink would be enough to crack it if you had his enhanced strength.

“Connie, please.” Nancy says miserably. “Don’t do this.”

“Yeah, Connie, don’t say things you can’t take back.” You seethe.

Miguel’s feels trapped, stuck between two immovable forces, you, coming in hot with a rage he’s never seen before and his mother, radiating ice-cold contempt.

“You can call me Mrs. O’Hara, only family and friends call me Connie.”

“Mamá, y/n is Gabi’s mother, she—”

“I can handle everything a mother does.” You finish his sentence, fingers tap, tap, tapping angrily on the tablecloth.

Connie shakes her head. “It’s best to leave all the important things to me, or Ava, when Miguel finally gives up this little charade. You’re not her mother, and you never will be.”

Like a woman possessed, you shoot up, drink in hand, and throw it at her, champagne splattering across her and the tablecloth before you slam the glass against the table. It shatters, glass scattering across the pristine white tablecloth. “Don’t you ever fucking say that to me again.”

Miguel moves a millisecond before you do, wrapping his arms around you when you lunge. “Y/N!”

“Don’t you ever fucking say that to me. You miserable excuse for a mother, how dare you? You think that cheating bitch is better than me? When has she done anything but lie on her back and fuck with your son and granddaughter’s head?” You scream, fighting against Miguel’s grip as he pulls you away from the table.

“Y/N, please, calm down.” He begs, his enhanced senses helping him navigate around the other tables.

Monica rushes forward and takes what remains of the broken glass from you, before scrambling back to the table.

“Gabriella is my daughter, and I will give her the best damn quinceañera this city’s ever seen, and you will have to fucking watch from outside.” You continue, until Miguel slaps a hand over your mouth and drags you outside.

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue, @marcelineormars, @sxnasbitch, @111gltzpzy, @lucilavenxoxo, @ray-rook, @elizamelody, @soapbar99, @trashieboii, @erissco, @gardenof-venus, @vlads-dracula3

[devildomwriter]

You Are Obsessed With Stuffed Animals Headcanons

Lucifer

• He thinks it’s a little childish but doesn’t mind and indulges you often

• He buys you a stuffed animal whenever he’s out and tries hard not to blush or explain his leg when others look at him in surprise

• Helps you organize them and find the space

• Probably tries to address this “addiction” but doesn’t expect or ask you to stop

Mammon

• Thinks it’s cute and gives you some of his old ones

• Tries making some for you but they look like tiny monsters

• Tries really hard to win them for you in the claw machine games. Probably resorts to shoving his hand through the slot and taking it instead

• Buys a bunch at the dollar store and five below to save money to buy you better ones in the long run

• Buys a lot of beanie babies because they could be worth a lot of money one day (doesn’t tell you that why, but it’s obvious the way he takes care of them)

Leviathan

• Surprised but helps you collect and gives ideas on organizing them

• You now have a lot of anime-themed stuffies

• Expect him to borrow some to have a piece of you with him

• Plays the apps where you use a claw machine in real time and get the prize shipped to you

• He has a few in his bathtub to make it extra comfortable

Satan

• Thinks it’s kind of funny but indulges you

• He buys them all the time and has connections to get any “faulty” ones sent to you to fix up or care for

• Most of your stuffies are now cats

• He borrows the little ones to play with the cats as long as you’re okay with it

Asmodeus

• Thinks it’s adorable and takes pictures in a pile of stuffed animals

• Will buy you some, they’re always cute or beautiful

• His fans give him stuffed animals thinking he’s the one who loves them so he gives them all to you

• He always takes pictures of you smiling with a new stuffie

• Might make them tiny accessories

Beelzebub

• Promises not to eat any but you see him eyeing them time to time

• Food shaped plushies must be hidden and kept away from him because he looks like a kicked puppy when he sees one

• He smiles brightly when he gives you one, he’s so excited to see your cute face

• Always wins the biggest stuffed animals at the fairs and theme parks and has fun carrying them around, proud that he got it for you

Belphegor

• It comes as a wonderful surprise

• You will find him napping surrounded by them from time to time

• Buys you ones that seem the comfiest to sleep with and arranged them on your bed

• Steals them time to time to sleep with, he likes that they have your scent

Solomon

• Laughs about it as he didn’t peg you as the type

• Helps you when it comes to storage and organization when it gets more out of hand than it already is

• Will make you stuffies as he doesn’t see much a point buying them unless you ask for it

• If you see one you like he may make a duplicate with magic to avoid spending money

Thirteen

• Very surprised that a powerful humans has a closet of adorable stuffed animals

• Will buy some for you and pretend she just found them lying around

• Helps win the claw machines, she’s a pro at it

• Boasts proudly when someone asks about the new stuffed animal “That one was from me! Isn’t it amazing!?”

Simeon

• Thinks its an adorable pastime to collect stuffed animals

• Keeps buying them for you because he loves how happy you look

• Asks to borrow one or two to always have a piece of you with him when he goes back to the celestial Realm

• Might write a children’s story based on your favorite stuffies

Raphael

• A little surprised but doesn’t show it

• He goes through all of them to make sure they aren’t falling apart and he stitches them up and makes sure they’re all in pristine conditions

• Loves to sew or knit you some, is very happy and proud to see you displaying them or snuggling with them

• Probably makes them little wings or other outfits

• Will buy the ones that look beaten up or have holes or missing eyes so he can repair them and you can give them a loving home

Luke

• Is very surprised but kind of excited

• Asks to go stuffed animal shopping with you. He’s great at finding the cutest ones

• Entrusts you’ll take care of his stuffed animals and vis versa

• Will want to have a tea party with them and pretend they’re alive

Mephistopheles

• Is very confused because he doesn’t understand the point but he indulges you nonetheless when he sees how happy they make you

• Buys a mountain of them for you the day after he found out

• Buys the biggest and most expensive ones he can find and helps you organize them to look “professional”

• You’ll need to find more room because he’ll smother you with them given how many he’ll get you every single day

Barbatos

• Finds it amusing and makes a note of it to buy you any that catch his eye

• Diavolo is confused when every so often Barbatos comes home with a stuffed animal (he gives them to you right away)

• He makes them little outfits so they look “proper”

• Might tease you a little and has given them all names to help him remember which ones you love most

Diavolo

• Is super excited because he loves stuffies too but doesn’t get the chance to indulge his collection often

• Buys them whenever he sees them from no on. Always buys two and uses you as an excuse to Barbatos as to why he’s buying them again

• When you run out of room he asks you to store them in his room or his secret stuffies room in the castle

• He literally could not be happier to have someone to collect with and gush over them with

• He has given them all names, backstories, and voices.

• Might bring them to life time to time — he’s done it before

[lordsukunas]

boyfriend! yuuta hcs for valentine's day!

happy (early) valentine's day y'all! if ur single, buy urself some chocolate<3 anyway, i hope y'all like this. the ending is rushed... whoops. pls enjoy & here is a song i think fits yuuta :3

boyfriend! yuuta who asks you to be his valentine on the first of feb with a handmade card. he even gives you a little bag of heart-shaped candy.

boyfriend! yuuta whose face flushes when you smile so sweetly at him and agree to be his valentine. he's pretty sure his heart stopped for a good three beats.

boyfriend! yuuta who spends the next thirteen days trying to come up with the perfect gift. of course, he knows you like the back of his hand, so finding a gift shouldn't be difficult. and, well, it isn't. but yuuta wants you to have the perfect gift.

boyfriend! yuuta who buys all of the typical gifts: chocolates, a cuddly teddy bear with a heart, a heart-shaped balloon, and roses.

boyfriend! yuuta who, ever the dutiful lover, asks maki and nobara for advice. both say a hard no to the roses.

"they're so stereotypical. makes it seem like you don't really care, y'know?"

they're tempted to say no to all of his other options, finding them a bit... corny, but the crestfallen look on yuuta's face when they boo the flowers kills any thoughts of disapproving his other options. plus, knowing you, you're bound to like it.

boyfriend! yuuta who takes maki's and nobara's advice to heart. he never wants to neglect you or make you feel unwanted.

boyfriend! yuuta who does his research on the different types of flowers and their meanings. he jots down some on a sticky note, but the second he comes across the forget-me-nots, his decision is made.

boyfriend! yuuta who scrolls through forums and social media posts to find an idea of what the perfect gift for you should be.

boyfriend! yuuta who buys you this necklace. he thinks it's beautiful, and it's not as forward as a promise ring.

boyfriend! yuuta who perfectly wraps and bags your gifts. he wraps the heart-shaped box of chocolates, places the teddy bear into a gift bag with red and pink tissue paper, and ties the box holding your necklace with a red ribbon.

boyfriend! yuuta who makes sure the bouquet of forget-me-nots are fresh and cut.

boyfriend! yuuta who can't stop bouncing his leg while waiting for you to show up. the waitress has asked him if he needed anything about three times.

boyfriend! yuuta who smiles nervously when you enter the cafe and take a seat at the somewhat secluded table.

boyfriend! yuuta who tries his best to ignore the knots in his stomach as he places his gifts on the table. there's already an apology ready on his tongue if you don't like any of the gifts or if you're allergic to chocolate, despite yuuta asking you numerous times beforehand and seeing you eat chocolate before.

boyfriend! yuuta whose anxiety instantly disappears once he sees that beautiful smile bloom on your face and the grateful twinkle in your eyes.

boyfriend! yuuta who decides right then and there that he'd do anything to continue seeing that big, bright smile.

note: sorry i haven't posted... writing has been difficult lately + skewl has been ass SOO yeah! sorry y'all :( umm i have sumn for bff! sukuna but idk if anyone would actually like it? like i don't wanna ruin the og post by posting some sequel (prequel?) that nobody gaf abt. also try for 400+ notes on that post omg!!! also also i swear i haven't forgotten abt daycare attendant! nanami i just have no ideas n the ones i do have are rotting in drafts... anyway i've rambled long enough ENJOY UR DAYYYY GUYS <333

[tobiasdrake]

Digimon Adventure 01x29 - Mammon! Great Clash at Hikarigaoka / Return to Highton View Terrace

Previously on Digimon Adventure: Vamdemon went on a vacation to Japan but fucking forgot all of the children. We tried to Home Alone the place, as you do, but went too hard and accidentally brought the roof down. So we ended up playing cards in the basement until we could board a second flight.

Now, at last, the Chosen Children have returned to the campsite where this all began. The Eighth Child will be in Hikarigaoka. It's up to us to find them before Vamdemon does.

Discussing next steps at the campsite, Koushiro briefly lays down the time dilation effect that Taichi experienced.

Sora: You don't think Vamdemon has already found the Eighth Child, do you? Koushiro: According to my calculations, not even a minute will have passed between Vamdemon's arrival in Hikarigaoka and our appearance here. The flow of time between the two worlds is different. Yamato: The problem is, how do we get to Hikarigaoka? It's pretty far from here. Jou: But is today really the same day we were at camp? We were in the other world for months. Mimi: That's true. Even if the flow of time is different, we don't know for sure. Taichi: I'll go take a look at the camp! We shouldn't have been gone for that long!

Taichi would know. He was here, like, four days ago Digimon Time.

Over in the dub, they've backed off on saying Japan but they've also stopped dancing around proper nouns. They have arrived at an official name for their version of Hikarigaoka.

