#I had to challenge myself to see if I could get through an angst story without crying

[diettwistup]

HALF OF YOU

PAIRINGS: tashi duncan x f!oc, art donaldson x f!oc, patrick zweig x f!oc

SUMMARY: No matter how bright Tashi Duncan shined, her best friend, Milan Mikaelson, wasn’t far behind. Though seeming second best, Milan would never let that define her career. Holding as much fame as Tashi, Milan encountered Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. Would this encounter change the trajectory of her life, and would it completely alter her relationship with Tashi Duncan?

WARNINGS: challengers spoilers, reader is milan mikaelson, sexual situations, language, angst, plot alterations.

WC: 3.9K

NOTES: hey y’all!!! so excited to be posting the first chapter of this story. manifesting my edits are all good LOL. enjoy! 💋

READ BEFORE THIS: INTRO

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTIONS AND EMBARRASSMENTS

US OPEN TOURNAMENT- 2006, 2:00 PM

Sitting down on the hot bleachers, I put my sunglasses on and adjusted the braids in my hair. Sucking on my teeth and brushing my fingers across the hem of my uniform skirt, I let my eyes gaze at the large crowd of people accumulating. 

Damn Tashi, you always know how to make a bang. 

Crossing my arms and softly laughing, I let my mind wander back to my match yesterday. 

I had lost to the girl who would be playing Tashi for the championship. I really don’t know if that was a good or bad thing. On one hand, I lost from a bad call when I was so close to the end. On the other hand, I wouldn’t have to battle my best friend and get absolutely decimated, as she would say. 

As I continued to lose myself in thought, two boys, blonde and brunette, moved through the growing crowd and sat in front of me. 

You’re kidding me. 

Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson—the “fire and ice” duo—had just won their doubles match, if I’m not mistaken. How could I be when their trophies were sitting right on their laps?

There's still a ton of seats open, and they choose to sit here? 

Rolling my eyes and crossing my arms, I pushed my sunglasses up, waiting for Tashi to come out. 

Staring at the door to the locker rooms, I clicked my tongue in boredom before grabbing the tournament pamphlet to look at everyone’s stats. 

“Don’t you wanna meet Tashi Duncan?” 

My ears perked at this as I put the pamphlet down and narrowed my eyes at the brunette boy. 

Whoever said eavesdropping was a bad thing…

I had to hold in my laughter as they began to talk about Tashi and how she was the entire package. Telling her this later would be the highlight of my week. 

“What about Mikaelson, you know her?” Patrick asked as he slung his arm around his companion. 

I froze at this and tilted my sunglasses down to better see the two of them. 

“Of course I know her. Have you seen her play? She’s fucking hot.” Art added with a smirk as he attempted to whisper, failing miserably. 

My face heated up at this as my eyes narrowed at the boys. 

Do they not realize the person they’re talking about is behind them? 

“Agreed,” Patrick started as he pulled his friend closer. “She’s also got a fat ass.” He laughed as Art chuckled along with him. 

Gag. 

Closing my eyes and pretending I didn’t hear that, I heard cheers and claps from around, signaling that Tashi had come out of the locker room. The chair umpire immediately began to talk about her stats and how she was the best female player in our division. 

I happily clapped as I beamed at my friend, her eyes scanning the crowd and locking with mine, a large smile playing on her features. 

“Fuck, did you see that? Tashi Duncan just smiled at us…” Patrick exclaimed in awe as he pushed Art in the chest. 

“Shit, I missed it.” Art complained before leaning back and adjusting himself in his seat.

I almost had to cover my mouth to hide the vomit that was about to let loose. 

Dumbasses. 

After a few minutes, Tashi’s match began, of course, in her favor. Everything was perfect: her serves, backhand, line receives, counterattacks, and every single step she took. 

I smirked widely as I watched Tashi decimate the bitch who, unfortunately, decimated me. 

Patrick and Art watched Tashi in awe for the first ten minutes of the match while commenting on how amazing a player she was. 

I snorted at this, wondering how long it would take to notice who was sitting behind them.

On the next serve, Tashi’s opponent hit the ball out, but the line umpire declared it as in. 

Standing up immediately, I pointed a finger and yelled at the top of my lungs. 

“What?! Come on, Tash, don’t take that shit!” 

Everyone else agreed with me as the crowd began to roar in protest of the shitty call. 

Lost in the moment, I hadn’t realized that Patrick and Art had turned around and stared at me in horror and awe. 

“Oh,” I started and took off my sunglasses. Did I yell in your ear?” I looked between them before looking back up at Tashi. 

“Fuck, you’re-“ Patrick started in a slightly panicked state before I cut him off. 

“Milan Mikaelson? Yeah, I’m guessing you two know me.” I spoke with sarcasm as I kept my eyes trained on Tashi and her opponent. 

Caught. 

“Shit, I’m real sorry for what I said, I-“ Art started before I placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him, eyes still not leaving the game.

“Don’t sweat it, was too focused on the game to give a damn.” I lied straight through my teeth as I pretended to act nonchalant. 

I could feel both of their eyes staring long and hard at my hand lingering on Art’s shoulder before I took it away to throw my hands in the air and yell as Tashi locked in another point. 

“Come on, Tash!” I yelled and clapped with the roaring crowd, boys still looking back at me. 

Sighing, I crossed my arms and looked back down at them. “Take a picture, it will last longer,” I spoke in annoyance before sitting back down and putting on my sunglasses. 

All I could hear were muffled whispers and attempts to counteract my statement before they turned back around and shared we’re fucked looks. 

Stifling my laughs, I angled my eyes back to the match. 

As Tashi continued to hit the ball effortlessly for the rest of the match, her win came almost naturally. 

Standing up and yelling, I quickly ran down the bleachers, feeling two pairs of eyes following me. I stood against the fence and clapped loudly while Tashi caught my eyes after her victory yell and smiled widely at me. 

I jumped up and down with all the fans cheering with their signs and matching t-shirts. 

Running around the court to thank everyone for coming, Tashi came over to me and grabbed my hands. 

“Tashi! I’m so proud!” I yelled and bounced on my heels, extremely happy with my friend's success. 

“My biggest fan.” She smiled and reached over to hug me before letting go and continuing to thank everyone. 

Smiling proudly at her, I pushed my braids behind my back and took off my sunglasses. Turning around, I looked back at the sea of people cheering for Tashi before my eyes landed on two figures. 

What a mystery those two are…

I smirked proudly at them as their eyes shifted between Tashi walking back to her locker room and myself standing by the fence. 

Patrick leaned over to Art and whispered something as their eyes darted between us. I could only see Patrick's smirk and Art’s growing grin at his friend's words. 

Snorting to myself, I turned around and put my sunglasses back on. 

“Fucking morons…” 

ADIDAS BRAND PARTY - 2006 8:00 PM

“Tashi!” I exclaimed as I weaved through a crowd of familiar and influential faces to ambush my best friend. 

I could see her bright smile miles away as she turned to meet me at the edge of the dancefloor, engulfing her in a hug. 

“Milan, I was wondering if you weren’t coming.” She laughed as she wrapped her arms around me and returned my hug. 

Pulling away, I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. “Tashi Duncan, my best friend, thought I would miss out on this?!” I questioned as I gestured to the bustling party. "You must be crazy if you think I would miss out on anything that concerned you and your tennis career,” I snapped at her with a knowing smirk.

“I’ll have you know I was late because my mother insisted on making me change ten times.” I rolled my eyes and tilted my head to where our moms were conversing. I stuck my nose up and closed my eyes, annoyed at the memory of how nagging my mother was when getting ready for the party.

Immediately, she raised her hands in defense and raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, Miss Mikaelson, didn’t mean to assume.” She laughed before crossing her arms. 

I watched her expression change slightly as her eyes softened and lips parted. 

“I watched your match yesterday,” she said, lightly treading. “I’m sorry about the loss.” She finished and brought a hand to my shoulder, rubbing it gently with a sad smile.

Flashes of my match fluttered back into my mind as a small pit formed in my stomach. 

I shrugged this off and took up a carefree attitude, whereas my insides were screaming. 

“It was a shitty call, what can I say? That bitch had and has nothing on me.” I smirked and made sure not to falter, but secretly, the loss had internally crushed me.

Tashi laughed, brought her other hand to my shoulder, and bent down to level our eyes. “Don't worry, I decimated her for you. Plus, at Stanford, the both of us will be fucking up bitches right and left.” She shot a cocky smirk at this as I gave her one back in turn. 

Stanford. The next four years of my life with Tashi Duncan would be the ultimate dream. 

Right? 

I extended my pinky to Tashi with a slight wink. “Promise?” I bit my bottom lip and smirked at this familiar gesture between us. 

As long as I can remember, Tashi and I have made over a hundred pinky promises. Our first one involved her letting me borrow her Barbie doll while we played house and my promise to return it. Since then, it’s been a norm between us. 

I felt the confidence radiating from Tashi’s grin as she moved her right hand from my shoulder to interlock our pinkies. 

“Promise.” She repeated and swung our interlocked pinkies back and forth. 

I laughed like a child all over again before quickly raking my eyes across the entire party. As I scanned the crowd, I let go of Tashi’s pinky and leaned in to whisper. 

“Lots of important people here, I see,” I whispered as Tashi’s eyes followed mine.

“And familiar faces too…” She responded in a lower tone, angling her eyes to an older man by the beverages. 

“Shut up!” I gasped before looking back at Tashi. “Is that Mr. Reynolds?!” I asked in shock at seeing our fifth-grade English teacher. 

“Yup,” Tashi responded, standing straight as she crossed her arms. She studied the older man as he scanned the beverages offered. “He was always my favorite,” she quipped, not needing a huge explanation for why he was here. 

At this, I burst out into laughter, as did she. 

“I thought he died years ago.” I clutched my stomach before placing a hand over my mouth and muffling my small laughs. “Wait, that’s not nice. I mean, I thought he passed on peacefully years ago.” I corrected in a serious tone as I watched the older man before glancing at Tashi and bursting into laughter again. 

As I laughed with Tashi, I felt a burning feeling on the back of my head. 

Was someone staring?

Wiping my eyes carefully to avoid messing up my makeup, I slowly turned around and almost froze as I locked eyes with the person, or should I say persons, staring at Tashi and me. 

Oh, hell no. Is that who I think it is?

Quickly, I turned back around and whispered to Tashi in a hurried tone. 

“Tash, is that Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson?” I looked her in the eye as they narrowed at the mention of the “fire and ice” duo’s presence at the party. 

“Oh yeah, they’ve been staring all night.” She smirked and looked between the two of us. “Frankly, I don’t blame them.” Her smirk grows even wider, mirroring the Cheshire Cat. 

Biting my lip, I remembered my earlier encounter with the two tennis players. I shuddered as I remembered their smirks and remarks about Tashi and me. 

“Tash…” I said warningly, pointing my perfectly manicured finger in her face. “Please tell me you don’t have one of your ideas in mind.” I slightly scolded her, studying her face to see what she was thinking. “Those two are complete and utter idiots.” I continued as I shook my head. 

She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and whispered back as she lowered my finger and sucked on her teeth. “Do you really need to ask this?” She questioned with an air that spoke obviously, are you stupid? 

“And believe me,” She started and moved to fix the straps of my dress. “I know exactly how they are…teenage boys.” She snickered wider at this as I rolled my eyes. 

I huffed loudly before grabbing a piece of my hair to fiddle while I groaned. “But Tash, it’s our summer before we go to college. No boys.” I retorted as the music in the background got a little louder. 

Grabbing my hands, Tashi dragged us to the middle of the dance floor and forced me to dance. “First of all,” She started as she twirled me around, “This was never a pinky promise.” She spoke, wrapped her arms around my neck, and swayed us to the music. 

Fuck, she got me there. 

“Second of all,” She continued before touching my neck to untangle my necklaces while swaying with me. “I know you’re internally drooling over Art Donaldson. He’s exactly your type, and he’s going to Stanford.” She laughed to herself as she worked on my necklaces. 

Fuck x2 can’t deny that. 

I rolled my eyes and turned away, knowing I couldn’t argue either of those statements. 

“You’re crazy…” Was all I could protest. 

Untangling my necklaces, Tashi clapped and smiled brightly at me before putting her hands back on my shoulders. “This is gonna be a great start to the summer.” She grinned like a mad woman as we kept dancing across the floor. 

After dancing, mingling, and trying not to focus on the two hard stares hitting Tashi's and my head for the entire night, I decided to go to the beach. 

“Hey, Tash, I’m going to the beach for a quick breather. If my mom asks, I’ll be down there. Come down if you need anything or if I miss something interesting.” I smile gently at her while I take my heels off.

“Got it. Be safe.” She waved before going to get pictures with her family. 

I smiled at her before walking to navigate the path to go down to the beach, pretending not to notice the two pairs of eyes following me. 

10:00 PM

I wonder how long I had been down here listening to the sweet waves ripple against the hot sand. I almost feel as if the ocean is calling me. 

Imagine the escape of living on a secluded island where nothing mattered. Not school, not tennis, and not the future.

Especially the future. 

Staring at my newly manicured nails, I continued to get lost in my thoughts while the ocean rang in my ears.

Shit, I’m over everything.

I reached a hand up to my mouth and began to bite one of my nails. 

Do I even wanna go to Stanford? 

Practically gnawing at it, I can feel the acrylic wearing off.

Doesn’t matter because I’ll be with Tashi… right?

SNAP

“Fuck…” I muttered to myself as I broke off a nail, leaving a tiny bit of blood seeping from my nail bed. 

Rolling my eyes, I held onto the broken nail and rested my head on my knee as I watched the ocean. 

“We’re not interrupting, are we?” I heard a deep voice ask behind me, making me let out a small yelp and nearly fall off the rock.

Quickly turning around, I was met with two, unfortunately familiar, faces. 

Why now?

Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson stood before me, shoes in one hand and cigarettes in the other. Frankly, I had no idea which one spoke, and I had no care to know at this rate. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, and they disturbed that. 

“What the fuck,” I explained as I stood up from the rock and patted my dress down. “Do you know how rude it is to sneak up on someone?” I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes as I looked between the two boys sheepishly standing before me. 

“Shit, really sorry, didn’t know you were here,” Patrick spoke up as his counterpart dropped his cigarette from his lips upon seeing me study his stature. 

Bullshit. 

“Hm, okay, well, I’ll be going then,” I exclaimed, irritated, as I bent down to grab my heels. “I hope you two have a grand time.” I sarcastically quipped as I went to walk past them and go back up the path to the party. 

“Wait,” Art, almost panicked, stood before me with a lopsided grin as he flicked his cigarette bud beside him and treaded lightly as he motioned to the chairs near the rock I had just occupied. “We’d love it if you joined us, just for a chat.” He had a genuine smile on his face now. 

Are they serious?

Before I could open my mouth, Patrick beat me to it as he walked to sit in one of the chairs Art motioned to. 

“Yeah, just to talk. You're one of the best players in our age bracket, and it would be a real treat to get to know you as an apology for what happened earlier.” Patrick added and smirked so wide I could feel pure smitten radiating off it. 

They are serious.

Both boys were now staring at me, gazes identical in pure amazement, awaiting my response. 

Fuck this. Fuck me. Fuck x3.

Sighing softly and crossing my arms, I dropped my shoes, returned to the rock, and sat down. 

“You get five minutes,” I spoke curtly as I looked between the boys, waiting for one of them to speak up.

Art took this chance to open his mouth, but before he could begin, I held a hand up to stop him.

“Oh, and there’s no need to introduce yourselves. Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig, the “fire and ice” duo.” I spoke unenthusiastically, keeping my eyes on Art for a little longer before angling my expression to Patrick.

Both boys stared at me with slight smirks as I adjusted my dress and grabbed a piece of hair to play with while they continued. 

“Well, Milan Mikaelson,” 

I inwardly shuddered as he spoke my full name. 

“During your match, I thought that call was fucked.” Patrick spoke up and got right to the point. He laughed as if he remembered it as a fond childhood memory. 

Almost instantly, Art chimed in to add to his friends' thoughts, a bit too eager for my liking. “I mean, that Anna girl could barely serve your entire match, and then that?” He stated as he shook his head, acting like he was scolding my opponent to her face like a coach.

My eyes lit up at this. They knew how to crack me. Bring up my pride and losses, and I’ll talk your ear off for hours. 

“I think the official was blind because that bitch’s ball was totally past the line,” I explained matter-of-factly. “Did you see the way he hesitated before calling it? He probably had it in with her.” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in annoyance at the memory of the loss. 

“Still, you were fucking amazing out there. How did you get your backhand to be that powerful?” Art quickly added and leaned forward in his chair as if moving closer to me would allow him to understand my words better. 

I let a slight smile adorn my features as I studied his position. 

Fuck x4.

For the next four minutes, the three of us talked about tennis and our matches throughout the tournament. Though brief, I could quickly tell how these two relied on each other and their sport. It was definitely the glue for their friendship. I could also tell how they hung onto my every word, like a toddler waiting for his mother to let him out of the time-out-chair. 

Checking my watch, I stood up and looked between the boys. 

“Though this was fun, your five minutes is up.” I flashed my watch at them with a subtle smile before bending down to grab my shoes. 

When I bent down, I could hear some rushed scuffles and whispers. Standing back up, I saw that both boys were also standing, very tense, might I add. 

“How can we contact you to do this again?” Patrick asked with a smirk, which I presume was a signature for him.

Raising an eyebrow at him, I crossed my arms and looked between him and his blonde companion. 

“Who said I wanted to do this again?” I asked as Patrick shoved his hands in his pockets with a defeated grin while Art let out a muffled chuckle. 

“Come on, this was fun.” Art added and took a cautious step towards me. “Can we get your number?” He asked as he studied my face with the cheekiest grin he could muster.

I laughed at his question dryly before pointing my finger between the two boys. “We? You think I’m gonna get between this? Hell no.” I replied, walking past them to the stairs and back to the party. 

Immediately, I could feel their eyes staring into the back of my head, and I wondered if they would beg or plead. 

They better not. 

“Come to our hotel,” Patrick yelled, making me whip my head around. “We have beer,” he grinned once he saw my interest somewhat piqued. 

Fuck x5.

“It’s not far from here. We can talk more.” He gestured between the three of us and then pointed up to the party. 

This made me look back to the party, about to question what he meant before Patrick chimed in. 

“We talked to Tashi earlier and told her the same thing. Would be fun getting to know the beautiful golden tennis girl duo.” He chuckled as I watched his eyes flicker from my face to my lips.

This made my face heat up, but I would never reveal that. Teenage boys don’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing they have any sort of effect on me. 

Clicking my tongue, I nodded at this new piece of information. 

Tashi did say she had a plan in place. This could be fun. 

“Maybe,” I replied as my eyes shifted between the boys.

You’re not easy, Milan Mikaleson. Remember that.

“Depends on my mood.” I finished and shot them small smirks before walking back up the stairs, not giving the boys a moment to retort. 

As I walked back to the party, my eyes shut as I felt a headache coming on. 

What the hell did I get myself into?

[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. 

[berberriescorner]

"Through It All"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: There aren’t many things that put Rio on edge. Most people see a calm, cool, and collected individual. Keeping a level head is his specialty. What happens when the person he loves most needs him to be strong for both of them? Get a glimpse of what it’s like seeing him hold someone down through thick and thin, in sickness and health. If you know, you know.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS AND AUTHOR’S NOTE**

Warnings: Angst…like seriously. You’ll understand once you read the author’s note. This fic contains sweet, soft, fluffy Rio. The fic includes some of my crazy humor with a smidge of the character’s inner thoughts. If reading about gynecological procedures makes you uncomfortable, this may not be a fic for you. It doesn’t go into great detail, but it is mentioned and sheds a bit of light. If mentions of the ins and outs of fertility is a soft spot, please read with caution. It isn’t my intention to bring anyone down, but this story is based on parts of my own experiences. Again, the note will explain more.

Author/Personal Note: Okay. Where to start? So, as some of you may know throughout the past two years I’ve been getting cycles of iron infusions. This year, after making several complaints and an ER visit or two. I had an ultrasound performed, which led to me getting surgery months later (the procedure I had done recently). I’ve been spending my days at home recovering, and it’s given me time to reflect. Damn, it’s been a rough couple of years, but I’m so thankful through it all. It’s difficult having a plethora of health issues. This situation put so much added stress on top of it all. As a woman, hearing you have a fibroid. Learning it’s best to get it removed to protect your fertility is scary as hell. You get it done, get sent home, and though you have loved ones taking amazing care of you. It’s still a difficult, challenging process. At times, it’s lonely. No one but you can fully wrap your head around the emotions and feelings the body is going through. It’s pretty wild.

Anywho, sorry y’all. Let me stop rambling and get to the point. We all know how overactive my imagination is. Being stuck in bed, my mind has been wandering. I thought to myself why not take this experience and channel it into a fic. I’m hoping that this will also be a comforting story to anyone who’s been through the same experience. Here is a look at how I envision Rio taking in the experience with his lady. I plan to write at least two more parts for this. Happy reading my lovelies! I wrote this on a whim, in celebration of my birthday, so ignore the grammatical errors my loves. I may come back and do some more editing. Depends on how I’m feeling.

Word Count: 1,800+. 

Inspired By💜:

Random fun fact: Toni Braxton and I have the same birthday😆. Happy Birthday, Queen💓.

Everything was still as a deafening silence fell across the room. It was as if each occupant was afraid to utter a single word. Your mother pretended to distract herself with a Kindle book as your father paced the floor quietly. They’d share a glance each time they checked their watch, smiling at one another in comfort and reassurance. 

Then, together, they directed their attention toward the chair in the far right corner. It was tucked in a tight corner next to a window, giving little relief and comfort to your husband, Rio. He, too was anxious, but no one would ever know it. He was always able to still his facial features. Never one to give his emotions away. The only person who could read him wasn’t in the room. You were on the other side of the building and the reason for your families’ nervousness. No longer able to stand the constant glances and silence, Rio stood from his seat. He released a breath, rubbing his palms against his jeans. Turning to your parents, he stated, “I’m going to grab a quick cup of coffee from the cafeteria. Would you two like something?”

Your mother, a gentle, nurturing soul, responded for both of them.

“No, baby. We’re fine. Don’t worry. I’ll come find you if we receive news.”

Rio ducked away in a vacant spot in the cafeteria, hands folded over top of the steam of the coffee. He searched for peace and solace until a jolting vibration exploded in his jacket pocket. Fumbling for the phone, he answered without looking.

“What they say ma-. Oh, my bad. Wassup? Everything good?” Rio listened patiently before snapping. “You know this is something you could’ve handled yourself, right? I don’t have time for the three stooges bullshit today.”

He instantly felt a slight pang of guilt. Rio realized that the stress and worry of his current situation were influencing his mood. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed. Inhaling, he continued, “My bad bro. She’s been in for three hours, and it’s got me tweaking. Nobody’s giving us any damn answers. It’s a non-invasive procedure, but it’s still considered major surgery. I just need to hear she’s good.”

“It’s all good, boss. I know you’re worried about wifey. She’s a strong woman. Boss lady’s going to be alright. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. Call me as soon as you know something,” Mick responded.

“You're right. Thank you for holdin’ shit down.”

He laid his phone on the table, burying his face in his hands. The last few moments he spent with you were on repeat in his mind. Rio returned to the present, hearing the chair opposite him slide backward. His eyes connected with your father’s, and he readied himself for wherever the conversation would go.

