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yeeterthek33per · 21 days

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Two's Company, Three's A Crowd, Four And Five Say Let Chaos Reign (Katrina Gorry x Reader)

A/n Requested. Part three to Missing Toddlers and Mayhem :) Will Edit later, cause I'm at work atm y'all.

(Y'all this took me so long freaking long to write like 😭)

Content/Warning(s): mildly suggestive, warning you now, it does get a little itty bit spicy. Harper, Kyra, R, and Chacha ganging up on Katrina.

Hot Stuff❤️🥵

"So do I get to know where we're going or are we doing a surprise again, because the last time we did this, I got my butt kicked on a public beach."

Katrina🔥❤️

"If I recall correctly, that was your fault, Miss L/n."

Katrina🔥❤️

"Also, no 😘"

Hot Stuff❤️🥵

"I don't recall going into this knowing you were a professional slide tackler😫"

Katrina🔥❤️

"Could have left the gear in the boot and never mentioned it. You should know us footballers are legally obligated to accept rondo challenges 😜"

Hot Stuff❤️🥵

"☹️"

Katrina🔥❤️

"Turn that frown upside down, Babe😊"

Hot Stuff❤️🥵

"🙃"

Katrina🔥❤️

"Smartass🙄"

Katrina🔥❤️

"But close enough."

Katrina🔥❤️

"Just be ready by 12, I'll be there soon😘"

Hot Stuff ❤️🥵

"Of course, see you soon, Gorgeous😘"

Hot Stuff ❤️🥵

"Wait"

Hot Stuff ❤️🥵

"What do I wear??"

Katrina🔥❤️

"Hike meets cozy casual😘"

Hot Stuff ❤️🥵

"Got it, thanks, Cutie😘"

You'd been talking non stop in the days between the last time you'd seen each other in person.

Over the phone, via text, even a facetime at some point, where Harper managed to sneak in and say a very happy hello to you.

The little girl manages to bring a massive smile to your face every time Katrina talks about her.

There was always a smile on your face lately, or so your sister had pointed out just yesterday.

"I swear that woman's got you glued to your phone, dorky little smile and everything."

"Leave me alone, Ash." You whine.

A soft rap on your door lifts your head from your current position of smiling over your phone.

You really need to stop proving her point.

Ashley opens the door, a small smirk already on her face making you roll your eyes.

"Can I help you?"

"It's date time soon, why are you not ready?"

"How would you know what-"

"You told me yesterday, all dreamy eyed. Geez, she got you hypnotised too now?"

You huff.

"Whatever, why are you in here?"

"Because you're being awfully quiet about this Kat and I'm worried, because you haven't said a word about who she is or what she does."

"I haven't been murdered, I'm fine, you can stop grilling, nor are you grilling her when she gets here."

"I have to do my sisterly duties, now hurry up and get ready or else I'll have longer with her because you're running late for your date."

Glancing at the clock on your wall, she's right, it's about forty or so minutes before Katrina is due.

Standing up, you shoo the woman out of your room and quickly jump into the shower, grabbing out a pair of hiking pants, a simple short sleeve shirt and a light blue denim jacket.

By the time you're out of the shower dressed and touching up your hair, there's a knock at the door downstairs.

You fire down them, shoving your sister, who's racing you to the door, away.

As smoothly as you can, you open the door with a warm smile.

Katrina's warm smile greets your own.

She's beautiful as ever and you tell her as such, the long sleeve jacket almost matching your own except she's in shorts and sneakers and a light pink button up underneath it.

"Hey, Beautiful."

You step out the door to greet the shorter woman, arms wrapping around her, her leaning up into you, hands settling on your shoulder blades.

"Hi, Cutie."

You pout softly as she goes to pull away, and then she chuckles meeting your demands with her own lips.

Humming softly in appreciation, you squeeze her waist.

"You ready?"

Nodding, you go to shut the door behind you, keys, phone, wallet and water bottle already with you.

Of course, Ashley decides now is the perfect time to pop out, only, she pauses, surprise on her expression.

"Well... I was going to do the whole sisterly, bring her back by ten talk but... I don't need to. You two have fun!"

And with that, she slams the door behind you, giving you a loving tap to the butt.

Katrina looks confused, matching your own bewilderment at your sisters actions.

"I'm gonna be honest, I have no idea what that was."

You cough into your palm, covering a half laugh.

"Anyway, continuing on. Are we good to go?"

She nods, grabbing you by the hand, leading you to the car parked in your driveway.

Clipping in, she reverses out and starts driving off in the direction of the northern exit from the outer city, a drive you know well enough, having gone this way quite a few times.

She leans over and hands you a black cable, winking at you from her spot in the driver's seat.

"Passenger princess duties are all yours."

The cheeky grin makes you roll yours playfully with a small huff.

"Sure, babe."

Switching to some music you'd both listened to that Saturday night, your hand settles in hers across the console as you hit the highway.

"So, do I get to know, yet?"

"Nope."

It's short, the little smile on her lips doing little to mask the amusement in her tone, her brow quirking a little at the pout on your face.

"Patience."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Making a joking salute, you start to hum along to the radio, thumb caressing across the back of her hand.

She huffs, shaking her head but gives your hand a squeeze anyway.

The drive isn't overly long, no longer than any of the trips you've taken, about forty-five minutes on the road.

You feel like you almost recognise the roads she's taking but a right turn far before anything else comes up on the forested roads throws you a curveball.

Normally you'd been one of the more observant travellers on these roads, however, it seems you'd never paid the tiny dirt road any mind before now.

The greenery, denser than when you'd entered the little driveway, started to part into a small dirt and gravel alcove, to which Katrina pulls in, parking in front a small wooden bollard that lines the alcove.

There's dense green directly in front of you that splits into a small dirt and gravel path which disappears off to the right in a slow curve.

Reaching across the console, she taps your leg with a small grin.

"Hope you brought your hiking legs."

Scoffing, you nudge the woman and basically bounce out of the car in the face of her challenge.

"Damn right I did."

It starts off fairly easy, a basic hiking path for anyone, not much change in altitude but then it starts to increase, and you find yourself falling into the familiar rhythm that you love when it comes to hiking.

If you'd said that to your teenage self, she would've cried at the mention of cardio.

Katrina, it seems, falls into the same familiar feeling, the mild sweat from the hike mixing but also the complete relaxation in her stance as she moves beside you, ahead of you in smaller sections of the path and behind you as you move ahead to crest the more difficult bits first as a precautionary.

It's the first time you really fall into an understanding that someone else gets.

There's a peacefulness to the area surrounding you, bird chimes and occasional cicada chirps as you pass by certain bushes and grass patches.

You think you even spot a small rabbit hopping off the path ahead of you.

Finally, the incline slopes downward again, and then leads down and off to the left, the faint smell of moss and running water becoming more apparent to breathe in, it's refreshing.

"God, I've missed this."

She sounds rightly out of breath as she steps onto a particularly tall rock lodged into the path.

"You've been missing out, then?"

"Far too much, between how cold it got in Sweden and just not really going too far from the city, it's been a good while since I've even gotten to take Harper on smaller hikes."

"Damn, life of an athlete, much?"

A small joking lilt.

"Ha ha."

You can practically see her eye roll from where you're walking in front of the woman.

"It's not that bad, just keeps our lives hectic if anything."

You hum.

"How's Harper feel about that?"

You miss the way her lips curl up at the mention of the mini-mini.

"She loves it if anything, sleepovers with Nonna three times a week and when the international break pops up, she gets to stay with the team and see all twenty-two of her aunties and siblings."

The closer you get to the running water, the less the trees hang over the both of you and the more the suns starts to bead down on your light blue shirt, the warmth very familiar as winter shifts into spring once again.

It's been about an hour or so since you'd started off on the track.

She moves in front of you, turning with a small nod and grin in the direction of the beginning of a large clearing.

"C'mon, we're getting close."

The sun shines through the light brunette hair around the tops and sides of her head that most likely refused to be tied down properly, but in a neat, casual setting.

Slowing to a stop near where she's starting to descend a slightly steeper part of the path, you look out into the opening, a large water not far off to your one o'clock, the green moss abundant around its edges and the dampened ground surrounding the flowing water and the small pool built up around its base.

The pool breaks off into a surpisingly sandy bay that opens into a much larger river, flowing from another path away from you and out into what you see is the beach.

You nearly miss the small misstep as she steps on a mossed up stone, grabbing her arm to stop her falling, alarm on your face.

"Thanks."

"I gotcha."

You nod softly, hand squeezing her bicep, continuing jokingly.

"No hurting yourself, as much as I'd love to carry you back.."

She smacks you a little with a laugh before continuing down a different stone to avoid the same outcome.

"Real funny, Babe."

It's one massive secluded beach and it reminds you heavily of your first tryst together.

Only this time, it's much more private and less accessible, something you can almost appreciate with the nature of it all.

Privacy.

Another understanding between you.

As a public figure and known football player, Katrina knows the feeling well.

It doesn't come often, with media days a regular occurrence and spending near all of her time with teammates, club and country as well as with a two-year-old toddler at all hours of the day.

Of course, she wouldn't trade any of it for the world.

But privacy is a luxury that not even well paid athletes can afford.

So she understands the immediate droop and sigh of contentment when you see the vast empty beach and nothing but the sound of crashing waves and bird song behind you.

Letting your head fall back as you take in the cool summer breeze from the coastline, the smell of sea salt and damp greenery filling your senses, your head turns to look at the shorter woman.

She's already watching you, a small challenging smirk on her face that brings you back to the present.

"...What's up?"

"Nothing, I figured a nice walk and then a rematch would be a great way to start our day together."

"Rematch?... Wait-"

You're cut off as she suddenly pops out a soccer ball from behind her that she'd apparently managed to hide in her backpack the whole way, and tosses it towards you, darting off towards the beach.

"C'mon, I wanna see if you've learned anything yet!"

Jogging after her, you yell out.

"You mean that I'm not the professional footballer in this scenario and that I'm going to get my butt kicked again?"

"I'll make a baller out of you, yet, now get out here!"

It goes on like that for a while, how long exactly, you aren't sure but by the time you both land breathless onto the sand, mainly you, the sun is leaning more towards the other side of the sky.

"I hope you brought snacks, because I'm gonna need them after that last one."

Katrina giggles down at your dead flat form on the ground, chest heaving.

“You can’t give up on me now, to think you were just getting close to beating me.”

The teasing lilt to her voice makes you swat at her ankle lightly.

“Close, my ass. It’s like twenty-six to three.”

“Actually it’s about nineteen to six.”