T.K.: We're back to camp where we started! Tai: We've gotta get to Highton View Terrace and stop Myotismon before he finds the Eighth DigiDestined! Sora: I wonder how much of a head start he has on us? Izzy: Not even a minute has passed between the time Myotismon left for Japan and when we arrived. Time flows at a different pace in the Digi-World. Matt: I'll say! We've been gone for months in the Digi-World and yet here in the real world it's the same day we left! Joe: But that's impossible! You mean all those adventures took less time than it does to, say, get a haircut? Mimi: Please, Joe! Don't exaggerate! Imagine getting your hair done in such a short amount of time! Tai: I'm gonna go take a look at the camp! I'm gonna see for myself how much time has really passed!

That's a pretty good Mimi Quip, I'll take it. XD

The actual Japanese district Hikarigaoka is now the fictional setting Highton View Terrace, which kinda sounds like a rich upscale neighborhood for fancy people.

Matt doesn't get to point out that "Highton View Terrace" is pretty fucking far from the campsite we're at, which is a problem for seven unattended children.

Taichi sprints down the stairs to go scout out the camp, only for the entire rest of the group to follow him down.

Taichi: You don't all have to come! Mimi: Maybe not, but.... Jou: I'm the group leader! Koushiro: We're all curious about what could have happened while we were gone. Taichi: But how will we explain if someone sees these guys?

Jou's line might seem odd after the last episode made such a fuss about Taichi being team leader, but he means that in terms of formality.

Taichi is リーダー riidaa, a loanword from the English "leader". Unofficially, the group has elected Taichi to the position of their leader.

Jou says he's 班長 hanchou, which we actually took as a loanword from Japan to become "honcho". It means squad leader, project leader, class president, etc. Jou-senpai is formally the responsible older kid who's expected to be in charge of these children, and it might be kinda weird if Taichi just showed up at camp without him.

In the dub:

Tai: One of you come with me, the rest of you stay there! Who volunteers? (everyone chases after) Tai: One volunteer, not thirteen! Mimi: I thought I'd keep you company. Joe: And we're gonna keep Mimi company. Izzy: I guess we're all pretty curious to find out what happened while we were gone. Tai: But how will we explain it if somebody sees our Digimon?

Officially, Mimi is the volunteer. She, alone, is going with Tai. Everyone else is going with Mimi. XD That's one way to do it.

Suddenly, a voice calls out. An adult voice. An adult human. An actual other human!

Voice: YAGAMI!!!

Taichi turns around to see a man running towards them.

Taichi: Sensei! Sora: It's Fujiyama-sensei! Taichi: SENSEI!!!

Overcome with emotion, Taichi runs out to meet Fujiyama, but Fujiyama's having none of this emotional reunion. He starts yelling at Taichi so hard that Taichi falls flat on his ass.

Fujiyama: YOU DUMBASS!!! Why are you loitering out here instead of packing your things!? Taichi: U-Uh well-- Koromon: What do you mean, 'packing'?

Oh shit, here we go again. Taichi clamps his hands down hard around Koromon's mouth. Fortunately, despite looking right at him with glasses, Fujiyama doesn't seem to notice that Koromon spoke.

Fujiyama: We can't keep camping out here in all this snow, of course. Everyone's getting ready to go home. Taichi: Oh, o-of course, hehe.... Fujiyama: What are those filthy things you're holding? Are they toys? Taichi: U-Uh-huh! Yep! Mochimon: Who are you calling filthy-- Koushiro: (covers Mochimon's mouth) Don't speak.

Credit to Gomamon, Piyomon, and Palmon who all freeze up and never speak or move in this entire scene. Also Patamon and Tsunomon who haven't done anything wrong.

The dub presents Fujiyama like a threat.

Fujiyama: Oh, kii~iiids!

He calls out, and we go to commercial with Fujiyama running towards them, like it's a cliffhanger. Then, upon return, they play peril music over his approach and also repeat his line.

Fujiyama: Oh, kii~iiids! Tai: It's our teacher! Sora: We are back in the real world! Tai: Mr. Fujiyama! (Tai races out to meet him and gets shouted down) Fujiyama: WATCH OUT!!! (Taichi falls) What are all you kids doing playing around here when you haven't even packed up your gear yet!? Tai: Well, sir, I can explain-- Koromon: Well, I'm Tai's Digimo-- (Taichi clamps Koromon's mouth shut) Fujiyama: Didn't you kids hear that we're closing up camp early because of the snow? Everyone else is all ready to go home! Tai: Sure, of course we heard! Ahaha.... Fujiyama: What are those dirty little toys you're carrying? Where'd you get 'em? Tai: Uhhh toys? Motimon: Who's he calling a dirty little toy!? That's not-- Koushiro: (clamps Motimon's mouth shut) We can't let anyone know you can talk.

Seems we were gone a bit longer in the English version than the Japanese, as all the other kids have already packed. They're waiting on us.

A minor plot change but a lateral one. Though it's kind of funny that Japanese Fujiyama seems angrier at the kids than English Fujiyama, despite the English kids actively delaying the rest of the class's return home.

Koromon and Mochimon screw up so hard they get all the other Digimon in trouble too. Takeru and Yamato clap hands over Patamon and Tsunomon's mouths even though they haven't done anything.

Yamato: (whisper) Pretend you're stuffed animals. Tsunomon: (muffled protests) Taichi: Th-these are plushies! Fujiyama: I can see that. Mimi: Someone threw them out here and we found them! Jou: Y-yeah! They were in a remote region deep in the mountains where no one ever passes through! We went through a lot of trouble before we finally got them! Fujiyama: How did you even find them in the first place if they were in an area people don't pass through? Taichi: Th-That's just how hard-to-find they were! RIGHT, EVERYONE!? Kids: RIGHT!!!

Oh, these kids were definitely doing drugs. They are being way too suspicious right now. if I were Fujiyama, I'd be seriously wondering right now whether Kids These Days use plushies to conceal bags of narcotics.

In the dub:

Matt: Pretend to be stuffed animals. Tsunomon: (muffled protests) Tai: Oh, THESE toys!? Well, you see, they're stuffed. Fujiyama: Yes, Tai. I can see that. Sora: Uhhhhh we found them here. Joe: Yeah! That's right! You see, we were hiking up an uncharted trail when we came across these stuffed toys that someone had thrown away! Makes perfect sense if you ask me! Fujiyama: Who in their right mind would hike up an uncharted trail just to throw away seven stuffed animals!? Tai: Exactly our point! And that's why we think that littering is crazy! Right, gang? Kids: RIGHT!!!

"That's why littering is crazy!" Tai making a desperate and futile bid to present himself like a Good Kid (TM) by inserting PSAs into his bad excuse. These kids were doing even more drugs and I'm about to search that Koromon.

Fortunately, Taichi's had enough time to think of something.

Taichi: S-See? (holds up Koromon) You remember my little sister Hikari wasn't able to make it? I wanted to give this to her as a souvenir. She loves this kind of stuff. Fujiyama: Oh... She had a cold, right? Taichi: She did, but she's better now; I made her an omelette. Fujiyama: YOU did!? Taichi: !!! Koromon: !!! A-- Taichi: (hand over Koromon's mouth) B-Before camp, I mean! Ehehe....

Wow, Taichi fumbled the ball fast. I would have thought an ace striker would be better at ball control than that.

Fortunately, the plan still works despite Taichi nearly screwing it all up.

Fujiyama: A souvenir for your sister, huh? Well, after you've all finished packing your things, meet up in the parking lot. Kids: Yes, sir! Fujiyama: (runs off) Don't take too long! Kids: Okay! Koromon: But how do we get to Hikarigaoka? Taichi: Hehe, I've got a plan.

Phew! We survived encountering our first adult in our return to Japan. Sympathy bid to sow doubt and make him feel guilty for suspecting us takes the win.

In the dub, Tai continues to try and sell his anti-littering PSA.

Tai: But, being the good citizens that we are, we cleaned up the mess! And now I'm giving the toys to my little sister Kari as a present! She wasn't able to come to camp, remember? Fujiyama: Oh, yeah. She caught a cold, didn't she? Tai: Yes, but she's feeling much better now because I went home and made her an omelette. Fujiyama: And when did you do that? Koromon: WHEN I-- Taichi: (clamps Koromon's mouth shut) Uh, when? That's a good question. Uh, right before I left for camp! Ahaha! Fujiyama: It's nice that you're thinking of your sister, Tai. But don't overdo it. Those toys are filthy and belong in the garbage. Right kids? Kids: RIGHT!!! Fujiyama: (runs off) Meet you at the bus! Kids: OKAY!!! Koromon: I'd like to get his gear together and throw him in the garbage can! Tai: Well, then you won't be littering, at least!

Tai is really proud of that 'littering' bit. Proud enough to again not talk about the logistics of reaching Highton View Terrace.

I appreciate English Fujiyama for pointing out the flaw in Tai's alleged intentions. Actually no? Do not pick up strange plushies from the wilderness and take them home with you? Insects will make nests or hives out of them if they get the chance. Those toys belong to nature now.

That said, it's more believable that Fujiyama accepts Taichi's backpedal than Tai's. Tai explicitly says he "went home" to make the omelette. That's a statement that should have blown his cover story wide open.

Meanwhile, in Hikarigaoka, the Vamdemon's inner cicle makes their plans. But the harsh light of day is not good for all of them.

Tailmon: So, the Eighth Child is near here? PicoDevimon: Yes. Isn't tha tright, Vamdemon-sama?

The both of them seated on the edge of the roof, they look back to see Vamdemon trying to remain inside a shrinking shade. His voice pained as he speaks.

PicoDevimon: What's the matter, sir? Vamdemon: I will wait in the world of darkness until that ball of light disappears. Take care of the rest, Tailmon.

He tosses the eighth Tag and Crest to her.

Tailmon: Leave it to me, Vamdemon-sama!

Then, groaning with pain, he flees inside and slams the door shut. Too late, PicoDevimon tries to follow after.

PicoDevimon: Whoa, wait for me!

PicoDevimon slams facefirst into the door and comically bounces to the ground.

In the dub, Gatomon chimes in with some silence-breaking observations while the camera's panning over the city.

Gatomon: The human world is so cluttered. All these creatures crammed on top of each other. DemiDevimon: The Eighth DigiDestined lives nearby! What's next, Myotismon? Myotismon: Agh! Unfortunately, until the sun goes down, I must remain hidden in the shadows! Begin the search without me. Here! (tosses the Crest) Gatomon: (catch) I won't let you down, Lord Myotismon. Myotismon: (runs through the door) I need to be alone! (closes it) DemiDevimon: I'LL COME WITH YOU-- (smack)

Myotismon doesn't use the same flowery language as Vamdemon. He just says "I need to stay hidden while the sun is out." That's fine. It's kind of odd that Vamdemon's describing it that way, when it's not like he doesn't know what the sun is. He has to hide from it in the Digimon World too.

In the Japanese, the flowery language does serve a purpose. Specifically, Vamdemon's over-description of the sun makes for a fun bit of wordplay. Do you know what the Japanese word for light is?

It's hikari.

He needs to hide in the shadows from hikari, while we search for the Eighth Child. How poetic.

This wordplay, of course, does not translate to English well so there's no reason not to have him just say "I'm hiding from the sun."

Back at camp, the Chosen Children prepare to smuggle their Partner Digimon on the bus.

Taichi: Listen up. Don't ever open your mouths in front of other humans, okay? Gomamon: We understand! Palmon: We should just pretend to be dolls, right?