It was no secret that the two hadn’t always seen eye to eye. The two men sat for several minutes before your father started speaking.

“I’ll be honest with you, man. You’re not at all what I envisioned for my daughter.”

“You seriously want to have this conversation right now?”

“Now wait, son. Let me finish.”

Hold up. It’s son now? Where is this going? It didn’t even sound disrespectful. It doesn’t sound like he’s trying to play me on some sucka shit. I’ll hear him out.

Rio nodded his head, giving your father the floor.

“I may not know all you do for a living, son, but I know you’ve managed to make a comfortable and safe life for my baby girl. When it comes down to it, that’s what I’ve always wanted for her. It took me some time to come to terms with it, but I know, without a doubt, that you’re doing everything in your power to make her feel protected and loved. Let me just say what I’m getting at,” he chuckled. “You’re good at hiding it, son, but I know you’re worried. Hell, so are we, but that’s alright.”

Rio’s head dropped, shoulders slumping. He took the opportunity to be vulnerable finally. Your father’s acceptance allowed him the space to do so. He felt a comforting grip land on his shoulder. Your father finished, “Baby girl is going to be alright, son. With all your love and support, she’ll be back on her feet soon. Now, you take a few more moments to yourself. Don’t be surprised when her momma wraps you up in a big hug when you head back. She’s worried about her favorite son-in-law.”

Rio chuckled, “I’m her only son-in-law, sir.”

“Even better. You ain’t gotta share. That sweet woman sure knows how to smother people in love.”

“You’re daughter is the same way. It’s one of the many things I love about her.”

“Which is why you understand my reasons for being so guarded. That’s my baby girl. Enough with that ‘sir’ shit too. Call me pops. My son may not like that, but I get a kick out of irritating him anyway. He’s overprotective of his sister.”

“Y’all gon’ try to take me out if I ever mess up, huh?”

“What I look like snitching on myself? Let’s not ever get to that bridge, son.”

The two men shared a laugh, but everything turned serious when they saw your mom power walking towards them. Rio's heart began thudding in his chest.

“Ma, what’s wrong? Did-.”

“Relax, sugar,” she cooed, rubbing a hand against both men’s arms. “The nurse said the doctor should be ready to talk to us in about fifteen minutes. Let’s head back to the waiting room.”

Fifteen minutes came and went. Your mother couldn’t help but crack a smile at both men. They both started fussing about how long the surgeon was taking. She felt sorry for the man once he approached them. The doctor, attempting to apologize, was cut off by an impatient Rio.

“You good, doc. We understand these things take time, but excuse us for being anxious. We were under the impression this would be about an hour-long procedure. How’s my wife?”

The surgeon explained himself. “That’s what we anticipated, but the process took longer. Your wife’s last ultrasound a few months back showed a fibroid the size of a plum. Sadly, it grew to the size of an orange, which would explain why things grew more difficult during her last few cycles. However, you’ll be happy to know that we managed to do it laparoscopically, and everything looks great. She’s being taken to recovery now, but we’ve decided to keep her overnight.”

All three of your family members asked, “Why is that,” in unison.

“We just want to keep an eye on her for the next twenty-four hours. Given gas was used to see things more clearly, we’d like to monitor her. We’ll need to see that she gets up and walks to get things flowing. I just want to be sure she gets it moving out of her system. Also, since she’s anemic, we just want to be extra careful. I promise everything went well, and she should be ready to go in the morning.”

Each family member felt at ease. The trio waited for an invitation to your recovery room. Though he wanted to be the first person you saw when you woke up, Rio encouraged your parents to go first. The two visitors' only rule irritated them all.

Your eyes fluttered open, and your parents laughed at the slurred responses given to your nurse. Your parents took turns kissing your forehead, expressing encouraging words. Your father, now at ease, left the room in search of Rio.

“You might want to hurry back there. She’s still a bit loopy. Baby girl has been asking the nurse, where my husband? You got my baby acting ratchet in this hospital,” he joked.

“Aye, she was like that when I met her,” he laughed, walking towards recovery.

Rio slid behind the curtain, laying eyes on the most precious sight. You were in bed, laid back, eyes closed, singing off-key as your mother held your hand, laughing. The nurse stepped beside him, giving a small giggle.

“She’s been looking for you. Ma’am, the man of the hour is here.”

Your eyes popped open as you halted the song. “My husbannnd! Hey baeee,” you winced, given the pain and having a hoarse voice.

“Mama, you back here wildin’ ain’t you? How’s our little patient doing, ma,” he directed toward your mom.

“Crazy as ever. This girl opened her eyes, looked at me, and called herself whispering. Loud as ever, she asked me if she still had a uterus. Her daddy would’ve turned red if he were capable.”

They both shared a laugh as you did your best to shrug shoulders. Wanting to give you two privacy, your mom went to sit in the waiting room. Rio turned to you, holding your hand. His lips brushed across your knuckles, and he shivered at how cold they were. Wrapping his hand around yours, he tried warming the digits.

“My momma ain’t answer my question though,” you mumbled, eyes closed.

Rio smiled, “What’s that now, mama?”

“My uterus. Sis still in there, right?”

“Yes, darlin’. What makes you think it’s not?”

“I signed them papers, man. In the event of a ‘mergency, they were going to take shawty,” you sassed, words still slurring.

Rio did his best to hold back a cackle. Clearing his throat, he replied, “Mama, you straight. Everything went according to plan. There was no emergency. The fibroid is out. It was bigger than expected. That’s why it feels like you were out for a while.”

“Aight bet. So when we making babies,” you asked, wincing again.

“First off, sit still, mama. Your body is pretty sore right now.”

“Baby, I’m drugged up! I don’t feel nothin’.”

“Second. You’ll be recovering for four to six weeks. You’re not going to be in any type of mood for all that. I believe the surgeon said no sex for two to three weeks. No babies for at least six months, darlin’. They just sliced your uterus open and stitched it back together, mama,” he explained, running his thumb across your lip.

He laughed at the pout etched on your face. Rio caressed the side of your face, kissing you gently. “On some real shit. I was worried out my mind over you, mama. I’m so glad you’re good. You’re my world. The clock kept ticking, and I was about to lose it.”

Your eyes connected with his, “I’m right here, papa. I’m good. We gonna be good. No matter what,” you whispered. Even through the drugs and drowsiness, you could feel his angst. Rio could read between the lines. He knew what you were trying to communicate. It had been on both your minds heavily. Your eyes connected with his. Rio saw the unshed tears you were holding back, and he swallowed hard, nodding his head in agreement. No matter where this path led, Rio knew, in his heart, that he loved you with everything in him.

Baby or not, we’ll still feel fulfilled and happy. My life’s purpose is to love and give you the world.

This piece was both personal and therapeutic for me to write. I truly hope you all enjoyed it. Please be sure to comment and reblog, it's appreciated. Now I'm about to go eat some birthday cake and read some amazing fan fiction😆.

Divider credit💜 : @firefly-graphics

tagging💜 : @4everbrookemarie @darqchilddaydreamz @astoldbychae @sunshine-flower

@nightlywords7 @starrynite7114 @amorestevens @fineanddandy

@rio-reid-whoreee @that-one-anxious-mango @novaniskye

@alertyoulikeitsamber @1andonlytashae @lovedlover @blkbutterfly816 @banana123pudding

[evesburden]

Malogranatum [Ominis x Slytherin F!Reader]

Ominis opens up to you in the Slytherin common room while Sebastian is out clearing his head. Slight angst and melancholy follows. A fic that gives perspective to his standoffish behavior towards you, despite his warm welcome at the start of the game. I’ll probably edit later when I’m not so lazy and read it myself.

If someone had asked Ominis Gaunt who his family was, he would have sighed and listed off his lineage - always with his disclaimer on how he did not agree with the Gaunt family practices. He would do so in a measured voice, blocking out any emotional response that might bring that horrible guilt roaring back to his ears. A tricky spiral he had learned to carefully mortar to the far reaches of his consciousness in polite company.

However, when you had asked him what family was in its stead, he felt himself take a staggering pause. Maybe you hadn’t meant to phrase it that way, maybe you were just truly interested in his bloodline…But the warmth and cautiousness in your tone spoke otherwise.

So, after a long pause, he divulged thoughts that he kept pieced away. He did so cautiously, his pale slender fingers pinching and twisting around one another in anxiousness. He told you how he had first met Sebastian and Anne, how they quickly adopted him into their tightly knit bond, despite his cold and somewhat prickly demeanor that first year.

Truth be told, he had only been so off-putting due to his own concerns. Walls he had put up that he had never before felt safe letting down. Anne saw right through them, with Sebastian only too happy to follow along. Always the one up for a challenge to keep up with his twins antics.

He was much better now, at socializing and making friends. Just as the twins had adopted him, he began to adopt their boldness and steady footing. Never any best friends, mind you. That was reserved for the duo who had quickly become the only place he felt structured. But he did have a fair sprinkle of acquaintances throughout the school and houses.

More than Sebastian, at any rate.

Ominis spoke of spending nights and holidays with the Sallows, how despite the constant teasing and bickering between the two, he had found a security he didn’t know was previously available to him. He chuckled remembering how he thought he was in love with Anne for nearly an entire year, until he realized that the love he felt wasn’t the romantic variety. Ominis was, and still is, clumsy with familial dynamics and affection. He admits this to you in the same way adults tell stories of when they believed in Santa — with a warm melancholy of lessons learned and fond memories.

Almost an hour goes by until he notices that he had been the only one talking, the realization hitting him with an uneasy feeling he couldn’t place. A self-consciousness he rarely was vulnerable enough to experience in front of others.

“That’s truly lovely, Ominis.” You had responded as he faltered, sincerity so thick Ominis felt like he needed to clear his own throat of it.

“Sorry,” He murmured in embarrassment, “I suppose I sound like a prattling old man.”

Ominis couldn’t see you shake your head, but he could feel the motion from where you were sat next to him, “Not at all, truth be told you could speak about all of this for hours and I’d be elated.”

There was a…squeeze in his chest just then. A sensation that somehow both alarmed and comforted him. If you had been observant, maybe you would have caught the half second his eyes widened, before they crinkled in a small smile, “That’s very kind of you to say and not something I necessarily deserve.”

Ah, there it was. The guilt.

Ominis stood up, wanting to end the conversation on a good note, and not on the flashes of jagged cursed energy that lurked in his memories. He imagined Sebastian was still getting his fresh air, if that’s what he was actually doing at all, as he let his wand lead him to their rooms.

He wasn’t sure how much time had gone by when he finally heard the clicking of the door, alerting him to Sebastian’s arrival. Ominis sighed, his tone an annoyed whisper, “You really ought to go to bed at a somewhat normal hour.”

Sebastian laughed in a hushed tone, “And miss the adrenaline rush of nearly being caught? I could never.”

Stereotypical Sallow; always a childish quip to be had. His friend had been a lot more reasonable when Anne was still attending, since Sebastian wouldn’t go out if neither of them agreed to join him. It was a bit worrisome, how he was slowly changing. Most would argue independence was a good thing to mature into, but in Sebastian’s case it felt destructive. Like he was chasing something that they both knew he was never going to find.

“Why are you still up?” Sebastian asked, sitting with his back against the side of Ominis’ mattress, “Not fair to nag me just because I choose to take my insomnia outside.”

He paused while he considered lying to Sebastian on why his mind was refusing to pull him into the lull of dreamland. However, he was too emotionally drained to do that back and forth. Once Sallow felt a sniff of a secret he was like a dog with a bone. If that dog had fleas and a slight hyperactivity problem.

“Our newest classmate and I had a…Nice chat in the common room,” Ominis explained, unsure how to best word it, “It had been awhile since I was able to do that.”

There was a pause, “You chat to people all the time.”

Ominis let out an annoyed huff, “We spoke about you. And Anne, of course.”

“What about me?” Sebastian’s voice was part curiosity, suspicion, and incredulity.

“Just how I came to know you both and our first few years together.”

“…And that kept you up?”

This was the part that Ominis had been carefully treading around, the part he had been struggling with formulating into words — even in his own mind. But in true Sebastian form, if there was something Ominis didn’t want to divulge, it would be the one thing his friend would ask about.

“No,” Even Ominis was aware of how annoyed his tone sounded. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he was so upset with having to share the details to his best friend. To someone he fully considered as a brother. Maybe it was his issues with affection, “She had asked me what I considered family to be and naturally, you and Anne came to mind.”

If Ominis was bad at showing affection, Sebastian wasn’t much better. Except where Ominis was the kind to rarely express such thoughts verbally, Sebastian was always the first to make light of them with jest. Ominus decided to take advantage of the beat of silence he was positive Sebastian was using to try and formulate a socially acceptable response.

“But other, not so pleasant, memories followed, as they often do,” He continued as if he were talking about the weather, “So I came to bed where my self-loathing thoughts were so rudely interrupted by our resident delinquent.”

Sebastian chuckled, no doubt relieved that Ominis had made a light hearted joke of his own despite the seriousness of the topic. If the descendant of Salazar Slytherin had been completely honest he would have asked Sebastian the question that had been lingering in his mind all evening; What does the new fifth year look like?

It was never something Ominis had shown the slightest of interest in — what someone looked like. In fact, he couldn’t recall ever asking that before, let alone even care to. It wasn’t as if he would suddenly get his eyesight back and would need to pluck people from a lineup. He often associated people by their voices first, then their smell, and finally tastes that would remind him of their demeanors.

Anne’s voice came off like the crackling of lit torches, warm and familiar but with the slight unease that fire tends to bring. Sometimes, it was more like a rock being skipped across a lake; more lively and active, traveling further out of earshot but never out of reach. She always smelled like fresh wool and gently spiced soap, except on days she had been exceptionally adventurous, and came back smelling like grass or dried weeds. The thick underlaying of pollen and soil, from where she had no doubt been ducking for cover to stay hidden. She reminded him of fruit tarts filled with berries that were picked just a touch too soon. Bitter but sweet and refreshing, never the same flavor ratio twice. Buttery pastry that had a light crisp to it, but was soft and gooey where the filling had sat.

Sebastian’s tone was always deathly serious or teasing — Like the raucous in the school halls, at times it took a moment to decipher if someone was upset or just overly excited. It was akin to hearing the waterfalls around the lake, roaring impact against rock that was either extremely relaxing or would put your teeth on edge. He smelled faintly of stale book pages that had been left unopened for too long and the Butterbeer candies he kept in his pockets. Occasionally, after he showered, he would smell like the same soap as Anne — probably because he didn’t care to purchase anything different. Rocky air also liked to cling to him when he had been out. Fresh but with old moss and a slight salt peppering the edges. As far as taste went, much like the candies Sebastian stowed in his pockets, he reminded him of fresh butterbeer at the three broomsticks…But specifically the butterbeer they had bought Ominis and filled with a sprinkling of grass as a ‘prank’ their first year. He could still remember the warm flavors being harshly interrupted with the pungent taste of spring lawn trimmings. Sirona had let out an annoyed sigh as she brought him a new one, while the siblings tried to muffle their laughter.

If he were honest, that was Ominis’ favorite draft that he had ever had. Not that he would openly admit it, of course. Sebastian’s outward ego was already far too obnoxious without any additional ammunition.

Despite their unique differences, the twins both smelled like Feldcroft as a foundational scent. The small home where they had grown up. Damp wood, dried hay, and slightly over ripe apples. It was a smell that Ominis wished he could bottle and label homesick.

The new fifth year…Her voice reminded him of rain. But not the deep echoes when it landed in an obtuse pattering, but a tad sharper, like when it struck the windows just right in the astronomy tower. Ominis hadn’t been able to pick up her perfume yet, or maybe it was her soaps, but it struck like a honey chamomile with sharp spikes of lavender — but even that didn’t sound quite right. There was another scent underlying those, not an offensive smell, but something uniquely her that he had no name for. To be honest, he hadn’t been around her long enough to be fully confident on what her personality was like. She seemed to always surprise him based on the situation and the people he overheard her conversing with. If Ominis had to pick one at the moment, based on what little he knew about her…He’d have to say warm mint tea, with a hardly noticeable trace of sweetener. Maybe lemon, as well.

No, that wasn’t quite right either…

“Falling asleep already?” Sebastian’s voice cut through Ominis’ musings.

“Unfortunately I’m still among the living.” He deadpanned, stormy eyes pointing up towards the ceiling, fingers silently drumming against his sternum.

“I was thinking…”

“Always a dangerous endeavor.”

Sebastian ignored the comment, “Of writing to Anne about her. The new fifth year, I mean. I think they would get along.”

Ominis nodded.

“I think I’m going to introduce them. Might lift Anne’s spirits a bit. Meeting people outside of our doorstep.”

In all it wasn’t a bad notion and normally, Ominis would wholeheartedly agree with anything that was healthy and good for Anne. Something Sebastian had been in low supply of lately, as far as ideas went. Regardless, It wasn’t lost on him the verbiage he had chosen.

“Just you and her?” He asked, trying to keep his tone light and inquisitive.

“Well, yeah for the first time anyway,” Sebastian clarified, but his voice seemed a tad tighter…almost nervous, “You can come next time.”

Ominis wasn’t daft. After all, Sebastian wasn’t exactly known for his depth when it came to organizing events. There was a part of Sebastian, that for whatever reason, wanted this to be a closed event. It rubbed him the wrong way for a multitude of defenses.

They were best friends for years, was the first to come to mind. He had known Anne and Sebastian longer and far more intimately than anyone else in their lives. If anything, it would make more sense to invite him to help ease the social interactions. He had missed Anne too. Why was he expected to sit this out? Was he being replaced?

The second, and far more impossible to vocalize, left Ominis’ chest feeling like a pomegranate being split open. The initial crack being swiftly followed by the sound of flesh ripping from the fruit, juice spilling into clutched hands, no doubt staining everything it touches.

“Makes perfect sense,” He felt like he had a stone in his throat, “Tell Anne that I miss her when you go.”

Ominis made the decision that it would be in everyone’s best interest if he simply kept the new student at a distance. As separate from his emotions as possible, much like the memories he so often clutched back from bubbling to the surface.

Growing attached and vulnerable to more things he would just inevitably lose was naive. Sebastian and Anne were his family, and while they were never sure how long Anne would be in their lives, he knew that Sebastian would be the constant. He had accepted he would lose Anne, someday, and the mourning for that would come when it was time.

That was all the mourning he had the heart for.

Ominis went to bed that night, and despite his resolve, was left feeling like he had already lost something anyway.

[keruimi]

Hey! I think your requests are open, but if not please feel free to ignore this!

I was just listening to Too Sweet by Hozier and had the idea of a reader who has a crush on (or is dating) Nishinoya and feels like she doesn’t deserve him

Falling In Love With Him

Pairing: Nishinoya x Reader

Warning: Comfort

Note: To write an angst story, I need an edit of them but I can't find anything so writing this is quite difficult but I seem to manage. My apologies if I decide to use another song for your request. But Thank you for the idea!

_____________________________

Admiring one of the best players in the school sports club is much more difficult than what I have thought. No matter how friendly he is to the people around him. Approaching him is like a damn challenge.

When a timid girl like me is the one who started to like him.

I was hopelessly in love with Nishinoya. Because I can put so much effort for him.

From the food I secretly give to him through Yachi. The notes I put on his table before he arrives back on class.

The nights I stayed awake just to think what I could do for him again.

Yet confessing was never one of them.

I once thought of it until I accepted that I am not deserving of him.

I can't taint a loveable man like him.

My mind is full of negativity. It feels like there's no positive things around me unlike him.

I am just an average student who is only good at one thing.

And that is my studies. The thing that made me feel like I am no one without it.

I keep chasing the academic validation I needed that I thought I shouldn't be in a relationship with anybody.

It was one of the reason why I never pursue the libero further.

I knew I couldn't give more than he deserve.

I'm Kazue Y/n, an average girl who can't have a leading man like him.

Until Intrams arrive. The time I feel like God showed another sign that I need to believe in.

A chance to move so I can obtain my happiness. And that's him.

A long week of Intrams gave me another chance to see him play in the court without getting scared that he would find out about it.

My eyes during his matches were always in him that I started to think...

Can I go closer to him? Can I close the distance between the two of us?

Can I take this secret admiration further?

"I'm so lost" I muttered while letting my body move on its record as customers piled up in our booth.

I sighed in annoyance with how timid I am in his presence yet can't stop thinking and even blabbering about my admiration for the libero.

It feels like all of my classmates knew how much I like Nishinoya. One time, they almost used Takeda-sensei so I can just enter the gym.

But it didn't happen because of the panic attack I had that day.

Yes, I really couldn't face him and I'm not even joking.

It feels like I prefer to move behind the curtains.

I want him to know me, love me like I did.

But I can't dream of it. It was simply impossible for me.

Because I'm scared on the way he would see me. Even though he is not the type of person to judge somebody.

I slap both of my cheeks to focus on the orders placed on the bulletin board.

I can't slack off because this is our test in another subject.

"Y/n!" I heard a male friend of mine call me from the front that made me peek on the curtains to look at him.

"It's time to switch" he told me as he stood up that made me go back behind the curtain to remove the apron I was using.

I planned to be an accountant that's why on this entire activity we are having, being a cashier is what I love the most.

In other words, I love Intrams week.

I sat down in the chair near the cash register to start taking orders when my hands halted the moment I looked up and saw him in front of me.

It felt like my heart dropped from my chest.

I just snapped out of it when I heard chatters behind the curtain that made me take a deep breath to calm myself down.

I can't hate them for this.

"Good Morning! What would you like to have?"

Those were the first words I uttered to him.

The first time we properly met and face each other.

And the reason why I decided to move up my game.

Because I want to feel the same happiness I felt during that time.

I found myself running to the gym where his match would be held the moment I heard their team was up next.

Until I felt like Yachi dragging me to a much better view when she saw me.

There I saw his skills that made me like him more.

I didn't regret admiring him at all.

There are times I urge Yachi to take videos of him so she can send it to me. Times when I couldn't prevent myself from cheering when he received a ball.

Those are the moments I confirm that this is not some puppy love or infatuation.

I did start liking him more than I thought.

I leaned on the wall behind me to catch my breath after all the screaming I did out there.

It feels like I'm more tired than the players.

I heard Yachi chuckling beside me as she lent me a bottle so I could take a sip from it.

"You really like Nishinoya-san" she uttered that I can't help but laugh.

"Yes" I admitted without any hesitations. Because it was true.

I don't know what I saw on him but I can't explain how my heartbeat skipped the times we walked past each other in the hallway.

His cheerful voice never made me get tired of hearing it.

The Man who I want to be with me.

In my eyes, he is my motivation to keep going.

But for him, I am just one of the many who admire him.

If he is just aware of the way I look at him. That wherever I go, he never left my mind. The way I hold back just so I can have the freedom to like him from a far.

Somewhere within me, wish he felt the same way. That no matter how hard I try to abandon my feelings, it just came back stronger than before.

But I don't deserve the love he is giving. Not even a percent of it.

"But he doesn't like me. He doesn't know me, nor look at me"

The same way I did to him.

"I should have been a manager" I joked but we both knew, I wanted more than this hopelessness of watching him from afar.

"But right now, I'm just his fangirl"

I stood up properly from my position and the girl I am with didn't waste any second and just started dragging me without informing me where we were heading.

But I feel like my world slowed down the moment I saw his figure among the crowd.