She kicks you in the foot, tossing up a little sand in the air towards you in the process, landing near your face.

“Hey!”

“Whoops?”

Darting up, surprising yourself you tackle the woman into the soft white sand, landing on top of her.

“That is so not allowed, that was a dirty play ref!”

You call out to the imaginary sideline ref pointing off into the distance with a fake angry face on.

She’s laughing underneath you, almost breathless because of your weight on her stomach, and her hands settle to grip your hips, as you look back down at the woman with a small pout.

“Aw poor baby.”

It’s a little mocking tone that you pout more at.

Poking her tongue out up at you, she sits up slightly to tug you back down towards her, your hands landing either side of her head and you shift to be more level with the woman’s head.

“Hi.”

Grinning once again, you brush your nose against hers.

“Hi.”

A small peck to her lips is all she needs to tug you further down, fully sealing yourselves together, lips locked.

The breeze blows over your back, and the sounds of the waves wash away as you sink fully into the shorter woman, lips sliding across hers.

A new but familiar sensation, becoming accustomed to having the air in your lungs sucked from you every time you kiss her.

Sighing softly into her mouth, you take the opportunity to let your hand wander over the crook of her neck, before shifting to rest over her collar and then over her neck again.

It’s not intentional when you do it, but your thumb almost caresses the column of her throat and it’s her turn to sigh into the kiss.

Pulling away for a small breath, she notes the way your fingers now rest just under her jaw, on her neck, sending shivers through her.

If you noticed it, you don’t say anything, instead diving right back into her, fingers squeezing the skin slightly.

It seems you notice the way she hums into the kiss, a small smirk crossing your face as you let up once more.

The effect you have on her is shown well and truly in the way her cheeks redden and the part in her lips as her eyes open to meet yours.

“Hi.”

A warmth spreads through you at the smile she gives you once more.

“C’mon.”

Nudging you up once more, she pulls herself up, offering you a hand up.

Taking it, you stand close to her still, hands settling on her waist.

“So, what’s next then?”

Her hands grab yours and drag you over to where the bag lies in the sand.

“A little walk and wander and maybe a little bit more of that before dinner, hey?”

Grinning, you tug her towards the bag.

It’s just minutes back on the path that you tug her back into you for more.

You’d say you were someone who had quite the ability for self restraint, especially in previous relationships, but with Katrina, she’s just there, and it makes you want to kiss the daylights out of her every second you’re together.

Inevitably, it takes you both longer on the way back to the car, stopping every ten minutes to admire the scenery in a way only a couple making out against every tree can.

By the fifth time she’s resigned to let you do it every five minutes, more than happily letting the privacy you two have, consume you for the moment.

The way she tugs your neck down herself after an hour of this makes you well aware of the fact she feels the same.

Addicted to the way you taste.

Addicted to the way your lips slide so perfectly on her own.

By the time you get back to the car, you both look more than kiss-mussed, swollen lips, occasional purple marks over your neck when her teeth nipped at the skin.

Like love-sick teenagers.

But not that.

Not yet.

Pressed against the driver-side door, she looks up at you with a look you can’t describe other than pure and utter infatuation.

It makes your heart flip and twist like never before, the fact that someone can look at you like that.

It’s invigorating.

The brunette eventually lets go of you, and you pull back to let her off the car with a very content smile on your lips.

Opening the door for her, you gesture her into the car.

“Shall we go?”

A breathless nod and she’s in the car feeling as giddy as anything.

‘Breathe woman.’

She tells herself.

Settling into the passenger seat after packing the bags into the boot, you buckle in and the whole drive spent going to your next outing is one with clasped hands and small kisses pressed to the back of her hand and wrist.

When you pull up to a familiar club, it makes your heart swell a little.

She’d wanted to come back because the overall ambiance of the place was warm and welcoming and it made her feel comfortable in a place she wouldn’t normally spend any time going to.

Clubs have never been her thing but there was something about this one.

Maybe it was the fact you were involved in it. That it was attached to your first date together.

That would make sense.

You’ve been the deepest breath of fresh air she’s had in a long time. Even with the invigoration of her sport, her work, her home, her daughter. You’re new in her life and it makes her heart feel even more full.

The fact you adore every aspect of her life, her home, her family, makes it all that much better.

The fact that you ask to spend more time with her family without prompting when you both sit down for drinks makes her heart leap.

“Can we do the next one with Harper?”

There's a small sheepish smile on your face.

"It's just been a while since we've all had some time spent together and I miss her-"

Katrina cuts you off with a reassuring smile and a hand on yours.

“I was beginning to wonder when you’d ask again, of course we can, she’s been begging to know when she can see her new friend.”

You smile at the thought.

You had missed the little one quite a bit.

Her wide smile and nearly always happy personality brought so much light into your life that day.

When your drinks are sat down in front of you by a knowingly smirking Aiden.

“Whenever you ladies are ready, I’ve got you queued up with a classic.”

Taking a peek at the ipad in his hands, you see the song and roll your eyes.

It’s one you performed all the time for about three months straight because that’s all people would request from you.

Dragging the woman up with your drinks and a wink at the woman who’s just resigned to the fact she now has to sing every time she’s with you here.

There’s an adoration in her eyes as you step up onto the stage, keeping your eyes locked on hers and speak into the mic with a small wink.

“Hey everyone, we’ve got a good old classic today, it seems I’ve been requested of this one with my duet partner. Everyone thank Aiden for us.”

When the instrumental starts, Katrina half huffs at the song choice, half laughs.

Love Shack by The B-52

You start the song off, letting her get comfortable with the song first.

If you see a faded sign at the side of the road that says "15 miles to the Love Shack"

Love Shack, yeah, yeah I'm heading down the Atlanta highway Looking for the love getaway

Bouncing to the beat slightly, you encourage her to move with you, gesturing down at the second mic that has been slipped into her grasp.

Headed for the love getaway I got me a car, it's as big as a whale And we're headin' on down to the Love Shack I got me a Chrysler, it seats about 20 So hurry up and bring your jukebox money

You almost have to laugh, she's better at this song than most would expect.

In fact, you'd bet she was better than you.

The love shack is a little old place where We can get together Love Shack, baby (the Love Shack, baby) Love Shack, baby, Love Shack Love Shack, baby, Love Shack Love Shack, baby, Love Shack (love, baby, that's where it's at) Love Shack, baby, Love Shack (love, baby, that's where it's at)

The pair of you yelling the chorus into the mic has a few people in the bar up and singing along as well, a few whistles and cheers as the pair of you keep making eye contact with each other.

Sign says (woo), "Stay away, fools" 'Cause love rules at the Love Shack Well, it's set way back in the middle of a field Just a funky old shack and I gotta get back

There's something about the way she dips and kisses you mid song.

You know you're screwed when she pulls you back up and there's a wink thrown your way as she turns to the crowd and starts hopping along to the beat finally, encouraging them to do the same.

You never thought you'd be up here, jamming along with a woman who's been matching your adventurous nature since you've met her.

Despite being someone who has somehow managed to calm your erratic nature, she's also had the more energetic side of her brought out that she normally only sees amongst the kids of the team.

Glitter on the mattress Glitter on the highway Glitter on the front porch Glitter on the highway

There's a small giggle she let's out as you step up and belt out the next verse.

The Love Shack is a little old place where We can get together Love Shack, baby (Love Shack, baby) Love Shack, that's where it's at Love Shack, that's where it's at

You don't miss the small shake of her head when you poke your tongue out between your teeth cheekily at her.

In fact your eyes stay on her for the majority of the song, every movement, every gesture, every expression, every grin while she sings with you.

The sweetest brightest laughter as you both duck off the stage panting is what seals the deal for you.

Her eyes glint with joy up at you and that's when you know she has you hook line and sinker.

"So he had to bail you out?!"

"I know right?"

"Babe that is so not-"

"Waitwaitwait before you judge me on it-"

She snorts and covers her mouth at the small glare you give her across the table, having to silence your own laughter to make it hold even a remote amount of sincerity, though she knows otherwise by the quirk in your lips.

Standing, you gesture to the door, wanting to get away from the loudness of the bar for a few moments.

You continue outside into the slowly cooling afternoon air.

"The dude had it coming, he was being way too touchy with this poor girl and security was not doing anything-"

"So you drop him in a trash can after throwing hot sauce in his eyes?!"

"It was well deserved, she was very grateful to not be harassed by that asshole anymore. Besides, the assault charges were dropped when I offered to show them the club footage of him grabbing where he shouldn't"

"Still, you shouldn't have risked going to jail over that-"

"I'd have broken his nose, too, but I literally just had a manicure done finally after like a year of refusing to go, I didn't feel like being made to go back, again."

An amused shake of her head as you both slowly walk down the path to the carpark.

"You're something else."

"That better be a good thing."

She giggles at the half pearl clutch gesture you make in response paired with an offended look.

"Of course it is, babe."

Giving your hand a squeeze, she can only smile at the grumpy look you give her.

"Hush you."

"Or what?"

"Or I might just do something about it."

"Do it."

A beat of silence, your eyes locked on the cocky smirk on her face.

She's baiting you, you know it.

Of course, you take it.

Two steps back towards her.

Three steps pushing her back into the building wall.

One more to find your place pressed against her.

None to press your lips into hers like they'd never separated in the first place.

The small hum she lets out as you do so makes the idea of the very public display suddenly leave your mind, wanting nothing more than to hear more from her.

It's when you pull away gently with a tug and pop that you both pull back a little breathless.

"That works."

She says, eyes still closed, breathing ragged.

You notice a flash of movement, thinking it was a stranger walking by until a small body crashes into the woman in front of you.

"Mummy!"

"Oh my god, Harper what did I say about running off like that? Especially across roads?! You can't do tha-"

A huffing, clearly scared looking Charlie practically sprints around the corner, bent over at the knees.

Her head snaps up at the realisation of who Harper's managed to run into.

"Oh! Mini, Hi!"

The brunette looks a little unimpressed at the blonde.

You get the distinct feeling it's less from the interruption and more the words of the woman who'd just been sprinting after her daughter.

"Charlotte Grant..."

"Wait. Wait. I didn't- She ran off. I promise I was doing everything to chase her down. It was a little road."

Katrina sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

The tiny human being attached to her leg looks up at her with an innocent grin on her face.

"Harper, what did we say about running off?"

Picking up the smaller blonde, sitting her on her hip.

Suddenly very sheepish looking like only a toddler can, she looks in your direction in search of something to avoid the conversation.

Of course, with you being you, she does very quickly.