Gomamon, Palmon, and Piyomon remain the MVPs of understanding how to stay undercover. Koromon, on the other hand....

Taichi: (slowly peaks out of bushes to see the kids gathering around the buses) Koromon: WHOOOOAAAAAAA TAIIIIIIIIIICHI-- Taichi: (clamps Koromon's mouth shut) I just told you not to talk! Koromon: (whispering) But there's so many children! Piyomon: I didn't know there could be so many human children! Sora: You can't be surprised by just this many. There are thousands more children all throughout the world. No, make that millions. Gomamon, Piyomon, and Palmon: EHHHHHHH!?!? Piyomon: There are millions of Soras!?

Piyomon imagines an entire flock of Soras. Sora wigs out and breaks the fantasy.

Sora: THERE'S ONLY ONE OF ME!!! Takeru: When we get to the city, you'll see tons more adults and children too!

This is going to be an adjustment. The Digimon have a lot to learn about this strange, foreign world they've been Isekai'd into. At least it was voluntary for them.

The dub takes Taichi's instructions and gives them to Joe.

Joe: Remember: Don't talk in front of anyone else, okay? Palmon: Don't worry! We can just pretend to be adorable stuffed animals. Tai: (slowly peaks out of bushes to see the kids gathering around the buses) Koromon: Whoa, look at all the kids! Tai: (clamps Koromon's mouth shut) Didn't we just say not to talk out loud! Koromon: Yeah, but look at all the human children! Biyomon: We never knew there were more human children than you. Sora: This is nothing. Why, just in this city alone, there must be tens of thousands of kids just like us. And when you add the rest of the kids in the world, there must be millions. Gomamon, Biyomon, and Palmon: Huh!? Biyomon: You mean there are millions of Soras!? (Biyomon imagines a flock of Soras) Sora: THERE'S ONLY ONE OF ME!!! T.K.: She just means there are more kids our age. But there are tons of different people in the world.

I like this version of Biyomon's misunderstanding better because I think Sora does a better job setting it up. Saying there are lots of kids "like us" queues up Biyomon to think she means millions of Soras more effectively than just saying there's lots of children.

But it still works in the original too. It especially makes sense that Piyomon might leap to that conclusion when you consider her frame of reference as a Digimon. Just as you can have an entire village of Pyokomon, why not a village of Sora?

Piyomon is experiencing culture shock.

Suddenly, Mimi spots two of her friends by the bus. She erupts with emotion, knocking Palmon to the ground in her haste to reach them.

Mimi: Ehh!? MI-CHAN!!! (breaks into a sprint) I MISSED YOU!!! Mi-Chan: Eh? I was with you earlier.... Taako: What's wrong? Mi-Chan: I don't know--

Before Taako knows what hit her, Mimi wraps her up in a hug and spins her around.

(If Fujiyama is around, this is only going to exacerbate the likelihood of drugs. I'm telling ya. Search that Koromon.)

Mimi: TAAKO!!! How are you!? Taako: (annoyed) Come on, Mimi....

The others, still hiding behind the bushes, watch Mimi weird out all of her friends.

Palmon: Really, Mimi? Taichi: I kept telling her that time hasn't passed here, but she still doesn't listen! Koushiro: I understand your feelings but we need to focus on getting to Hikarigaoka quickly. Taichi: Alright.

In the dub, despite the fact that Fujiyama-sensei's name was not altered, Mimi's friends do get new names.

Mimi: Hey, it's Michelle! (breaks into a sprint) I've missed you so much! Michelle: You missed me? You just saw me ten minutes ago. Terry: What's going on? Michelle: Mimi's weird! Mimi: OH, TERRY!!! (hug) Michelle: She's wigging out. Terry: Too much caffeine! Palmon: Oh, Mimi. Tai: She'll give us away! I told her no time has passed since we went to the Digi-World! Izzy: Forget Mimi! We have to find some form of transportation to Highton View Terrace. Tai: I've got an idea!

Okay, I was not prepared for Terry to in fact accuse Mimi of substance abuse. Tame though it is. XD I also really like Michelle accusing "Mimi's weird!"

The dub's generally harsher tone of voice works great for this scene.

There's a lateral shift here too. Taichi formulated the plan he's about to put into effect shortly after the tense conversation with Fujiyama-sensei. But Tai acts like he only now thought of it.

This connects well to the previous scene, as the dub had replaced Taichi coming up with the plan with the punchline to the litter gag. So Tai is, in fact, only just now thinking of the plan.

What doesn't connect is when Michelle says she saw Mimi ten minutes ago. In the Fujiyama scene, he said, "Didn't you kids hear that we're closing up camp early because of the snow? Everyone else is all ready to go home!" That was, at the time, a lateral plot change. In the original, everyone was still packing, but in the dub, they were already waiting on us.

So. Which is it? Have we been gone for long enough Earth Time that the rest of the campers were already packed and ready to go by the time we got back? Or has less than ten minutes passed since the Chosen Children first decided to go up to that shrine in the first place? Reminder that the snow we're evacuating from fell like a minute or two before we went into Digi-World.

Taichi puts his master plan into action: Asking for permission from an adult.

Taichi: Sensei! Fujiyama-sensei! Could you drop us off somewhere on the way? Fujiyama: Drop you off? Of course not! I have a responsibility to make sure you all get back home. Taichi: Oh, come on! Don't be like that! Please! You just have to take us to the housing complex in Hikarigaoka. Fujiyama: Hikarigaoka? Why there? Taichi: Uh... Well... I used to live there! I just felt like seeing it again. Other Kids (sans Mimi): (run up) Please do it for us! Fujiyama: You kids too? Other Kids (sans Mimi): That's right! Driver: Hikarigaoka is pretty close to the route we're taking. When we get on the Kan-etsu Expressway and interchange to the Tokyo Gaikan, we'll be passing through Ooizumi. That's within walking distance to Hikarigaoka. Taichi: (to the driver) Perfect! Then can you drop us off there? Fujiyama: Hold on! I haven't given my permission yet.

The route that the driver gives are real directions. It's about a two-mile walk from Ooizumimachi to Hikarigaoka, so the kids will be doing a bit of urban hiking but it's totally doable.

In the dub:

Tai: Mr. Fujiyama! Can you have the bus drop us off somewhere? Fujiyama: Have the bus drop you off? No can do. The rules say I have to take you straight to your homes. Tai: Please, Mr. Fujiyama! I'm begging you, sir! Could you just let us off somewhere near Highton View Terrace? Fujiyama: Highton View Terrace? Why do you want to go there? Tai: Well, we used to live there and we were feeling nostalgic so we thought we would visit our old hangout. Other Kids (sans Mimi): Come on! / Please! / We'd appreciate it, sir! Fujiyama: But it's against the rules. Driver: You know, I think we drive pretty close to Highton View Terrace. Let's see, first we take the freeway to the parkway to the throughway and-- Oh! That's the wrong way! Oh, yeah. Here at the roadway. Highton View Terrace is within walking distance. Tai: (to the driver) Great! Then that's where you can let us off, mister. Fujiyama: Whoa, hold on! I didn't give the bus driver permission yet.

At least the kids have finally figured out that Highton View Terrace isn't where they're currently living.

The real Japanese directions to Hikarigaoka are replaced by a wordplay joke about the way Americans name their streets. I'm cool with that change; I don't think many early 00's American kids were well enough versed in the urban geography of Tokyo to have gotten the original line, so this is a fine place for a gag.

Of course, there's no way in hell any responsible teacher would sign off on dropping these children off at a random highway intersection. However, Fujiyama's already demonstrated a vulnerability to sob stories. It's time for someone else to step up and strut their family tragedy.

Yamato: Sensei, please do this for us! We really want to see the place where our family used to live together, before the divorce. Takeru: (starts crying) Yamato: Takeru! Takeru: (dramatically hugs Yamato's legs) Onii-chan!

In the dub:

Matt: Please, Mr. Fujiyama? You'll break T.K.'s heart if you don't let us go. It was the last place we all lived together as a family before my parents got divorced. T.K.: (starts crying) Matt: T.K..... T.K.: (dramatically hugs Matt's legs) Oh, brother!

I don't remember if this is the first time we've changed tracks from Matt and T.K. being half-brothers, but I think that interpretation is officially dead. Unless the implication is that their mom cheated on Matt's dad and T.K. isn't his, it'd be logistically hard for them to live together with Matt's parents as half-brothers.

Suddenly, Jou storms up, ready to clinch this.

Jou: Sensei, please do this for us! Let us get off at Hikarigaoka! I will take responsibility for escorting them all home afterwards. Fujiyama: Well... I guess it will be okay if a sixth-grader like you is with them, Kido. Be sure to call your parents and let them all know about this. Taich & Jou: We will! (both bow respectfully) Jou: Thank you so much! Taichi: Thank you so much! Fujiyama: (walks off uncertain) It's fine, it's fine.

Similar to Matt and T.K.'s parents, I don't remember if this is the first time the dub's acknowledged Joe being older than the rest, but here it is.

Joe: Mr. Fujiyama, please let us off at Highton View Terrace. As an upperclassman, I'll take responsibility for getting them home. Fujiyama: Well, I guess if a reliable kid like you is going, Joe, then it's okay. However, call your parents and tell them where you are. Tai & Joe: Deal! (both bow respectfully) Joe: Thanks, Mr. Fujiyama! Tai: You're the greatest teacher ever! Fujiyama: (walks off uncertain) Yeah, yeah....

As soon as he's gone, Taichi congratulates the team on a job well done.

Taichi: Yahoo! Hey! How long are you two gonna keep that up? (Yamato and Takeru separate with huge shit-eating grins) Jou: What's going on here? Yamato: It didn't seem like he'd let us go unless we pulled out the waterworks. Jou: THAT WAS AN ACT!?!? I was desperately trying to get Sensei's approval because I thought it was true! Taichi: Now, now! It all worked out, so forget about it!

In the dub:

Tai: Yahoo! Hey! How long are you gonna keep that act up? (Matt and T.K. separate with huge shit-eating grins) Both Brothers: (giggle for five straight seconds) Matt: Hey, if we didn't come up with something sappy like that, he never would have let us go. Joe: You mean that sad story was just an act!? I was crying my eyes out so much for you guys that my glasses started to fog up! Tai: Joe, calm down before you have an asthma attack!

And Palmon despondently watches Mimi board the bus with Mi-chan and Taako.

Mimi: Ahahaha, is that so? Palmon: (dour) Aww, Mimi's forgotten about me. WAIT FOR M--

Sora and Koushiro jump Palmon, with Mochimon and Piyomon both clamping her mouth shut together. Her status as a plushie MVP is tragically revoked.

The dub cuts Palmon's sadness from this scene, turning it into a laugh line instead.

Mimi: Ahahahahaha!!! I missed all of you so much! Palmon: I hope she's not gonna act this way with every kid that she meets! Heeeeey--

Without Palmon suddenly realizing she's been abandoned and screaming for Mimi to wait for her, the part where Sora and Koushiro suddenly have to silence her feels out-of-place.

The kids board the bus to return to Tokyo. Along the way, they check to ensure their equipment's still functioning in the human world.

Koushiro: (checking his laptop) It's okay. It's still working properly in this world. Taichi: That's good.

Sora takes out her Digivice. It's showing a big centralized red dot for the seven of them, which bodes well.