He was talking to the other players as Yachi dragged me closer, nearer to him who halted from drinking his water when his eyes laid on me.

Is this a dream?

Do I deserve this kind of chance?

"Nishinoya-san!" Yachi called for him and made me decide to stick my feet on the floor beneath me.

I don't dare go further...

Yachi looked back when she noticed I stopped. I took my hand from her as I hid it behind me so he wouldn't see how much it was trembling.

She didn't even give me a chance to bring anything

"Hello to you ladies!" He beamed and I felt how my cheeks warmed from his voice.

The voice I thought I would just eavesdrop from. I never dream that his words would be directed to me at all.

"What did you thought of the game?" He ask us but I knew he was talking to Yachi after noticing how I seem to preserve myself from them.

They could at least give me a warning so I can prepared myself.

"Miss" I flinched when I heard his voice louder and saw he is now in front of me.

Now my feet are also trembling from nervousness.

"Yes?" The stutter from my voice didn't go unnoticed that made him scratch his head.

"What did you think of the game?"

No matter how much I made it awkward for him, he still managed to lift a beautiful smile from his lips.

"You did great..."

I have a lot of things to say but I don't know where to start.

I bit my lips when I felt his silence as I closed my eyes shut.

"So great that I didn't regret admiring you at all"

And then I felt his eyes on me. I wiped the tears that fell from my eyes.

"Please stop staring at me" I mutter in embarrassment when I notice his gaze seems to stay in my trembling figure longer.

"Wow..." He whispered that made me look up to him and saw the shock he plastered on his expressions.

"You like me?" He ask again that made me took a deep breath before giving a slight nod.

Never have I dreamed that I would confessed, especially in public.

He was silent like it feels like he is trying to process everything before a grin lift from his lips and out of nowhere, I felt him twirl me around.

"You don't know how happy I am right now"

His words made my fear disappear as those thoughts that keep preventing myself from admitting my feelings also diminish from my mind.

The only thing that I thought that my feelings were the reason he is happy.

I made him happy.

And a smile finally lifted from my lips.

How did I get so lucky?

~•°•~

"Excuse me everyone, my girlfriend is coming through" his cocky words made me hit his shoulders before I took a seat on the end to not disturb the team more than I intended.

My boyfriend just love boasting me around. Especially to his best friend, Tanaka. Who is now glaring daggers at him.

I didn't mind them anymore and started preparing the first bento I made for him, which I already inform him yesterday.

But it seems like his antics is still not stopping.

"How lucky I am for my girlfriend to prepare my lunch. I don't deserve this"

I started to wish to melt there right now when he keeps pulling the trigger of his senpai's patience and the jealousy of his friend.

I hit his shoulder harder to shut him up and just start eating which he obliged when he notice how red I was already.

"Oh?" I heard him let a small sigh of confusion on his first bite that made me halt from taking my first bite.

"What is it?" I ask him as I put down my chopsticks and saw how he slowly chewed the food.

"Taste Familiar"

I smiled from his words before I started eating my lunch.

"Why does it taste so familiar?"

"Because she is the one who was giving the food to you after practice" Tsukishima's nonchalant statement made my boyfriend look at me.

"How did I get so lucky?"

Oh how much my chest warmed from his words.

I really did win him over

[writingcold]

Hello!  Welcome to Chapter 3.2 of CD&FE.  

Pairing: Jake X Female Reader 

Summary: This is an AU that starts with the release of GVF’s first EP, Black Smoke Rising, and follows along life paths over the course of twenty plus years.  Part 2 of Chapter Three - more of cottage getaway with Jake.

Content warnings: Language, smoking, drinking, sexual situations.  Delayed orgasm, long, slow sex - like glacially slow, and our first big spike of angst.  

Word Count: approx. 6K 

Thank you to @edgingthedarkness and @takenbythemadness for your help, your support and your kindness when it came to writing this story!  

CD&FE, Part 3.2: Jake POV

      Wakefulness didn’t arrive until well into the afternoon, and that was all right.  My eyes creaked open to find that I was alone in the very cozy bed.  I could hear soft solo piano beyond the bedroom mated with a few knocks and blips that told me she was moving around.  I felt no rush to drag myself from the horizontal state.  In fact, I liked just being able to lay there, listening, knowing that she was there.  

      I had a soreness deep in my abdomen and the top of my low back that I had not felt in some time.  I had actually put in the damn effort and it felt good.  It was not that I was lazy, but with so many fleeting faces or instances with just the hand, it didn’t take too much effort to get what I needed and be on my way.  But with Y/n?  It was different.  My brain needed to see her fall apart in the most carnal manner.  She pushed me.  She challenged me.  She made me want more.  She licked my curiosity in a way that no one else had ever done before.  

      The scent of coffee tickled my senses.  I let out a long breath of surrender and started to move towards the edge of the bed.  My lips were tight against my teeth as just how sore my body was from the previous night tugged and restrained my legs and hips and fuck… my fingers were even sore.  It left me to wonder if she was in a similar state.  I tugged a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from my bag and trudged into the bathroom to clean up for our day in.  

      “There’s creme al caffé there,”  she said as I finally made my way into the living space.

      “Double cream?  Did that our second round last night, if I remember right,”  I teased as I bent to drop a kiss on the top of her head.  

      She laughed, which of course made me feel all the more smug.  I tossed a pod together and watched her snuggle down into the far end of the couch as my coffee brewed.  She was beautiful.  I wondered if she knew just how she stirred me - and it didn’t matter the state of her dress, or what exactly she was doing.  Just to see the curve of her mouth was enough to want to bend her over the damn back of the couch and fuck her like crazy. 

      When she said she was going on vacation as we were texting back and forth, I could not express the disappointment that struck.  I was sure I had overstepped; that surely she would be going with someone else.  The discovery that this woman commanded me the way she did in our last moments together did not frighten me.  I honestly meant what I had said to her about wanting to be with her.  We seemed to both understand the need and possibility, however, our timing was for shit.

      The twenty months of tour were brutal.  She haunted my every moment, though she was never farther than a text away.  I tried to text.  I tried to be normal in those texts but came off sounding pretentious even to my own ears.  I drifted away for fear that she would discover that aside from my day job, I was a total…  Never mind what I was - reserved.  We’ll go with that.  

      Coffee in hand, I tucked in at the table to pretend to scroll through my phone.  She was pretending to read her book, but her eyes kept skating over the top to fall directly on mine.  “Did you eat breakfast yet?”  I finally asked, dropping the phone to the side to actually just watch her.

      “I don’t keep rockstar hours and have been up since-”

      I raise an eyebrow at her.  “Not what I asked.”

      “Yes.  I even had a bite already for lunch, too,”  she remarked before letting her gaze return to the structure of her book.  “You are on your own.”

      I tapped my fingers on the table a few times before sipping at the coffee.  My thoughts bent to the outside and the ice that was still choking the lake.  It was stunning.  I could see where the ice had given way to its current, shoving the jagged chunks back towards the shore like shattered sheets of glass.  The bare trees were on the cusp of budding out despite the warmth of the sun being hidden behind thick clouds.  There were even a few stray snowflakes that were really trying to survive on the breeze.  Idyllic.  I sat until I was about half way through the cup of coffee before I finally relented and dug around for something quick to pacify the gut.  A few pieces of toast and a fresh cup of hot coffee, and I was dragging my coat and boots on to step onto the deck.  

       Silence.  How strange it was to be wrapped in such quiet.  So much of my daily life had some kind of noise to it.  Beautiful, crashing, annoying noise.   I felt my lungs fill with breath and heard my muscles and tension creak and wearily bend away from me.  I had no idea how this moment had arrived.  I only felt blessed by it.  Y/n - if she knew it or not - was providing me that safe harbor that I had extended the last time our paths crossed.  I knew it was a harbor that was temporary, but it would be ours for now.  

       I munched the icy toast and sipped at the lukewarm coffee as I scoped out the cozy firepit and the dock.  My brain was formulating a plan as the afternoon trudged on.  I prepped the pit and brought out the grill, happy that it had a full tank of gas.  When I walked back inside, wrapped in cold air and lake smiles, she grinned sleepily from her book.

      “Gonna take a nap?”  I asked as I made my way into the kitchen.

      “That would be rude of me,”  she sighed, tossing her book onto the coffee table.

      Cup set in the sink, I scoffed as I moved back towards her.  I couldn’t help but smile the way she melted into the couch cushions.  I snatched up the fuzzy quilt that was on the back of one chair and draped it across her.

      “Not rude.  It’s your vacation, remember?  I’ll get us set up for dinner,”  I said as I leaned down over the back of the couch to be closer to her.

       “What were you doing outside for so long?”  she asked as she snuggled down.

       “Oh, got the grill up and going; the firepit is ready to go,”  I explained.  “Rest.  I’m the one that slept all morning.”

       “Yeah, but until the other day you were five time zones away,”  she said softly, tracing the back of my hand with a fingernail.

       “Just means that I’ll keep you up all night tonight.”

       “Sounds like fun.”

       I left her to rest looking all pretty, snuggled up and warm.  I found steaks and the seasonings that I had picked out.  I got them up and set them to the side to rest while I turned to cutting up vegetables for the side.  I snagged her little speaker and found a favorite playlist on my phone that I knew wouldn’t be too disruptive as I cooked.  She was out no more than ninety minutes, but it was long enough to set my scene as it were.  I was just stepping out onto the deck to start the grill when she roused, all flush faced and refreshed.  Yeah.  I watched her until our eyes met, taking in the shy blush that crept over her already rosy cheeks.  I liked it.  All of it.  All of her.  I continued on, hoping to feed us early.  

       “Anything I should be doing?”  she asked from the door, ten minutes later.

       “Nope.  These will be ready for consumption soon.  Oh,”  I turned to look at her, stopping when I discovered she’s much closer than she sounded.  I grin at how she leaned in to collect my touch.  I kissed her before turning my attention back to the grill.  “You pick the drinks, okay?  Get those going and I’ll be in a few.”

       I poked a finger at the meat before I stirred the cast iron of veggies.  It would be simple, but damn if it didn’t smell amazing.  I got everything onto the tray and shut down before heading inside.  I discovered she had some instrumental blues going as she poured out glasses of red wine.  The table is set and the entire space just feels like home.  I paused to swallow down stupid words that would totally mark me as all too soft.  I managed a smile and carried on with getting us fed.

       To get Y/n to talk was easy; to listen to her talk was even easier.  I watched as her eyes shone when she grew passionate and the way the side of her nose crinkled before she smiled.  Her hands would fly around when she was flustered.  Her warmth still shone through even in her stillness.  And all I could think was damn, this woman allows me to be in her space.  How lucky is that shit?  

      My eyes strayed to the outside once more, thankful that there had been a thinning of the cloud cover.  It’s heading towards sunset and the sky was lush in swirls of white and grays and navy and…  

      “There’s something I want to try,”  I said quietly as she was carrying the dishes into the kitchen.

       She looked back with a raised eyebrow.  “Okay…?  More information, please.”

      “Get naked,”  I replied as I stood up.

      “What?”

      “You heard me.”

      I went into the bedroom to get a blanket before returning and stacking it on the one from the couch.  She was slow to follow until I started to strip out of my flannel and t-shirt.  I was half hard by the time my boxers hit the floor and she let out a soft sigh.  I pulled one blanket across my shoulders and waited for her to be bare before turning her by her hips to have her back to me and draping the second blanket across her front.  I had no clue if this was going to work, but so far, awkward was the best description.

      “Not getting this, Jake,”  she said as I steered her towards the back door in our little blanket cocoon.

      “I’m trying to figure it out myself,”  I returned with a chuckle as I pushed us outside, barefooted and already shivering.  “We’re heading for that bench over there.”

      She was shivering against me while I moved us towards a bench that faced the water that was down the stairs off the one side of the deck.  The moment she realized that I was asking her to cross a narrow strip of dirt path barefoot, she stopped.

       “Trust me,”  I whispered in her ear, drawing my fingertips over her hip.  “I think you’ll like this.”

       She grumbled something but stepped out anyway.  I sat down on the bench, tugging her down on me.  To feel the press of her ass on my thighs just about sent me right around the bend.  It took only moments to recollect and settle into what I wanted for the both of us.

      “Your job is to open those legs wide, hook them around mine,”  I said, making sure to hold the edges of our blanket cocoon together.  I felt her tailbone shift as she followed my direction.  “Good.  Your other job is to hold the blankets around us.  Do you have them, mouse?  Got the edges?”

       Her hands found the seam that I’d created and took them from me to pull around her front.  I swear I could feel her pussy throbbing over me.  I could already feel myself hardening once more for her.  I shifted just enough so that I could slot myself between her splayed legs.  My eyes cast out to the horizon, coming to focus on the hints of soft swirls of color in the clouds.  I can’t help the hum that starts deep in my chest.

      “I want to feel you for as long as I can,”  I said into the silk of her skin before kissing against her shoulder.  “Does that sound good?  Share this sunset with me while I rest in your pussy?”

       Her breath hitched as she nodded.  I danced my fingers across the plane of her belly, dragging the side of a finger against the underside of her breast.  I felt the gooseflesh rise beneath my touch.  I hummed into her hair as I continued to explore.  One hand turning north, I traced through her cleavage allowing my thumb to catch against one nipple.  My other hand skated down her thigh, working down to her knee only to loop back towards her core.  She tilted her pelvis down as if anticipating my direction.  I grinned before sinking my teeth into her shoulder and pulling both hands away from her a fraction as if just hovering above the skin gave me the same kind of satisfaction.  

      “Fucker,”  she whispered, tightening the blanket against her legs.

      “Pretty much,”  I concurred.

      I traced the shell of her ear with the tip of my tongue.  The soft increase of her breath shot a wave of excitement through me.  A lush groan passed her lips.

      “Someone’s hungry,”  she sighed as pulled my cock up, threading in between her thighs.

      I let out a low chuckle as she pressed back against me.  “For this cunt that weeps down on me?  For this body against me?  For this woman who calls this flesh hers?  Fuck… always hungry for you.”

       I brushed the head through her folds.  The reward was a hard hiss and a clench of the muscles of her abdomen.  I pressed my shaft up through her, slowly collecting her gloss and heat.  It felt so good just there that I nearly stayed but I looped my fingers to bend it into her, creeping into her secrets and silk until our bodies were connected completely.  Her breath passed across the plump of her lip as she leaned back to rest against my shoulder.  I kissed the ridge of her jaw before shifting hard to fully strike against her.  She released the most gorgeous rumble that vibrated against my chest.

      “Like it?”  I asked, watching her expression as she adjusted and settled against me.  “Do you like the feeling of me inside of you?”

      She nodded as her eyes drifted open to meet my gaze.  I passed the pad of my thumb across the swollen nub of her and watched as a fog passed across her sight.  The back of her thighs began to quiver.  The smell of her skin made me feel drunk.  The squeeze of her pussy flooded me with a desire I wanted to savor.

      “Have you thought about this?”  she asked, her voice thin.

      Against the skin of her throat, I sighed.  “I imagined sharing every sunset with you.  The golds of Europe.  The dusty rose of Asia.  The boldness of Australia.  The subtlety of South America.  But this is the most perfect.”

      Her jaw relaxed as I teased her nipples between my fingers of one hand while holding the full weight of the other.  “What makes this one different?”

      “I don’t have to imagine you wrapped around me like this,”  I answered, shifting my hips just enough to move a fraction within her.  It was enough to make us both whimper.  “I don’t have to pretend that anyone else is you when they are on me.”

       I pulled her hip back just as I shifted again and pushed even deeper.  “Oh fuck,”  she gasped, nearly losing the blanets.  “How many others?”

      “How many others have I what, baby?”  I taunt as she turned her face towards mine to offer her mouth to me.

      “How many have you fucked since the last time you saw me, rockstar?”  

      I smiled smugly before devouring her kiss.  Fuck if the taste of her tongue against mine almost made me shoot my shot right there.  “Is that important?”

      “Two,”  she whispered in between kisses.

      I dragged my teeth across her lip as I tried to catch my breath.  “Two, what?”

      “I have had two lovers, and a one night stand in twenty months.”

      “Seven.  I’ve had seven encounters.  Many more with the hand,”  I relent as I reach back down, placing a feather touch against her swollen folds.  “Everyone was you, though.  But I’m sure you will not say the same of your experiences.”

      It was not that I was looking for anything.  I highly doubted that this woman needed not to be present for those she loved on.  Those hook ups for me were momentary releases - just enough to quell the itch and settle the brain.  I straightened my back enough to be able to slam back into her, commanding her attention.

      “Just tell me they treated this cunt right,”  I remarked, pinching her clit between my fingers and tugging gently.  “Tell me they made her feel good.”

       “Not as good as you.”

       “Really?”  

       My tone was incredulous.  Somehow, that didn’t seem right in the world.  Anyone worthy enough to fall at her alter had better fuck her right.  The notion that -

      “Not as adventurous.  None as open…”

      I felt the corner of my mouth stretch with pride.  Yeah.  I guess I was pretty fucking open when it came to her.  I would let this woman rail me and wouldn’t be embarrassed to beg for more.  I rolled my hips beneath her and felt as her cunt flooded around me in a delicious spray.

      “Fuck yeah,”  I whisper against her mouth as she latched onto me.

      The sun was nearly buried below the horizon.  The sky was a bruised and blazened red and lavender.  The clouds were modeled with highlights of blue and silver and stained in colors of passion.  

      “Rock them hips for me,”  I whispered.

      Shocking pulses began to stab behind my eyes as she started to move at a turtle’s crawl up and down my length.  The gasp she let out as I struggled through her tightness hit me right in cock.  She was spiraling.  She was gripping me so tight and was so close I had a feeling I just had to…  Fuck that was it.  I just needed to jam my hips up and…

      “Jake,”  she sighed.

      Her whole body was trembling with desire as she tiptoed the line of unraveling without me.  The sky was turning into its darkened velveteen canvas.  The air was turning bitter.  And I just wanted a few more seconds of this sensation of being strangled with the blinding heat of her.  She was practically mewling as I moaned into her mouth once more, driving myself at a snail’s crawl through her.  Her eyes might have been begging for release when I finally saw the very last rays of the bleeding sunset. 

      “Cum for me, mouse,”  I whispered into her skin, holding onto her like I was going to die.

      It started with the inside corner of her eyebrow twitching, followed by her eyes growing narrow.  She was nearly panting as she bit into her lips to stay quiet.  It was beautiful the way she took me, took pleasure from me.  The flush of her face and the muted squeak made all of my reserve break down instantly.  I fought from closing my eyes.  I wanted to watch every second of her orgasm - every bit of her euphoria.  

       I wrapped my arms across her and pumped a few more times, reaching my own end with shaky, gentle thrusts.  Her body was nearly limp as I fought to catch my breath.  I heard her say something, but the words were too soft for me to hear.  I was so far gone in the haze of what we just did that I was afraid I was going to be checked out for a while.  She flinched as I softened enough to fall away from her.  

      “Damn,”  she whispered.

      “Yeah,”  I replied.

      We sat there with me wrapped so totally around her that it was hard to know the end of me and the start of her and back around again.  Words I didn’t utter were ignited on my tongue but quelled in the coolness of the night.  The last time I had professed anything in my brain it had caused a realization that neither of us was ready for.  I wanted to soak up the time with her - something that we both were very well aware that we had never had.  For anything either of us knew was perhaps we really only had sex between us.  But, that was not it, was it?  There was more to this - to her - to us.  It was like a possibility that was just waiting to be realized.  I wondered if she saw that possibility.  Or maybe it was that we were both ignoring it with genuine purpose. 

      “Jake,”  she whispered just as I felt her shiver hard against me.

      I knew we had pushed it too long.  The sticky feel against my legs made me wince.  “Stand up, I’ll get your blanket around you better,”  I said, helping her to her feet.

      I closed up my blanket and got her blanket turned so that she could hold it closed herself.  We hurried up to the cottage and inside.  She quaked and quivered her way towards the bedroom and bathroom.  I picked up the discarded clothing, stopping just long enough to pull on my boxers.  By the time I reached the bathroom, she had the shower turned on and was waiting for the steam to signal safety under the spray.  Her sleepy smile pulled me to visit those lips once more.  The smell of our sex on her twinkled through my senses.  She tugged at the waistband of my underwear as she dropped the blanket to put on the sink.  I’d lie if I was a little leary of both of us in that small shower stall, but I couldn’t tell her ‘no’.  

       The space was tight, but I didn’t care.  I had her against me, around me, my hands on her, my arms around her.  It felt complete.  We shared soap and shampoo.  I loved caring for her this way.  I wondered if she had allowed others to even entertain the notion of this with her: this intimacy that she so readily shared with me.  The feel of our skin sliding against each other made me heave a sigh that sent excitement right to my cock.  Damn.  I was already to be within her once more - despite being buried so deep within her for the past hour.  I started to picture the most bland, most unappealing things I could imagine just to tone down my need.  Somehow, wrapped up in each other, under that hot spray, I found a solace that I had no idea I was looking for.  Somehow, I could suddenly picture her in my space, in my life, in the little rumples of time that were busy and times that were still with quietness.  It started with a quiver in my chest and ended with a deep draw of breath that bounced off the walls of the tiny little shower stall.

      “No,”  she whispered, coming to an absolute stop under my touch.  “Please don’t say anything, Jake.  Just.  Just, please don’t say it.”

       Damn it.  The emotions ruptured in my throat and choked my skin.  How was I not to observe this moment?  This intimacy that just happened between us, that keeps happening between us despite time and distance.  Her lips ghosted across mine as I let her go.  It was no more than a grazing, but it seemed to be enough to shut it down within and quiet my thoughts enough to function once more.

       I wandered through the minutes, allowing her room to dry and dress while I kept wrapped in my towel, scrolling through my phone.  I was responding to a Josh text when she emerged.  I caught her eye before I turned back to my screen to finish letting him know that I was still alive.  I grinned before I took my turn in the bathroom.  Somewhere between combing out my hair and dragging clothes on, I heard her talking.  I found myself lost in her tone, the way she laughed, the way she paused to listen, the way she allowed her sentences to fade only to pick up right away to move in another direction.  It was obvious that she was talking to Patrick about the next few days.  I wasn’t listening close enough to be classified as eavesdropping, but it was close enough to know he must’ve been concerned about her.  Not unlike Josh, I supposed.  

      I snuck out of the bathroom to find that she was just walking out of the bedroom, phone in hand.  I saw the bed was turned down and the light was on low.  I felt a huff bubble up from the base of my throat as I grabbed socks and my jacket.  She waved from the kitchen, eyes narrowing as I was sliding into my socks and boots.  I retrieved a few beers from the fridge before leaning towards her.

      “I’m going to go start a fire,”  I whispered before heading to grab the guitar case and my smokes.

       “Patrick says ‘hello’,”  she said with a grin.

       I smile wide with a wave and a hello back before I make my way outside.  I snapped the beer open before crouching down to light the kindling in the fire pit.  By the time Y/n is walking out onto the deck, I have a nice flame going and the guitar in between my hands.  I mindlessly pluck away as she moves towards me, a steaming cup in her hands and wrapped in her heavy sweater.  Her eyes sparkle in the firelight.  Her skin was a warm sheen that stirred me.  She was so effortless in her grace.  

      “All okay?”  she asked as she sat in the chair next to mine.