Practically jumping into your arms with excited squeal, the small child latches onto you out of the older woman's arms.

"Y/n/n!"

Giving her a squeeze, a few giggles leaving your lips at the affection from the little girl you hadn't seen in person since that first day, only catching some time talking to the little one over a phone screen.

"Hi Harper, whatcha doin here, huh?"

"Goin to the park."

"Is that right?"

You smile and wave to Charlie with an amused glint in your eye.

The twenty-two year old nods sheepishly.

Looking down at the little one in your arms, you raise a brow in her direction, too.

She nods enthusiastically, her little arms wound tight around your neck as she lays her head on your shoulder.

Katrina watches the exchange between her daughter and yourself with a hardly hidden heart eyes look.

She'd totally forgotten that the park they usually go to is only a couple blocks from where you both were, but it's on the other side.

Raising her brows in Charlie's direction, a small questioning look on her face.

"I can... explain.."

Another pair of footsteps come running around the corner, too, nearly bumping into the blonde, a mop of now very messy wind blown brunette hair.

"Charlie did you get her- oof!"

Nearly ending up in a tangled mess on the floor, Charlie catches the both of them from falling.

"Idiot."

"Hey! You're the one that- Oh hey, Min', we were just- oh."

The mischievous look on Kyra's face that appears at the sight of you.

"That's what you were busy with today. Or who you were busy with."

She wiggles her brows at the older woman.

"I swear, do I need to start leaving you three with Nonna, again?"

Harper's head whips up so fast, you nearly clash heads and you're surprised she doesn't give herself whiplash.

"Nonna? Can we go see Nonna?"

"Sorry Harps', you can see Nonna tomorrow, it's just Kyra and ChaCha for now, alright?"

The little girl pouts for a minute before settling back into your arms.

"Oky, I stay wiv y/n/n, then."

You chuckle at her, before looking up at Katrina.

"Mind going for a walk to the park?"

She sighs softly, before shrugging.

"Alright, why not?"

You pass the little girl back to Charlie, much to her protests.

"One minute Harps, You can hop up again in a bit, I need to talk to mum first alright?"

She pouts before nodding.

You nod at the two to walk ahead, grabbing Katrina's hand softly.

"We can always continue later? You haven't got anything time sensitive?"

She shakes her head no with a small chuckle.

"Just a walk in restaurant, they're open late, though, it'll be fine."

You quirk a brow at her, and she makes the lip-zipping motion.

"C'mon, we've got a little girl waiting."

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, you both walk slowly behind the group, though quickly get dragged into carrying Harper for the remainder of the walk, still holding hands with the shorter woman beside you.

The pair of twenty-somethings ahead bickering only serves as a reminder of how chaotic this life is for the Footballer, yet it doesn't bother you.

In fact, it feels like something so much bigger for you, something you could get behind.

You don't want to commit yourself so early, but you don't fight the way your heart swells with a little love each and every word you exchange with both Harper and Katrina.

By the time you're both wandering back to the car, late after Kyra and Charlie have left, taking the little one back home to bed.

Late after having sat and eaten and discussed everything from Harper to thousands of kilometres away worlds of a sport you've never found yourself loving before now.

At least now, it seems you've found your favourite people entwined with it.

It's then you find yourself wanting to learn more.

"Hey, I know this is probably something you hear with your work a lot, but just, talk to me about football, anything you want, the rules, the games, anything."

She looks a little surprised that you bring it up, considering you've never personally been a big sports fan, at least, as much as she's known for the past couple weeks.

"I thought you didn't want to know about it?"

"Actually, I want to learn about it, if I'm gonna be showing up to my sister's matches, and maybe get to see you."

You pause, and the last bit is said with a little sheepishness behind it, though you don't miss the way her smile widens at it.

"I wanna know about the game. Or even just your experiences with it. What do you love about it? Tell me anything."

With that, she starts off on where she started with it, how much she loved it as a kid, how she always spent time playing it with her brothers, her time in the academy, in the beginning with the youth team in Mount Gravatt, to her start with the Melbourne Victory and everywhere after.

How she came to Brisbane Roar, her time in the US.

Her injury, her time spent trying to recover. Of course, she's told you the basics of how Harper came to be.

She talks about some of the bigger games she's played.

About the upcoming World Cup in July.

"You should come see us play."

"You'd want me there?"

"Of course I would."

It's said short and almost in an offended tone, but it shows so much more for you.

She wants you there at the biggest stage of her career.

You don't protest it.

"I'll be there, then."

"Good, I would hate to have to pack you into a suitcase to drag you to camp with us instead."

A laugh escapes your lips at that, head tilted back in laughter.

"Of course you would. You're cute. No but seriously, are you sure? I wouldn't be intruding?"

"Hell no, if eighty thousand other people can be there to watch it, why can't you?"

"Fair enough."

You continue like that, laughing, chatting, letting her rant on and on about everything and anything because you could listen to this woman go on and on for hours with no complaint.

Swinging your joined hands as you both wander along the boardwalk she'd taken you to, you look out on the slowly darkening skies over the water.

The colours are as amazing to witness as always, to the point where you both settle on a bench to relax a bit and watch it darken a bit longer.

The sparkle of the fading sun behind you warms your backs as you both settle into each other, the shorter woman contentedly tucked into your side, words starting to slow and you both quieten to enjoy the moment.

"Hey."

"Hm?"

Turning your head to meet her gaze with the tips of her fingers.

"I like you. A lot."

You grin.

"I would hope so. Or this could be really awkward for- hey!"

She smacks your shoulder with a little roll of her eyes.

"Kidding. I really like you, too."

"Too? I only said like not really."

You guffaw at the woman.

"Hey!"

She giggles.

"Okay, I deserved that."

Grinning, you lean down to meet her lips for the what seems like thousandth time today, though, neither of you mind at all.

It's soft, sweet and much less urgent than all of the ones earlier.

It's easy.

You find it easier and easier with each pass to kiss her.

There's a way she spends the time holding your face, caressing the skin of your cheek, that has you in an absolute whirlwind of just... her.

It's invigorating beyond anything.

Yet also, cathartic.

She tastes like home.

And who knows, maybe this is what you've been missing.

The cathartic parts.

A way to calm an already chaotic life.

Sure, she's a professional footballer, that gets chaotic more than a lot of jobs do but it's the way she handles everything. Somehow able to juggle the life of having a child and playing football across the country and internationally when called to.

But to be honest with yourself, there's nowhere you'd rather be than with this somehow new cemented person in your life.

You can't wait to see where this goes.

"YOU DIDN'T TELL ME YOU WERE GOING OUT WITH THE KATRINA GORRY!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Ashley! Chill!"

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

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #katrina gorry imagines #katrina gorry imagine #katrina gorry x reader #harper gorry x reader platonic #kyra cooney-cross x reader platonic #charli grant x reader platonic

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theemissuniverse · 11 months

Text

“NEVER TELL” SYZOTH X COMEDIC RELIEF FEM!READER

SUMMARY : You have a crush on Syzoth and it’s obvious to everyone but him

WARNINGS : MINORS DONT INTERACT. Nothing major but mentions of Syzoth getting “hard” implied smut and descriptive kissing

MASTERLIST

You and the Earthrealm gang, (Johnny, Kenshi, Raiden, and Kung Lao) were in Outworld trying to figure out how Shang Tsung escaped his prison.

The five of you were were walking with Syzoth leading the way. Your friends watched as your eyes dreamily focused on Syzoth.

You took Syzoth’s hand as you walked. “I think we should hold hands. So I don’t get lost.”

Syzoth responded only by interlocking your fingers together and holding your hand. You gasped at this and turned back to your fellow Earthrealm friends.

They gave you a thumbs up and you looked back to face forward.

“How long do you think it’s gonna take for Syzoth to realize (Y/N) has a crush on him?” Raiden whispered to the group.

“From how (Y/N) is acting…I’d give it five to ten minutes.” Kenshi said.

“Please.” Kung Lao started. “Syzoth couldn’t even tell when Ashrah had a thing for him.”

“Maybe he’s purposely ignoring Ash because he wants (Y/N).” Johnny suggested. “I mean who would you rather bang? A demon with a magic wand or an actual human that can kick ass?”

“A demon with a magic wand.” Kung Lao stated like it was obvious.

“Shut up, Kung Lao.”

Everybody reached to the prison where Shao was being kept. Syzoth stopped holding your hand and went to open the door.

When he opened it, he walked in further, keeping everyone behind him. Shao was chained up so he could not escape. “Wow, do you look ridiculous.” Johnny told him.

Shao looked at him annoyed before turning his attention to Syzoth. “You bring me Earthrealmers. Why?”

“We know that Shang Tsung is escaped. You were his cell mate. Which means you know he escaped. How did he escape?”

“Ha! I will not tell you.”

Syzoth tilted his head at him. That was a big mistake. He then looked back to the rest of you. “I would take a step back.”

Everyone but you took a step back. You just looked at him like you were in love, offering a lovingly sigh.

Syzoth turned back to Shao and transformed into his true form. Your Earthrealm friends jumped back at the sight a little while you were unbothered. They still weren’t used to it as Syzoth was normally in human form when he was with them.

Shao tried to back up but he could not. Syzoth grabbed him by the throat with his rough hands. His mouth started to create acid. Then his tongue came out and the acid was falling onto Shao’s leg.

The Earthrealmers looked like they were going to throw up but not you. You just looked in love. “Isn’t he dreamy?” When you saw the look your friends gave you, you shrugged. “What?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you needed therapy?” Johnny asked you.

“A few but in this economy? Please.”

Shao continued to scream as the acid was burning almost all of his flesh from his thigh off. “Stop! I give in! Stop!”

Syzoth stopped torturing him. He backed away from him and turned back into his human form. You tilted your head, confused. “So is nobody gonna question how he spawns with an outfit or…?”

Your question being ignored, Shao finally tells. “The guards that locked us up in chains gave us the wrong ones. I have the anti magic chains and he had the regular metal ones.”

“Yet you allowed him to escape and never told.” Raiden thought out loud. “Which means you were getting something in return.”

“He said he’d come back for me once everything was done.”

“Once what was done?” Syzoth questioned.

“He did not say.”

Syzoth turned to you and your friends. “We must regroup at the palace and think of a plan to capture Shang Tsung.”

Everyone agreed. They started to walk out the prison cell. After Syzoth was done locking it back up, he held out his hand for you to take. You giggled a little and took his hand. Then the two of you walked away.

Everyone was in the place in the planning room. Syzoth had a map on the table where everything was at. “He could’ve gone back to his old lab.” Syzoth said. “We have not had the ability to get rid of all his foul experiments.”