Sora: The Digivice is also working. Fujiyama: What are those things? Is that what's popular with kids these days? Jou: NO, IT'S REALLY NOT A-- Fujiyama: Let me have a look. Taichi: YOU CAN'T!!! Fujiyama: Don't be stingy. After all, I'm letting you guys get off at Hikarigaoka. Sora: Y-yes, sir.... (hands over her Digivice) Fujiyama: Those are good manners you have, Takenouchi. You're an obedient kid, unlike some others I know.

Sora blushes from Fujiyama's praise and hides her face. The dub follows the script right up until Fujiyama shows up.

Fujiyama: What's up? Is that the latest toy all you kids are into? Joe: NO, IT'S JUST ONE OF THE OLD ONES THAT WE ALL HATE!!! Fujiyama: Let me take a look at it. Tai: UH, IT'S BROKEN!!! Fujiyama: Maybe I can fix it. Here, give it to me. I'm pretty good with electronics. Sora: Yes, sir. Fujiyama: Thank you, Sora. Unlike other children, you really listen to your teachers.

Tai comes up with a stronger attempt at fending off Fujiyama, but he's got an answer for it all the same. Meanwhile, Joe embarrasses himself with a hilarious failure of a claim.

Koushiro and Taichi discuss what's happening.

Koushiro: It's fine to just let him have a look at it. Taichi: I felt like we were being attacked by an evil Digimon or something. Koushiro: (skeptical) Fujiyama-sensei is an evil Digimon? Taichi: Evil! Evil! I mean, when you forget your homework, he snares you with his tickle atta-- Fujiyama: I heard that last part.

Fujiyama-sensei doles out intense punitive tickling to Taichi while terrifyingly stone-faced.

In the dub:

Izzy: There's no harm in just letting him take a look at it, Tai. Tai: For about a second there, I thought Mr. Fujiyama was an evil Digimon. Izzy: I think you've spent way too much time in the Digi-World. Tai: Think about it! If he were an evil Digimon, every time you failed a test, he'd scream out his attack, "HOMEWORK BLASTER!!!" Fujiyama: Actually, it's more like Tickle Blaster.

This version of the tickle gag doesn't work as well because Tai doesn't queue up Fujiyama to launch his tickling assault. He overhears Tai comparing him to an "evil proper noun he doesn't recognize" and decides to start tickling him, apropos of nothing.

While the kids are still trying to reach Hikarigaoka, Tailmon searches the district.

With the Crest around her neck, she moves through the district, waiting for a child's presence to cause the Crest to glow. But it never does.

Tailmon: It's not reacting at all. What does this mean? Isn't the Eighth Child supposed to be around here!?

In the dub:

Gatomon: You can't turn over a rock without finding a kid under it in this world, and yet I still haven't found the Eighth DigiDestined!

Gatomon's line doesn't convey how she intends to find the Eighth DigiDestined. Which is kind of important information, because a Crest and Tag glowing to indicate that their associated child is nearby is something of a new mechanic.

It's not entirely new. We've used the glow from the Tags to find their associated Crests and seen those Crests do some shit in the presence of the child and Tag. So the Crest and Tag together glowing to identify a child feels like it's rooted in established metaphysics.

But it's still nice to have her explain that this, using the Crest as a radar, is what she's doing.

She also has a brief altercation with a dog, who she fends off by whipping the dog in the neck with her titular tail.

Ultimately, Tailmon is forced to report her failure back to Vamdemon at his new lair: The basement of a parking garage.

Vamdemon: You couldn't find the child? Tailmon: Yes, sir. At the very least, the child doesn't appear to be in the vicinity of Hikarigaoka. Vamdemon: PicoDevimon.

A still art frame of PicoDevimon descends, with several Tags and Crests around his legs. He neither moves his lips to speak nor flaps his wings as he slides onto the screen. I guess they didn't have the budget for him today.

PicoDevimon: (telepathically I guess) What are these? Vamdemon: I've made copies of the Eighth Child's Tag and Crest. PicoDevimon: (levitates offscreen to the right) Vamdemon: The one you have is also a copy. Tailmon: Then where's the real one!? Vamdemon: (reveals his fist, clutched around the Tag's cord) Here, in my grasp. Even though those ones are copies, they will still react when the Chosen Child is nearby. Do everything you can to find the Eighth Child! Tailmon & PicoDevimon: Yes, sir! (they both bow, including PicoDevimon who is no longer paralyzed by the finance department) Vamdemon: Children... I will do everything in my power to eliminate you!

The misadventures of still-frame PicoDevimon cracked me up in this scene. But in any case, Vamdemon's flexing his Big Fucking Nerd credentials once again. The Digimon World's #1 expert on Chosen Children lore has fabricated fake Crests that can reproduce the tracking effects of the original.

Which he also has in his possession, of course. Can you really call yourself a Chosen Children stan if you aren't repping their merch? Of course he went out and yoinked one of those Crests for himself. He was trying to complete the collection through the entire PicoDevimon arc!

...I can't wait to see what the dub does with still-frame PicoDevimon.

Myotismon: What do you mean, you couldn't find the Eighth DigiDestined!? You have failed me! Gatomon: Please don't hurt me, Your Evilship. I swear he's not here! Myotismon: SILENCE, GATOMON!!! DemiDevimon: (levitates down onto the screen with a sort of whirring vrooming sound effect) Myotismon: I have made several copies of the Eighth DigiDestined's Tag and Crest. DemiDevimon: (levitates offscreen) Myotismon: The one you have is a copy too. Gatomon: So I'm a copycat? Myotismon: The original's with me. Even though they are only copies, they will still become activated when the Eighth Child is nearby. This time, make no mistakes. You must find that child. Gatomon & DemiDevimon: Gotcha! (they both bow) Myotismon: And when you do find him, then he must die!

HAHAHAHAHAHA They cut his line because he has no lip flaps HAHAHAHAHAHA

And gave him a little wooshy sound effect.

He is just. He's just full-on DisplayModelDevimon HAHAHAHAHA

The Chosen Children finally arrive in Hikarigaoka.

Koromon: Is that the Hikarigaoka housing complex? Taichi: Yeah! Piyomon: WOW!!! You used to live in that huge castle, Sora!? Sora: It's not a castle. It's divided into smaller rooms inside and a lot of people live there. Piyomon: Did you used to live in Hikarigaoka too, Sora? Sora: Mmhmm. Taichi: Sora and I were in the same class. Sora: Yep. Taichi: Third Elementary School, Class 1-2. Yamato: I was in Fourth Elementary School. Jou: H-Hang on! Then you weren't lying to trick Sensei!? Yamato: It's true that we lived in Hikarigaoka. Takeru: Yeah. I remember a little of it. Jou: I went to Fifth Elementary School here! Mimi: I lived here in kindergarten. Jou: Huh!? Koushiro: So did I! But only for a little while. Taichi: That means all of us used to live in Hikarigaoka! Koushiro: This can't be a coincidence.

Nor can it be a coincidence that Big Fucking Nerd Vamdemon began his search here. He has no reason to believe that the Eighth Child is presently in this place. He doesn't have, like, a huge blinking radar telling him "Hikari There".

He's here because this is the place that the Chosen Children came from. Hikarigaoka is the point of origin; The source of Chosen Children. The ancient lore knows that the children come from Hikarigaoka. But it doesn't seem to know that they moved.

In the dub:

Koromon: They were nice to drop us off here. Tai: Yeah! Mimi: There's the Highton View Terrace Tower! Izzy: The tallest apartment building in Japan! Joe: Terrific. I'm afraid of heights. Tai: That place isn't so hot! Sora: That's true. The heat never worked. I used to live there. Biyomon: Wow, Sora! You lived in that castle! Sora: Yep! Tai: I lived near here too. A block away in another building. Sora and I went to Westside Elementary together. Matt: Hey, I went to Westside Elementary! Joe: You're kidding! You mean that you guys were telling the truth when you said you used to live in Highton View Terrace! Matt: Yeah, we really did live here before my parents broke up. T.K.: That was a long time ago when I was a little kid. Joe: Strange coincidence because I used to live here too. Mimi: I lived here too before we moved! Joe: Huh? Izzy: Me too! Just for a little while; It's a long story. Tai: So at some point we all lived at Highton View Terrace at the same exact time! Izzy: This can't just be a coincidence; There's gotta be some meaning here.

Oh! There's a "Japan"!

Rather than compare schools, everyone just agrees that they lived here once in their lives. Tai somehow leaps to the conclusion that they're all talking about the same timeframe. This is not a conclusion Taichi reached, despite being a little better founded in the original when they're talking about being in elementary school (and, for the younger pair, kindergarten).

We lose Sora explaining what an apartment building is to Piyomon, echoing Agumon's similar confusion back when he and Taichi were in Odaiba.

We do, however, gain the "That's not so hot!" "Yeah, the heat never worked" bit, which got me. XD

The kids are interrupted by the sound of dozens of wings fluttering overhead. High up above them, Night Raid bats scour the city. At the same time, armed with weaponized cosplay, Tailmon and her mercenaries spread out through Hikarigaoka.

I realize that shot looks like half of her forces are fleeing into the mouth of a colossal Tailmon kaiju but the perspective was wonky and that was the best I could get.

Over in the dub, I think the shots of silhouetted Digimon mercenaries spreading out through the city confused the dub team because Tai suddenly yells this when he sees the bats.

Tai: It's Myotismon's army! RUN FOR IT!!!

Followed immediately by silhouetted figures running through the city. Then we get that shot above of Gatomon soaring overhead while the silhouetted figures spread out, and she says:

Gatomon: They can run but they can't hide from Mammothmon!

Which feels like it's meant to imply that the silhouettes are the kids fleeing for their lives from the Night Raid bats. And that Gatomon is then intentionally sending Mammothmon out on a rampage to force them out of hiding.

That's a pretty major change.

While Tailmon and her mercenaries scour the city, one Digimon isn't creeping around.

This massive mammoth Digimon, Mammon, goes on a full rampage. Stomping vehicles and smashing whatever's in his path. He picks up a biker's motorcycle with his trunk and hurls it.

Biker: (just sees his bike suddenly soar through the air overhead) MY BIKE!!! Who did that!? (whirls around to see the mammoth) Was it you!? HOW DARE YOU RUIN MY BIKE!?!?

Dude is bizarrely chill with seeing a violent armored mammoth in the streets.

(In fairness, this is Tokyo. It ain't their first rodeo with Godzilla shit.)

His boldness doesn't last, however. When Mammon roars at him, he throws his helmet at it and runs for his life. Mammon swats the helmet back at him, striking him in the back of the head and knocking him over, then stomps over him to continue their rampage.

Biker: (crying) WHO LET THEIR ELEPHANT LOOSE!?!?

Mammon continues his rampage, smashing cars and streetlamps while people watch on in confusion.

Bystander: Why is there an elephant in Hikarigaoka!? Girlfriend: It's probably for a movie or something! Bystander: Oh, very convincingly made. It looks like a real monster.

Happy to report that media has poisoned the survival instincts of people not only in the U.S. but in Japan as well.

Over in the dub, the biker remains audacious as ever.

Biker: (just sees his bike suddenly soar through the air overhead) MY NEW MOTORCYCLE!!! (whirls around to see the mammoth) HEY!!! Respect other people's property, you big walkin' shag carpet! Mammothmon: (roar) (Biker throws helmet and flees; Mammothmon knocks it back, knocks him down, and stomps over him.) Biker: T_T HEY!!! Whoever owns this elephant should know there's a leash law around here!

Meanwhile, both of the other civilians are complete fucking chuckleheads.