      I bit around the edges of my lips as I strummed through a few chords.  “All good.”

      She tapped her fingers against her mug as she sat back.  I kept my gaze forward, unsure why my chest felt like it was in knots.  We fell into a very surface level conversation.  She asked me questions about the family and I asked her about her own.  It felt very guarded.  For two people who had just shared an entire sunset buried within the other, we were acting if nothing significant had happened.  Perhaps I resented that just a bit more than I should have.  

      She listened to me play until her mug was long icy and my beers were gone.  We talked, using friendly words and shallow phrasing, all the while, our eyes were cast to the clear sky.  The absolute dark did not hide my reservation, nor did it shelter her need to keep to the safety of conversation.  The fire was nearing embers when I finally set the guitar to the side and looked at her - really took in how she was before me.  I saw it.  I may have been experiencing reservation.  What glinted in her eyes was fear.  She was not afraid of me.  She was not afraid of our time together.  Of that I was sure.  I had no idea what there was to fear…

       Too tired to ask, and too hurt to really delve into it, I offered my hand to her.  “Tired?”  I asked, allowing my fingers to skate across her flesh.

       She nodded in her answer.  I told her to head on in.  I doused the pit and grabbed hold of the trash before collecting my guitar and myself and headed inside.  There was a stillness that left me unsettled.  I felt like my feelings were rattling shards in my throat as I set my case to the side and made the rounds to make sure we were all locked up.  I paused by the front door, realizing that it was such a mundane act, but one that I suddenly wanted to have part of my routine.  Making sure she was with me, secured, safe.  At nearly thirty years old I knew what I wanted from this woman and no damn clue of how to make it happen or function properly.  We were still rooted in the places we were two years prior.

      She was in bed with two glasses of water deposited on either side of the bed.  I grinned at her offering.  I stepped in to brush my teeth and get ready for bed, though I was sure I would be awake for hours yet.  Of that I was sure.  I tucked in with her, sliding up behind her just as she turned out the light.  Feeling her heat made me smile.  She held my hand tight as I molded myself around her, soaking up her warmth like a vampire.

      “I’m sorry,”  she whispered after a long stretch of silence.

      “For what?”  I asked despite knowing where the conversation was going.

      “I shouldn’t have shut you down,”  she answered, her tone soft with remorse.  “It’s just overwhelming.”

      I breathed in the scent of her hair as my eyes closed.  “Can you roll over?  Let me see that face, mouse.”

      She didn’t move for another stretch.  Those emotions that were shattered before becoming pulverized and choking.  I gave her hand a little reassuring squeeze that I hoped conveyed that it was safe.  When she allowed the silence to sail longer, I kissed her shoulder.

      “Please,”  I whispered against her skin.  “I think we need to talk about this.”

      She released a long breath before she finally began to turn first to her back then to her opposite so that we were nearly nose to nose.  I could see the outline of her cheek and the loveliness of her eyes in the near darkness of the room.  I looped her hand into mine once more.  I was fighting those feelings as I brushed a soft kiss to her mouth.

      “You feel this, too,”  I said, breathing in her breath.

      She nodded.  “But it’s just like last time.  We’re still so opposite of where this would even make sense.”

      “Yeah.”  I smoothed back her hair as her words wobbled with her own emotions.  “I want to be selfish and tell you to come with me.  Fuck your job.”

      “I happen to love my job,”  she groused, defenses rising.  “I kick ass in my job.  I’ve worked very hard-”

      “I’d never ask that of you,”  I said with a nod.  “I did say I wanted to be selfish.”

      “Oh,”  she sighed.  “It’s not like I can do that either - tell you to leave the road?”

      I shook my head.  “We’re still fucked on that front.”

      She let a sad grin tug at her mouth as she let go of my hand to touch my face.  Her eyes were soft with feelings and liquified with tears.  “I don’t know who thought that this was fair.”

      “I’m just a guitar player,”  I laughed.  “I’ve done nothing to piss anyone off.  It must’ve been you.  What kind of deal did you make for your success?  Hmm?”

      I was rewarded with a laugh.  An honest laugh that tickled at my soul.  She burrowed her face down into my chest as she pulled herself closer to my body.  The move allowed me to really wrap both arms around her and hold tight.

      “Isn’t it kind of a guitar god thing to make deals with the devil for success?  So clearly it was you that thrust this on us,”  she said in a mock serious tone.

      “I would gladly shoulder the blame if it meant that this was real.”

      The air that escaped her to strike my skin was hot and broken.  All the shards of emotions stabbed and bit at me with flaming teeth all at the same time.  

      “Fuck,”  she gasped, digging her fingers into my chest.  “I don’t see a way to navigate this.”

      “I know.”

      It was all I could offer her because it was the same in my own thoughts; my own brain.  My will was ready to throw in the towel for the night.  We were like pages of the same story, but were chapters apart.  It hurt knowing that we were so right together on so many levels - save this one.  This notion of being actually together within a life was still impossible.  I was not done with the road.  Hell, there was a real possibility that I would still be touring for a very long time.  She was entrenched in her company.  If I was on the road ten months of the year…  

       “Can we just enjoy these days?”  she asked, her voice fragile.  “I don’t know how this happened, but I’m ready to accept what we can have, you know?  Within this time.”

       I couldn’t help the pinch of my brows.  I guess it would have to be enough.  There was no fucking way I would allow her to pass through my hands once more without at least taking every drop of her that I could obtain.  

      “I’d like that,”  I finally answered as she moved back to her pillow to look me in the face once more.  

      “Jake?”

      I felt myself settling as I smiled at her.  “Yeah?”

      “I don’t want you to regret knowing this…  Knowing me,”  she said.  “I don’t want you to think that I wouldn’t have wanted this - all of it.  I think it would’ve been worse not to have known you.”

      I let the words filter down through my gray matter for what it was - wisdom that I’m sure she was right.  The thought that our paths never crossed burned and blistered a pain I didn’t want to really think about.  

      “And after?”  

      I was unsure about the question, but it made me draw in a hard moment.  “After here?”

      When she nodded, I swallowed hard.  I didn’t really want to think about ‘after’.

     “What happens after here, happens,”  I said with little conviction.  “If someone makes you happy, please do not think that I will not be happy for you.”

      “Only if you can swear to the same,”  she returned quickly.  

      I nodded, though some part wanted to punch myself right in the damn nose.  But it was necessary.  Her mouth paused in a sad arc that yanked at me.  To see a scrap of sorrow pierced in places that I never knew existed.

      “Do you think that there will ever be a time - a real time - for this?”  she asked, her meager tone making me hate this conversation.

      “The optimist in me says yes.”

      “Don’t tell me what the pessimist says, Jake.”

      We laughed, but it’s a hollowed out sound with little weight beneath it.  We stumbled away with words of what we would do across the next few days.  It was a safe retreat to waters that were calmer.  Everything of me wanted to keep her close.  What a selfish asshole I could be.  She fell asleep against me - this beautiful creature that I could not claim as my own - my own equal.  I would’ve run from that bed had I known that I was not going to leave everything behind that was important to evaporate and not have a course to return to.  Instead, I lay with her, listening to her breathing and tiny coos and little sleeping sounds for hours as my brain spun around a singular notion:  I had fallen in love with this woman.  I had fallen for this woman and she with me.

And queue up the angst.  Yeah.  Just a few forehead kisses for you to soothe it. 😘😘

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[magnoliabutters]

• FEELING EVERYTHING •

pairing: kas!vamp eddie munson x (she/her) reader

summary: so what kas saved your life?! it’s not like you owe him everything…

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; canon divergence, enemies to lovers trope, season 4 spoilers, previous parts mentioned; sexy angst, slight suicidal ideation, manipulation, child abuse (previous trauma mentioned), toxic ass kas, sexual advances tied with a misunderstanding, hot and cold dynamics, dwugs, depression, grief, anxiety (panic), y/n count: 3, etc.

word count: ~8.9k

reblogs, comments, & thoughts are appreciated 🦇

• stories of eddie munson series • season two • previous part •

note: as always, thank you for the patience! we're almost coming to a close y'all! in this part, i tried to challenge myself to focus more on describing the visuals and the scene. let me know your thoughts! i cannot wait to read your reactions!

note to the note: my partner, who was so kind to beta-read, found an inconsistency around the border of vecna’s “new world.” you may or may not catch it. i just wanna share i am aware, and i am upset haha unfortunately caught it too late 🥲

The dried grass is rough against your shins. A sea of plains ahead that curl into waves with each blow of the wind. The orange streaked sky, a beautiful sight, now a daunting reminder to find shelter before the night. You wish you could have been here any other time. The gorgeous way the sunlight trickles onto the glossy leaves of the trees. The way the sun feels against your skin. The air just cold enough that the warmth of its rays feel nostalgic. 

Eddie would have loved this. The opportunity to find civilization, as though it was some challenging quest. He would have compared it to some battle his Dungeons and Dragons character led the party into. His arms stretched out as he passionately tells the tale of how they won the fight with only a sliver of a chance. A heroic and miraculous story that only he could tell correctly. 

He always told stories in a way that made you feel as though you were actually there, feeling each and every emotion. All the ups and downs. He had you clinging to the edge of your seat, clinging onto every word no matter the topic. Your heart warms at the thought of that beautiful mouth speaking a million words a second as he excitedly shares a story. God, how you wish you could see him again. 

The uncomfortable scratching of the heavy grass continues to remind you that an oversized t-shirt and panties is not the ideal hiking gear. Not that you exactly had a choice. You struggle to step through the field, stumbling along with your arms held out wide for balance.

“You look like a bird,” Kas scoffs as his thick leather boots crunch against the yellow waves of the pasture. His bare chest still littered with pink scratches. He carelessly plows through the tall grass. Your eyes instinctually roll, leaving another muffled chuckle to drop from his lips. Your hands gradually fall to your side as embarrassment seeps into your pores. 

“Do you even know where we’re going?” he mutters as he swats away a horse fly. Your annoyance levels have been seriously dampened with the recent events. Kas’ constant “are we there yet” attitude is not helping in the slightest. “I figure if we keep heading north, we’ll get to the highway and,” you bite your lip, tensing your brow as you point over the vast hill. “Um, we’ll just hitchhike.” You shrug, looking back at him with a weakly confident expression. His face deadpanned as he stares back at you with lack lustered eyes. 

“Hitchhike?” Kas asks with a monotone. “Yeah,” you grumble in hesitancy. “Doesn’t everyone in a fifty mile radius of Hawkins think I am some satanic serial killer?” he inquires with the side of his lip pulled as he stares at you in judgment. Your eyes fall as you realize your mistake. “Well, um, let’s just find the highway first and figure out what to do from there,” you utter as you push through another bundle of grass. “Okay,” he says in a sing-songy voice as he walks off in front of you. 

This is your life now. You try your best not to compare between the two - knowing that would cause you nothing but pain, but it’s hard. It’s so hard to know what you had and what you have lost, and what you have now. A small part of you wishes you had nothing at all.

With great love, comes great vulnerability and despair. You find yourself wondering if it was worth it. If loving Eddie was worth the pain of losing him. Of having his complete opposite inhabit his body and parade the fact that he is no longer the love of your life. In fact, he punishes you for thinking that, as if you could resist the urge. The agony you feel, both physical and emotional, almost pushes you off the edge. The question of “is it worth it?” echoes through your mind. 

Kas looks ahead of the pairing. He notes a break in the clear pasture and sees a tree line. His eyes discern its distance, noting that it is a rather thin tree line. Suddenly, he sees motion rushing by behind the trunks. The only vehicles he is used to were filled with and destroyed by Vecna’s blackened veins, but he still identifies the motion as cars. Excitement fills his chest as he hurriedly turns around with a finger pointing at the tree line. 

But when he turns, his smile disappears. He watches as your eyes are glued to the ground. Your face is solemn. The edges of your beautiful lips turned downward as your hair covers your face. The excitement immediately shifts to worry as he takes a step towards you. His hand slowly moves to your gaze, interrupting your thoughts. 

As your head innocently raises towards him, Kas shoots you a comforting smile. His hands, both naturally and hesitantly, flow to the sides of your arms. You decide to shoot him a weak grin as you appreciate what he is trying so hard to do. And with that, Kas pulls you in - deeply pressured against his chest as his arms wrap around your upper back. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers against your ear. His chin finding a place upon the top of your shoulder. Such a familiar feeling, Eddie’s embrace, and yet you have another reminder of his lost presence. You want him so badly. You wish he could be here. That his true self was holding you, comforting you. Your hands fall upon the base of his spine, pulling him tightly into you. Abruptly, the sobs fall from your lips as you push yourself deeper against the warmth of his skin. 

Kas knows you are hurting - who wouldn’t be after what you have been through? The thing is he wasn’t sure exactly how much pain filled your saddened soul, but once he heard those sobs - he knew. It is gut wrenching to feel your body heave against his. The pain is so much worse than the sensation of your nails digging against his skin. His hands smooth out your back as he attempts to comfort your contorting body. 

Finally, you feel it. You feel everything you have pushed deep within yourself since you heard of Eddie’s passing. The pain. The anguish. The betrayal. The threat of death. The fear of death - an actual impending death - no longer one in the far off future. You lost the love of your life. 

Eddie is dead. 

And your heart has felt empty since your realization of this. Your knees give out and both you and Kas fall to the floor. Kneeling beside each other and still stuck in a beautiful embrace. 

As tears stream down your face, Kas pulls away slightly to look at you. His brows push together as his thumb traces against your cheeks. “Sh, sh, sh,” he whispers as one of his hands caresses the back of your head. He pulls you gently and closer to his chest. His chin now resting against your hairline. 

Abruptly, you pull away, sniffling as you do. You are confident you look a hot mess but you don’t care, not even a little. You wipe your nose as your eyes darken before him. He stares at you in confusion and worry. His body aching for your touch. 

“You said you saved me,” you start slowly, attempting to push down the sobs that climb your throat. “That you would have never killed me.” Kas nods with curiosity as your eyes raise to his. “I-I want to talk about something and I don’t want to hear shit about it,” you spit out harshly. However, your expression immediately returns to the vulnerable girl that Kas has grown to love. It leaves a hint of a smile on his face.

“What would you like to talk about?” he asks softly. With a deep sigh, you mumble, “I want to talk about Eddie.” Kas winces at the name, something you immediately notice. Another physical pain shoots through your chest as you prepare your body for his rejection. He takes a deep breath, placing his palms to his knees as he slowly nods with eyes to the ground beneath you both.

“Go ahead,” he whispers. Your heart fills with joy, enough to completely disregard his body language. Soft sobs follow your laughter. Your hand pushes the tears away from your cheeks as he slowly raises his head. “He was beautiful,” you choke out whimpers with an ambiguous smile to your face. “He is easily the best person I have ever met,” you laugh out weakly.

A small, tight smile forms on Kas’ face as his hand slides behind your head once again. He pulls you into the side of his neck. His other hand collapsing around your crying body. “At first, I had no idea how he could be so confident and silly,” a smile emerges on your face as he wipes another round of tears from your cheeks. 

“Do you remember any of his rants in the cafeteria?” you ask excitedly. Your inexperience with vulnerability attempting to make the conversation less one-sided. The smile on his face slowly grows as a low hum of a chuckle riffles in his throat. He slowly nods as his grip tightens at your waist. "I remember one distinctly about how the cafeteria stopped giving out corn on the cob," he answers.

In the midst of a laugh, you pull back to look at his face. “What else do you remember?” you ask, placing a hand to his chest. Tears now well in your eyes, as opposed to flowing down your cheeks. Kas takes a deep breath, following the press of his tongue against the back of his front teeth. 

The silence flattens your grin. You lean backwards to pull your thighs and legs from his knees. The tightness and excitement in his chest persists as Kas remembers how his words impact you. How your smile grows any time he shares a memory. How his heart flutters at the sound of your giggle. 

He winces, disgusted with the warm, cuddley shit that Eddie’s more accustomed to. And yet, here he is - desperate to put a smile on your incredible face. A part of him wonders if you were manipulating him. Show him a grin and he is a puddle between your thighs. He hates the hold you have over him. How your happiness makes his undead heart beat. 

Kas wonders if he will ever have autonomy, or if he will continue to be a slave for others as long as his mystical life will allow. His body craves for yours, pushing his mind to find a way back to caressing your soft skin. He sorts through the hazy fog and recollected memories. 

With a huff, he shares, “I remember the day you made Mac n Cheese.” He lightly taps his fingers against his thighs as he adjusts to sit cross legged. His eyes were down, but he could see you beaming off-center of his gaze. 

“We were with, um,” he hesitates as he looks up. His hands quickly move around, gesturing as he speaks. “Wayne,” the name pops out eagerly from your sweet lips. An encouraging nod to follow. “Wayne, yeah,” Kas agrees slowly, pretending as though he did not know exactly who his uncle, Wayne Edward Munson, was. 

“He liked you,” Kas says, lifting his brow as a smirk appears on his cheek. You laugh to yourself, feeling a warmth in your chest. “You know, Eddie - I mean - he told me that but I still wasn’t sure,” you end with a chuckle. His eyes lift to yours - those button eyes comparable to your childhood teddy bear. They always left happiness ringing through your body. 

He shakes his head. “No, darlin’,” he starts. “There’s no world where you wouldn’t be on anyone’s good side.” With a slight chuckle, he adds, “Hell, I kept pushing you away and I couldn’t stay hating you.” You bite your lip, trying to hide the largest smile since you last kissed Eddie. “I am pretty loveable, aren’t I?” you ask sheepishly. With his tongue stuck to his canine, he lets out a deep sigh paired with a smile. “Yeah,” he says slyly and with a shrug. “I guess that’s true.”

Your eyes flow towards the sky, noting the bright stars twinkling above. The joy you feel is addicting. Something incomparable to the last few days. You dare not disturb it. And yet...

“There was something about your family,” Kas starts with a furrowed brow. A memory floods his brain, something he did not account for. “It was complicated. You had so many locks, to be safe - to feel safe.” Your smile dropped, but he had not noticed. His eyes pull straight, narrowing as he attempts to grab hold of this memory. 

“They hurt you,” Kas lets out as a sigh, as though the realization was just then. “Why didn’t he do anything about it?” he asks in an accusatory tone. His nostrils flare as his chest rises and his back straightens. He places his sights on you. Your hands push together, sliding between your thighs. Eyes resting upon them as the sadness sinks in your heart.

“Eddie, you just don’t understand,” you say as you harshly push the tear from your cheek. “No, baby, I understand completely. What do you think my dad did to me before Wayne ran him off?” Eddie whisper yells as he points up the stairs. “They can’t keep doing this to you!” The fire fueling in his stomach is the same firing his clenched fists. How dare they hurt you? How dare anyone lay a finger on you?

“Please, Eddie, please just stop,” you mumble in between cries. Your hand pulling at his arm, creating distance between him and the stairs. Eddie could see your eyes were fixated on your bedroom door. “No, y/n,” he says abruptly. His stance fixed and firm. His eyes unrecognizable.

Eddie pulls his arm from your grasp, causing you to take a step back. But quickly, he grabs hold of your forearm. His fingers squeezing against your skin as he tugs you closer to him. His other hand lightly lands next to the assorted bruises you had up and down your arm. Gently, he raises your arm to show the purple splotches thrown against your ribs that were hidden by your shirt. He expected the surprise on your face, as he knew you thought he only saw the marks on your arm. 

“Y/n, there is no way in hell that this is okay,” Eddie says through grinding teeth. Heavied breaths fall from his flared nostrils as he looks up at the stairway again. “Eddie,” you say weakly as tears run rampant down your face. “Please, you’re hurting me,” you share as you lightly push at his hardened grip. 

Eddie quickly turns around with horror on his face as his eyes are met with the dark pink imprints of his fingers upon your skin. He stumbles back with his hand placed against his chest. “I-I I’m sorry,” he starts as he backs into a support beam. A small cough exists between you two as he clears his throat. His eyes watering as his chin glues stuck against his chest. 

“Baby,” you crumble before him. Your hand leading your body as it lands softly against his cheek. His hand collapsing over yours. Your other rests against his sternum. “Eddie, baby, you didn’t mean it...” 

Kas snaps his eyes towards you. Abruptly, he pulls himself from the memory, having seen everything he needed to see. His brows push together as his upper lip slightly pulls. “He hit you?” he asks with shock thick in his intonation. A hand reaches out to your knee. 

“Excuse me?” you pull away disgusted. You cannot help but stand and look down at him. “I just,” you chuckle in disbelief, giving up further with each breath you take. Your hands gesturing with a shrug. “I wanted to be happy, remember the times when life was actually good, for once.” A scoff falls, and you shake your head. “It’s like you want me to be in pain - to suffer along with you.” Eyes looking off into the night sky, desperate to go back to that happiness. But it does not come. 

Kas pulls his hand away, landing it softly against his lap. A white hot flash spreading between his nostrils and eyes. He meant to make you happy, but he remembered something. He pursued it, like he figured you would want him to. But maybe not this memory. Are there bad memories between the lovebirds? 

Like a switch, his anger kicks in. An undeniable defense mechanism that he will continue to deny. “And what pain am I in, darlin’?” he scoffs. Your eyes flick up, searching for some sign of dismay in his. You find absolutely none. “God, just never mind,” you throw your head as you continue forward, brushing the thought off to hide yourself from more pain. 

“No, no, no, little lady,” Kas laughs as he grabs your forearm, pulling you backwards. “We’re still talking.” The whiplash of his grip twists your body into his. His other hand quickly falls at the base of your back as he pulls you onto him. “Let go of me, asshole,” you demand brutally as you push against him. He laughs as he lets you stumble back. An ache begins to ring in your wrist. 

“You want to talk, Kas, fine,” you yell at him, pushing your palms harshly against his bare chest. His stumble back is met with another condescending chuckle. “Eddie never hurt me.” You can feel your entire face tensing up. Every muscle, even those you didn’t even know you had.

“Don’t forget, I was there,” Kas mocks, pointing a finger to his temple. “You weren’t there,” you spit out. “Those are Eddie’s.” He laughs, leaning over and holding his stomach. He takes a deep breath and in a combustion of sarcasm and genuineness, he softly says, “Eddie’s not here anymore.” 

Now, it is your turn to scoff. “And you just love reminding me,” you say, shame-filled. He chuckles, his head swaying side to side as he settles into his suave stance. Confident, boisterous, annoying.

“You do understand though, right?” you ask with confidence. He adjusts immediately detecting that he now has a contender in front of him, as opposed to a weak girl. “Eddie never hurt me,” you say softly. “You, on the other hand, you’ve hurt me every second since I met you,” you end with a hiss. 

Kas’ lips fall into a line. His eyes raking over your facial features, processing those sinful words. You watch, pleased with his response. You soak in the pain displayed exclusively on his face without regret. “What was that again?” you exaggerate thinking with a finger bouncing off your chin. “What pain are you in, darlin’? This kind,” you end with disgust as you point him up and down. 

He continues to stare at you with widening eyes. His face blank now, as though all the blood drained from it. “Let’s just keep going,” you suggest. The moral compass in your head is wavering. You walk forward, noting his lack of movement.

“Do you remember anything else about that night?” Kas calls out blankly. You turn around to face him, expecting sarcasm but seeing absolutely nothing in those dark brown eyes. “I do,” you whisper.