“He could be back in Earthrealm. He still has a vendetta against Lord Liu Kang because of his destiny in this timeline.” Raiden suggested.

“He could try to attack the palace. Empress Mileena was the one who put him there.” Kenshi also suggested.

Syzoth thought for a moment of the plan. When he thinks of something, he nods. “Raiden and Kung Lao, go back to Earthrealm. Make sure nothing threatens it. Johnny and Kenshi stay at the palace and help the Empress protect it. (Y/N) and I will go back to his lab and see if we can spot him.”

You almost fainted. You and Syzoth alone? Something you always dreamed of but were also too scared to do. You clutched your arm around Syzoth’s. “I think that’s a great plan.”

Syzoth did not notice your behavior and instead looked at everyone. “Is that alright with everyone?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Kenshi told him.

“Just be careful.” Raiden said more so to you and Syzoth.

“We will.” Syzoth reassured him.

You and Syzoth were heading towards Shang Tsung’s old laboratory. As the two of you walked, you heard a noise coming from the trees. You immediately clutched onto Syzoth. “What was that?”

Syzoth rubbed your back reassuringly. “This is the Living Forest. Souls remain here.”

“Oh. That’s freaky.” You pulled yourself away from Syzoth. The two of you continue walking. “It’s nice that you picked me for this mission. Nobody ever picks me.”

Syzoth looked at you curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I screw up a lot. Like a lot, a lot. So, no one likes being around me.”

“Your Earthrealm friends seem to not mind you.”

“Yeah, but I think it’s just because they feel sorry for me.” You sighed a little while looking down. “Lord Liu Kang even looks at me differently. I just know it.”

Syzoth felt bad. He of all people knew what it felt like to be an outcast. He took your hand and rubbed it reassuringly. “I’m sure that’s not true. I like you.”

Your eyes beamed in pure joy when he said that. “You do?”

“You’re bright and fun to be around. I don’t know how anyone could not like you.”

Him saying that boosted your confidence up. You dusted your shoulder slightly. “You’re right. I am amazing.”

He chuckled at you. “There’s the (Y/N) I know.”

The two of you made it out of the living forest and were just walking on regular ground. “You know I don’t know why you got banished. I would never banish a hot guy.”

Something in Syzoth clicked. All the hand holding, the excuses to touch him, the sly remarks you would make-all of that made sense to him.

You liked him.

“You think I’m attractive?” He teased slightly.

The realization hit you like a brick. You stopped in your tracks making Syzoth stop as well. You pulled your hand away from him. “No. I didn’t say that. I would never say that.” Then you realized what you said. “Not that you’re ugly. Just that as a friend I would never say that about another friend because that friend would-“

Syzoth watched as you rambled. He stared into your eyes and something in him wanted to shut you up. Syzoth cupped the back of your neck with his left hand and kissed you.

You stood there, shocked at the notion. You didn’t even have time to kiss him back. He pulled away from you.

You blinked a little. “What-what was that for?”

“I don’t know…” Syzoth seemed to be confused with himself too. “You were panicking, then I started to panic…then you just looked so pretty and your lips looked so-“

Syzoth was cut off by his own rambling when you kissed him. Syzoth kissed you back.

He brought you closer by your waist before clutching the back of your head with his right hand. He licked at your bottom lip and you moaned. That allowed him to stick his tongue inside your mouth.

You moaned even more as his tongue felt amazing. Syzoth grunted at your moans and felt himself getting hard.

He picked you up by your thighs. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He pushed you up against a tree and continued to make out with you.

“We should probably stop.” Syzoth said in the kiss.

“We probably should.” You said back.

The two of you continued to make out with your tongues connecting. “I have a confession.” Syzoth started to kiss on your neck. “I don’t want to stop.”

You moaned lightly at his kisses. “Me neither.”

Syzoth sucked on your neck and you moaned louder. He continued to nibble and bite at your good spots but then finally pulled away. “I don’t want to have you this way, though.” Syzoth gently placed you down at your feet.

You looked a little disappointed. “Oh…”

Syzoth noticed your disappointment and he gave you butterfly kisses on your face. You giggled at the touch, making him smile. “When we make love I want it to be perfect.”

Your eyes widen a little. “When? Like it will happen?”

“If you want.”

You giggled dreamily at him. “Are my dreams coming true?”

Syzoth chuckled some as he found you cute. He placed another kiss on your lips. “Come on. Let’s hurry up and get this over with so we can go back at it.” He grabbed your hand and walked with you.

You should’ve told him he was hot waaaay sooner.

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felibrary · 5 months

Text

COLUMBA

synopsis: rainbow roses represent love and passion. similar to the feelings you’ve harbored for lyney ever since the two of you were children, feelings full of determination and tenderness.you take the initiative to confess your feelings, the cards are already laid out on the table, the choices have already been written out and decided. besides one: the one that reveals lyneys response. how will he react?

✧ pairing: lyney x reader | wordcount: 2.1k | content and warnings: fluff, angst, confessing feelings | prompt: unrequited love | oneshot

✧ authors note: i might dislike this one even more than the "wish you were sober" one... this one's just so much more choppier</3

✧ tags: @azullumi

event: STARCROSSED 2024

“and a rainbow rose for you!”

the sly magician winks at you as he reaches out his gloved hand to yours. lyneys slender fingers are gracefully wrapped around the stem of the colorful flower. he looks at you, eyes full of anticipation as he awaits your reaction.

his eyes twinkle like an amethyst - a gem that gleams and reflects the fluorescent light as it gets shone upon, presenting the purity that lies hidden beneath the depths of the pair of eyes. the irises that are drenched in a deep purple glint with a certain shimmer that you can’t quite make out. if you were to take a guess you’d say that they look hopeful, buoyant, almost fond.

seriously, who were you to deny him? his smile is probably worth a fortune, it’s blithe practically dreamy. the ash blond is undeniably a beauty among the nation of justice - a seraphic seashell that lies buried in the fine sand, easily seeping through the tiny gaps of the palms as it is held with utter care. petite sand corns disappearing out of sight and the only object that remains in the hands is the mussel.

it basks in the radiant sunlight and the sand that slipped out of the grasp of the fingers can only watch in envy, as the seashell continues to relish in the gentleness of the person who discovered it. the one who is allowed to see its beauty and all the secrets that are kept sealed beneath.

amid the vague living room light, lyney continues to shine as elegant as ever. his stage presence long-forgotten, revealing his true nature to you, the lyney whom you know, the one whom you grew up with, the one who makes your heart race. the lyney that shows himself to the outside world is simply just the celebrated magician of the court of fontaine but there was much more to lyney, so much more.

to the people of fontaine he’s like the backside of a playing card, unaware of the image, the number, the symbol that is imprinted on it. but that’s not the case for you. unlike them you know lyney like the back of your hand. the two of you grew up together at the house of the hearth. under the care of father with lynette, freminet and the other children that resided there.

no matter how many times lyney and lynette tried to trick you with one of their new learned magic tricks, you’ve always seen through them. nevertheless you weren’t able to deny that they were really impressive, especially for children of such a young age. naturally, over the years he grew up to be a grand magician, not only wrapping the audience that was seated in the rich red places in the court around his fingers, but also you. luring you in by coaxing mellow praises into your ear and simple gestures like this one, offering you a rainbow rose a day before a performance.

an action that never fails to make you swoon.

his incandescent eyes, the ones that glow like a vibrant glass shard that got swept to the shore by the tide, his million dollar smile that is plastered on his pale face, they are the traits that make lyney look simply irresistible.

(you don't think you could ever reject lyneys advances, after all you’ve already fallen far too deep into the bottomless abyss, also known as love, to search for your path out.)

right now, at this moment you think lyney looks absolutely majestic, heavenly even. taking a snapshot of this wouldn’t be enough to capture the beauty of lyney. neither would a portrait do the job well. the movements of the paintbrush are delicate, swiftly moving around the canvas, but they’re not enough. no matter how many brushstrokes were to be painted, they still wouldn’t be enough.

(either way he’d outshine every other painting that gets hung next to his. he’s the muse that will always be out of everyone's reach.)

simply because lyneys beauty, his bare nature, is something to keep etched into your mind, engraving it onto stone so that it will never fade or wash away, no matter the circumstances.

you reciprocate his action, accepting the flower. grasping the rainbow rose carefully, so that the stem doesn’t crinkle and eventually falls into two pieces or the blossom loses its petals. “my, what’s the occasion?” a performance awaits the folk of fontaine tomorrow. you already knew the answer, but, nevertheless you question him. lyneys honeyed voice is a sound you’ll never get tired of. listening to him as he talks never feels like a chore, rather, it feels like a voluntary course that isn’t important at all. but nevertheless you stick around, to not miss what others don't get to see.

“well, as you might already know, a performance awaits the folk of fontaine tomorrow.” the magician responds. you can only chuckle at that, predicting lyney has always been easy for you.

“is that so? i can't wait.” you give him a small grin and take another peek at the flower. beautiful, you think to yourself as you look up to lyney once again. the corners of your mouth curve into a content smile. lyney stares right back at you and does the same, giving you a bright grin in return that makes your heart pump quickly.

the brightness of lyneys smile competes with the one of the sun, it’s warm and welcoming. it works wonders like medicine, soothing and curing your wounds with a simple grin. lyney is out of this world, he's charismatic, making you fall for him head over heels. fun to be around, always making you laugh over stupid jokes. and not to mention caring.

the first two buttons of his white dress shirt are unbuttoned, showing off his delicate collarbone. lyney was never particularly muscular, rather, he had a quite slender build.

“i’ve never put much effort into my physical training as in my shows. after all, i have an audience to bewitch with magic tricks, not my body." you recall his words and the giggle he let out after.

some strands of his ash blonde hair are out of place, including his dyed one. his maroon colored hair slightly stands out, but you don’t mind, it's similar to the color of a maple leaf, vivid and lively. flying through the wind, admired by passersby as it floats around in the air. out of reach until someone takes the chance to grab it.

“by the way, where’s the thank you?” lyney jokes in an offended manner. his sultry voice snapping you out of your former haze.

“hm?” you tilt your head to the side.

“for the flower.” he points at the rose with his gloved finger.

“ah, right. thanks a lot, it's really pretty.” you thank him by giving him another smile. before casting your gaze down to the rose again, admiring the colorful petals as you remember charlotte's words.