Girlfriend: Oh look, honey. A wild elephant on a rampage. Bystander: They must be filming a movie or something.

I support equal rights dipshittery.

While Mammon continues his entirely pointless and confusing rampage, Tailmon is as lost as I am about what he thinks he's accomplishing here.

Tailmon: What is that moron planning to gain by causing all this chaos!? I should not have recruited that Digimon.

Another bystander is forced to flee his car, moments before Mammon steps on and crushes it.

Driver: WHAT THE HELL IS AN ELEPHANT DOING HERE!?!?

And someone finally dials 110, the Japanese emergency number for the police.

Caller: I'm calling the police! (Nothing but static crackles through his phone) Caller: IT WON'T CONNECT!!!

Remember how the sheer presence of Vamdemon and his forces in Hikarigaoka last episode were making phones go haywire? Yeah, have fun dialing out.

Over in the dub, Gatomon has suddenly reversed course and is no longer cheering Mammothmon on.

Gatomon: What's that big-eared freak trying to do? Destroy the DigiDestined with everything else too? We never should have brought that type of Digimon along for this!

This is a little confusing because minutes ago she was like "HAHAHA You can run but you can't hide from Mammothmon." But now, to shore her up with her Japanese counterpart, she's at "Ugh so destructive Mammothmon sucks".

The driver fleeing squishy death takes this opportunity to quip.

Driver: If that's a car, it's got an awful lot of trunk space!

And, since phones going haywire was a plot point that they removed for some reason, the caller has what may or may not be the same problem?

Caller: I'm gonna call the cops! (Nothing but silence) Caller: Augh! My phone's dead!

Meanwhile, despite Tai freaking out earlier, the Chosen Children are non-urgently taking a fun trip down memory lane.

Taichi: I remember this place. I often came here to buy candy and juice! Mimi: I used to come here too! Jou: This sure brings back memories. Yamato: Takeru, you might not remember but we used to play around here a lot. Takeru: I do feel like I know this place. Sora: How long did you live in Hikarigaoka, Koushiro-kun? Koushiro: I don't think I even stayed here for a year. Probably a couple of months. Taichi: That's pretty short. How come? Koushiro: I don't know.

Fortunately, there's one kid among us with a longer memory than the rest.

Jou: Hehe! I can answer that for you! Sora: You can, Jou-senpai? Taichi: But you didn't know Koushiro back then. Jou: Even so, I still have a good idea of what happened. To make a long story short, the reason Koushiro's family moved was because of a terrorist bombing! Sora: A bombing!? Koushiro: There were terrorists? Jou: You guys might not remember this, but there was a terrorist bombing here in Hikarigaoka four years ago. So far as I know, they still haven't found the bomber. My parents said they didn't want to live in such a dangerous place, so we moved to Odaiba. Sora: THAT'S RIGHT!!! It was the same with my family! I do remember them saying something about a bomb! Taichi: Now that you mention it, I do think that's what happened.

A terrorist bombing four years ago whose bomber has never been caught, huh? Here in Hikarigaoka? Interesting....

In the dub, the kids are as chill as in the original. Which is weird given that they're supposed to be running from Myotismon's forces.

Tai: Say, do any of you remember this place? I bought candy here. Mimi: It was my favorite store. Joe: Oh, sure. Mine too! Matt: You probably don't remember this place, T.K., because you were too little, but Mom and Dad used to take us here all the time! T.K.: Maybe some candy will help me remember! Sora: You're awfully quiet, Izzy. Didn't you like living in Highton View Terrace? Izzy: I don't remember. Sora: How long did you live there? Izzy: Just for a little while. About six months. Tai: Wow. Why did your parents move away? Izzy: I don't know.

Very close to the original with no notable changes. Then comes Joe's time to explain the bombing.

Joe: You're kidding! Well, if you don't know then maybe I should tell you why. Sora: What do you mean, Joe? Tai: Yeah, Joe. How could you know why Izzy's parents moved away from here? Did you know them or something? Joe: No, I didn't know Izzy back then but I did see what happened. His whole family packed up and left Highton View Terrace because of a terrorist bombing. Sora: Bombing? Izzy: Did you say terrorist!? Joe: Maybe you don't remember it, but about four years ago, the story was in all the papers. It was one of the worst terrorist attacks of all time. They never found the group responsible for the bombings, so a lot of families got scared thinking it could happen again and moved out. My parents figured it had just become too dangerous to live here anymore so we moved out to Odaiba. Sora: Now that you mention it, I do remember. A lot of my friends moved away after that. Tai: Now I remember. My parents acted scared that whole time.

For lacking the context of the OVA, they do a pretty good job with this one. There's still a couple errors, however. The story doesn't need to be in the papers. The "bombing" happened right outside everyone's balconies. It wasn't just in the neighborhood but out in the street directly between their housing complexes.

Also, they blew up an unoccupied street late at night. Calling it "one of the worst terrorist attacks of all time" is a bit much. Can you feel how pre-9/11 this is? But, of course, the dub team doesn't know any of this context.

It is a little weird that Joe was peeping on Izzy's family departing enough to know it was them, and that Sora only mentions her friends leaving. All of them left. None of them currently live here.

Also, I guess we can say Odaiba but not Hikarigaoka. Maybe they just thought the latter was too complicated of a word.

Suddenly, the kids see cop cars go by.

Mimi: What's going on? Taichi: Could it be Vamdemon!?

A possibility that Tai is much more certain of than Taichi.

Mimi: What's going on? Tai: Where there's trouble, there's Myotismon!

You hear it here, folks. A nerdy vampire Digimon is responsible for all crime in Japan. I was not aware that Dracula was the yakuza Kingpin, but I'll believe it.

The Chosen Children race to the scene to find the trail of destruction Mammon's leaving in their wake.

Taichi: That's one of Vamdemon's Digimon! Koushiro: (already on his laptop) That's Mammon.

Time for the rundown on this destructive dipshit. Mammon is a Perfect-stage Vaccine-type Ancient Beast Digimon. He's from the Nightmare Soldiers line; An evolution for Garurumon and for Hanumon, who won't be seen in the anime until 02.

The name Mammon comes from "mammoth", same as their English name Mammothmon. The dub likely extended it because "mammon" has a different meaning in a society where Christianity is the predominate religion.

Narrator: Mammon. A Perfect-stage Digimon who has enormous ancient power. His special attacks are Tusk Strikes, where he fires his two tusks, and Tundra Breath, which releases a cold blast from his nose.

In the dub, this is quite reasonably handled by Izzy.

Matt: A monster Digimon! Izzy: (already on his laptop) He's called Mammothmon. He's a fully Digivolved Digimon with the strength of a wooly mammoth. He shoots missiles he calls Tusk Crusher and has a chilling attack called Freezing Breath.

Before the kids can do anything, a cop car pulls up.

Officer: All of you! It's dangerous here! Get to shelter!

Inside the car, he futilely tries to use the car radio to request backup but all that comes through is static.

Officer: Hello? Hello? I need urgent backup! Hello!? That's weird....

Mammothmon hears him, turning around and growling.

Taichi: He's seen us! Officer: Hurry and get out of here!

The officer shouts at the kids to get to safety and then speeds off in his mostly empty squad car, abandoning these lost children to their wooly mammoth fate. Fucking ACAB.

No change in the dub, except there's no static feeding back through the radio. It's just dead.

Mammon roars at the kids, and the fighting's on.

Taichi: HE'S COMING FOR US!!!

With admirable enthusiasm, Koromon and Tsunomon leap out of Taichi and Yamato's arms to the front of the group to fight him.

Yamato: DON'T!!! He's Perfect-stage! You two can't fight him. Piyomon: (rushes forward) Let me handle this! Sora: Eh? PIYOMON!?!?

This is the same in the dub, except Matt continues using the terminology "fully Digivolved".

Evolving to Birdramon, Piyomon fires off her Meteor Wing at Mammothmon. The shots land all around him, with one fireball glancing off his tusk and ricocheting into a series of phone booths. Sora gasps in horror, and the camera fixes for a moment on the bombed out phone booths.

Mammothmon slams his tusk into a nearby bus and hurls it at Birdramon. She deftly maneuvers out of the way - lobbing projectiles at flying opponents remains difficult - leaving the bus to crash into the ground and explode. This time it's Koushiro's turn to gawk in horror at the wreckage of the bus.

Birdramon gets in too close. Mammothmon slaps her with his trunk, then follows up while she's stunned with his Tusk Strikes.

A glancing hit to her shoulder sends Birdramon plummeting from the air.

Of note: Mammon doesn't have dialogue in either version. He's another non-speaking beast type of Digimon, and the dub didn't change that this time around. Nonetheless, the dub Mammothmon manages to call his attack when firing "Tusk Crusher".

Sora: BIRDRAMON!!! Takeru: KAIJU!!!

Bit of an odd proclamation from Takeru. Kaiju is one of the more well-known Japanese words these days. Literally meaning "mysterious beast", kaiju are most commonly associated with colossal city-destroying monsters such as those found in the Godzilla brand.

Seeing two Digimon fight like this has stirred a recollection in Takeru.

Takeru: Two kaiju! Taichi: What are you talking about, Takeru? Yamato: That's it! I remember now. A long time ago, Takeru insisted he saw kaiju but Mom scolded him for it.

Over in the dub, T.K. oddly puts the emphasis on the quantity of monsters rather than the fact that there were monsters.

Sora: BIRDRAMON!!! T.K.: There were two! Matt: What!? T.K.: There were two monsters! Tai: What are you talking about, T.K.? Matt: Oh man, now I remember! A long time ago, T.K. was insisting that he saw two monsters and my mom was upset at him for it.

I don't know why we're all emphasizing the number two like this, when it's the monster part that's important

Yamato flashes back on the day Takeru tried to tell their mom about the kaiju.

Takeru: I really did see kaiju! Natsuko: Kaiju don't exist. You were just dreaming. (bitterly, seemingly to herself but audible enough to hear) And whose fault is it that you can't even tell the difference between dreams and reality!? Takeru: ...but....

Okay, that took a turn for harsh. Takeru touched a nerve and I'm genuinely not sure if she's mad at him, at Yamato, or at her husband who she later divorced.

Just a brief glimpse into the broken home these boys come from. Yamato isn't in the room with them, but he is seen lurking behind a door.

The dub dials back Natsuko's hostility.

T.K.: But I really did see monsters, Mommy. Nancy: T.K., there's no such thing as monsters. You were just imagining it. Or maybe it's a dream. T.K.: But Mom, I really saw them! Nancy: Now that's enough! I don't want to hear any more of these crazy stories.

She still refuses to believe him, but she isn't bitterly fuming at an unspecific member of her family. The dub's never been comfortable talking about the divorce.

Yamato: ...that's why I couldn't said anything. Koushiro: When did this happen? Yamato: Around the time of the bombing.

Yamato's line as we return implies that he saw the kaiju too, but was afraid to speak up about it way back when after hearing what came out of their mom's mouth. As if he were afraid that bringing it up might further damage the fabric of their parents' marriage. So he kept quiet and eventually forgot he ever saw it.

All tragic context that, again, the dub doesn't want. So Matt legitimately never saw it.

Matt: I just assumed he imagined the entire thing. Izzy: So when did all this take place? Matt: It was right after the terrorist bombing. Sora: This is where it happened! Joe: Right on this footbridge!