“Will you tell me?” he asks with his head down as he takes a step towards you. A part of you hesitates, wondering if this is just another trick of his. But you wanted to reminisce on memories. Here is your chance. “Sure,” you say in a lackluster tone. He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“It was just another regular day. Eddie came over after DND, like usual,” you shake your head as you attempt to remember. “My dad was a dick that day so Eds had to meet me at the back door.” Your eyes close as you continue, “I snuck him in and we went to my room and we were just talking about our days on my bed eating pizza.” You smile. “When we were laying down, I guess my shirt rolled up and he saw the bruises from earlier that day."

You laugh aloud, quickly pinning your mouth closed and hiding a smile. “He is the most stubborn person I know,” you share, forgetting who you were sharing with. “He wouldn’t let it go. He needed to know where the bruises were from and to see more.”

You stop immediately when you feel hot at your tear ducts. You quickly decide to keep a memory of love between you and Eddie. Another smile emerging as you acknowledge the realization that that was the moment you knew, without a doubt, Eddie Munson loved you. That he was the only person who loved you enough to care about your safety. 

“I fucking caved, as usual,” you giggle. “And when I showed him, he got pissed. I’ve never seen him more mad. I saw this fire in his eyes, I saw…” your brain stops working. Your brows crunch together as your eyes fall to the floor, processing the new information. 

After some time, you look up to Kas, who has been watching you continually. “I saw you in-in his eyes,” you say in awe. Kas’ flattened lips slowly flicker into a smirk.

You knew Kas? You saw him in Eddie, and you did not run. He existed before Eddie died. You know it to be true. He was there, and he was loved … by you. 

Quickly, you shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the thought. You would not dare disrespect Eddie by comparing him in any way to Kas. “Uh, he wanted to beat up my dad for hurting me. I had to talk him down,” you say plainly. “He was feeling all those emotions so he-he just squeezed my arm,” you reenact the movement. “But when I told him to stop, it was like he realized he was hurting me and acted like he had control of it, like he should’ve known better.” 

Your eyes fall on Kas’ once again. “He did not hurt me on purpose. He would never hurt me on purpose. And that is what you should remember,” you say clearly.

But Kas will not remember that distinction. He has better things to think about. “Just as long as you remember that you saw me that night,” he says with a chuckle. “God, you’re so damn good at making everything about you,” you throw out with a hand to your hip. “Oh yeah? 'Cause I thought it was all about you later that night?” he asks with bouncing brows. Your eyes darkened. “You remember,” you reply flatly. 

“Yes, baby, I remember that night,” Kas smirks as he takes another step, like a lion stalking it's prey. “I remember when he laid you on the bed. How he traced his fingers up your leg,” he says softly as he attempts to do the same. You pull back in disgust, unsure of where this is coming from. He looks at you daringly.

“You liked it when he did it,” he huffs. “Well, what about when he kissed your neck.” He steps forward once more, hooking his arm around your waist and pressing your torso against his chest. Frankly, you were completely done with his manhandling. His lips fall upon your skin like unwanted tickles. Your elbow rests against his chest as you press your weight upon it. But this time, he did not pull away. He continues on.

“Oh, not that?” Kas asks amusingly, clearly not understanding the situation. His hands slowly trickle down your sides and to the front of your waist. “What about when he unbuttoned your pants-” “No, Kas!”  you yell, pushing with all your force. He stumbles backwards with arms held out wide. His face both concerned and surprised. "No," you repeat sternly.

“I thought we were…” he trails off, slowly understanding exactly what he was doing. “No, Kas, we weren’t,”  you say roughly. “Fuck, man! Why the hell would you even think that?” You push the hair from your face as you await his explanation. Kas’ held out hands slowly raise to a defensive position. “I-l I didn’t mean for any of that, we just, uh, we fight and then we,” he stutters. Wide, watering eyes. Stumbling his words as he continues to step back.

You could see him. Just like that night. Just like when he hurt you accidentally. His remorse. His horror of what he has done. You could see Eddie again. 

“Thank you for backing off,” you whisper. You look up to Kas as he sucks his tongue against his gums, pushing tears back into his eyes. He hides his face form you’d “I’m sorry,” he says with a deep voice after a quick clearing of his throat. “Thank you,” you mutter. “Let’s just keep walking, okay?” you suggest, pushing ahead. Kas solemnly follows behind you - at a distance. 

It was stupid to stop and talk. The sun is completely gone. That road Kas thought he saw? Yeah, that was a river. A river you both had to strategically hop stones to cross. A river you fell ass first in when you slipped on a mossy stone. His bustling laughter echoing in the emptied space, and yet you trek forward. 

An odd gesture but Kas offers you his black boots. The first six times you refused, but once your feet started bleeding you decided why the hell not. They were two sizes too big and clunky things. You don’t even think Eddie would wear these, not outside of his room. But Kas? He does not have a single care in the world. 

You figured that after Vecna, normal things like dark forests would not bother you in the slightest. You were wrong. You could hear him in any brush of leaves from the wind. You could feel him when you step on unexpected rocks, attempting to navigate through the tall grass. You could see him in the shadows by the tree trunks. You could smell him in the dry air. 

A snap. 

“What was that?” you whisper quickly. Your arms are held defensively in front of your chest as though you are ready for something to jump out. Kas looks back at you and immediately rolls his eyes. “I stepped on a branch,” he laughs. You cannot fully trust your eyes, but you swear you saw adoration in his smile as opposed to the usual condescending attitude. 

You shake off the jitters, feeling prickles trace down your limbs and up your neck. “It’s cool, I’m, uh,” you say as something catches your eye on the ground. You let out a soft sigh of relief as your eyes return to his. “Yeah, I am a-okay,” you say more convincingly. You could almost convince yourself. 

Kas bites his lip, studying you as you walk past him. “Are you afraid of the dark, little girl?” he whispers in your ear as ticklish fingers prance against the skin of your sides. “Kas, stop,” you stay sternly, swatting his hands away. “Seriously, though, what do you have to worry about with me here?” he scoffs amusingly. A smile growing on his face by the second as he catches up and walks beside you. 

“Hm, I don’t know. Maybe that flayed piece of jerky back there?” you say pointing behind you as you roll your eyes. “We’re outside of where he can reach, there’s no way he could get us,” he tries to soothe with a smile, but immediately recognizes the thin line growing between your brows. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Kas whispers as he gently holds your wrist. He stops you in your tracks. You suck your tongue against your teeth as you avoid eye contact at all costs. “Hey,” he repeats in a deeper tone. His hands now cupped to your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “Vecna cannot get us here,” he says clearly. “No one will hurt you as long as I am around.” 

You cannot help but search for Eddie in those eyes. Just to see him one more time, but you know that will never be enough. Kas will never be enough. But his words help and you are able to take a deep breath. 

You nod, and he slowly drops his hands from your face. “Thank you,” you murmur. The word is now way too common in both of your vernaculars. Kas walks off with a smile, not turning back to look at you, not even once. 

Staring at the glow of the moon, you would guess it had to be at least 4 or 5am. Not that you would even really know what to do with that information gathered from this view. All you know is that you are getting tired, and the night sky is changing from pure darkness to a deep gray. 

“Ok, I know last time I was wrong, but I’m pretty sure that’s an intersection,” Kas mumbles as he points forward. Your head snaps, following his gaze, with widening eyes. Your palm lands softly at your forehead as you quietly scoff in disbelief. Do your eyes deceive you? A honk of an 18-wheeler confirms your wish. You turn around with hands up in excitement. He chuckles at how big your eyes have gotten. A hand covering his growing smile. 

“That’s a car, Kas, that’s a fucking car!” you scream. You rush through the trees, trying your best not to slide atop of the wet leaves. Alas, you ram your torso against the trunk of a tree in excitement as you watch the scene unfold before you. The pain is unnoticeable.

The street lights illuminate like auras against the misty fog. The wafting smell of cigarettes fleeing the convenience store. The blinding shine of headlights wrapping around the corner every few seconds. Honking, dings, spitting, ringing, a musty old muffler - finally, people.

Not once would you have ever expected the joy of finding people again, and yet here you are. You just needed a fresh look at how shitty the alternative is to know that reality is at least 1% shittier. Hope fills your chest as you take a step forward, only for Kas to pull you back. 

“What?” you bark at him, pulling your arm away. “Take a good look at yourself, darlin’. You really want to walk up to that gas station like that?” Kas says with a point as he nonchalantly leans back on a tree behind him. You look down at yourself, remembering your lack of pants, Kas’ ratty shirt and his stocky boots. You take a deep breath as you softly say, “I guess you’re right.” 

He stands up, almost immediately, which draws your attention. A smirk growing on his face. “What did you say?” he asks with a leading tone. You roll your eyes recognizing his intention. “Must not have been important if you didn’t hear it the first time,��� you murmur with a grin.

Kas slowly walks towards you, making your grin beam more and more with each step. “Oh, I heard it,” he says softly as he leans in closer to you. “I just wanted to hear it again,” he whispers and pulls back. You push against his chest with a laugh, leaving him with a chuckle and a raised chin as he peers down at you. 

“Okay, Kas, if we can’t go down there, where are we going to go?” you ask sarcastically. Kas smiles, moving his head to its side. “Oh, sweet girl. I know exactly where we’re going,” he murmurs. Your face deadpans as you watch him confidently strut down the hill and next to the street. “Wait, what do you mean?” you call after him. Rushing to follow him, you slip but Kas was able to hook his arm around you before you landed against the dirt and dust. He relinquishes his hand, faster than you expected and it leaves you confused. 

“You see that street? Hudson Ave?” he asks, pointing up at the street sign. You watch him with a perplexed expression, unsure of where he was going with the conversation. “Yeah?” you answer confusingly. “I know Hudson Ave,” he shares, looking back down at you. “We’re by Lover’s Lake.”

You take a deep breath of disappointment as you wipe your palms against your face. “I thought we were closer to the school than that,” you sigh. That would mean at least another 5 to 10 miles before being able to collapse into a bed. “Sounds like we need a place to stay for the night,” he says with excitement, as though he already knew the answer. “Yeah?” you ask again with squinting eyes. 

“I know a place. It’s safe, closed off, no one’s gonna be there,” Kas adds with a bit lip and slow nodding. Your face is emotionless as you watch his encouraging eyes. “How far is it?” you ask. 

“Kas, you didn’t tell me we were breaking into the place!” you ask with a worried, hushed tone. Your back stands behind Kas’, covering him as he hunches over to pick the front door’s lock. Your eyes scanning for any sign of life as the sun begins to rise over the patch of forest.

Arms are crossed against your chest, attempting to gather as much warmth as possible. “Yeah, I don’t tell you a lot of things,” Kas whispers to himself. A tongue stuck between his lips with pressed brows as he focuses on the clicks within the lock. “Almost there,” he leads.

One click and his smirk grows to an unbearable size. He turns to you with the utmost confidence. You pull your eyes away in an attempt to avoid looking at his sweetness. “Okay, we get it. You’re a badass,” you mumble, quickly moving into a whine. “Common, it’s cold out here!”

Kas chuckles to himself, almost a hum that vibrates within his chest. You could feel it too, in your own, that leaves a spark of something familiar. You push it away, deep within your stomach, refusing to acknowledge it. 

“Alright, alright,” Kas brushes off. “I’m hurrying.” With a twist and a push, you were in. The room was dusty. The air was stagnant. Your face showed everything, all your thoughts on the place. Completely disgusted by the state of the place. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself.

“It’s, uh, it’s cozy,” you whisper as you take a sharp breath. Half drunken beer bottles are left piled in the sink. A bra of unknown origin rests strung against the top of the couch. A rug, if you were so kind, rests tattered and torn throughout the room. A spindle of its fabric lays beneath your foot. 

The only pristine thing in the place is a glass cabinet filled with different variations of bongs. As much as you would like to deny it, the sparkles catch your eye. A brown glassed stem filled with peace signs - you imagine it to be at least 10 years old. Another looked like the yellow smiley face that has spread across the world in the past few years - you enjoy that one. One shaped like a dark blue toilet bowl - you are not too keen on that. Lastly, a pipe with a bowl painted like R2-D2 - that might have been your favorite. 

Before you knew it, you were standing right before the glass. Admiring the collection. Kas walks behind you. A cool whisper against your neck, “Can you guess where we are?” You shudder at his breath, but a piece of you welcomed his proximity.

“A dealer,” you say matter-of-factly, as you turn to face him. “Rick’s, right?” You knew he wanted to throw you off guard. He pulls back and slowly nods as respect fills the room. Of course, a respect that did not last very long.

“Then you must’ve known that this is where he stayed,” Kas mumbles carelessly. He carefully and judgingly picks up an opened bag of Fritos with his thumb and index finger off of the coffee table. Nuggets of weed organized perfectly upon the surface. Crushed green resting within a silver grinder. 

Eddie most definitely was here. You try your best not to let it show on your face, but you wondered if this is where he radioed you. Did he sleep on that disgusting ratty couch? Was that the last place he ever slept? You make your way into the kitchen, careful not to show your haste. Opened tin cans of corn stacked in a pyramid stare back at you. His last meal? A pot is barely balanced on the stove’s burner. 

Despite the rush of emotion in your chest, you smile at the thought of him cooking. Eddie was always a mess in the kitchen. You are honestly surprised that he did not leave the gas on. Memories of burnt pancakes and hardened spaghetti fill your taste buds. 

He may not have been the best chef, but he made up for it. There is nothing like watching him and that messy bun. Flour on his face as that familiar tongue sticks out while he’s focusing. An apron somehow already covered with syrup, even though there was yet to be any pancakes. His shirt cut off at the sleeves with strings of fabric comfortably against his biceps. 

Watching him in that moment, you saw your future. A future filled with laughter and messes. Dancing in the kitchen. Finally, feeling safe - safe in his arms. Maybe he would even make you feel safe enough to give him a little one when you were both older. The world deserved another Munson, another Eddie. 

But just like the rest of your dreams, this one will never come true. Another future ripped from your grasp. A happiness you had only a taste of and will never see again. And somehow, you are supposed to be okay with that - to keep moving on. Especially now that there’s some super villain dickwad that wants you dead. 

There’s no time to stop and grieve, like you thought. Part of you wishes you could, but another is thankful. Truthfully, you are afraid of what your life would look like if you truly let yourself feel everything. Feel your loss. It would not be much of a life, not after you get your revenge. 

Take one step at a time, you remind yourself. Vecna’s death is and should always be the highest priority. How do you kill him? How do you ensure that you are the final blow? What are his weaknesses? 

“Darlin’,” Kas whispers. He has been watching you silently as you stand in the kitchen. His intention was to catch you off guard with the information of Eddie’s stay. And he did just that but yet, no enjoyment in the act. What typically brings him happiness, his fucking with you, is not hitting the spot anymore.

He now worries about you. He worries about you constantly. He hasn’t stopped since that night in the diner. If he is honest with himself, these feelings would track all the way back to the night he first saw you. 

Kas lays a careful hand against your shoulder. Your head quickly turns to look at him. A shock coursing through your body. “Let’s get washed up,” he suggests softly. You nod, but a slow smile grows upon your face. His expression turns inquisitive as a chuckle leaves his throat. “Dibs on the shower,” you scream as you rush up the stairs. He watches you run and instinctually follows just as quickly behind you. 

You both playfully bump into each other as you struggle up the narrow staircase. As you manage to get a two step advantage, Kas grabs onto your ankle. You lightly fall against the wood as he scoots past you. “Fucker!” you giggle as you run to catch up to him. Bouncing off the walls, you push against his shoulder. You gain the advantage as you burst through a door.

Immediately, you are horrified by the sight. A tossed around bedroom with bright orange carpet. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the mirrored ceiling, which then led you to the cheetah print sheets. Your lips part as your jaw hangs open.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as Kas finally catches up. A laughter erupts beside you, but you cannot pull your gaze away. “Oh yeah,” he jokes in your ear. “Reefer Rick’s got bangin’ taste.” You push him away from you with a sneer. 

Beyond the disturbing clash in colors, you see a sliding door that leads to a balcony. The wood is of a greenish tint. Ivy covers its banisters. An old copper-rusted chair rests in the middle of the panels. A heavily used bong, tinted brown with tar, rests at its very edge. 

But despite all that, the view is incredible. There is no denying it. A gray and purple fog resides just above the black water. You could actually see the sun’s rays refracting within its dense mist. Sights like these have always made you feel better. There is nothing like Mother Nature to make that debby downer within you disappear. 

“Shower’s over here,” Kas says as he leans against the threshold bathroom’s threshold with crossed arms. You smile, turning around, and walking into the room. “Didn’t think you would actually respect a dibs,” you share. Thankfully, Reefer Rick seems to have better standards for cleanliness in the shower. You are pleased with its state. “Oh, I can’t mess with the dibs gods,” he scoffs incredulously. 

After noting which knob is for hot water, you realize that Kas is still standing beside you. You turn around to him beginning to unbuckle his belt. “What are you doing?” you ask with a nervous giggle. He pops his head up from his hands. His mouth in a thin line.

“Um, getting ready for our shower,” he answers. “Our shower, huh?” you giggle. “Oh, what? I thought you liked taking showers with your men?” he says as he leans in to you. His hands drop his buckle as his belt rests open at his waist. You struggle not to draw your eyes to it. 

You quickly recover and smile. “You remember a lot more than you’re letting on, Kas,” you say under your breath. “First of all, there are no men. Only Eddie, and you’re not him, right?” you ask with a leading tone. “So, I’m going to take this shower alone.” You point towards the shower curtain behind you with a smirk. 

Kas smiles with a shrug. “I guess I’ll wait my turn,” he says lightly. “Great call,” you whisper. Almost retaliatory, he unbuttons his black jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly. Teeth digging into his bottom lip.

You try your best to keep your eyes on his, but you are clearly struggling and he knows it. He loves it. The smirk growing on his face by the second. A hint of blush to his cheeks. “I’ll just be out here, sweet girl,” he soothes. His own thumb pointing back into the bedroom as he slowly walks backwards. 

An undeniable, unstoppable grin beams across your face as you close the door. Fuck. The thin wooden barrier gives you enough space to consider the wild things rushing through your mind. How you wish you could just pull those jeans down, get on your knees, and make him forget that Vecna never existed. How you wish you could have dragged him into the shower with you. How he could make you forget that your pain even existed with those hands of his.

You need to cool down. Quickly. Dragging your palms down your face, you walk towards the shower. You turn the knob for cold water, leaving a slight bit of heat to settle in. You slowly raise your arms, attempting to take your shirt off, but the pain hit you like a truck. You wince at the feeling. Immediately, you hear Kas knocking. “You alright?” he asks. You laugh, “Yeah, Kas, I’m good.” 

It feels so damn good to take off that ratty shirt. To take off those panties. To take off his oversized combat boots. With a deep breath, you step into the shower. The rush of the freeze was shocking, yet comforting at the same time. The feel of the water splashing against your scalp and running down your temples, cheeks, and chin. 

You reach for the soap and are immediately presented with a conundrum. You debate whether or not you should rub it against your skin. You wouldn’t imagine your body being any less dirty than Rick’s bar of soap, and yet, you hesitate. With a shake of your head, you rub the soap against your hands and then lather the suds upon your body. 

Feeling the sensation against your skin, you cannot help letting in the trickling thoughts of Kas. The sensation of his hands on your body. His finger tips pressing against your aching muscles. Fixing all your pains. His palms exploring your waist, making their way up your torso and to your breasts. You think of Kas. You wanted Kas. 

As you step back, your calf bumps into a bottle that clunks onto the bottom of the shower floor. The abrupt loud noise echoes through the air. A burst of adrenaline fills your chest as you startlingly fling yourself against the tiled wall. The scuffle of your movement is heard from outside the bathroom. 

Deep breaths heave against your diaphragm as you slowly slide down to the base of the shower. Rushing cold water hits harshly against your skin. It causes your hair to glue thickly against your face. You can’t breathe. You can’t. You just can’t. 

Kas knocks once again. “Darlin’,” he calls out but you don’t answer. You can’t. You were stuck. Stuck against the ground. You could not move. If you moved, you had no idea what would happen. You were safe, barely safe in that shower. Don’t leave that spot. You can’t. You won’t. 

He slowly peeks open the door. “Y/n,” he calls out but you are silent. You hear him walk closer. You can see his shadow against the blue mildewed curtain out from your peripherals. He opens the shower curtain to see your arms wrapped around your knees. You were in a tight ball, as tight as you could manage, shuddering in the cold. 

“Shit, baby,” Kas hushes. He quickly turns the knobs, adding more warmth to the water pouring against the crown of your head. Without thinking, he hops inside the shower and crouches behind you. His arms tightening around your shoulders. “You are safe,” he whispers. “You are safe.” The words falling naturally, almost scripted.

With the added pressure, you can feel your heart rate slowing. You naturally place your hand against his forearm as he tightens his squeeze. You have not felt this in some time. Your eyes close as slow breaths enter and exit your lungs. The silence is comforting. A reminder that nothing is actually happening. Reality is currently safe. You are safe in Kas’ arms. Your body can calm, can take in the cues of relaxation in this warm shower. 

“I am safe,” you whisper as you lightly land your forehead against his forearm. “You are safe, darlin’,” he murmurs. His head laying against your shoulder. And there you both rest. You naked in his arms. Him drenched in his jeans behind you. A tightening embrace underneath a constant stream of warming water.

Dustin has never been the same since that night. He knows his friends are worried about him. That they freak every time he disappears for an hour or two. But they wouldn’t get it. They wouldn’t understand why he needed to visit him. How he would talk to him, even though he wasn’t there. 

He couldn’t even manage to radio Susie back anymore. It didn’t feel right to be happy with Eddie gone. He avoided it, avoided happiness like the plague. He avoided his friends, his family, his mother. He grieves in solitude, unsure of when he will ever be done. 

Every day since, Dustin made the trek to Lover’s Lake. To that spot in the woods where Steve, Nance, Robin, and Eddie went to Watergate. It is the closest he can get to Eddie. To remembering him. To wishing he was still there.

After a few trips back and forth, Dustin could make his way there without the compass - not that the compass was that helpful anyway. He would bring his backpack filled with old DND books, some of which were filled with “Munson’s Property” in thick sharpie. Sometimes he would run his fingers over them, hoping that Eddie was there too.

He would talk about the campaigns he wished he could play with Eddie. The one’s he knew the party would have a great time with. He would reminisce about when Eddie said he was “grooming him - grooming him to become Hellfire’s president. To be the Dungeon master. To be him. 

That is all he could ever want. Well, that and Eddie being alive. 

Another day and Dustin still sits upon his stump beside the lake’s shore. Seventeen rocks still scattered across the dirtied sand. He counts them here and there, ensuring they remain the same number. That everything remains untouched, like that day. But the fog was thicker today.

He could see the purple flecks within the gray mist. He appreciated when it was foggy. It meant he didnt have to think about the gang getting attacked in the middle of the lake. It meant he didn’t have to remember watching his friends and being helpless as they all dove into the dangerous waters. How he watched two of his heroes go in the abyss and never come out. 

Sometimes Dustin wonders if he will see the canoe floating out on the water abandoned one day. Or maybe he’ll find it on the shore somewhere. Maybe there’s something on it? A piece of Eddie, something he left behind. He wanted to venture out but felt glued to this stump. Glued to looking out into the water and hoping Eddie might just come out from the fog. 