“for example, magicians often use “rainbow roses” in their flower related performances to represent passion and romantic encounters.” her words stuck to you like a millstone around one’s neck. surely lyney knows what they mean, he’s not unaware what they symbolize right?

it makes you wonder if lyney is aware of your feelings, and possibly even returns them. lyney has always had a keen eye for the beauty of this world, attentively swaying his gaze around and admiring the elegance that lies within each individual. did lyney also see that kind of beauty in you? one that goes even further down, reaching into the inescapable depths. but then he’d face the ugliness that slummers at the bottom, despite that, how is lyney able to love you?

for you the beauty of this planet has always been lyney. he’s the sun that you bask in, relishing in its warmth as the sun tendrils place delicate kisses on your body. the water that engulfs your body, plattering against your limbs and makes you feel refreshed. he’s the blood that runs through your veins, the one that makes you function properly.

the question still lingers in the air: does lyney reciprocate your feelings?

your grip around the rose is tight, fearing that it might slip out of your grasp when you’re inattentive and losing it. you watch lyney make his way to the stage, the crowd already awaits their renowned magician, waiting in and staring in awe as he performs another unpredictable magic trick.

the air is thick, the tension increases at every passing second, for both you and the crowd. if lyney takes another step, you’ll lose the lyney you know, your lyney. instead you’ll have to watch as he takes up on his persona, even if it’s only for a mere hour, it always feels like an eternity to you, until you get to see the lyney whom you love again.

besides the sound of lyney who was shuffling his cards thoroughly once again, it was dead silent.

“nervous?” lyney looks up to you, a knowing glint in his eyes.

“huh?” you’re confused, what is he implying.

“the way you fiddle with your fingers.” he points at your hands with one of the cards, a red heart you notice. “you only do that when you're anxious.” lyney says. “come on, tell me what’s wrong, you know that i’m always here for you, right?” he gives you a reassuring smile, a genuine smile that isn’t there to satisfy his guests.

sometimes you forget how easy it is for lyney to see right through you. you nod as a response to his observation. “yeah, ironic isn't it? i’m nervous even though you’re the one who’ll enter the stage at any given moment now.” you try to sound steady, trying to convince yourself. but your voice betrays you, it quivers.

“aww.” lyney coos at you. “you know i hate that expression on you, do you not?” the ash blond sighs dramatically, purple eyes still maintaining eye contact, a fond shadow casting over his pupils. “how am i supposed to go out and present, knowing that my best friend is dying from nervousness.” he jokes, shaking his head. before he looks up at you once again with a look that says “don’t worry.”

best friend.

“lyney.“ you try to gather your courage, how does one confess their feelings to the person whom they adore? lyney smiles at you “yeah? i’m all ears.”

“lyney, you’re probably already aware of my feelings. but i really like you. i love you. i've loved you ever since we got introduced to one another, ever since we were children.” you don’t dare to look him into his eyes, too embarrassed by your confession just now. you play with the fabric of your freshly ironed shirt a bit, to distract yourself, as you await lyneys reactions.

“archons, since when were you this sentimental?” lyney laughs out. “that’s what you were afraid of telling me?” he takes a few steps so that he stands in front of you now. “gotten all shy now?” the magician teases before patting your head. the action makes you look up, greeted by lyneys smile . “i love you too. youre like another sibling to me.” he slightly tilts his head to the side. "even though we’re not blood related, it just feels like we’re family, don’t you think?”

“no! lyney that's not what i-” you protest but you get cut off by the announcement.

“and now ladies and gentlemen, presenting fontaines renowned duo, mr. lyney and ms. lynette! a big applause please!”

“ah!” lyney looks behind him where everything was already set up and put in place. “i suppose that is my sign to leave. farewell!” he inches away from you. “let’s reunite after the show, shall we?” he winks at you and bids you goodbye before rushing off to make his way over to the stage.

you remain glued to the floor, frozen in place after you’ve just gotten rejected. you hope this is just another one of lyneys antics, a joke that he will later on reveal as faux and tell you that he reciprocates your feelings. but you know that he won't. yes, perhaps lyney is a liar, a good one at that. he has lied to a dozen people before, but never once to you.

the rainbow rose in your head shines vividly in the dim lightning, its petals making it glow beautifully. you’re not sure what came over you, frustration, regret, remorse. you’re not certain. the petals that were once finely attached to the pistil, will be gone, you rip the petals off, one by one.

he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not.

e/n: "i got sibling-zoned." "that's rough buddy."

#— STARCROSSED 2024 !!#—stellaronhvnters.#felis staple of books ⋆·˚ ༘ *#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #lyney x reader #lyney fluff #lyney angst #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #genshin fluff #genshin impact x you #lyney x you

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minsyal · 5 months

Text

Until the End

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

SPOILER WARNING!! This has A LOT of spoilers for the next season of the show.

Summary: Aemond informs his wife of his impending battle. (Sorry if it’s kinda bad, just an idea after I read the book and I mean, he’s dreamy in a troubled kinda way.)

“A fortnight, then.”

Flame-lit logs crackled within the stone hearth, answering her words like a captivated audience. The murmur of gossiped tripe ached in her bones the same way it had since the beginning of her husband’s family affairs.

“I thought it right to tell you.” He replied with mixed emotion in his tone.

Ignoring him, she focused herself on the fiery embers as they rose upward, disappearing beyond the chimney’s base. Shades of bursting orange and flickering crimsons cast dramatic shadows across the contours of her warming skin. A rose blush crept onto her cheeks, and yet she pulled her shawl further around her shoulders.

“She is pregnant.” It would have been a question if not for the glaring truth of it all strewn upon his face. “Heavily pregnant.”

There was a distinct hesitance in the words that passed his lips next. He wondered if she had known all along; perhaps he had not hidden his affairs to the extent of his thoughts. Anyone with eyes or ears would have known. Yet, he had convinced himself that out of everyone it would not be she who held disbelief in his alignment.

“My love,” his words died as her anger erupted and flowed slowly from the tenseness of her shoulders.

“Do not.” Bitter as a soured fruit, her words were cut from her tongue. He opened his mouth to speak but was hushed by her calm rage. “If those words should ever leave you again, you will not have a tongue. I have dedicated myself to you, my life, my cause, everything.” She wouldn’t meet his eye. “You have no right to speak to me in such a manner. So, I only implore you for this and this only. When is the child due and will it be you who claims it as your own?”

Their relationship had never been a tumultuous one. Often they sailed upon smooth waters, their portage was met with clear skies and an outlook on the vast openness that was their journey together. But something was always lurking just below its surface. While his anger came in outbursts and pointed attacks, hers was more subtle and subdued. Her ferocity slithered beneath her exterior, only showing itself in passive quips, sharp words, and the intense avoidance of her gaze.

In truth, she was never more than a passing glance. Her beauty was outshined by that of her mother or even that of her grandmother. While desirable, she was often overlooked in a room of people. She was an always present individual, even if it were only physical and not of heart and mind. Countless times she was given grandiose offers for her hand by the endless barrage of scrambling lords who wanted to better their position and house’s prestige. Countless times she would hear whispers of their denials and the subsequent mild rage that seethed from the men’s bodies who were often more than twice her age. Even those who had attempted to court her mother in her blooming years had thought it right to do the same to her, expecting a different outcome. But it was their mistake, for they did not realize she was promised to another.

“I cannot give you information I do not have.”

His fingernails, though cut short and clean, dug crescents into the palms of his hands.

“Then you will contest it? You will deny to me in this instant that her child is yours? You will tell me that you have not taken her to your bed?”

“I can tell you whatever you would like to hear, my love. But I cannot promise the truth to my word.”

“Then I do not wish to hear it.” She sighed, but in a way that oozed resentment opposed to one of defeat. “Leave me.”

The weight of his stare pushed harshly against the vibrancy of her being. It swirled around in the air like smoke and ash, threatening to envelop her whole and take her to darkness. “I will not.” He defied her demand, standing firm just steps away from where she had positioned herself to watch the burning wood that warmed the room.

“You will do as I demand and leave me.” His steps were heavy as he drew closer, halted by her speaking once more. “Leave me.” The veins of her neck were strained, pumping blood viciously to her face causing it to blush a shade of pink. Yet, she continued to not meet his eye.

Even when he laid his hands upon her shoulders and shook her body wholly, she flouted her vision and expelled him from her line of view. He gripped her frantically, grasping at her upper and lower arms as he searched her for a semblance of the woman he knew.

“Look at me!” He repeated, growing more and more discontented. The pupils of his lilac eye vacillated from a pin-prick to an endless abyss. “I command you to look at me!”

It was almost childish. The two of them battled in distinctly different ways. He let his anger bubble to the surface and spill from his edges, while she preferred to not give people the satisfaction of seeing her hurt. They were both terribly flawed in their processes.

“Look at me!” He was yelling now.

“You cannot command anything of me.” She refused, choosing to focus on the golden clasps of his tunic that had been marred in dried brown blood. Whose, she did not know, but the sight of it left a poor taste upon her tongue.

“I can. You forget your place in the hierarchy.” His gloved fingers burnt against her skin. “Allow me to remind you,” he lowered his chin to rest upon her shoulder where his words vibrated from his chest to hers, “I am your lord husband and you are my lady wife. I am prince regent, my word is law.”

She could feel his resolve softening slightly as the steady beating of her heart and the softness of her breasts soothed his rugged rage. She could give in. She could allow him to coax her back to the ground where his iron heart kept him planted to the solid surface. There were many things she could have done and she chose the worst of them. All the hurt he had put her through was festering in her stomach, twisting and turning her insides in a wild rage. He had killed her brother and cousin, waged war against her mother and step-father, and kept her concealed within the Red Keep until they could be sure of her alignment. To top it all off, he had defiled her trust in him as a partner. He had taken another woman to bed.

“You cannot command anything of me as your command comes from your false claim to the throne.”

A crack in her voice was the only emotion in her words.

“You wear the conqueror’s crown yet have conquered nothing except for a common whore.”

He pushed himself backward in a way that did not use her body to project him so. Her feet remained planted and firm, unswaying in the storm that brewed in his chest.

Thundering and electrifying below the surface, he writhed in the sheets she had laid out before him in the bed he had made himself. He aimed to hurt. Taunting was his warfare and striking words were his blade.

“At the very least, my Alys can bear me children whereas you have failed at your only responsibility to me.” He took a step backward and composed himself, lifting his jaw and peering at her from the top of his cheek. Only when she finally brought her eyes to his did he turn it back down to stare down the bridge of his nose. “A fortnight, then.”

He turned on his heel and left his wife alone with her thoughts. If he had stayed a moment longer, he would have seen her shoulders tremble and her hand coast along the bodice of her gown. All the pain of his words was on display in her glassy eyes. All the rejection of his movements slowly burnt the bridge that connected them.