Nonetheless, Sora and Joe are chiming in a bit early to identify this footbridge as the site of the bombing. So early, in fact, that we're still standing at the street corner we talked to the cop from and not on the footbridge.

There we go, a bit of an awkward teleporting cut later and we're on the footbridge for some reason. Birdramon got her second wind and has returned to the fray.

Jou: This is... Where the terrorist bombing happened.

As Jou says this, Taichi flashes back on the OVA, when he stood under this same bridge.

Taichi: This bridge....

The kids sprint downstairs from the bridge they inexplicably teleported to, as more and more they start to remember.

Mimi: This is the same thing that happened back then!

Another ricochet of Meteor Wing off Mammon's hide blows up the bridge, right where they had been before they moved.

Jou: It's exactly the same! A fireball destroyed the bridge! Yamato: No! The one shooting fireballs back then wasn't flying! It was something else! Taichi: You're right! There was a fight between... something and something else!

They're vaguely remembering the OVA battle. Yamato's right; It was Greymon shooting fireballs at Parrotmon. Mass deja vu is a hell of a thing.

In the dub, they talk through Taichi's OVA flashback.

Joe: This is really strange. Does anyone besides me feel like they can remember the night of the bombing? (flashback starts) Others: Yeah! / Uh-huh! / I do! Tai: I feel like I was there but somehow I forgot! Izzy: Gee, that sounds like repressed memory. Tai: WE'VE GOTTA GET OFF THIS BRIDGE!!!

Tai's sudden attack of precognition is as good an explanation as any for why they suddenly fled the bridge they inexplicably climbed up onto in the first place.

Mimi: I'M HAVING DEJA VU ALL OVER AGAIN!!! (Ricochet of Meteor Wing destroys the bridge) Joe: THIS IS JUST HOW IT HAPPENED!!! Back then, a giant ball of fire destroyed the bridge! Matt: Something is definitely different. I remember the firebreathing monster didn't fly; There had to be another one! Tai: You're right! There were two monsters fighting but they were different than these two!

Again, for having to recap the events of an OVA I'm pretty sure they hadn't seen, they're doing a decent job of making it work. Matt's line is nonetheless janky because. As with the Takeru flashback, Matt seems to be trying to prove a second monster's existence.

While the kids are discussing, Birdramon once again gets in close to try and melee the hulking Perfect. Grabbing his snout with one of her talons and wrestling.

It does not go well.

Sora: BIRDRAMON!!! Birdramon: Sora!

Sora sprints to where her half-frozen firebird partner landed, followed closely behind by Taichi. Her Crest of Love activates when she gets close, super-evolving Birdramon into Garudamon.

(Probably should have led with that. I understand the Digimon are trying to resource-manage. If I evolve, then I can go back to my Child base afterward and then evolve again next fight. But if I super-evolve, I'm basically out of commission for the next couple days. What if someone needs to super-evolve tomorrow and we're all burned out?

We have four Perfect-capable Digimon and right now three of them are burnt out to Baby-stage. As of this super-evolution, we are now defenseless against any future Perfect-stage Digimon until the others recover.

But when the Analyzer says "That dude's a Perfect", we should still probably try to match his level. At the very least, we should get Ikkakumon and Togemon in on this, rather than letting Birdramon try to solo a Perfect. This was a terrible idea.)

Mammon fires off his Tusk Strikes while Garudamon's super-evolving. She throws herself on top of Taichi and Sora, shielding them from the blast.

Taking cover beneath Garudamon's hand, this is the last piece Taichi needs to remember the OVA.

Sora: Garudamon! Taichi V.O.: What I saw back then...

Flashing back, Taichi remembers taking cover with Hikari, shielding her in the same way as Sora, but with a different monster towering over them.

Taichi V.O.: It wasn't a kaiju. The one who saved me back then was... Greymon!? Taichi: That's right! It was Greymon! Yamato: That's it! Koushiro: I'm sure of it. Jou: Yeah!

In the dub:

Tai V.O.: The firebreathing monster I saw... Greymon! It was Greymon and another Digimon! Tai: Sora! It was Greymon! Group: Right! / Greymon!

Garudamon mounts Mammon and giddyups him while Taichi remembers the OVA more clearly.

Taichi: A Koromon came to my house that day. That Koromon turned into Agumon. Then he became Greymon and he fought with another Digimon!

We see a flashback to Greymon and Parrotmon's brawl to give the dub team something to work with, and then Tai takes a crack at it.

Tai: The day Koromon came to my house! And Digivolved into Greymon! He was fighting with a birdlike Digimon! After the fight, they disappeared.

Hitting all the major points.

While they're talking, Garudamon finishes the fight. She hoists Mammon high up into the air and drops him from great height onto his back, then follows up with Shadow Wing. The firebird projectile slams into the defenseless Mammon, killing him. Mammon dissolves into pixel dust.

Once the fight is finished, Garudamon reverts to Pyokomon and falls into Sora's arms.

Taichi: The two disappeared after the fight. Koushiro: That's right. Jou: So that's why it was labeled a terrorist attack. Taichi: So that's why Hikari knew about Koromon. She met him back then. Patamon: She met you? Koromon: It must have been a different Koromon. Though, when I met Taichi for the first time, I did feel as if I've somehow always known him.

Koromon referring to how all the Partner Digimon laid eyes on their Partner Children and instantly knew who they were, way back on File Island.

He is not Hikari's Koromon but there's still some connection to that day in Hikarigaoka.

The dub puts a commercial between Mammothmon's death and this scene. It's a good place to put it, and that means it doesn't feel redundant when Tai mentions the disappearance again so soon after stating it before.

Tai: After the fight that day, Greymon and the other Digimon disappeared. Joe: And the police called the fight a terrorist bombing. Izzy: Exactly! Somehow, the Digimon were involved all along! Tai: That's why my little sister already knew Koromon! Kari met him back on that day! Patamon: You met her? Koromon: It must have been a different Koromon! But I did have a strange feeling when I met Tai that we had met somewhere before....

Close but not quite, Koromon. You'd always known him, but you'd never met him. That will make more sense when the series delves into the lore behind their Partnerships later down the line.

Suddenly, the sound of police sirens in the distance means we need to skedaddle.

Jou: This is bad! They'll ask a ton of questions if they catch us! Koushiro: Yes, they won't let us go easily. Taichi: LET'S GET OUT OF HERE!!!

Like any responsible citizen, the Chosen Children flee the police to avoid being connected to the crimes they, uh, are technically partially responsible for. Birdramon caused a fair chunk of the damage here.

In the dub, this is perfect timing for one of Dub Joe's neurotic breakdowns.

Joe: Listen, it's the cops! They'll ask a ton of questions! They'll blame us for all this! I'm too young to go to the Big House! Matt: STOP IT, JOE, AND START RUNNING!!!

XD That's a good one. It's a mild exaggeration of what he was already saying, in a situation where freaking out is entirely valid. This episode's gotten good mileage out of the Mimi and Joe gags.

Taking shelter in a park, the Chosen Children discuss what they've learned and apply it to their search.

Koushiro: I've been wondering about this for a while. Out of all the children at camp, why were we the only ones chosen? But now we've found a clue to solving that mystery. Mimi: The incident four years ago. Koushiro: Yes. All of us are linked by the fact that we already encountered Digimon four years ago. Yamato: Then it must be the same for the Eighth Child! Koushiro: There's no doubt about it! The Eighth Child, too, would have witnessed that event! Jou: What if Vamdemon's already found them!? If the Eighth Child saw the incident, then they should be in Hikarigaoka, right? Mochimon: That's not true. Since Mammon was wandering around this area alone, the others must still be scattered about and searching for the Eighth Child! Taichi: We're going to find them first. The Eighth Child. One of our nakama!

Nobody's bringing up the obvious suspect but it's nonetheless a huge step for their investigation.

In the dub:

Izzy: You know, I always thought it was kinda strange that out of all the kids at camp, we were the only ones chosen to go to the Digi-World. And I knew it couldn't just be coincidence. Somehow, we were all connected by some common event. Today, I discovered what that event was. Mimi: We all took French in school? Izzy: No, four years ago we were all living at Highton View Terrace at the same time and all of us saw those two Digimon fight. Matt: Then the Eighth DigiDestined saw the Digimon too! Izzy: Right! So the person who's the Eighth DigiDestined had to have been there as well! Joe: What if Myotismon found the kid already!? I mean, he's been searching the city all day. And if the child lived here four years ago, maybe it's still here! Motimon: I don't think so! Mammothmon wouldn't be making all this commotion if they had already found the Eighth DigiDestined child. Myotismon is still searching; I'd say the child is still out there or maybe he moved like you guys! Tai: We'll find him! Before Myotismon! The Eighth DigiDestined... He might be someone we know!

Tai lays it on a little thick there at the end. And we have a Mimi gag that I'm going to put in the "harmless" category. I don't like it, but I don't dislike it either.

The episode closes on Taichi's renewed resolve to find the Eighth Child before Vamdemon.

Assessment: Man, this is a major lore episode. But also kind of a retread. The benefit of the dub is that for an English audience, this is all genuinely new information. For the Japanese audience, we're finally seeing the Chosen Children learn things that we've known since the OVA. This episode is for the characters to play catch-up.

Mammon is something of a nothing antagonist, here just to give the episode some conflict and spark the revelatory parallels to Parrotmon and Greymon. Even Tailmon is like, "Why is this guy even here?" which was hilarious.

A few errors on the dub's part but this is one of their better eps. They manage to hit most of the major beats successfully and there's a lot of charm in their presentation.

There's still some things that get missed such as the tension in Yamato and Takeru's childhood home or that weird moment when the dub thought the kids were fleeing Myotismon's bats. But they're few, and there's a lot of good to be found here too.

[bellaxgiornata]

Safe Haven [Chapter Thirteen]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.5k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: You get a Mikey POV at the beginning of this chapter! And a bit of fluff at the end finally to make up for the previous chapters ending! I admittedly edited this fast so I hope I did not miss any grievous errors. I just wanted to get the next chapter posted already. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @shiorimakibawrites @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattmurdocksstarlight @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @theetherealbloom @24hflower @mattmurdocksscars @schneeflocky @the-nursery @lionalsowrites

Michael had experienced many situations in his life where he'd been nervous before–times when he’d been on edge. Oftentimes he felt like that before clipping someone and hoping the job went off without incident. And considering the things he’d done over the years, he really shouldn’t have been as nervous as he was right now. But yet here he was, still somehow finding himself anxious as he walked up the drive next door, making his way towards his neighbor's house and hoping for a chance to speak with you. 

He thought the date yesterday morning had gone well–you'd even told him you'd enjoyed it. Granted he supposed that was before he thought he was being followed home after the coffee you'd both gotten and he had pulled you down a side street hoping to protect you from bullets meant only for him. And then Amanda had interrupted both of you with a situation that honestly could have waited until later that day instead of her ruining Michael’s date with you. He wished she had showed up after he'd finished spending his morning tangled in his sheets with you. He hadn't anticipated you being quite that bold on a first date, and it certainly hadn't been his intention that morning to take you back to his place for sex after the coffees, but he also couldn't deny that he'd wanted to, either. Over the past few days he’d found himself often wondering what pretty sounds you would make when he finally got you in his bed and his face buried between your thighs. He’d admittedly often found himself growing hard at those thoughts and in need of relief, conjuring up scenarios while he was in the shower. So Michael had been incredibly irritated when Amanda had popped by and interfered. 