Or maybe something will come out and take him. Take him far away from all this pain. Dustin was at his lowest, and yet he could only imagine going lower. Permanent reds to his eyes as tears continue to fall. It is his new norm. A new world without his big brother, without the person he looked up to the most. 

Dustin heard a branch snap behind him. He turns, hoping it’s not Mike or Lucas trying to drag him back to the Wheeler’s, to his mom. He is surprised by the emptiness of the woods. How it reflects how he feels inside. He assumes the noise to be due to an animal. A sigh and he’s turned back around to the lake. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of something odd. His head turns to the structure to his left - Reefer Rick’s. “What a shithole,” he mumbles to himself. He places his elbows to his knees as his palms carry the weight of his chin. A light turns on, clear and bright within the fog. Enough to pull his attention back to the building.

Dustin stands with furrowed brows and a need to investigate. Cops were his first thought. Maybe they were still looking for Eddie, or maybe Rick broke out of the jail? Rick did have a tendency to do that. Although, they would always catch him seeing as he would just go home to smoke more dope.

He walks up closer, trying to get a better look, and catches a glimpse of something on the balcony. Another side step and he tries to look past the tops of the trees. There were no beams of flashlights bouncing around the windows. Maybe it wasn’t a raid. Maybe it was more of Jason’s lackeys? Still looking for Eddie, and yet - they’ll never find him. Or maybe they’re looking for Jason? They won’t find him either. 

But who Dustin saw walking out the balcony made his blood instantly run cold. He was frozen, stuck in place, with a jaw dropped and shaking hands. The person is pale with black, wet, stringy hair resting at his shoulders. A familiar stance and posture that Dustin knew all too well.

Large, healed wounds wrapping from his lower back, across his side ribs, and a bit of his front. A familiar spider tattooed across his chest. The figure had a white towel wrapped around his waist. He is looking out - looking out into the lake. Just as Dustin was. 

His heart starts pounding. In an unrecognizable world he now finds himself in, he finally sees the one he has missed so dearly. “Eddie,” falls from his lips like a whisper. As though it was a secret that was never meant to be spoken. A secret that only Dustin knows. The hope that he might be back, that maybe he never left. 

Before his mind could register, Dustin’s feet were already running around the battered house, faster than he thought possible. His bag and compass left hastily by the shore. He stumbles trying to find his footing against the worn wooden steps as his fist crashes against the front door. All the excitement pumping through his body as he hears steps grow louder behind the door. 

It opens. And Dustin feels everything. 

note: hi, katrina here. i didn’t feel like it would work in the story (timeline wise), but i wanted to share that i most def wanted eddie to go up there and beat her dad’s ass. let me know what you think, please? ♥️

next part • posting 07/15 at 5pm pst •

taglist: (sorry for the retag, tryin' something) @babeyglo, @dotslabyrinth, @wheaty-melon, @mattymurdocksbitch, @sammararaven, @onlyfengs22, @perle1990, @ms1oftheboys, @ghosttownwherenoonegoes, @tayhar811, @bbyhargrove, @hiscrimsonangel, @ali-r3n, @secretdryrose, @stranger-messenger, @sunnytkm23, @ambthegamer, @bit-of-a-timelord

• nav • no-no plagiarism • series • requests open •

[mackeydoodledoo]

Fixation

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x (Fem!)Reader

Summary: You’ve known Wanda ever since she began her time as an Avenger. You considered yourself unspecial compared to everyone else. Even when she chose Vision over you, you never stopped finding Wanda so fascinating to you. 

Warnings: MoM spoilers, Angst, Self-Esteem/Mental Health Issues

A/n: If you haven’t watched MoM yet, I recommend skipping this until you watch it. 

Unconditionally - Katy Perry

Key: +*+ = Time skips

--------------------------------------------------------------

                        -Post Winter Soldier-

Through your mother, she would tell the story of how she met your father. She would often tell you a tale of how ‘special’ people like you and your father would find their form of soulmate. They would find themselves fixated on a specific person, to the point where they would become anyone they wanted them to be.

“The real challenge was for the person to reciprocate the feelings back,” You explain, “Well, call it a little stalker-ish... But, my father got lucky with my mom.”

“Who was your father again?” Natasha asks

“Never met him...” You say, “But, my mother would always tell me how he was the sweetest guy ever. Gave her everything she desired, not just by a snap of his fingers like a king would to woo the heart of their potential queen. He actually worked towards getting her the finer things in life.”

“You being one of them?” She asks

“Guess so,” You smile

                       -Age of Ultron- 

You were split from Clint Barton as you, him, Thor, Steve and Natasha were attempting to stop Ultron and his sentries from taking the Vibranium. But the challenge were his two accomplices: Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. 

-The Girl tried to warp my mind, it would take special care to keep her at bay, I doubt a human could do it. Fortunately, I am Mighty-

Thor says over the comms.

Oh we’ll see about that buddy...

 You became determined. To prove to a god that you, a measly human could keep a woman with telepathic powers at bay. However, finding her was the trick. She could have been anywhere. 

-Y/n, get back to the ship. This could get hairy...-

Natasha became the mother figure you needed ever since losing your own, and since joining the Avengers. However, you still weren’t at full extent with your powers. 

I have to do this... I want to prove my worth to everyone...

Natasha was basically a highly skilled former assassin, Clint had perfect eyesight when it came to a bow and arrow, Bruce was a walking time bomb of Green Anger, Thor was a god, Steve was a super soldier and Tony had a suit of armor he could modify with ease.. You weren’t sure why you were still in this band of people with superior abilities, or why they still wanted you there. 

“It just...” a feminine voice pulls you out of your own self-doubting thoughts

You turn your head towards the voice and there she was... Wanda Maximoff.

“Bounced off...” She says, when she realizes that you had no reaction to her magic

“Well, when you already picture your own self-doubt and fears your little mind controlling thing is very inefficient,” You explain, lightly chuckling 

Wanda couldn’t help but giggle a little bit. Even on the field, even if she was your enemy, you couldn’t help but smile at her little giggle. However, even though you were too fixated on the way she laughed, she tries once more to mind-control you. But like the first time, she watches it bounce right off of you.

“Still not gonna work lovely,” You say

Before you could attempt to bring her in, you thought too late as her speed-powered brother comes to her rescue; punching you, knocking your face onto the ground.

+*+

You continuously thought about your small interaction with Wanda back in Africa as you sit in the field of Clint’s house. 

“Clint said you came out here,” Natasha comes up to you

“Nat... Is it odd that I found myself... Fixated on that Wanda girl?” You ask, “It’s like she won’t get out of my head...”

“Maybe she really got to you when she hit you with her mind control trick,” Natasha suggests, sitting next to you

‘That’s the thing... Nat, she tried doing that, twice. But, they didn’t work both times,” You explain

“You already must be going through some dark shit then,” Natasha tries to pass it off as a mood enlightener

However, she looks at you and see no reaction, her smile drops.

“Oh my god y/n, I’m so sorry I-I thought-” She immediately tries to comfort you

“I haven’t even discovered who I am, my powers are still manifesting, I don't know why any of you actually enjoy having me here or unless I am so that I could be used as some kind of secret weapon against these two kids...” You try to spew everything at once

You begin curling yourself into an upward fetal position as you begin uncontrollably hyperventilating.

“Hey Hey Hey y/n it’s okay,” Natasha wraps an arm around you, trying to comfort you

“Who the hell am I?!” You sob

“Y/n, y/n look at me,” Natasha shifts her body to sit in front of you

You finally look up and look at her.

“You are y/n y/l/n,” Natasha explains, “Daughter of an amazing mother and share the special traits of your father. It’s okay that you don’t know who you are yet. You still have a whole entire life ahead of you. I’m with you every step of the way.”

+*+

“You,” Pietro calls out to you

You were in the middle of putting on some Armor.

“Me?” You ask

He nods, “I need you to do me a huge favor,” He says

“Shoot,” You say

“My sister seems very fixated with you,” He says, “I always see you at her side. But, seeing her smile when you're around... That’s something my sister hasn’t been able to do in a very long time.”

“You’re implying?” You ask, not catching on to what he was implying

“I need you to look after Wanda, should anything happen to me,” He says, “Although that’s not the goal. But, my point is, just in case.”

“Deal,” You say, “Name’s y/n by the way.”

+*+

“I got her back Pietro,” You tell him, “Don’t worry.”

Wanda looks over at you from across the key, looking at you in absolute awe.

“It’s you and me,” You smile at her

+*+

You snatch Wanda up into your arms and use whatever leg power you had left. However, you found yourself shifting through a black haze; you were on one of the cargo ships that Nick Fury launched to bring the civilians to the hellicarrier. 

“Wands are you okay?” You ask, looking down at her, still holding her in your embrace

“Yeah, I’m okay,” She replies, looking up at you, “How... How did you do that?”

“I... Don’t know,” You answer, “What matters more is that we’re safe.”

                      -Civil War-

You run over to Wanda as she comes back to consciousness after getting hit with a sonic ray, you pull her into your arms.

“Hey hey are you okay?!” You ask her, attempting to check her for any noticeable wounds

“I’m okay y/n,” She smiles

You two hear the footsteps of the German government coming to apprehend you and your team. You honestly were neutral about choosing to be on team Rogers or Stark. But when you saw that Wanda chose to be on Steve’s side, after Vision attempted to keep her at the complex, you immediately followed behind her. No real reason. Just Wanda. 

“I’m sorry... To the both of you,” Vision comes up to the both of you

“Us too,” You say, knowing Wanda felt reluctant enough

You hear the German government come even closer...

Wanda doesn’t deserve to be locked up again...

The small team coming for you and Wanda stop. Both Wanda and Vision look at you; the brown of your eyes turned a bright blue flame. Your field of vision towards the civilians.

“Y/n... Stop,” Vision calmly instructs you

However, you were in a trance-like state. As if you didn’t hear him, you easily lift Wanda into your arms as you begin easily walking straight past them. A familiar black haze forms a portal as you and Wanda disappear into the other side. 

                       -Infinity War-

You were returning to your shared apartment with Wanda after running out to get dinner. However, when you look up to your window, you saw her with Vision, in a loving embrace. You knew Vision came to visit Wanda often. But, you noted how they became even closer. 

Ouch...

However, even after Vision leaves, everything was seemingly normal between you and Wanda.

“Y/n, what’s on your mind?” Wanda comes up to you

“Nothing,” You lie, smiling

“Promise?” She asks, looking up at you

“Promise,”You smile down at her

+*+

You were waiting for Wanda to return from a date with Vision. It was another evening by yourself, even though Wanda promised to have an evening with you. However, you weren’t surprised at that point. You just wanted to make sure that Wanda had a good time.

~

“Even if the one fell for someone else, you never really fall out of love for them. You just simply become someone they can turn to when they need someone. Whether that is actually their lover or a very close, trusting friend,” Your mother explains

“Won’t it hurt?” You ask her

“Most likely,” She answers, “But, you never really think of yourself. You really think of them over everything else. You would want them to be happy. So you do everything in your power to make them feel as such, even if they have someone in their life. having them know they have one other person that cares about them as much would mean everything to them.”

~

You thought about how your mother explained the legend of ‘special’ people like you and your father find their soulmate. However, you’ve found yourself fixated on Wanda for the last couple of years, even when she found herself fixated on Vision. You were pulled out of your thoughts when you hear a blast in the distance. You go up to the window and see flashes of red light and two bodies falling from the sky.

Shit!

+*+

“Y/n, I need to ask you for a huge favor,” Vision walks up to you

Wanda attempts to walk up to the both of you so that she could listen in.

“In private,” He turns to Wanda

You look up at him, confused. Ever since the attack, Wanda has been nearly at his side, even throughout the complex. Vision lead you through an empty hallway, looking over to the direction you two had walked through, making sure Wanda didn’t secretly follow.

“I don’t think they’ll be able to get the stone out of my head quick enough before Thanos reaches it,” Vision says, “Wanda though... She’s going to need someone to keep her company once I’m gone...”

“What are you asking Vis?” You ask

“I’m asking you,” He begins, getting on both of his knees

He doesn’t make eye contact with you. As if feeling some kind of shame, he looks down at the ground.

“Please,” He begs, “I need you to look after Wanda once I’m gone. Should something happen to me. She has experienced enough loss. I know after this one, I don’t know if she’ll ever recover from it. I’m asking you to be at her side through everything. Promise me y/n... For Wanda’s sake...”

But, she’ll never be truly happy with me...

That was what you wanted to tell him. You wanted to also tell him that you and the team weren’t going to let him die and that they will figure out a way for him to live and that Wanda would be happy.

“Deal,” Was what came out of your mouth

+*+

“Wanda...” Your first thought comes out of your mouth as you regain consciousness

Your vision comes to... Vision... His lifeless... Grey body... 

No no no no...

However, once you look up, Wanda was turning to dust...

“Wanda!” You yelp, launching yourself 

You outreach your arm right as Wanda fully disappears. Your heart thumped against your temples as you try to process the fact that Wanda was dusted right in front of your eyes, under Vision’s lifeless body. You back yourself into a tree as you let out a blood curdling scream, running your fingers roughly across your scalp, through your hair. 

“WANDA!!!!” You repeatedly scream

It wasn’t until Natasha was the first one to pull you into an embrace, trying to calm you down.

                     -Wandavision-

“Stop!” You cry out 

The soldiers lower their guns as they stand there. Wanda looks at the irises of their eyes; a familiar blue flame color in them. They move out of the way, making a pathway for you as you appear before Wanda. Her eyes widen as she watches you approach her.

“You’re with them?” She asks you

“No,” You answer, “By may own free will. I didn’t know they were going to do this... I’m here so I can bring you home...”

“I am home,” She tells you

“Keeping all of these people here against their will?” You ask, “I know that you always talked about wanting a life of where you don’t have to be afraid of your own powers, to be who you are...”

Wanda looks at you, unamused.

“I don’t know what’s harder: trying to get you to come to your senses or traveling the world to find you,” You confess

“You... Traveled the world?... To find me?” Wanda asks

You look at her in total surprise, she really thought you gave up after Tony’s funeral.

“Yeah,” You say, “It wasn’t easy to do. Everyone wasn’t willing to answer, or they would intentionally avoid me when I would ask about you... Until Monica contacted me.”

“So you are with them?!” Wanda’s scary demeanor coming back

“No,” You say, “I’m here for you. I don’t give a rat’s ass about what their goals are. One thing I know for sure is that I found you and I’m not going anywhere until you come home.”

“I am home now,” Wanda repeats, “And you don’t have to be without me again.”

She takes a hold of you with her magic, strings of red wrapping around your arms so that you wouldn’t use your pwn powers against her. She begins dragging you along back into the Hex.

                   -Multiverse of Madness-

You return your horse back to his stable after a day out in the field.

“Y/n y/l/n,” Dr. Strange calls your name

You sigh and turn around to face the Sorcerer.

“Dr. Strange,” You smile, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I need your help,” He says

“What kind of desperate help are you in need of now?” You ask

You didn’t mean to call him weak like that but, that was how it came out.

“Wanda Maximoff has turned evil,” He bluntly states

You stop washing your dishes and slowly turn around. Unholy anger begins building up in you as you turn to look at him.

“Tell me you’re lying,” You say, practically growling

“Y/n... Calm down, let me explain,” He says

You look down and see a blue flame-like haze beginning to form around your hands.

“You’ve worked with her the most,” He says

“That’s an understatement,” You say

It was true. You were the last person she is very close with, maybe the only person. You would think Clint Barton would have checked on Wanda, but, after Westview, he didn’t even attempt to try and talk some sense into her, that was you. 

“I’ve been trying to look after her ever since I promised to Vision that I’d be there for her. But it’s hard when she continues running off...” You sigh, “You still didn’t properly explain to me why you insulted Wanda by calling her an evil being.”

“Have you heard of the Darkhold?” He asks

“That book that Wanda was reading?” You ask

”You allowed her to read that?!” Dr. Strange asks, furious

“Strange, I only know so much about the type of magic you work with,” You say, “I was born with mine and I still haven’t even manifested the full extent of them.”

“The Darkhold has the ability to corrupt the reader,” He explains, “I came to Wanda, attempting to have her help us take down the demons after America Chavez who has the power to travel through the multiverse.”

You think back to the moment you and Wanda heard her kids’ voices...

“And since you were the one who allowed her to read that, you can right it by helping us stop her from breaking all laws of natural order,” He demands

“I’m pretty sure this is now a ‘I’m not asking, I’m telling’ kind of situation yeah?” You ask

He nods.

“Okay...” You sigh, “Let’s go.”

+*+

You didn’t know when you hit the ground of Mount Wundagore after attempting to talk to Wanda once more, but you knew that your life was slipping before your very eyes. 

I didn’t even tell... Wanda how I felt... 

After the amount of times she threatened you, captured you, even hurt you, you knew better. You knew better than anyone now of what she has been going trough. 

“You’re really giving up here?” A male voice calls

Who?...

A beam  of light crackles from beneath the earth’s crust.

Satan?...

“Close enough,” He says, “I’m actually your dad. King of the Underworld, overseer of the deceased souls.”

Hades?...

“Not quite either,” He says, “Now are you going to let your sorry ass die here, or will you fight for the one you love?”

How the hell a I going to do that? I can’t move my entire body, I’m slipping into death, And I’m on the ground... She’s all the way up there...

“Fully manifest your powers, save her from the influence of the Darkhold,” He says, “Break her out of your senses.”

How?.. 

“No longer question yourself,” He tells you, “Believe in yourself. Never be afraid of who you are.”

+*+

Wanda was continuing to absorb America’s powers. Still clinging onto the hope that she’d be able to be with Billy and Tommy.

“Stop this!” Your voice booms throughout the temple

She looks up towards the cliff and nearly stops. Wanda was attempting to read you... You seemed... Different. Not entirely but, the energy didn’t match what was before. But, the giant beings began putting themselves in front of Wanda, preventing you from getting to her.

“Don’t start,” You speak to them

With a simple wave of your hand; illuminated in a bright blur/black angelic ray of light outline, the beings fall behind you, over the cliff.

“Would Vision want this for you?” You ask, “How would Billy and Tommy see you after what you’ve become?”

“Don’t speak to me about them!” She spits at you, “You don’t know the amount amount of loss I have suffered! You will never understand!”

“Actually,” You start, “I understand it all too well... I never met my father whom I literally just met 2 minutes ago, lost my birth mother to an aneurysm, and my mother figure to a goddamn stone. I understand completely... Wanda...”

“Then I’ll just drop you off in a reality where you can live with them all,” Wanda attempts to negotiate with you

“I don’t want that,” You confess, walking even closer, “Because there is something more that I could ever want in this reality and this one alone...”

“And what could that possibly be?” She asks

You don’t give her a straightforward answer but give her a straightforward stare. 

“W-Wanda Maximoff is gone,” She attempts to hide her blush, “Only the Scarlet Witch is left!!”

“No,” You say, reaching the other end of the enchantment table, “I know you’re still in there Wands... I know you are,”

“You are so naive,” She attempts to hurt you, “You always attempt to find the good in people even when the good in them is clearly gone.”

“You never doubted the good in me, when I didn’t see it myself,” You say, “What makes you think that I’ll doubt your goodness?”

You know it sounded quite selfish of you. But, what else could have been said? You loved her, deeply. The idea of her leaving you behind for another universe with her kids that weren’t even hers hurts enough. 

“I don’t get it,” Wanda begins breaking

“Don’t get what?” You ask, beginning to walk around the table

“Why are you doing this?” She asks, “I’ve hurt you countless times, left you countless times for Vision 

+*+

You groan as your vision comes to. You don’t know how long you’ve been out for however, you hear screaming.

Wanda...

You immediately bolt onto your feet and rush toward the portal. But stop. Your Wanda fell to the ground. When you look ahead of her, you notice... Another Wanda, with Billy and Tommy.

“Wanda?” You ask

Both look at you. You actually didn’t specify to whom, but your Wanda noticed how you were staring at the other Wanda.

“Wanda!” A similar voice calls out

Another you... Rushes through the kitchen, immediately embracing Wanda and the boys. 

“What happened to you?!” Other you holds Other Wanda’s face in your hands

“I’m okay,” She says, caressing other you’s face, “I’m okay love.”

Love?...

You watch as other Wanda begins to make her way over to your Wanda; Billy and Tommy attempting to keep her from approaching her other variant. 

“It’s okay boys,” She assures her kids

Other You attempted to hold her back as well, but you watch her console the other you, so lovingly... Something you never gotten from your Wanda... You watch her walk up to your version of herself and gently raise her fingers to caress her doppelgängers cheek. 

“Know that they’ll be loved,” She tells your Wanda

Her vision changed to you.

“Though it took time... For her and I,” Other Wanda gestures to the other you, “But, I love you... In every universe...”

Her hand reaches up to brush her fingers against your cheek. Tears streamed down your face as the portal began to close. 

“I opened the Darkhold...” Wanda states, levitating herself onto her throne, “I have to be the one to close it.”

You, America, and Wong were preparing to head back to Kamar-Taj to regroup however, when you turned around to check if Wanda was right behind you, she isn’t.

“Go, y/n,” She tells you

You turn back to face Wong and America.

“I got it from here,” You smile at them, watching America close the portal

You run back up to her, attempting to grab at her arm. However, you look around you and notice how Wanda wasn’t going to move.

“Wanda come on!” You gesture

“I’ve hurt too many people,” She cries, “You should leave while you still have the chance.”

Not again... 

You hp up onto the throne, facing the opposite of Wanda. You attempt to gain a grip on her shoulders as she tries to force you off of her.

“What are you doing y/n?! Get out while you still can!” Wanda screams, trying to push you away

“NOT AGAIN!” You scream, finally breaking, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you in this damn world!”

Wanda stops pushing you and stares.

“You really want to be with someone who has been mistreating you all your life?” She asks

“I don’t care if you’ve mistreated me,” You say, “Mistreat me, make me pissed the hell off, hell, even shatter my heart into a million pieces! I made a promise to Vision... To your Brother... Even vowed to myself that I wouldn't ever let you be by yourself... I love you Wanda.”

You shut the gap between your face and Wanda’s. She widens her eyes as the bright light begins to darken. She realizes silver-y grey wings began appearing before you.

“You... Have wings?” Wanda pulls away 

You turn your head over your shoulders. 

“Huh... That makes sense on how I can fly,” You say, shrugging

“You just now see them too?” She asks

“Well... Guess I never could find a way to believe in myself,” You chuckle, “Knowing you do too guess it’s now visible to us...”

Your arms wrap around Wanda as she continues to bring Mount Wundagore crumbling down. You didn’t know what was going to happen, but you didn’t care. You were with Wanda now. That was all that mattered to you.

“It’s You and Me,” You say

Epilogue

[tsukimefuku]

Fuku hi!!! Charging in to bombard you with some of the writers ask questions. Here I go!! 😌

4. What piece of media inspired you the most?

9. What fic meant the most to you to write?

12. What fic was most difficult to write? Did you finish it?

22. Share an excerpt from your favorite scene.

4. Oh, I had sooooo many of those. Let me try to list some of the most important and some of the most recent for all the styles I’ve been writing (fluff, angst, dark fantasy original work and romcom):

Água Viva by Clarice Lispector (book), Fleabag (tv series), The haunting of hill house (series), Pitch Perfect trilogy (movies), We need to talk about Kevin by Lionel Shriver (book), Sandman (comics), Watchmen (comics), Wandavision (tv series), Bojack Horseman (tv series), The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (book), and I mean my entire Spotify history 😂

9. Currently, it’s “The Eulogy for the Love Remained” which is a WIP, but up until I started it, it was my rewrite of “The Event part 1” because I had given myself the challenge of rewriting something I didn’t like and I did it, having a final fic that I’m actually happy with! It gave me a sense of accomplishment :)

12. It’s a tie. First, Blunt trauma, my villain Nanami fic (especially part two that is currently in the works). I had to write the “balancing act” between two people that love and resented each other deeply, and let it shine through their dynamics (so *show, don’t tell* rule). On the other hand, Higuruma Sensei is being a challenge because it demands me to keep some sort of consistency, it’s a genre I’m not very used to (romcom), and it is written in an organized, planned long-story format (my adhd demon is screaming).