On day thirteen she remained locked in her chambers, hiding amongst the quilted sheets of her bed. No handmaiden or guard dare bother her and any movement on her behalf would have been reported to the prince who lingered on the grounds.

She only saw the moonlight on days twelve and eleven, waking from fitful dreams to an empty bed. Aemond had not warmed her sheets for months, constantly gone to battle and in the arms of another.

She emerged from her silken cocoon on day ten, wrapping herself in a black shawl before lingering in front of the fire for the remainder of the day. Homely sounds of her nieces and nephews pattering feet, her grandmother's anxious words, and the general organized chaos of the castle were ghosts in her ears. The room where she stayed now was not home. It was a prison. At first she thought it loving of her husband to take her to safety, to conceal her away from the battles. But the longer she remained, the more she grew to resent him.

On day nine, she was served a brothy soup that smelled of fresh thyme and flavored oil. It settled uncomfortably in her stomach and the heart of her meal was left in the bowl to chill in the midnight air.

It wasn’t until day eight that she finally stepped back into the land of the living where nothing had changed from the way she left it days prior. A guard noted her exit and promptly left, likely gone to alert the prince of her movements. A handmaiden, no older than she, guided her through the corridors, careful to not lead her in the direction of her husband’s new chambers.

“My lady, the prince requests you join him in his study.”

She continued past the guard who had been sent to summon her, her feet carrying her in the opposite direction.

The gardens were mild and temperate with summer flowers in bloom that seemed to cascade like waterfalls down the sides of the castle’s old stone walls. Colors of vibrant blues and pearlescent white were sprinkled about, contrasted by the brilliant deep green of the growing ivy.

Her handmaiden kept two steps behind her, occasionally picking a fallen leaf or petal out of the dress’s train. Otherwise, the two walked in a calming silence until she returned to her chambers for the remainder of the night.

On the seventh day, a sennight until her husband's battle, she woke to a bouquet of fresh heliotropes. They were all shades of purple, some amethyst and others deep like obsidian. She did not need to ponder long who they had come from. They were the same flower that adorned the Red Keep’s great hall on the day they wed. Eternal love was symbolized in the flower’s petals, but the definition of eternal seemed to end in the sheets of Harrenhal.

On the sixth day, she again spent her time awake in the middle of the night. Her room in the Holdfast overlooked some of the gardens where only guards patrolled at this late hour. However, she was not in the Holdfast. Dragonstone had become her new home. She sat in the window, a velvet shawl draped over her shoulders, bathing in the moonlight. There was vastly more to see here. From her perch, she could see the grounds below, a small village, and the empty ocean that reminded her of her father.

She wondered what her mother was doing. After being locked within the Red Keep, she lost all contact with the outside world. Any news of the war was only fed to her though eavesdropping either on maids or her cousins. It was rare for her to think about the consequences of her family’s actions, but with nothing else to distract her, her mind wandered. When she arrived in Dragonstone it got worse. All news of the war stopped as if everyone had been instructed to keep it a secret from the princess.

She thought back to the day she was told she was to marry her cousin. Her mother had taken her into the gardens and walked with her for hours. The two walked endlessly through the ivy and wisteria, eventually making their way into the less traveled pathways. Rhaenyra told her that she was betrothed and from that day forward she took her duties as a wife very seriously.

Until the day Rhaenyra and Laenor left for Dragonstone, she was counseled by the Queen, her grandmother and soon-to-be mother in law. Alicent had taken to the girl like her own daughter. She instilled a deep sense of duty and honor into her moral code, encouraging her to age with grace and the makings of a royal. The young girl enjoyed her time with both her mother and grandmother, but especially the moments she spent with her future husband.

Deep in her heart, she knew the days of married bliss were mere memories she had built with rose-colored glasses. She wondered if they were ever truly happy together.

On the third day, she emerged from her chambers clad in a gown of black and gold. Thick brocade fabric formed soft pleats that barely grazed the ground beneath her feet as she walked. A necklace of gold and sapphire laid delicately against her collarbone. She was tired of playing the part of a broken woman. Whether she liked it or not, she was the first born daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon. Laying down in defeat was not an option on the table.

Again, the prince regent called for his lady wife. Again, she did not heed his request, instead making her way through the halls of Dragonstone where she would eventually find herself standing at the edge of the cranberry bog where small pink flowers swirled together like a sunset sea. Come autumn they would be red fruits, ready to flavor the season.

“You have been avoiding me.”

The voice jostled her from her thoughts.

There, no more than ten feet back, stood her husband. He wore his usual attire, blackened leather with sleeves that came to his wrists. Platinum blonde hair was less tame than usual, wild strands framing his face in a delicate yet dangerous way. The sun glistened against his sapphire eye, matching the way it did against her necklace.

A simple nod in agreement was all she gave. It was easier to turn her back to him and let the past consume her.

“My,” he stopped himself. “I want to talk.”

“Then talk. Nobody is stopping you.”

His body pressed into hers in an intimate way it had not in ages. Long steps drew him near and the warmth of his waist was pressed into her side as he found his footing in the grass. His arms were latched behind his back with one hand cradling his other’s fingers.

“I remember the first time we properly met as betrothed children. You were a child of eight and I, nine. My mother had just denied a proposed betrothal between Helaena and Jacaerys.

My mother proposed a union between us. We were the leftover children, naturally we suited one another. You had just returned from the godswood and we were made to dine together.” The smallest smile tugged at his lips. “You hated every minute of it.”

“As did you.”

“I knew my duty was to you, to be a good husband for you, but I did not know you. Then you moved here. I had tried writing to you on multiple occasions, but the words never came to me naturally. I knew what to write, but without emotion it felt disingenuous. I wanted to be genuine.

However, at nine, I cared little for marriage. I wanted to be stronger, a better swordsman. I wanted a dragon, a true symbol of Targaryen power.

When Laena passed and we met again in Pentos, you were a different person. A year older and entirely different. You were the only one in your family to stand by my side when I was injured. I remember the way you screamed at your brother, telling him it was over and that violence was not the way. The sound of your screaming still rings in my ears as I tried to stop the bleeding. I can still feel your trembling hands as you tore the hems of your dress to give me the fabric. I can see the way your brothers seethed at the sight of it all.”

A breeze brought off the cliff side rustled the ruching of her gown. It had been many years since she thought back to that day. As a child of nine she was far beyond her years of maturity. Some would tell her she was the perfect bride for her husband-to-be. Calm in temper, she would tame the other who was constantly on edge.

“They loathed me for years afterward. My step sisters never quite forgave me.”

“And yet, you remain by my side.”

She laughed bitterly, tucking her chin to her chest as she angled her head away from him. “And yet, I do.”

Hesitancy was not a trait carried by the prince regent. In fact, there had rarely if ever been a time in which he had not displayed a self-assured attitude in every aspect of his life. But in that moment, with an outstretched arm, he hesitantly placed his ungloved hand to the small of her back.

A burst of uncomfortable tension crawled beneath her gown, spreading to her sides and shoulders in a crushing wave. She stiffened, eyes cast downward to the grass. It was only when his fingers, long and nimble, began to rub small circles of familiar softness. He had often done this since their union. Especially so when in the unforgiving presence of her step father and mother who grew to regret agreeing to wed the two.

“Do you regret it?” Aemond asked, his focus now shifted to the side of his wife’s face. He could see the turmoil in her creased brow in the way her eyes squinted and lip upturned. “For even a moment?”

The answer came with a surge of relief and confusion.

“No.”

How could she not regret it, he wondered. For all that he had put her through: the separation from her family, the loss of those closest to her, the grief of miscarriage, and the pain of intense heartbreak stemming from his adultery. He had stolen the comfortable life she lived from her and crumpled it beneath his shoe the moment she was promised to him.

A part of him wanted to shake her as he did a week prior. He wanted to scream and demand a reasonable answer as to why she does not resent the relationship. Every fiber of his being was set aflame with confusion.

“No?” He repeated. The hand placed on her side grasped at her waist to turn her body in his hold. Only when the tip of his finger coaxed her chin from her chest did she meet his gaze.

Wetness pooled at the rims of her eyes, clawing through her lower lashes to stream down her sunken cheeks. She was not one to cry. Even after the loss of her first, she did not publically shed a tear. “No.”

Aemond felt his betrayal, then.

The feeling bubbled in his stomach, churching uncomfortably in a wild whirlpool of emotion. It threatened to come up his throat, leaving long gashes of red hatred in his body. Each tear she shed was like a hole burst in his chest. The iridescent droplets were reminders of his sacred vow broken.

He choked on his response, leaving her an open stage to speak.

“Please, do not choose her over me. I have lost all, I cannot lose you too.”

Whatever was left of his heart shattered as he found his eye glassy, blurring with the same salted tears as hers.

He suddenly pulled her close, his hand smoothing down the back of her head to bring her to his chest. Horrible sobs racked through her body causing her shoulders to quake as his hands desperately tried to soothe her. “Never, my love.”

~*~

“I sent the whore away.” Aemond walked with purpose, coming to stand before his wife who was seated at a table with a steaming cup of tea. His fingers were latched behind his back.

It was two days until his battle was set to take place.

A slight nod was given, gradually turning into a full one as his wife placed her cup down onto the table. “That’s… good. That is good.”

Bile still rose in her throat every time she thought of the woman. Older and more mature than she, Alys Rivers was her name. A common bedwhore from Harrenhal was her occupation and she bore no name of any relevance as she was a bastard. What had been so enticing about her that he would break his sacred vow?

“Your happiness in the situation is lost on me.” The seat across from her was filled with Aemond’s presence as he quickly filled the empty space.

“No.” She interjected. “I am very happy. Truly.”

The storm of emotion in her features said otherwise.

“But something still ails you.”

She got lost in the plumes of steam that rose from her cup, floating into the stagnant air as if being pulled up by strings. “It is nothing. A simple insecurity, not a problem to breathe life into any longer.”

“It is my infidelity, is it not?”

Looking like a child who had been caught out of bed, she folded her hands in her lap and stared at her husband.

“She is a witch.” Aemond stated as if it were a common thing. “She has visions; she sees things in the clouds and flames. I cannot explain it. She used potions to cause my eye to wander.” Holding his wife’s gaze, he slumped his shoulders and let his back arch to rest his forearms on his thighs. “I should have been stronger. I should have seen through that witch-” he grew angrier but she was not sure if it was in truth, “that whore’s facade. I should not have let myself cause you, my beautiful wife, any pain.”