But then you'd completely flipped on him. He knew Amanda’s timing with family shit had been awful, and he knew that her diminishing what was going on between you both to just sex was out of line, but he'd figured you knew what she was saying was all bullshit. He thought he'd made it clear multiple times already that he liked you; hell, he'd told you as much a few nights ago when he'd stayed with you after your accident. He'd gone off on Birdy when she'd threatened you and he thought he'd made it clear he'd wanted you to stay here after that. That he would help protect you and your sister from your ex.

So why had Amanda’s words hurt you so badly? What had he been missing? Because to him, she had clearly been spouting bullshit, so what had he missed?

Michael had finally gotten your phone number at the beginning of the date yesterday, too, and while you'd told him not to call, he certainly had. Quite a few times now, actually. Though you'd never answered. After the fourth time he'd come to expect that, but he'd still tried anyway. 

When he'd gone to bed last night, he'd noticed the curtains on your bedroom window had already been drawn closed. And when he'd woken this morning, they'd still been like that. You were shutting him out and it had hurt him more than he'd thought it would to feel like he was losing something he'd never truly had. 

So he'd showered and dressed this morning before he found himself outside and heading next door. He figured he might have more luck if he tried to talk to you in person, desperately hoping you'd give him a chance and explain what he'd done so wrong. To find some way to apologize to you. But as he came to a stop in front of the door, he felt his palms beginning to sweat from nerves; he was afraid he'd say the wrong thing and make everything even worse. He was afraid you'd still refuse to speak to him. He was afraid you might be planning to leave again.

For some reason the thought of losing you before he could figure out what that pull he had to you was all about terrified Michael. Something about you had felt different to him from the very beginning, and it wasn't because you’d been hiding secrets from him. You were unlike anyone he'd ever encountered before–certainly different from the women he'd been with. It was clear on your face that you'd known pain in your life, that you'd had to do things to survive that maybe you hadn't wanted to do. That you were lonely and misunderstood. And Michael could certainly relate to that. 

With a heavy sigh he reached out, knocking three times against the door. He tucked his hands into his jacket pockets as he waited, hoping you'd be the one to answer. But a few moments later, when the door swung open, it was your sister who was standing there scrutinizing him. Somehow that had only made him more nervous.

"Hello Michael," she greeted, kicking a hip out and blocking the doorframe as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Wondered when you'd be showing up."

He sent Megan a tense smile, his hands curling into fists in his pockets. "Is Grace around?" he asked. "I–I was hopin' to speak with her."

"Figured as much," Megan replied, her small frame still commanding the entryway. "But no, she's not here."

Michael frowned at her response, his focus dropping to his feet. Was she lying because you didn’t want to talk to him, or was she telling him the truth? Were you really not here?

"You fucked up, you know that right?" Megan told him.

Michael’s eyes flew back up towards Megan's, hopeful that maybe she could shed some light on what had happened. If he knew then maybe he could fix things with you.

"I’ve been tryin’ to figure out what I did wrong," he replied earnestly. "Been tryin' to talk to your sister but she's not answerin' her phone."

Megan's eyes narrowed back at him, a frown pulling at her mouth. "What do you mean you’re trying to figure out what you did wrong?" she asked slowly.

"I mean I don’t exactly know how I fucked up," he answered, shaking his head. "’Sides the way things ended on our walk back, I thought things were goin’ alrigh’. And I know Amanda interrupted things and was rude but–"

"Your sister-in-law called my sister a whore," Megan cut in sharply. "And you said nothing to defend Grace to her."

Michael’s jaw dropped, confusion drawing itself across his features. He’d never heard Amanda call you a whore, he’d have been raging and fuming if he’d heard those words come out of her mouth. And he sure as shit wouldn’t have sat back and let her speak to you like that. 

"What?” Michael gasped. “I never heard Amanda say that. I swear to ya she’d have regretted it the moment she’d said that.”

"Did she say my sister was a quick fuck for you?" Megan asked flatly, her brows raising. "Implied she was just there for sex? That all you wanted from her was sex?"

Michael’s dark brows knitted together on his forehead, deep creases forming as he tried to make sense of what Megan was saying. So it had been what Amanda had said after all that had upset you.

“I–yes, she did, but it was bullshit,” Michael explained quickly. “I thought Grace knew that. Amanda, she hasn’ been alrigh’ after what happened to her son, I wasn’t lookin’ to further upset her. But I thought Grace knew she meant more to me than that.” He took a step closer to Megan, his eyes pleading. “Ya have to believe me, I didn’t mean to upset her. I care ‘bout Grace. I know I don’t know her well, but I care for her.”

The stern look on Megan’s face faltered briefly, but only for a second. “You had something with Amanda though, didn’t you?” she asked. “Grace told me you did. She thinks she’s just a distraction for you and that’s why you didn’t straighten Amanda out. You hurt her.” Her eyes narrowed back at Michael as she continued. “And I did warn you about hurting her.”

Michael’s heart sank in his chest. He hadn’t known her words had affected you so much. Hadn’t known that you’d been so bothered by the fact that he’d been with Amanda in the past. It had been so long ago now, a stupid affair that he shouldn’t have had with his brother’s wife. And she’d chosen Jimmy at the time, after all. That wasn’t what Michael wanted, to be someone’s second choice. To be less than. He hadn’t felt that way when he was with Allison, which was why he’d ultimately married her. Though he certainly hadn’t felt whatever he’d been feeling for you when he’d been with either of them, either. 

“I want to make it right,” he assured Megan. “I just need her to talk to me. So I can explain myself. Fix things.”

“She’s too pissed at you to talk,” Megan informed him.

Michael’s shoulders dropped, his expression falling with them. Did that mean things were just over before they’d even had a chance to begin then? He’d already ruined things with you?

Megan’s arms uncrossed from her chest as she exhaled a loud sigh, the noise drawing Michael’s attention. Her expression had softened visibly to something less hostile and Michael eyed her curiously.

“You like my sister?” Megan asked him. 

“Yes,” he answered instantly.

“And you’re not just fucking around with her?” she questioned next.

Michael shook his head swiftly. “No, ‘m’not,” he replied. 

For a long while Megan stood there in silence, studying Michael closely, her eyes scanning his face. After a moment she nodded.

“I’ll help you because I like you and I think you’re genuine,” she said. “So don’t fuck this up. Are you going to be home this evening? Say…eight-ish?”

“I can be, yeah,” he said.

“I’ll lure her out to the back garden a little before then,” Megan told him. “For a sister chat. Keep an eye out–in a not creepy and noticeable way, too. I don’t need her knowing I helped you out here.”

“You would–would do that for me?” Michael asked.

Megan pushed off the doorframe, her stance no longer meant to intimidate. “I want to believe you’re a good guy and you have good intentions with my sister,” she answered. “So I’ll help you. This time.” She raised a finger, pointing it threateningly at Michael’s chest as her expression darkened. “But so help me if you hurt her, lead her on and leave her for your brother’s wife or something, I’ll fucking hurt you. I don’t care what your last name is. Are we clear?”

The corner of Michael’s lips twitched upwards into a small smile. He nodded, his hands finally uncurling in his jacket pockets. 

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I hear ya, and I don’t intend to hurt her.”

Huddled together with your sister on the bench outside, you drew the blanket tighter around your shoulders as a chill ran down your spine. It was colder out now that the sun had finally set, which wasn't saying much because it always seemed to be cold in Dublin. You felt like you'd been living in layers since you moved here.

"How'd writing go at that new coffee shop you visited?" Megan asked from beside you.

"It was good," you answered. "Nothing interesting happened. Just finished a chapter and drank some coffee. Dealt with social media shit for Angela." 

You glanced at Megan sitting beside you, her head resting against the backrest of the wicker bench. Her focus was on the thick clouds in the sky above that threatened rain.

"How was your day off from the hospital?" you asked her. 

Megan shrugged a shoulder. "I ran some errands. Went to my yoga class. Nothing too eventful." Her eyes shifted towards you. "Any sign of Victor today? Or was it a good day on that front, too?"

"Thankfully nothing popping up from him," you answered. "Nothing since that weird email I didn't open the other day, at least." You sighed, eyes dropping down to your lap as your fingers nervously fidgeted with the blanket. "It almost makes me more nervous when I go a bit without seeing signs of him lately. Like I feel like he knows I'm here and is just…watching me or something."

Megan's head rose from its place against the bench, her focus fully on you. Her left hand landed on your leg beside hers under the blanket you both were sharing. 

"You don't think he knows though, do you?" she asked. "That you're here? You haven't even been here that long yet."

"I don't know," you muttered. "I don't think so but I just…I have this feeling, you know? Like he's getting closer. It makes my skin crawl."

"Let's not talk about it then," Megan said. "Topic change."

"To what?" you asked, still nervously fidgeting with the blanket in your hands.

"I don't know," Megan said. "Anything. Anyone catch your eye at the coffee shop?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Hands balling the blanket in them, your attention turned up towards the sky. 

"I'm not here to date," you reminded her. "You know that."

"You need to live your life, Grace," she said, bumping your shoulder with hers. "You don't want to wake up some day years from now feeling like all you've done is hide."

You opened your mouth, entirely prepared to protest that you were living your life, but the sound of the sliding door opening on the back of Michael’s house stopped you. Gaze slowly making its way over, you saw him closing the door behind himself. Even in the dark you could see his eyes were clearly focused on you.

Stiffening on the bench, you saw him making his way straight towards you and Megan. You could feel your heart nervously pounding in your chest with each of his approaching steps. You didn't want to see him. To talk to him. You knew he'd been calling you since yesterday morning but you couldn't bring yourself to answer. It had hurt you that he'd let Amanda say those things about you, and it had hurt you just as much to realize it was most likely because he still wanted her.

"G'evenin' Megan," he greeted as he neared the fence, his attention briefly switching to your sister before it returned to you. "Grace," he said, tone a bit softer. 

"Michael," Megan greeted back. "Come out here to freeze your ass off, too?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. Coming to a stop beside the fence, he placed his hands along the stone and leaned forward over it. He looked nervous as he focused on you. 

"Was actually hopin' I could talk to ya, Grace," he said.

Beside you, Megan started pulling the blanket off from around herself. You caught her eye, shooting her a pointed look that clearly asked her not to leave you alone with him. 

"Just talk to him," she urged. "If you want to yell at him afterwards no one is stopping you."

As Megan rose from the bench, you readjusted the blanket around yourself to keep warm. Your sister sent you a final, meaningful look before she made her way back towards the house. You heard the sliding door open and close, your eyes dropping down to your feet as you curled further in on yourself under the blanket. 

Silence soon fell between you and Michael after Megan’s exit. For a minute neither of you spoke, your heart still beating heavily in your chest. But you refused to be the one to break the silence first.

"I'm sorry," Michael hesitantly called out. "I didn't realize that what Amanda had said had hurt ya."

Your eyes narrowed, a flash of anger at the memory of yesterday morning hitting you. "You think it's not hurtful to be called a quick fuck?" you shot back, your eyes still refusing to meet his.

"I thought ya knew what she was sayin' wasn't true," he replied quickly. "Grace, if all ya were was a quick fuck I wouldn't be lettin' ya in when my–my son was killed," he said, voice full of emotion. "Makin' ya coffee in the mornin' after. Runnin' to your house with a gun when I hear screamin'."

Your gaze slowly rose up to Michael’s face as he continued on, his words coming out faster. You could feel your anger slowly easing the more he said. 