22. Omg I have so many of those. Let me get one from “books and dinner” WIP (reader & Nanami):

“Hm… Is everything alright?” Kento asked, holding the door open while he slightly brushed his hair back with his fingers.

“I need to return your apartment keys” you replied, absentmindedly.

He looked puzzled. “You can keep those, it's not an issue at all.”

You stood there silently for a minute, and knowing you all too well, he waited for the bomb that was about to drop. Kento had learned by then that anything could come out of your mouth when you went silent like that.

“Tell me what I should do with it.”

“You should probably put them in a keychain” the sorcerer replied, confused.

“No, not the keys” you answered, words struggling to come out against the concrete barricade you had on your throat.

Kento patiently asked, “What, then?”

“With the love they left me. My family, my best friend, my brother, and now him. I don’t…” you heaved, before coming back to a more impassive expression, “I don’t know what to do with it. Please, tell me what I should do with it.”

Kento’s eyes widened, as he realized what you were actually on about. He then began assessing the situation — you looked perfectly sober, somewhat distraught, but otherwise fine. Seeing that nothing was particularly wrong, he let you keep talking without interruptions.

“I- I don’t want it anymore. Why do people keep leaving me with their love?” you asked, pained, eyes too heavy to lift, “So, I need to do something with the love they left me with, and I still can’t think of anything. I need some help with that, I guess.”

Your tone was analytical, like someone picking apart at building blocks.

Your gaze, however, revealed you were nothing but a child, just picking apart at yourself.

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ So!! I needed a bit of fluff and humour after THAT EPISODE !! and after seeing their adorable lil faces in the bts pics with the medals this little ... cold open esque prologue? to 7x09 came to me in a lunch break :P enjoy!

note: contains a multitude of weewooified details about lafd and the military, for dramatic and humourous effect, plz don't @ me

Firefam. No spoilers outside of trailers. (~1600wd). Humour, but with angst bc I can’t stop myself putting these guys in Situations

bait and switch

The seats in the hallway are typical of any waiting room: plastic arms, kind of sticky, and weirdly cheap and tacky considering the significance of the life events about to occur in their occupants. The walls are a burnt-orange red. Fitting, if ominous.

The clock on the wall ticks on.

“Evan's been in there a long time,” Tommy observes.

“Too long,” Hen agrees.

“He's probably gone out the other way,” Chimney speculates grimly. ”Doesn't want us to see the broken shell of a man Gerrard's turned him into.”

Eddie sits a few seats away, with his eyes closed, envisioning himself as a puddle of jello. Well, he was. Well. He was trying to. He cracks an eye open.

“Thanks for the pep talk, Chim.”

“You're welcome.” Chimney huffs. He wishes he had his phone. Maybe he could text Maddie to call him away with some emergency. Sure he'd only be delaying the inevitable, but he'd take any respite at this point.

Eddie laughs. “Come on. He can't be that bad.”

Hen, Chim and Tommy fix him with a glare that tells him he knows not of what he speaks.

“Easy for you to say,” Chimney challenges. “We can't all have interrogation training.”

“What is it you think I actually did over there?”

Chim's been reading too much Zero Dark Thirty. Eddie rolls his eyes. But maybe there's something to having his military days at the top of his mind, because when the doors swing open he all but jumps to his feet, back ramrod straight. He wonders all of a sudden if he's somehow put his badges on backwards or something and it's all he can do not to fret with his collar and sleeves. He's heard the stories. He might have lucked out with Bobby as his Captain, but he's had drill sergeants like this Gerrard guy, and the performance anxiety is real.

“Firefighter Diaz.”

“Yessir.”

“Please come through.”

“Yessir.”

He follows obediently, his hands clasped behind his back in some kind of attention pose he isn't even deliberately aware of knowing how to do. The rest of them will take the piss out of him later, he's sure.

The doors close behind him.

The waiting resumes.

Chimney bounces a knee.

“They're doing this on purpose, you know,” he mutters, not quite to himself. “To make us sweat. I'm playing right into their hands.”

“I don't get it,” Hen muses, turning their situation over in her head. “I thought we were in the clear. No credit, no crime, right?”

Tommy shrugs. “You know how it is. Sometimes the brass likes to have their cake and eat it to.”

“I guess.” Hen sighs. “I'm sorry, guys. Let me talk to them. I meant it when I said I didn't want any of this to blow back on you – especially you, Tommy.”

“Hey.” He shakes his head, and waves her off. “I throw in, I'm all in.”

“Yeah,” Chim agrees. “We're in this together. Spartacuses. Spartaci? Although... I'd like to state for the record that per to the Geneva Convention I can't be held responsible for anything I may or may not say under duress.”

Hen all but rolls her eyes at him. Geneva Convention or no – and she's almost certain that particular one is a no - she's been locked up with the man and forced to watch him flatline repeatedly and he still figured out how to help save them both. There's not a force in this world that would make him throw her under the bus.

“It's gonna be okay, Chim,” she promises. Even squeezes his hand, for good measure.

But this time, the door opens too quickly. Maybe Gerrard is doing it just to mess with them after all. Still no Buck. No Eddie.

“Firefighter Han,” the bailiff-type beckons.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and mutters quickly as he stands-

“Tell Maddie I love her, show Jee Yun pictures of my face!”

Then, with a dull BOOM!, the doors are closed again.

And then there are two.

Hen hangs her head. Lets out a breath.

Tommy lets his fall back against the wall.

After a while, they switch.

Tommy's head drops forward, resting on his hands resting on his elbows resting on his knees. He rubs circles on his own knuckles. Hen stretches her feet out in front of her, tips her head back and closes her eyes. She even tries Eddie's jello thing. She's never really been much of a jello person though, honestly, so instead, she copes by breaking the silence.

“What about you then, Kinard? Ever been court martialled?”

“No,” he says. “Although, I did get a summary once.”

“What for?”

“Conduct unbecoming.”

He looks up, and there's a glint of mischief in his eye that tells her exactly what kind of conduct. Hen's jaw slackens.

“No way. Team Jacob, huh?”

“Taylor Lautner? Please. I'm only a man.” He laughs and shakes his head. “Honestly, I didn't think much of it at the time. I mean, I got scared straight for sure - Got a slap on the wrist, a lot of hoo ha about an other than honourable discharge, so I pulled my head in. But I also figured, plenty of straight guys have 'experiences' on tour. Took me a while to put the pieces together.”

“How'd you figure it out? I mean without a hot pilot boyfriend of your own to sweep you off your feet.” “Ha, ha.” He fixes her with a meaningful gaze, and smiles. “Actually, I got yelled at by this really brave black lesbian firefighter. You could say she inspired me to do some introspection.”

“Yeah, well. We do have that effect on people.”

She is definitely not blushing and even more definitely not thinking about that time she cried in front of him. It's the last thing she needs, when the doors open again and he nods and disappears and then she's alone.

Then again, she thinks, maybe it's not the worst thing she could be thinking about. Gerrard used to have so much power over her. Over her mood. Over how she spent her day. What is she doing, giving him another day of her life? Sure, part of her is terrified and drenched in guilt that she's very possibly single-handedly ended the careers of most of her closest friends. But the other part of her – the bigger part, and only growing as she gives voice to it – knows she hasn't single-handedly done a thing, and that she would have just as soon thrown her lot in with any of them if they'd asked, or even if they hadn't. She's abseiled a collapsing bridge with them; been shot at; been kidnapped; put her life, her wife's life in their hands; held theirs in hers. She's sung in front of most of them; subjected them to her cooking; they've born witness to her tears and to her happy dances more times than she can count. At the end of the day, she has no regrets. So she's feeling a lot stronger by the time those doors open for her.

She takes a deep breath and strides forward, and notices straight away that the air in here is – weird.

It's not just Gerrard, there's several officials and even the Fire Chief. Bobby isn't here. He probably isn't allowed to be, as both the subject of the illicit rescue and Captain of the accused, so it's not surprising, but the absence of his steady presence rooting for her stings. These guys? It feels like they're all laughing at her. Like they're in on something she doesn't know – like maybe how delicious Gerrard is finding it that he gets to deliver the final blow. He was the one who gave her her badge after all, albeit reluctantly. It's weirdly fitting that he be the one to take it away. Although. She'd expected him to look a lot happier about it.

“Firefighter Wilson.”

“Captain Gerrard.”

“Is it true that on the evening of April 6 2024 to the morning of April 7 2024 you aided and abetted the appropriation of city resources including but not limited to rostered firefighters, radar technology, and an LAFD helicopter to conduct an unauthorised rescue operation on the cruise ship Ocean Joy?”

“Yes.”

“Your friends tell me you masterminded the operation.”

Deep breaths, Wilson. You knew this was coming.

“It was my idea. The others, they were just helping me follow a hunch. I take full responsibility.”

Gerrard gives a loud, pointed sigh. She can't figure out if he's impressed or thinks she's bullshitting him. Maybe both.

“Some hunch,” he says.

She clenches her jaw as she watches the man come down from the tribunal table. He takes his time on his way to her and she tries to keep looking straight ahead, like it doesn't matter to her what intention is glistening behind those beady shark eyes. He's getting so close now that he could just about rip the badge straight off her chest. Is that what's about to happen? To nearly twenty years of her life? She braces herself. Holds her breath. Mustn't let him see her cry.

He holds out a piece of paper. She blinks down at it.

“What's this?”

Her knees are numb but hold her up somehow nonetheless as she takes the paper and unfolds it.

PROUD TO PRESENT – HENRIETTA WILSON – with the MEDAL OF VALOUR

“I...”

Am I dreaming?

She blinks. Stammers. Looks around.

“What??”

[dangerously-human]

3, 26, 50 for the writer ask game :)

Thank you for your patience, I know I took forever to answer all of these but this one took even longer because I decided to indulge myself with ALL the details and that was a time-consuming genuine delight. 😅

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

I am a big fan of playing with metaphor and challenging myself with defined structure. Years ago, I wrote a Continuum fic (Still Here) with POV from every character in the story, with the swaps happening in a sort of chain based on who the characters interacted with - Dillon talks to Carlos, then we're in Carlos's POV until he thinks about Garza, then we're with Garza until she picks a fight with Emily, and so on - all looking at the same theme of how Kiera returning to her time left a hole that deeply affects everyone she left behind. Love giving myself a theme to work around, like chapters in developing relationship fic each based on a color of the rainbow. As is probably quite apparent, I enjoy writing "five times/things" fics and drabbles, and combining the two. Sometimes I go a step further and do the variations on a theme thing for five interconnected drabbles, like the Sparky five senses series. I like giving myself a challenge with fanfiction so it still feels like I'm growing my writing skills, even though a lot of things come easier than with original works.

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

Easy, I write fics sans dialogue all the time. I do really enjoy dialogue and I think I've improved my ability to write it a lot, but introspection is still where I thrive.

50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

Oh goodie, love this question! I'm going to answer 29: What songs would be (or are) on a playlist for [Here's a Safe Place to Lay Your Heart Down]? Explain your choices if you want!

I never used to be the kind of writer who had separate playlists for individual projects (outside of the occasional original work), just one massive playlist for the fandom. It's been a fun way to focus on some of the more effort-heavy, long-term WIPs! Here's the one for the ring fic:

The Graduate - The Arcadian Wild: The bittersweetness of growing up and your perspective shifting so you see the world as it truly is, for better and worse simultaneously. "When you were younger, you dreamed of being tall, but you discovered growing up just leaves you feeling small" / "Failing is fruitful, so long as we do not forget to move" / "We are wandering through the wild, we are wondering when not if we'll reach the other side... When we were ever alone? Together we'll make our way home"

Anomaly - Angels & Airwaves: Lockwood crush angst! "I never wanted to say how much I liked you, I never wanted to be one of your sad discoveries" - not feeling worthy of Lucy

Dark Mirage - Matthew Parker, HIDDEN EYES: Lockwood struggling and Lucy feeling helpless. "I don't possess the power to drive off the darkness that's haunting you, I pray the truth gets louder" - Felt fitting for the wallowing portions of this fic, considering Lockwood vastly overestimates his negative effect on Lucy. Also like... this level of angst is exactly what Lockwood is terrified of inflicting on Lucy, it's not actually like this but he's worried it could be if he's not constantly on high alert (which is what Lucy tells him she's willing to do if he ever needs it)

Taxi Cab - Twenty One Pilots: Ooh, this one hits hard on so many Lockwood & Co levels. "I wanna fall inside your ghost and fill up every hole inside my mind, and I want everyone to know that I am half a soul divided" is just such a good way to showcase Lockwood's growth, from the soul divided being between life and death to being part of a whole (with Lucy). The repetition of "don't be afraid" throughout a lyrical story that is so Lockwood all over just. Argh, it's very very hard for me to put this one into words. Like how the "don't be afraid" could at first be giving up but then it's a promise not to. And it gets at the same idea as the books do with Lockwood as both Christ figure and the one saved ("and then I asked them, am I alive and well or am I dreaming dead? And then one turned around to say, we're driving toward the morning sun, where all your blood is washed away and all you did will be undone"). There's a lot of imagery here I associate with the Other Side and the return, and so I connect it with Lockwood sort of dying and, upon symbolic resurrection, choosing a new life that involves opening himself up to Lucy... Ugh, yeah, this one's harder to explain, it just means a LOT to me

Hot Tea - half•alive: Obsessed with this as Lockwood being pathetically in love, tbh ("Wanna be here ar your door 12am and sleeping on your porch until you get in, looking into your eyes endlessly, crawling into your lap desperately"), and "can't afford to lose you any longer" fits very well for the canon era chapter, but also just the warmth of belonging to each other ("Hold you in my hands like hot tea, knowing I'm safe 'cause you want me")? That is always the Locklyle vibe I'm going for, but especially in this fic. Also the line "sip you through my front teeth" makes me think of Lockwood and his blue whale thing, hahaha

Spiders - Bear's Den: I will eventually come back to write the spiders symbolism kidfic that slots in later in this series, which is the only reason I did not end up using these lyrics for this fic despite it fitting the vibe so well. (Love, I'm Trying had at least three WIPs competing to use it as a title for a while there.) But, yeah, the whole thing with spiders as indicative of a haunting lends extra power to this one in an L&Co context, with lines like "I can't take back all the hurt I've caused, everything I love I have somehow lost, it's four in the morning abd the spiders are crawling in my mind, replaying pictures of all I can't undo, love, I'm trying, but I can't oull myself when the darkness comes" - and that being when Lockwood has to learn to go to Lucy, because that's what they do for each other, they pull each other out when they can't do it alone

Rain Clouds - The Arcadian Wild: The growth! While usually I associate this song more with Lucy, it does still work for Lockwood and the guilt he carries, moving from "I'm being shadowed by my past, reminding me of what I was and what I could become" to a sort of conversation of "I need someone to be my guide, listen to my voice, close your frightened eyes, hide behind my love for you, fear's only a choice, one that we all must make someday"

BREAKFAST - half•alive: Chosen as the title source for good reason; this song is all about vulnerability and the mortifying ordeal of being known, and practicing embracing the safety of leaving your heart in someone else's hands - starting out feeling reluctant and even panicky at the idea of openness ("I fled to the walls, yeah, be sure I'm surrounded, where no one can find me") to fighting your instincts and opening up no matter how hard it is, and being met with the reassurance of being seen and loved in all your complexity ("say you're open through tears and trembling, it's a major step, it's okay to fret, here's a safe place to lay your heart down"), and the reminder that messing up doesn't mean you've broken the relationship irreparably ("it's a second chance, it won't be your last"), which is a message Lockwood really needs to hear from Lucy in this fic, as they repeat old patterns with new endings

Lifeline - Angels & Airwaves: The forgiveness and gentleness Lucy offers Lockwood - "We all make mistakes, here's your lifeline"

Your Burden is Mine - Sarah Sparks, Kenny Komatsu: The doing life together part, a reminder that it's pride that intereferes with letting love in - "Don't spare me from anything, your burden is mine" / "Careful, my brother, there on your own, for it is a fool who suffers alone, there's none self-sufficient, only those who try, so swallow your pride, your burden is mine"

TrusT - half•alive: Ooh, this song absolutely messes me up re: redemption, and also unchanging adoration/stability even in the midst of conflict. Lockwood needs to hear it from a romantic relationship perspective ("rest and know the love you hold won't be taken back, no, how sweet the taste of certainty, the gift you gave is safe with me"), but it hits hard for me from a Christian theology perspective - and isn't that just the surprise theme of this fic, the ways marriage is meant as an echo of Christ's love for his bride, the Church. Also fits really well for this in-between space they find themselves in as they have an answer for the Problem yet are still working on the solution ("the tug of war in the now-not-yet... can you tell me why I feel this way? I have faith that the world I'm in will be redeemed again, but there's a weight that I can't explain, so tell me why I feel this way"), which I think is a tension in the background of most of my work in this particular series

The Kitchen - Tow'rs: For the imagery of dancing together in the kitchen as a way of making amends after a fight - "You made me dance in the kitchen with you, if I was the night then you were the moon"

What Home Feels Like - The Afters: Gosh this song is so CUTE, and that is the Locklyle vibe! Just the idea of finding home and belonging with the person you love - "There is no place I'd rather be for the first time in my life, I know what home feels like" / "No, I never wanna leave, 'cause I've found where I belong, this is what home feels like"

Let's Get Married - Bleachers: This is THE love post-trauma song, and fits the warmth of 35 Portland Row so well along with Lucy and Lockwood promising to make it work even when it's crazy hard, because they recognize where they're a little broken but they also believe building a life together is worth it

[fyeahiwatarikei]

Shipping Hiwatari Kei - A non-exhaustive menu

Feat. Fugitivehues' beautiful art ♥ ♦ ♠ ♣

Obsession

“This is why I have always hated you.”

Love art deeply and I'll love you more, because you're the most talented being in this world and do I love beautiful things. Of course, you create for a reason, so having someone inconditionally support you through the agonising ordeal of manifesting ideas can be a relief. You can doubt, you can give up, you can cry your eyes out because this is it, you cannot go on anymore, but I will hold you until it stops and give you the means to overcome all obstacles. Your art is worth it. You are worth it.

Bitterly, you can feel the other side of that coin: that support can be... is suffocating. You do need a break from time to time. You do need someone getting mad at you for acting so whimsical. But I won't, which is almost terrifying.

No one will stop you if you ever go too far.

Worse, I'll shield you, destroy myself if I must. Then what? What can you do?

What else could you do? It was entirely your fault, you thought.

But I won't ever hate you.

Exception

“She felt no love, equally, for any work of art. [...] Therefore, I had been able to love her.”

Not only is that Hikari unlike any other, but part of her particularity is that she is unable to destroy him, so he doesn't have to watch himself around her. Thus, he is able to love her at all and indulge in the wonderful pain of never being appreciated back! Flawless. Dreamy. That angst is delicious, and it's canon! Anyone'd wish to see their fave tortured like this.

Besides, not only is she perfectly safe to have around, but she comes up with the best art collab ideas! No other Hikari has suggested this before and it's messed up: his motivation hasn't been higher in decades. (I refuse to believe he only participated out of sheer love and not because it was crazy and new!) Somewhere in the process, it was even decided that he'd have to pass as human, going as far as getting a job and giving up on the role he's been playing for centuries, for Satoshi's sake. How peculiar! A new challenge for him! Well… another one. These never stop coming, with her.

Of course, we're talking about a tragic non-love story so she dies early and he dooms himself when telling the truth to their son. His survival has always been an afterthought, after all.

Bon appétit.

Devotion

“I cannot afford to lose you.”

Pick two characters and give them similar tastes: nerdy art lovers, rather absent and discreet men who, most importantly, would both die for their respective son. Now, make one eager to help everyone and the other manipulative. You have so many ways to make them meet and interact that there's barely any challenge.

Kosuke is canonically sweet, ready to reach a hand towards Satoshi, refusing to sit back and see the children suffer, how can we imagine he'd skip an opportunity to verify if maybe perhaps eventually Hiwatari Satoshi's father knows something and is eager to… lend a hand? Join the cause?

And is that powerful cop eager. And dangerous. An alliance would come with a beautiful dance of knowing the other knows that he knows yet refusing the drop the D word in conversations (not that one, silly, the one that jumps on rooves at night.) Testing waters, loyalty or skills, may it be during a museum visit, a friendly chat, an apparently innocent discussion about their families. And being pleasantly surprised every time? Until a betrayal or divergence occurs and… they're in too deep to do what they should have long ago: give up on this ridiculous, exhausting relationship.

A capable (?) policeman. An unbiased (?) Niwa. Both patient, mature men with mutual interests and a burning desire to find a solution. What else?

Normalcy

“I simply wanted to act like a ‘father’ would…”

What if your immortal character who's always been surrounded by extraordinary artists, witchcraft and cursed items decided to get an office job, with technology, gossips at the coffee machine, completely clueless people, the complete package in short? More: what if said clueless people were regularly exposed to part of the magic without any idea of how it works nor how to face it? And dealing with it more or less accidentally became their job? (What if the immortal character decided to not help them at all, too, because it's funny?)

Despite the comfort of being surrounded by familiar exceptions, the pressure can become overwhelming: Kei has always had to control himself, plan events in advance, keep an eye on the last Hikari who slowly decides to stop fighting… Can a relationship with a banal man (who potentially wants Satoshi safe, very sexy of him) be a relief? Fresh air in a life so far devoted to ungrateful, self-centered artists?

Saehara knows nothing. Saehara looks up to him (Debatable.) Saehara would jump if Kei told him to (Hugely debatable.) With him, the latter can pretend he is what he was supposed to be before canon changed its mind: a powerful man who just wants Dark captured.

A goal Saehara definitely shares. Alliance, then? With a mutual enemy, surely a dog and a fox can get along.

[sunofpandora]

Collision 🌀🌌

𝕊𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤: 𝕒 𝕤𝕟𝕚𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕒𝕟 𝕦𝕡𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕠’𝕒𝕜 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕀’𝕞 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 😍

I love neteyam.

But, I have a confession.

I’m a Lo’ak girl at heart.

Or maybe it’s just because I was also “the problem kid” or the “troublemaker” when I was a teen? (I always felt kinda out of place in my family because in truth I didn’t look anything like my siblings or parents) I don’t even think it’s because I'm attracted to him. I just love that kid so much. I just wanna wrap him into a blanket and protect him from everything. My little burrito 💙

I just wanna keep him safe and tell him everything is okay-

Give this kid some love!

I’ve been wanting to wirte a series for a long, LONG time. But I was afraid to write in other fandoms just because of judgement. But for some Eason I feel so safe In the avatar community, and I love this franchise so much. I thought, “hey, why not?”