His head slipped into his palms, forehead cradled and fingers tangled in his platinum locks.

“How am I to know your words hold truth?” She watched as Aemond shook his head.

“It was a lapse in my rational judgment. I will always return to you, my love.” In a low strained tone he breathed his words. “She means nothing to me.” But his unwillingness to use her name, Alys, made her doubt his statement.

It did not take long for his wife to thrust herself from her seated position and move to kneel at his side. Her dress collected dust as she lowered herself to peer beneath the curtain of hair that blocked his face.

“She is not our problem now.” Assuring words were what his wife needed to hear, not him. But she could not resist the way he pulled at her heartstrings. “We will move forward together. The war will end and we can find peace in our lives. I am still young, we will find a way to bring healthy children into our lives.”

Conflict, she found, was not a flattering color to bathe in. There was nary a time that the Targaryen dynasty did not partake in one form of insanity or another. It was written in their fates to continually live in turmoil. Even those that tried to keep peace sprouted seeds of distress in their descendants or amongst their people.

Aemond and the princess were no exceptions.

They had wed hastily but were able to get through the evening without a duel or death. Viserys II’s health was failing him. Though able to walk still, he struggled in his everyday life. The princess was sent from Dragonstone to Kings Landing where she had a quick ceremony that her direct family did not attend. This attributed to her feelings for her husband. She found comfort in his presence. He was there when others were not.

Her life felt as if it were out of her control. From the moment she was brought into her cruel world others were planning her future and she was locked in her gilded cage. With Aemond, she felt like she was in control. Though the truth in that could be debatable.

They laid together that night for the first time in many and possibly the last. Memories of brighter times had been shared as they basked in the afterglow, lit by only the moon. He had more scars than she remembered. While still lean and pale, cuts of bright pink and burnt auburn were spliced across his torso. Distinct claw marks were marred into his shoulder blades, reminders of his infidelity.

It was almost as if they could talk to her as she counted them in the moonlight. Aemond had turned in his sleep, his back to her. Displayed like an open canvas, she couldn’t help but find her mind shrouded by hurt and anger again as the name burst into her ears. Alys Rivers, the whore, the bedmate, the bastard, and the woman who caught her husband’s wandering eye. She cringed as she tried to picture her. Surely she at least had wrinkles. There had to be a flaw to her appearance. As hard as the princess tried, she could only picture a woman of beauty.

Lost in her insecurities, she had not noticed that Aemond had turned over and now studied his wife’s face as it twisted and contorted. He knew what was troubling her. Instead of lying, telling her that Alys was a horrid woman, he said nothing and took her into his arms. Crushing her in his embrace, he held her like it would be the last time he could. He memorized her shape, her smell, her warmth and her love. His eyes closed and he rested his chin atop her head.