"I wouldn't have stayed with ya that night ya hurt yourself," he told you. "And told ya I liked ya in the mornin'. Asked ya out a second time feelin' like a dumb arse hopin' you'd change your mind and say yes to me. Actually give me a chance."

Your expression softened as Michael continued on, realizing he had a point. Though knowing that didn’t mean that he couldn't still have feelings for his brother’s wife.

“If ya were only a quick fuck, I wouldn’t have takin’ ya out for coffee,” he continued earnestly. “I honestly woulda been content to sit in that shop with ya all day listenin' to ya talk 'bout anythin' instead of goin’ home with ya after, Grace. I wasn't the one who suggested it, even if I’d be a lyin’ arse if I said I hadn’t thought ‘bout ya like that, because I have. I’m attracted to ya, I am, but–but that isn’t what I want from ya.”

“And what do you want?” you called out.

You saw the tension ease from his body at the sound of your voice. There was an expression on his face that looked a mix of sad but hopeful in the dim light from Megan’s house shining along him.

“I just want to get to know ya,” he answered. “That’s what I’ve been sayin’ all this time. I just want to get to know ya, Grace.”

Tightening the blanket around yourself further, you felt something flutter in your chest at his admission. “And what about Amanda?” you asked.

For a moment he looked like he was about to say something, but what he did instead surprised you. In a fluid and almost graceful movement, you watched as he pulled himself up and over the four foot stone fence. Your eyes widened in surprise as he landed with a soft thud on the pavement, but you didn’t have time to process what was going on because he was heading over towards you on the bench immediately after.

He sat down beside you slowly, as if he was uncertain that you’d let him. His eyes had never left your face the entire time, and the intensity you found in them had you almost holding your breath. Shifting on the bench, you turned towards him nervously. 

“There is nothin’ between Amanda and I,” he told you firmly. “There was in the past, yes, but I told ya before that it was a mistake havin’ an affair with my brother’s wife. And I meant it. I can’t speak for her, but I can tell ya now, I don’t want Amanda. I want you . I want to see what it is that keeps pullin’ me to ya.”

“But what she said–”

“I fucked up,” Michael admitted ardently. “I fucked up and I didn’t say anythin’ that mornin’ because I knew Amanda has had a difficult time grievin’ the loss of Jaime. She’s been strugglin’ with the aftermath of what she–she asked me to do, too. She’s been havin’ a hard time and I didn’t want to start somethin’. Didn't want to make things worse. And I figured ya knew better than to listen to the shit she was spewin’ because I’d thought I’d made it clear ya weren’t a quick fuck.” He sent you a sad smile. “Ya saw how upset I got with Birdy, and she’s the closest thing I’ve got to a mum, Grace. But she threatened ya, and it wasn’t right, so I told her off. Ya have to believe me that it wasn’t intentional when I hurt ya yesterday. I realize now that I fucked up.”

“You did,” you whispered. “That hurt to just stand there and hear your… ex talk about me like that while you just let it happen.”

Michael’s palm landed on your knee over the blanket, his hand firmly grasping it. “I swear to ya, she’ll never speak like that ‘bout ya or to ya again, Grace. I won’t let it happen,” he said with a firm shake of his head. "Ya have my word. Because ya aren't some distraction or a quick fuck. Ya mean more than that to me."

Biting your lip, you held his gaze. Your hands were holding tight to the soft blanket, resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss him after that long-winded an impassioned apology he'd given you. You'd never had a man before take responsibility for their actions and apologize like that. He was right though, he had done all of those things for you and more. Like shielding you from possible gunfire the other day. And he seemed pretty adamant about not having feelings for Amanda. 

"Can ya forgive me?" he whispered, his hand timidly leaving your knee and gingerly cupping your cheek. "Let me prove to ya I mean what I say?"

You nodded slowly in response. "Just please don't toy with me, Michael," you murmured.

He shook his head, his thumb stroking your cheek gently. "I would never," he promised. "I feel like shite for unintentionally hurting ya, pet. I never meant to, I swear."

Sending him a small, nervous smile, you opened your arms and in turn partially unwrapped yourself from the blanket. "Are you cold?" you asked. 

A little grin slipped onto his lips as he nodded, his hand returning to his side. "Freezin' my arse off, actually," he answered. 

You laughed lightly, scooting closer to him on the bench. "Here," you said, offering him some of the blanket.

For a moment the two of you sat flush beside each other, trying to figure out how to wrap the blanket around both you and Michael, but he was vastly broader than Megan. The blanket wasn't quite big enough to wrap around the pair of you. 

"I'll be fine without it, Grace," Michael finally said in defeat, beginning to unwrap the blanket from around himself. "Just use it yourself, pet. I don't want ya to get cold."

An idea struck you and your hand flew out to stop him. "Wait," you said.

Michael paused, shooting you a curious look. Ignoring the fluttering of nerves in your stomach at the way he was eyeing you and at what you were about to do, you wrapped your arms around Michael’s neck and pulled yourself up and into his lap. Micheal’s eyes grew wide in shock, his brows shooting up. You bit back a smile at the surprised look on his face, an amused huff of laughter slipping out of you. Michael’s hands instinctively flew around your waist and back, steadying you along his lap as you adjusted yourself. 

"Now it'll wrap around both of us," you said.

Taking the blanket from its place behind Michael, you shifted and began wrapping it around both of you. He momentarily released his hold on you to help, pulling the blanket higher up around your shoulders as he did. You grabbed the ends of it to hold it closed before leaning back into Michael’s chest when his arms encircled you again. Your head came to rest against his shoulder and you quickly felt yourself relaxing into him.

“I’d say this is much better,” you said.

“Mhmm,” Michael hummed out in approval, turning his head so he could look at you. “Y’know for bein’ so timid sometimes, you’re quite bold, Grace.”

“Well,” you began, a smile tugging at your lips as you shifted your head along his shoulder, looking back up at him, “I’m usually bold. I blame you for making me nervous sometimes.”

“Ya make me nervous, too,” Michael admitted softly. “Was terrified of talkin’ to ya after what happened yesterday. Afraid I’d completely fucked everythin’ up. Afraid I’d…lost ya already.”

Adjusting your hold on the blanket, maneuvering both ends to your right hand, you slipped your left hand up his neck to gently cradle the side of his face. Silently you held his eyes for a moment, your fingers lightly running along his beard as you stroked his cheek.

“You didn’t lose me, Michael,” you whispered. “I’m still here.”

A broad smile gradually spread across his mouth as he gazed down at you, the warmth of it finally eliminating the sadness that seemed to have been lingering on his face and in his eyes since he’d stepped out of his house this evening. You couldn’t resist the smile that spread on your own face at the sight of it. Michael was a handsome man, there was no doubt about it, but when he smiled like that it left you speechless.

“How ‘bout I cook ya dinner sometime soon?” he asked. “We can figure out a time later this week and I can make things up to ya over some food.”

Your brows rose onto your forehead. “You cook?” you asked.

He chuckled lightly, his smile turning a little sheepish. “A bit, yeah. A few things Birdy taught me, at least. Though I’ll admit, it’s been a bit since I’ve done much cookin’. But if you’re up for it, I’d like to.”

A warm sensation stirred in your chest as you continued to gaze up at him. No one had cooked for you before, especially not Victor. This was new.

“I’d like that,” you whispered.

“Can I consider it our second date?” he murmured, lowering his forehead to yours.

Leaning upwards just a hair, you brushed your lips against his. You felt his mouth immediately respond to the light touch, his lips placing a soft kiss to yours.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Michael’s lips curled into a smile against your own for a moment, and you felt yourself melting into him and his warmth from your place along his lap. You felt safe wrapped in his embrace, his arms firmly holding you to him. With the hand still resting on his cheek, you drew him that last bit of the way towards you, your mouth gently connecting to his in another kiss. Micheal eagerly responded, his arms somehow managing to squeeze you a bit tighter to his solid chest. 

This kiss wasn’t like the ones the two of you had shared yesterday morning though. It wasn’t desperate and hungry, but rather unhurried and relaxed. Both of your mouths connecting over and over as if neither of you were in a rush, just taking your time enjoying the moment. It wasn’t long before you forgot all about the chill of the evening, your arms both snaking around Michael’s neck as you further pressed yourself to him, reveling in the taste of him on your tongue as the blanket gradually fell from the pair of you.

[didhewinkback]

thank you for

a something old blurb about the final show, short and sweet. (was posted yesterday but i deleted it, sharing again now)

---

They’re chanting his name, screaming it at the top of their lungs but he holds his hand up to stop it, needing nothing more than to get this speech out, to properly thank the people that got him here, to stand on the stage they helped him get to and express his gratitude. It won’t be sufficient, won’t even begin to encapsulate all they’ve done for him but he needs to try. 

“To my family, thank you for …” he starts, eyes scanning the group of his loved ones off to the side of the pit until he finds his mum, her teary, pride filled eyes staring back at him, looking at him with her signature unconditional love, the love she’s given him every second he’s been alive, every second he’s been lucky enough to be her son. There will never be any way to thank her for being her and for making him the man he is today, though he does try with cars she has no need for and luxurious vacations where all she wants is to spend time with him, not really giving a shit about the location.

She’s got her arms wrapped around Gemma’s shoulders and she’ll deny this forever but one quick look at her face shows that she’s crying too, the insanity of this night and this journey their family has been on catching up to them all in this moment. How their lives have changed in every imaginable way over the last thirteen years. The three of them against the world. He thinks of how he’s always had the two of them through it all, loving him and supporting him and propping him up every step of the way. 

And then his eyes slide over and lock with yours and it’s like a dam breaks. 

He thinks about how the person he locked eyes with at the end of the last tour wasn’t you and he wishes it was. How the last three years with you have given him more than he could ever imagine or hope for. How he hugged you before he went on stage for that audition when he was 16 and now you’re the only person whose arms he wants to be in when this show is over. 

He thinks about you and all that you are and all that you have been and all that you will be, his mind flashing to the ring hiding away in his safe back at the house. He thinks about the conversation you had a few mornings ago, how his definition of family has grown over the last year, how he plans to include you in it for the rest of his life. 

He’s never felt happier, he’s never felt luckier, he can’t believe he gets to be the man you’re looking at like that. 

He tries to take a steadying breath but it comes out shaky and he knows he’s done for. 

“Thank you for…” he croaks out before his throat clogs and his eyes burn, the tears he tried so hard to keep at bay spilling over. Shit. He slides a hand over his eyes and turns away from the crowd,  trying to collect himself as quickly as possible, desperate to avoid videos of him sobbing about his love for his family splashed all over the internet, this vulnerability and rich history of love something that is still his and theirs alone. 

He turns back to the crowd to make a quick joke, letting their laughter wash over him as he takes a few steps, getting his head back in the game, letting the emotions simmer back down a bit before he looks over at you all. His eyes scan the group, seeing his cousins, his aunts, his uncles, your parents, these people who have loved him and raised him and kept his head in the right place. Where would he be without them? What could he possibly say to thank them for everything they’ve done? His mind whirls, his heart pounding as tears prick his eyes.

And then he finds you again, a lighthouse amid this hurricane of emotion roaring through him. A safety net. His rock. And you’re looking at him with such love and pride and belief and he has to get these few words out. He knows he can now. 

So, he takes a deep breath. A real one this time. He blinks back a few stray tears and brings the microphone back up to his mouth, looking back at his family. 

And he speaks.

---

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