So, I whipped up this sample of a Lo’ak story I had planned.

This is kinda like a ‘test drive’ so I’m looking for feedback.

Just to get a feel of what y’all would like to see in a story.

I’m thinking sun and moon romance trope (Lo’ak is the moon, reader is the sun), very fluffy, but a fair amount of angst, (DONT WORRY YALL I ALMOST ALWAYS TO HAPPY ENDINGS)

Lots of sully family shenanigans, lots of love from our fav sully siblings, maybe a little bit of ooc Lo’ak? Probably only because I’m just starting out I promise I’ll get better)

(I designed the cover myself. What Do we think? 😍)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Lo’ak sully swore Eywa played favorites.

And I know what you’re thinking, but I promise you it’s true.

Lo’ak was never really one to believe in forces beyond explanation.

Omens, angels, powers beyond his reach. And yet, his mind always wondered off the ground.

Lo’ak was a beastly child and a rebellious teenager, to the dismay of others. His fathers son. Much like his father, his heart spoke louder than his mind.

“Strong heart”. Those were the words his father had said Neytiri had spoken to him. The day they met. The day the stars aligned and two hearts disregarded the burdens of a cruel reality, and found a home within a war. Found intimacy through the most painful of grieving.

Lo’ak knew the stars would never align for him in such a way.

And how could they?

Put Lo’ak on a pedestal?

What had he done to deserve it?

He wasn't a cute, innocent “get away with murder” Tuktirey.

He wasn't sweet, sweet Kiri.

And he was rusted silver in contrast to the golden boy, Neteyam.

What stars would align for him?

And why?

At least, that’s what he thought.

Until her met her.

Lo’ak was 8 when he met y/n. An orphan taken in by a warrior and placed among the Omaticaya after the death of her mother and sister.

And for once in his life, Lo’ak knew the stars had aligned for him.

For you.

the sun set and rose with you, the stars danced across your face, sculpted by the celestial’ s themselves.

Lo’ak was drawn to her, and the reminiscence of the nostalgia in her eyes. I reminiscing in her laugh, bright enough to challenge the sun and the sky. The absence of the atonement of loneliness, in snowfall she claimed as stars, in the rainfall she affirmed carried ghosts that cherish the fragments of their lives within the darkness of the clouds, because the vexatious luminescent antagonist we claim to be sunlight, provides no sanctuary to a ghost.

Lo’ak had told the stars about her.

Her smile is a shield to the burdens of the world.

She is a puzzle piece of the universe, she belongs wherever her mind allows her.

She doesn’t feel the weight of where she stands, she’d rather pretend. She’ll pretend she’s in her flower field, tangling her fingers with the flowers, falling deaf to the insults of reality, dancing with atokirina,s under the miridical last salvageable stretches of a sunset.

She is composed of stories.

Captivating, euphonious stories.

The sun flirts with her eyes,

Have you ever tried to neglect what you love? Even if it’s existence is as binding as what you loathe.

Lo’ak wants nothing more on Pandora than to trace hands over her stories, her whispers, her flowers, her smile.

But would his hands taint the sun in her eyes?

Beautiful things must remain unscathed.

Nothing mattered when he was with her.

But she was beyond his reach.

[0shewrites0]

ALL YOUR LIES

S2 | Kassam/MC (Aaliyah in this case because it’s gonna be a chapter in Seamless) | 2500+ words | @0shewrites0

summary | The Islanders are nearing the end of the month, the couples are pretty much set by now, and what better time than to throw in a lie detector test to heat things up? Kassam and Aaliyah are having a blast, sparks are flying like crazy, but they're not there yet - they haven't admitted to each other that they have feelings for each other. And could there be more secrets just waiting to be revealed through this challenge?

prompt | my submission to the Lie Detector Challenge Prompt @litgwritersroom

what to expect | Angst. And more angst.

note | Maybe you won't understand all the references, but then you'll just have to read the whole fic. The first two chapters are already online and I plan to upload weekly.

quote | “Trust is like a mirror, you can fix it if it's broken, but you can still see the crack in that mother fucker's reflection.” - Lady Gaga

Aaliyah sat on the chair next to the lie detector in the Hideaway, the cables and electrodes attached to her and she was sweating like crazy. She knew she had nothing to hide, and yet she was afraid that she would get so worked up in her emotions that she would accidentally lie. She desperately wanted Kassam to trust her because she knew his trust was so fragile.

Noah smiled encouragingly at her, and that should have reassured her, but it didn't. It also didn't help that all the islanders were sitting in the lounge watching her closely. Especially Kassam with his intense, piercing gaze. Through the damn camera set up in the corner of the room to her left, she could basically feel his eyes on her, and it sent nervous shivers down her spine. She swallowed hard and nodded, "Just start."

And Noah did. "Kassam's first question to you is, 'Did you have feelings for Lucas?'" He looked up at her expectantly.

Aaliyah shook her head confidently and answered, "No."

The screen to her right flashed green and she could read the word 'truth' on it.

Noah gave her a thumbs up and she exhaled in relief. Maybe this wasn't so bad.

"Alright, next question, 'Did you really like me for myself from the beginning and not just for my fame?'"

And again, Aaliyah confidently answered, "Yes."

Of course she had liked him for himself. He had been so different and had immediately caught her attention. And now that she knew him - really knew him - how could she not like him that much more?

The screen flashed green again and Aaliyah hummed contentedly. But then Noah read Kassam's third question, and suddenly she knew she was fucked.

"'Are you still keeping your promise to tell me as soon as you fall in love with me?'"

Because no, she hadn't kept that promise. She had fallen in love with him and she was falling in love with him all over again every day. It had taken her such a long time to even admit that to herself. But to muster up the courage to tell him? That was a completely different story.

Why? She was afraid of falling in love with him without him falling in love with her too.

What if she had told him and he had hesitated for that split second, where you just knew? Where you knew everything you needed to know? She wouldn't have been able to cope with that. So she had thought it safer to keep it a secret. To enjoy their time together and not bring feelings into it.

That was always easier.

"Aaliyah?" Noah's soft voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she panicked. "Your answer?"

She nodded quickly and decided to do the only thing she could to hide her true feelings, hoping and praying to the gods that the polygraph wouldn't pick up on her lie. "Yes," she replied quietly, just barely resisting the urge to squeeze her eyes shut. She didn't want to see the result because she knew what was coming. And she knew that Kassam would know now, too.

And as predicted, the screen turned blood red and the three letters "L-I-E" literally screamed at her,

LIAR!

She felt her cheeks flushing and suddenly wanted to hide somewhere. Anywhere. She wanted to dissolve into vapour and just disappear. Her face burned and when she looked at Noah, he had raised an eyebrow as if silently accusing her of lying about something so important. But that was exactly why she had wanted to keep it to herself. Because it was that important and she wasn't ready to tell him. Or anyone, for that matter. She wasn't sure she could ever have told him, not without the certainty that he would say it back. That he had fallen for her just as hard.

She didn't dare look at the camera, so she averted her eyes and stared at her hands clenching in her lap.

Finally Noah cleared his voice and said, "You have two more questions. Are you ready?"

Aaliyah looked up in surprise. "What?"

Noah just nodded and began to read, "Lottie asks, 'Have you been faithful to Kassam all this time and not wanted to get with someone else?'"

Aaliyah just nodded dazedly and whispered, "Yes." Of course she had been loyal. There was no one here who could make her feel the way Kassam made her feel.

She barely noticed the screen turn green before Noah asked the last question. “Anonymous said, ‘If someone you once had feelings for came back into your life - would those feelings surface again and would you leave Kassam for that person?’”

Aaliyah frowned and stared at Noah in disbelief. Who would ask her such a question? She shook her head and answered firmly, "No. Absolutely not."

The screen flashed green one last time and she took a deep breath. Finally, this was over and done with.

Noah smiled at her, "Well done, Aaliyah." Then he nodded towards the door and said, "You can go now."

Relieved, Aaliyah disconnected the electrodes and stood up. She left the Hideaway and walked across the lawn to the kitchen where the other islanders, who had already answered their questions, were gathered around a small iPad watching everything that happened in that room. Marisol looked up as she approached and smiled reassuringly at her. As Aaliyah took a seat next to her, she murmured, "That was intense, huh?"

Aaliyah sighed and nodded, "You can say that again..."

Marisol put her hand on her back and rubbed it in even circles. Aaliyah knew her fingers were itching to ask the all-important question, but she kept her mouth shut, for which Aaliyah was very grateful. She was dreading the moment she had to speak to Kassam and she needed a few moments to collect her thoughts.

"Oh," Chelsea squeaked, pointing at the iPad, "Kassam is up now. Look, Lia!"

Aaliyah lifted her head and stared at the small screen, eager to see how he would do. As much as she was on a rollercoaster of emotions at the moment, it wasn't over yet. The questions she had prepared for him were just as intense.

Noah read the first question out loud. “Aaliyah wants to know, ‘Was it your original plan to make me fall in love with you, only to dump me right after the show?’”

They hadn't talked about it, but it only made sense because he had told her he had wanted to prove that Love Island's concept of finding love on a reality TV show was all wrong. She wasn't surprised when he answered “yes” and the screen turned green. It wasn't in Kassam's nature to lie. Not about something so important.

“About something so important.”

The thought flashed through her like a lightning bolt and she winced. But she had done it - she had lied about 'something so important' and she felt terrible about it.

"Next question: 'Is that still your plan?'"

Kassam didn't even hesitate and answered firmly, "No." He seemed as cool and calm as ever, and if her lie had upset him, he didn't let on. Aaliyah admired that, but her heart started beating a little faster when the screen turned green again, which could only mean that he liked her.

Right?

Maybe he had even fallen in love with her? She nibbled her bottom lip and thought, That just means he's not playing with me, doesn't it? At least he doesn't want to hurt me, and why should he care if not because he really likes me?

She thought of all the times she had noticed this softness in his voice that he normally didn't have and only showed when he was talking to her. It gave her a fuzzy feeling inside and warmed her so much.

Noah's voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she focused on what he was saying. "'Was there any other reason why your last relationship destroyed you like that, besides her cheating on you?'"

Oh yeah... She couldn't help feeling that Kassam hadn't told her the whole truth. She knew that his ex had been cheating on him with one of his best mates for quite a while and that when he had broken up with her, she had told him that she had stopped loved him for a long time too. Aaliyah knew how much that had hurt him and how it had led to him not believing in love anymore. That he no longer wanted to love or even be loved. But she sensed that wasn't all there was. There was a piece of the puzzle missing and she felt she had a right to know.

Kassam hesitated for a moment before slowly nodding his head, only confirming what Aaliyah had already suspected.

There is another reason...

She looked at his face, his angsty eyebrows and cold eyes, and she knew that whatever it was - it was big. Huge, even.

But she couldn't think about it any further because Noah spoke up again. "There are three more questions. One from Lottie and two anonymous ones."

Kassam only raised her eyebrows, but signalled him to continue.

"Lottie wants to know, 'When you said my name at the beginning of Casa Amor - basically telling me you fancied me - did you mean it?'"

Aaliyah raised an eyebrow as well. Casa Amor had been so long ago, why did she even bother? Was it just because she couldn't believe Kassam had chosen Aaliyah over her? She shook her head in disbelief. She was with Gary now and they seemed happy. Right?

When she looked at Gary out of the corner of her eye, he had a frown on his face and a sour expression. "Why does she even care..." he muttered to himself and Graham patted him consolingly on the shoulder. But Gary just snorted, snatched Graham's hand away and hissed, "I don't need your pity."

Aaliyah turned her attention back to the iPad and watched as Kassam shook his head. If she looked closely, she could see the corners of his mouth twitch and she couldn't stop a smug grin from spreading across her face.

"And that's... the truth," Noah commented, nodding at Kassam.

"Next question, 'Did you have a sex dream about someone other than Aaliyah at any point in the villa?'"

Kassam snorted, "Who asked that?"

Noah shrugged, "Doesn't say. It's anonymous."

Kassam scoffed. "Yeah, no, I know exactly who asked that. Someone can't help but keep calling me out on my supposedly bad fuckboy habits, am I right, Hope?" He turned his head to stare at the camera and Aaliyah's grin widened even more. She could just imagine Hope's face turning so red she would need a cooling shower.

"Then watch me tell you the truth once and for all," Kassam continued, still staring into the camera, "No, I did not have a sex dream about anyone other than Lia."

Immediately the screen flashed green, but Kassam didn't even look at it.

He looked so sure of himself that it made Aaliyah's stomach heat up. Not that she had ever doubted him, but to have it confirmed by him once again was hot.

Heat crept up her cheeks and she bit her lip. Marisol noticed and nudged her teasingly, "You're a lucky girl, babe."

Aaliyah chuckled and shrugged nonchalantly.

Noah cleared his throat, at which Kassam tilted his head in his direction.

"Okay, here's the last question. Again from anonymous. ‘If your ex came back to you and said she was sorry and wanted you back and that she still loved you - would you consider giving her another chance?’”

Something in Kassam's demeanour changed. His eyes became hollow - almost numb - and his jaw tightened.

And Aaliyah couldn't help but wonder, Who knows about his ex? After all, he only told me!

"No," he groaned out through clenched teeth, and it sounded hard and determined. But Aaliyah couldn't help noticing the insecurity that resonated in his voice. He didn't sound as confident and sure now as he had seconds before. And when the screen turned red and she knew he had lied, her heart sank.

Lie. It's a lie.

Chelsea gasped audibly and gave Aaliyah a look that made her heart tighten painfully.

No, no, no, no. This can't be true!

But when she looked at the iPad again, the screen was still red. Especially now that he basically knew she had fallen in love with him because she had involuntarily told him through the lie detector, it hurt.

Her fear of not being loved back turned into sheer panic and her body began to shake uncontrollably. Her fingers felt frozen and she could no longer move. When she tried to draw in a breath, it sounded more like a pathetic sob. Everyone around her turned to look at her - sympathy and pity were etched on their faces - but that only made her want to retch. She was staring at the small screen in front of her again when she noticed Kassam look up in shock and turn his head to look back at the camera. It felt like he was looking her straight in the eye, and the look he gave her sent a chill down her spine. His eyes looked panicked, almost haunted - like a deer caught in the headlights of a car at night - but he also looked genuinely shocked and confused. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Then he jerked his head around and snapped at Noah, "What do you mean it's a lie? There's no way in hell I'd give her another chance!"

His voice sounded upset and seriously pissed off, but Noah just shook his head weakly and muttered, "I'm afraid that's exactly what it says."

For a moment Kassam just stared at him, but it seemed more like he was staring right through him, then he got up from his seat, ripped the electrodes off his body and slowly walked out of the room. Aaliyah shuddered as she realised she had never seen him so angry. The way he had powerfully but calmly ripped off the wires and strode so elegantly out of the room was alarming. Because she knew how much he could freak out and how loud he could get - he had shown it with Lucas. But this was different now. He was eerily quiet. Too quiet. And she knew what people were saying - you can tell how dangerous a person is by the way they quietly hold in their anger.

She shuddered again, but froze abruptly as she realised that he was only so angry because he had realised that he could try to fool her, but never a lie detector. The polygraph had called him out, and now there was no turning back. Her vision blurred and her eyes welled up with tears.

Was this it? Did they even stand a chance? Had they ever had one?

[reddrakebird]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN!

Fill in this form to let your RP partners know your preferences in terms of writing. Knowing your partners better makes figuring out the kind of interaction you can have with each other easier! Repost, don't reblog.

name: Sev

preference of communication: tumblr ims, inbox, I am selective on who gets my discord. 

name of muse(s): Timothy Drake

best experience: Getting asked and venturing into trying a new muse was an honor. I had seen Tim being played by a few others and admired him from afar, but I have always been more drawn to darker muses, so this was a bit of a challenge for me since I did not know a lot about him when I started out. Everyone was patient. @prettysuper has been there to support me when I felt I was not grasping him well, and we ended up creating a pretty amazing story of our own that I just adore and am always excited to explore <3. The community is pretty awesome and I am so grateful for them accepting a newb like me to tumblr play! Dash games when everyone gets into it is the best thing I have ever seen here.

rp pet peeves/deal breakers: Ignoring my character unless it was talked about as part of the dynamic. If my character took the time to address yours so they could invest in the conversation and there is no response back, it irks me as a writer who also took the time to think about that post and how to insert them into the scene. I do not have many deal breakers, but I am not a fan of someone assuming that my character is a sure way purely by Comics. I get it, this is a character that is not an original and was established, but the point of us being here is to write our own versions where DC has numerously fucked up stories for their own cowardness. Ask, I love answering. Or simply interact and learn! 

fluff, angst, or smut: All, fucking BONUS if you can mingle all three into a scene -sips tea- I am a heavy investor in realism when it comes to playing, and shit gets messy in real life; it should in rp too. Fluff should have some interruptions, angst should have a teary smile or ignorance, smut should have failure to actually have sex after trying or a good time turning sad because of a trigger or insecurity. Real people go through this, so should characters. It really adds layers to them that start to make a uniqueness. 

plots or memes: memes. I love plots, but sometimes I am a bit burned out. Memes are something I always enjoy and throw around on Dash!

long or short replies: Long are favored. I enjoy having a lot to work with and do not mind the rambling of another writer so long as it is viable things and not bullshit for the sake of length. Short are great for days when our brains go ‘wut’ but we want interaction or a distraction. It was really hard to come to Tumblr from an RPG form where people wrote seven paragraphs to see people doing one-liners here. I am used to it now, even do it myself but it was def an adjustment!

best time to write: Any. Seriously, I am always around. Now my favorite time to write is at 2am when everyone in the house is quiet, I can put my headphones on and turn the music up loud as hell to just vanish into the scene. 

are you like your muse: HAHAHA no. Absolutely not. Well, we share Autism aspects, but this version ended up sensitive and sad in a way due to putting the background of therapy heavily on him. My characters have a funny way of taking the wheel and developing themselves after I give them snippets of myself to have a connection so I can move them around. Tim is nothing like me. HOWEVER, his boyfriend, Kon, is a good deal like me. Shameless, loud, no fucks to give, protective. So it is hella wild to try and play a character who dates someone with a lot of similar traits like myself. (I am so sorry to all my exs but you all knew what you were getting into)

Tagged:  @1mpulsee

Tagging: any!!

[nekoannie-chan]

It’s blue inside

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 1070 words.

Summary: Steve never imagined how lost he would be when you disappeared as a result of the Snap.

Warnings: Angst, sadness, but I promise it has a happy ending.

A/N: This is my entry to @until-theend-oftheline​’s Tell me a story challenge:

“Demons by Imagine Dragons”

@saiyanprincessswanie​

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou​ @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad​ @navybrat817​  @angrythingstarlight​ @shield-agent78​ @charmed-asylum​ @pandaxnienke​  @real-fbi​ @smokeandnailz​  @white-wolf1940​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @xoxonotme​ @bluemusickid​ @leyannrae​  @harrysthiccthighss​ @marvelatthisone​ @hallecarey1​ @caplanbuckybarnes​ @nana1000night​

The morning had been very quiet. You still have not had your first mission as a married couple. However, everything changed when the chaos Thanos was causing began.

After an arduous battle, you lost. For the first time in your lives, you lost to the enemy. You were in shock, watching as Bucky disappeared after Thanos snapped. However, suddenly you felt a warm surge running through your body. You looked down and understood what was going on. You tried to call Steve, but your voice didn't come out. You didn't want to leave without saying goodbye to him. When you looked up, he was also seeing you. You've never seen a look with so much terror in it.

"Steve..."

"Y/N, calm down, everything will be fine, everything will be fine, I prom...," he dropped to his knees.

Things were not to happen that way. You were barely a month into getting married, as well as a week away from your honeymoon. Now Steve didn't know what to do. You had so many plans, it wasn't fair what was happening.

Both had promised that you would have a quieter life, that you would occasionally go on missions, but most of all, that you would enjoy the rest of your lives together. What had happened, ruined all his plans, should never have happened.

Steve Rogers was angry with the situation. He waited so long to find his ideal partner, to get to know you, to find out that you were the love of his life. After you had finished with Thanos, discovering that there was no way you could undo what happened, Steve began to lose interest in the missions, very rarely going with what was left of the rest of the team; somehow he was moving away from others.

Sometimes it seemed as if Natasha, Clint, Tony, and the others had already resigned themselves to what had happened and continued with their lives as if it had never happened.

That snap ruined Steve Rogers' life. Maybe I will never be the same man I was in the past again, not without you.

Steve's nights were now lonely and seemed eternal to him, just as the days. He had lost the two most important people in his life. It didn't matter that the others were still there; the feeling of loneliness and sadness did not leave him.

It didn't seem fair to him at all. He had practically lost everything. He had finally found happiness, and then that happened.

He preferred to be alone since almost everything reminded him of you. He felt guilty for not having fulfilled his promise to protect you and be with you forever. I had no idea how to fix what happened or how to recover.

Despite everything, he could not get used to the fact that this would be the rest of his life. He refused to accept it. He did not care if he had to sell his soul to the Devil himself if he could save you.

The last five years had become a great void of darkness for him. Even the others said that he seemed more taciturn and less like the Steve they knew, but what they did not understand was that you were the reason for his happiness. However, when Scott told them what happened to him, hope began to invade Steve. Maybe he couldn't help much with the technology part, but he started fixing everything to help you in the adaptation process when you came back, just as you had done with him when he woke up from the ice.

I also counted the days and hours until I saw you again. Somehow they were going to make up for a lost time, so everything would be as before. Even the others were a little puzzled by Steve's sudden change in behavior, mostly because they weren't sure if what they were about to do would work.

Steve held his breath when he saw that they were starting to come back. He could feel how tears began to accumulate in his eyes. However, he held back. First, he needed to confirm that all that was really happening was not a dream like the many he had had while sleeping.

"Steve?" you asked in confusion. You looked around and several things looked different. You suspected that something had happened, but you weren't sure what. Steve ran to hug you. It was as if he was afraid that you were going to disappear. Steve, what happened?

"Nothing, now everything is fine. I assure you; that everything is fine. "Something like this will not happen again, I promise you," Steve whispered without letting go.

Once they arrived at his home, Steve explained in detail everything that had happened since the moment the decimation occurred. As he told you, you were dumbfounded. You remembered the feeling and then darkness, but even when you came back, you thought you had fainted or something. You looked closely at Steve's face. Yes, it felt a little different. He smiled with a little sadness, and you took his face in your hands and kissed him.

"We can go on our second honeymoon," Steve proposed.

"Steve, we barely have a month of... oh, I've missed all our anniversaries."

Don't worry, we still have a lot of time and we're going to enjoy it. If you want to travel all over the world, I don't mind retiring from the Avengers, from the missions... "

"Steve, we need our jobs."

"Yes... Well... Well, we will do what you want. With you I am happy. If you want us to go on missions, we will. If you want us to travel, so it will be. "

"Steve, shut up," you replied. You still couldn't process everything that had happened, nor did you feel able to make any decision about something yet. It was very difficult to understand what happened. You closed your eyes and pressed your temples with your fingers. You were trying to understand the situation.

"Are you okay?" He was approaching you. He wasn't going to let something happen to you. He didn't want to lose you again. He knew he wouldn't stand it.

"I'm fine," you replied, opening your eyes and smiling. I'm trying to understand what happened. By the way, I love you, Steve. "

He replied, "I love you more," and he kissed you.