“I love you.” He whispered into the night, unsure if she heard him or not as her chest rose and fell like a metronome keeping a beat. “I love you.” He repeated, holding her tight as he willed himself to sleep knowing what was to come the next day.

~~~*~~~

“Stay.”

Her hand caught his as he made his way toward Vhaegar, dressed in his charcoal armor. The helm was down, concealing his face within.

“Aemond, please.”

The full grasp on his wrist halted him in his tracks. The beast let out a low grumble, growing impatient as its rider stood motionless on the cliff side. A gentle breeze blew in, bringing with it salted air that watered her tongue.

“I will return.” Assurance in the face of death was just words on the breeze, taken far away before they could drop like seedlings and plant themselves in her mind.

“Whole and alive with a beating heart or in memory?”

His hand, though covered in a thick leather glove, came to rest upon her cheek. The other pulled the visor of his shining helm up to reveal his contrasting eyes. “Do you doubt my abilities, my love?”

“Not for one moment.”

His palm pressed against her cheek, lingering longer than he intended as she leaned into his touch. Lashes fanned across her skin, fluttering softly as her lips pressed into a fine line, holding back whatever emotion was within.

“I will return. I vowed to protect you, until my very last day. That day will not be today.” Though he could not press his lips to hers, he drew her in close, holding her firmly against him. “Wait by the ocean until the sun dips below the horizon. I will be here by your side the moment the world is cast into darkness.” He held her back, staring deeply into her eyes. “I promise, my love. I will return.”

She cried as he turned and mounted Vhaegar. Tears streamed from her reddened eyes as he waved her off with another proclamation of his return. Even the frightful blasts of warm summer air could not dissuade the constant river that bled onto her cheeks.

It was late when her sobs ceased and the whisper of prayer died on her lips. The protective light of the day had fled from the sky leaving her cast in darkness and broken promises. Her knees had formed deep grooves in the fine sand where they landed hours before. Fists full of earth could not move the clock backward. Aemond was lost to the wind.

Grief kept her going in the deep midnight hours as she gazed into the distance where Westeros lied. Every speck in the sky had her heart beating faster than before. Each turned out to be nothing. It was only when the morning came and the world continued forward that she moved from her spot. The tide had brought water in around her thighs, soaking her dress through.

She ached like nothing else in the following days. It was as if she could feel every wound her husband had endured. Her dreams were haunted all the same. Blue eyes stared at her through the misty haze that rolled in. Aemond filled her thoughts. At night, she could see him in the darkness looming in the corner of her room.

Word of his death eventually made it to Dragonstone. Mention of his Alys occupying Harrenhal was floated by the guards. How he had brought her to the battle, kissed her passionately, and died in the skies only posed as daggers thrust into her heart.

It wasn’t until years later that Aemond returned to Dragonstone, to his wife. Though, she did not greet him on the beach. She met him in the crypts, sealed away in stone tombs left to collect dust.

She had died of a chill in 133 AC, taking her final breaths on that same sandy beach.

Although not by his doings, he had kept his promise. Brought back in a box of black and red sealed tight with dark metal, Aemond was laid to rest at his wife’s side.

I will return.

#Aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #house of the dragon imagine #hotd spoilers #aemond fanfiction

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 5 months

Text

Just Friends?

Eddie is your older, sexy next door neighbour. You're instantly smitten with him but with the countless women that you see leave his trailer dreamy eyed and lovestruck, you don't have a chance with him? You're just his friend right?

Warnings; Older Eddie, minors shoo, fluff, jealous Eddie. Friends to lovers, Comfort, Pet loss (anon who sent me the request to write about this, I'm sending you all the hugs and positive vibes in the world ❤️)

💌🎀❤️

Eddie Munson is your older, gorgeous neighbour and you're pretty sure he could never be interested in you. He dated beautiful women all the time, you saw when they left his trailer dreamy eyed and already hooked on him.

You'd hear the giggles and their moans every night while you sat on your patio and tried to ignore the noises, ignoring the tightness coiling in your gut and the envy you felt.

How you wished that it was you that held Eddie's attention. The two of you did talk a lot and you had been over to his for a beer quite a few times but he wasn't interested in you romantically.

He had been such a good friend to you since the two of you met. When you first moved here, about six months into your stay your sweet kitty had passed away.

She had hidden herself away in a corner of the room, wouldn't come out no matter how much you tried and it devastated you.

Eddie had seen you in tears one day and you had poured your heart out to him about Missy, he was kind and so sweet with you. For a little bit he just listened as you cried, then he pulled you into a big hug and told you everything would be okay.

"It will be okay sweetheart, I promise you. Every day the hurt will get a little bit better. You'll still miss her but she's here with you always, in your heart and in your memories" you managed to nod through tears and the words had given you hope.

Eddie helped locate Missy who had sadly passed, he was there for you as you through every step, from taking Missy to the vet, to receiving her ashes in a little wooden box that you kept on your nightstand with a picture of your sweet kitty.

Every day Eddie helped you smile even if it was just for a little while, gave you hugs when you needed them and had even drawn a portrait of Missy from one of your photos of her. Something you could remember her by.

The drawing was beside Missy's picture and her ashes and you treasured it. One small act of kindness but it had helped you heal a little bit of your heartache.

Through all of that it was then you realised you had fallen for Eddie.

Eddie who only saw you as a friend.

Eddie who pops his head around your door as you cook some dinner that night, he smiles warmly at you and it flusters you.

"Something smells good princess, can I join you?"

Fuck, he was sexy. His hair was in a bun, he just came home from work and he's in his overalls, there's a smudge of grease on his cheek that you'd love to wipe off.

You fight the urge and heap the pasta into a bowl for him, add the homemade garlic bread and some salad. He lets out a small contented sigh as he settles down and begins to eat.

"I picked a movie when I was coming home from work, want to watch it with me sweetheart?" he suggests to you and you nod. He always picked the best movies.

Once food is consumed you follow Eddie into his trailer and wonder if he had a date tonight? Wouldn't he rather be with them then hanging with you?

Then again he wouldn't have invited you if he thought that. "Don't you have a date Eddie?" You ask curiously and hope you're not prying too much.

"Nah, thought I'd rather hang out with you princess, see some friends" you nod. Of course, friends. That's all the two of you were. At least you definitely know where he stands now.

Maybe it was time for you to have some fun. You deserved to have some fun and it's not like Eddie was ever without attention from women. Maybe he would be protective if you dated someone as a friend.

You watch as Eddie laughs at a certain part of the movie, his dimples on show and his eyes lighting up. He was so perfect it hurt but if he only saw you as a friend then you'd be the best friend he ever had.

💌🎀

Due to your decision you find yourself going to a party that your friends invited you to. It wasn't often that you left the comfort of your home to go to a party nowadays but you figured if anything would help you get over Eddie it would be getting yourself out there.

You're dressed up for the first time in ages and feel really good. Eddie is relaxing with a beer and talking to his friends when you head out of your home.

He chokes on his beer a bit and it flustered you, "Do I look okay?" You ask anxiously and Eddie's big brown eyes are wide as he takes in your appearance.

"Okay" he chokes out and Steve rolls his eyes and smiles at you. "You look beautiful honey" thanking Steve you wave goodbye to Eddie and you're pretty sure his eyes are on you all the way.

💌💞

You wake in the morning with a slight hangover and the hot guy from last night just leaving the shower. His name was Jerry and he was exactly what you needed at the time, just one night where you didn't think of your god of a neighbour and who he was with.

Jerry doesn't stick around and to be honest you don't want him to. Last night was fun but you weren't looking for a repeat performance. You follow Jerry to the door, saying goodbye but startle when you see Eddie outside your door and looking pissed.

His eyes narrow as he looks at Jerry, his big brown eyes flash with something you can't place. You can't help noticing how unbelievably gorgeous he looks but then he opens his mouth and ruins everything.

"You know I couldn't sleep last night because of you and the lover boy here" you frown confused and your heart skips a beat. Was he jealous?

"Um..." You don't get to say much more because Jerry hastily makes an exit and Eddie's vicious gaze follows him.

"Pussy" he mutters and you scowl. What was wrong with him? He speaks again before you can question him and it sends annoyance pulsing through you, once you hear what he has to say.

"All night I heard you and that idiot all over each other, people do have work and shit you know" you reel back from Eddie stunned. The two of you had never traded cross words and now he was giving you shit for doing something he did most nights?

No fucking way.

"Are you serious Eddie? I hear countless women and their moans and giggles all through the night and I've never said shit about that...yet you have the gall to bitch to me when I bring a guy home?"

His pissed looks melts away just a tiny bit and you walk towards him seriously annoyed at this point, "Let me be clear Eddie. You don't get to give me shit when you've driven me nuts for weeks" he blinks startled then grins. He actually grins.

"You're beautiful when you're angry you know, I mean you're always beautiful but I like seeing you all fiery" this disarms you for a second but you soon wave it off.

"Don't you try and charm your way out of this Munson, your pretty eyes and sweet talk don't work on me" well the pretty eyes did but you wouldn't tell him that.

"I was telling the truth" he replies seriously and you hide your smile. Damn him.

"The only woman I've ever wanted to notice me was you princess" he finishes that sentence and then tugs you to him and kisses you deeply. Your brain short circuits for a few seconds before you kiss him back.

Then you pull away and shake your head. Nope, no way were you being some notch on his bedpost.

"I'm not doing this Eddie. I'm not being another woman that you just conveniently forget about after you get what you want" he looks exasperated and gently tilts your head up to look at him.

"You aren't listening to me sweetheart. I'm totally fucking crazy about you. I don't want anyone else, just you" oh.

Despite the joy you feel you can't help but be a bit frustrated. "You have a funny way of showing it Eddie" he nods and his eyes soften as he squeezes your hand.

"Didn't think you felt the same. I should have asked I know, I'm an idiot". Fuck, you thought that Eddie didn't feel the same about you. Both of you were idiots.

"Well, maybe you can make it up to me later? Your famous Mac and cheese and maybe..." You trail off and find the courage to kiss him this time. He responds eagerly, pulls away to kiss your forehead and beams.

"It's a date princess"

💞

Tag list @whysodelirious08 @ali-r3n @lilrubles @yourdailymemedelivery @marvelcasey05 @melodymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @sadbitchfangirl @mylovelycrazyworld @exploding-bonbon @deamours @costellation-hunter

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #older eddie munson

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silverselfshippingchaos · 1 month

Note

Your guy!!!

MAXXIIIIIII HI BABEEEE!!!!

#answered #AHKDBANSAB MERLIINNNNN THANK YOU HE'S SO CUTEEEEE #i LOVE him in 5 #it's actually my favorite version of him! for fucking up k.ilik and xi.anghua at least we got the best m.axi!!!!!#i think his best look is 6 but my favorite is 5!!! he just looks so handsome!!!! m.axi in his 40s is so. ajdhajdhwndhakshjqhsjwwhwjwh #but also i love the subtle differences in his voice! some of his lines in 5 have a bit of a rasp to them and it sounds really nice and i #love hearing a more mellowed out m.axi! youll notice that in 3 his voice is rather blank but he's angry too #his lines are just mean #in 4 he's still a bit 😐 but he has this fucked up sense of humor. he's bitter and mean but he's still him and starting to regain bits of #his old self after losing his memory. shout out to 'i've sacrificed everything for this moment! no one can stop me! not even you!'#(which he says to ash actually- 4 is their divorce arc...) but in 5 his new voice lines are just chill. the kids might be annoying but he's #a very good teacher! and in 6 he's pretty energtic and pumped up! which makes sense since hes still in his 20s by then. anyways you also se #ash here! ash looks her age (early-mid 40s) because her aging didnt slow unlike him and she's pretty annoyed. ash's development is that she #has become a lot more.. tired? grizzled? she's spent more than a decade looking for m.axi. why does she still bother with this guy? but she #loves him so much. she's in favor of going all out on p.atroklus (is that how you spell his name? dont remember) and beating his ass-#ash is still a playable character in this game like all the others! shes a fighter from india and she fights with a kirpan/talwar but her #kicks are similar to m.axi's! they have more shared design elements in this game. the red on the shoes.. both have a chain by their side...#anyways AHEM thank you for this hehe!!! my man is sooo dreamy!!! s.c5 m.axi is the hottest m.axi imo ajskaja he's so handsome!!! muah muah!#the dandy of the south seas 🌊 🤍

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lynzishell · 5 days

Text

The Past 🩵 Asher

Once we’re seated and buckled, Lex turns to me to begin her interrogation before I even have a chance to pull out of the parking garage. “Okay, so, first things first, did you sleep with him?”

I glance over at her, surprised by her question. I figured that was implied considering we left the club together last night and I didn’t come home until this afternoon, but good for her for not making assumptions, I guess. “Yeah, I did,” I say, fighting a losing battle with the smile spreading across my face.

She smacks me in the arm and gasps, “Really? How was it?”

This really isn’t the part of the night that I need to talk through, but I allow myself a moment to think about it anyway. I prop my arm up on the door so I can rest my head against my hand. My hair feels clean and soft, and still smells faintly of his shampoo, sparking a memory of running my hands over his body in the shower. The image makes my stomach flutter, and my voice comes out a little dreamy when I speak, “It was amazing.”

“Amazing? Well, I’m going to have follow-up questions.”

“And I won’t be answering any of those questions.”

“Ugh, fine,” she rolls her eyes in mock annoyance, “So, then what happened? How did things go from ‘amazing’ to you sobbing into my shoulder and getting snot all over my jacket?”

“I don’t know. Like, the whole night was great. It was fun, and he was so sweet, and it really felt like… It wasn't just a hook up, it was more than that. Or at least I thought so. Maybe I was just projecting or seeing what I wanted to see because I… fuck, I’m so embarrassed… whatever, I kinda put myself out there today, really thinking he’d reciprocate, but—”

“He didn’t?”

“No.”

“What did he say?”

“Same thing he always says. He doesn’t want to date me because we work together. He just wants to be friends. I don’t know, maybe I’m the asshole. How many times does he have to tell me he just wants to be friends? And I’m over here like, ‘are you sure? how ‘bout now?’ What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to stop.”

“Babe, c’mon, I think you’re being too hard on yourself. I know you. You wouldn’t do that if you didn’t really believe he felt the same way. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you, you’re not imagining it. Sounds to me like he’s saying one thing but acting another and he’s fucking with your head and that’s not okay. If he truly wants to be your friend, then he needs to act like a friend, and he’s not. If you ask me, he’s the asshole, and you deserve a hell of a lot better.”

“I hear you; I do. He’s not an asshole, though. He’s really not. I think maybe it’s more complicated than that. Like, he was so kind, and affectionate… I really felt like he cared. And then today, he just looked so sad when I was leaving. You know how he does sometimes. But I’ve never seen him more down than he looked today, and my heart just, I don’t know, I just want to take that sadness away. I feel like I could make him happy if he’d let me.”

“Careful, Ash. Don’t do that. Don’t fall into that trap of thinking you can rescue him or fix him or something. That’s some toxic co-dependent shit. Pretty sure you get enough of that with your sister.”

“Ow.” Leave it to Lex to stab you in the heart with her honesty. I respect it, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“Did you or did you not drop everything to rush out to the Bay to help her the second she asked?”

“Yes, but—”

“Are your parents home?”

“Yes.”

“So, in theory, they could help her with her baby furniture or whatever today?”

I let her words sink in. I’ve gotten better at setting boundaries with Iris, but apparently, I still have some work to do. It didn’t even feel like an option to say no to her today, but now that seems ridiculous. Now, I wish I hadn’t rushed out on Atlas. Maybe we could’ve had a nice day together. Maybe I wouldn’t have made a fool of myself if I wasn’t so frazzled and trying to make everyone happy all at once. Damn. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I’m doing that with Atlas though. Like, sure, I want to make him happy when he’s sad, and maybe I overestimate my ability to do so, but I’ve never felt a need to ‘save’ him or whatever. It’s not like that. I just… I like him so much, Lex. I really do. I love spending time with him. And I love the way he makes me feel when we’re together. I could’ve sworn he felt the same way. I mean, just the way he…” my voice trails off as I remember all the ways he looked at me and smiled at me and kissed me and touched me, and then his words “Ash, you’re perfect, you know that?”, and the tenderness in his voice and in his eyes when he said it. The sweet way he kissed my forehead in the bathroom. The way he held me as we slept.

“The way he what? Hello? Where did you go?”

“You know what? I’m not fucking crazy. I’m not. I know he feels it too. So, maybe he really is just super weird about dating people he works with. I mean, on paper it seems logical, right? To not mix your professional life with your romantic one?”

“I don’t know. I guess? What are you getting at?”

“Well, it’s an easy enough obstacle to remove, don’t you think?”

“You’re gonna quit your job over a guy you’ve only known a few months?”

“Why not? It’s better than giving up on a great guy over some job I've only had a few months. I’m not just gonna quit though, don’t worry. I’ll get something else lined up first. But I have a decent portfolio. I don’t think it’ll be that hard.”

“Okay. Well, what if it doesn’t work? What if he’s full of shit, making excuses? What if you leave for him and he still just wants to be friends.”

“Honestly, at this point, if there’s any chance of me being his friend, I think I’ll need some distance for a while to get over him. And also, if I call his bluff and tell him I’m going to quit, and he still doesn’t want to be with me, then hopefully he’ll at least have the decency to tell me the real reason why. Otherwise, maybe I shouldn’t even try being his friend. Maybe, in that case, I’d have to face that he’s not who I thought he was and move on. But I won’t be able to do that unless I know for sure. So yeah, the more I think about it, this seems like the obvious solution regardless of the outcome.”

She pouts at me, clearly not happy, but she doesn’t have an argument against it, so she concedes, “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know.” I reach over and hold her hand, giving it a little squeeze. “Sorry about your jacket.”

She smiles at that, “It’s okay. Do you feel better at least?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Worth it then.”

Prev // Next

AN: Thank you so so much @madebycoffee for creating the perfect poses for this scene!!! This was my very first car scene and I was so nervous about it, but I love how it turned out and I couldn't have done it without you!! 🥹🩵🧡

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt4 #past #asher goode #lex mcphee

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

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.

#my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fanfic #gonna run and hide now sorry bye #Spotify

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