#but shit I hurt myself reading that 😅

[ghost-proofbaby]

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

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

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

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

wc: 15.1k+

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

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

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

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

When you met him. 

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” 

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

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

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

“You don’t look fine.”

“Then stop looking.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The absolute biggest.”

“Bigger than the Atlantic ocean.”

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

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

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

He only nodded in answer.

“Can I ask why?”

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

“Because he made fun of you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

You wouldn’t have survived it without Eddie. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Principal Higgins doesn’t hate you.”

“You’re right – he loathes me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A payment.” 

“And what would this payment be?” 

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His miracle. His gift. His soulmate. 

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

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

“The colors.”

“Because they are.” 

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

You were his soulmate. 

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

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

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

“What? Used to them?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

I guess, except when it’s you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait, hold on-”

“Stay here.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-Okay,” you stuttered out, unsure. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think I’m pretty?” 

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

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

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

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

“There, look.” 

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

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

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

The sentiment had you choked up. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was right. You think you get it. 

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

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

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

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

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

“As many as it takes, old man.” 

“Whatever you say, kid.” 

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t reply, only widening your strides. 

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

Damn him and his newfound height. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You won’t even kiss me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he said no. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

But after three days, you had started to worry. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His soulmate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you didn’t. 

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

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

He nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

It wasn’t supposed to go this way. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he saw you, he’d shattered completely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You should have insisted on staying with him and Dustin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—*ash, stop reading here*—

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

You’d always wondered how it happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s black and white. 

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

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

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

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

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

The colors are gone. 

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

Eddie. 

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

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

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

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

Frozen in time, frozen in black and white. 

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

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

She understands.

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

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

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

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

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

“Eddie!” 

You’d always wondered how it happened.

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

#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

[night-dazai]

I read the alphabet for Levi and was wondering how aftercare would be if he did ended up making you use your safe word. I love comfort

Yes dear, I just love this request (or mostly I am a sucker for aftercare fluff myself 😅)

Tags: smut to fluff, use of safe word, Levi being rough, doggy style, female reader, ending with lovely kisses from the world's strongest captain.

Hips ramming into your slipper cunt, balls slapping your over-sensitive clit red. Red marks adored your ass kin and hips from his hand's grips and smack. For the past few hours, you have been like this, same position with Levi ramming into your cunt no stop. Not talking he pushed your head down the moment he saw you on the bed after coming home. “Works tough love,” he said in a low voice pushing you. 

He did not ask why you were on the bed instead of the couch and why you did not welcome him when he came home. He did not bother to ask why your things were a mess in your room but just what was happening right now. No kiss or foreplay, he slipped right in and patted your head when you whimpered “It's alright be a good girl for me .” 

You wanted to be, you wanted to please him even if your work was shit, and you were not treated fairly at work or the train station. You had to get down cause some random man had more important work than a woman who was just going home at 8 pm. You wanted to complain but yeah you still wanted to please him. 

Maybe he would kiss me that might help me you thought for a while but after hours your position has not changed, he has cum thrice and you have lost count of yours and yet not a single change in position. Hands having a firm grip on your neck one on your hips and ramming into you.

Your tears and drool not just made the pillows wet but stained at this point, air circulation was low and slowly pleasure faded or maybe your mind was having too many thoughts and Levi’s actions were not helping. Slowly you tried to tap at his thigh to slow down (one of your safe signals ). But nothing, you tapped again and again for a while still not wanting to disappoint him but soon it was overwhelming, not stopping he kept going “ CINNAMON “you shouted. 

It took Levi a few seconds to process the word that reached his ear and it was not your moan or whimpers “What?” he asked actions halting instantly. Teras were uncountable now, pulling your body forward you hugged your legs and rocked yourself in the fetal position crying on your knees “Sorry… I am sorry “ you kept saying while crying. 

This is not right, he should have done this to see you crying hugging your knees and saying sorry for what? Confused and worried he extended a hand to see if you wanted to first touch him and you answered by extending your hand. 

He immediately scooped you and placed you on his lap and rocked you gently, touch so soft like a feather which was a huge contract to how he was fucking you seconds ago “ I am sorry love, what happened and p….noo…no pleas….please don't be sorry …tell me what happed “ he said. 

Worrying more when you did not respond for a while and kept crying “Did I… hurt you ?” voice soft and wobbling he asked trying to touch your thighs. But you flinched, his hands retreated to your head and stoked your hair “ I am sorry love I am so sorry I was selfish “ he said. 

Feeling bad hearing him say so many sorry you shook your head but feeling too exhausted you tapped his chest to make him look at you. Dark eyes looking at you worried and guilty “Noo…bad day…” you said and coughed as he patted your back gently “You…did not kiss… me “ you said feeling embarrassed by these stupid reasons. You thought he would laugh but no, his face became serious “Ye..yeah...I am extremely sorry, this will not happen again “ he said pressing his lips on your lips. 

It was soft gentle and sweet, he pulled away in a second “Let's clean you up and hear about your day shall we “ he said lifting you like you were a glass doll and cleaning you while being quiet the whole time.

Massaging all your sore spots and your legs once you let him touch your thighs which felt really sore. Kiss your head and hands while gently relating some knots in it.

Making you wear one of his shirts he pulled the covers over your chest and tucked your sides.

“What happened ?” he asked resting his head on one hand lying on his side but frowned seeing the way your way face went “Maybe tomorrow we can talk ? “ he asked and you just nodded and snuggled yoruslef into his arms hugging him “ sorry ..” you said again. “Why are you sorry love “ he asked hands stroking your hair “ I did not let you finish …” you said and refused to look at him when he tugged at your shoulder. 

A little chuckle escaped his lips “You scared me there … do you think that matters when my queen is troubled ?” he said. Eyes filled with sincerity, love and a little guilt as to what he did to you “Of course not love now sleep “ he said hugging you back pressing a kiss on your head and patting your back. 

Tried from the exhausting day and all the thoughts that you had took over immediately as you closed your eyes you saw your lover's face smiling yet different “Sorry love .. will never happen again “ he said pressing a kiss on your forehead again You smiled “ I love you “ you mumble before drifting to sleep. “ Me to my queen “.

It is also very accurate to say he treated you like a queen (he always treats you like a queen but a bit more ) for the next whole week.

#aot smut #aot x reader #aot levi #levi aot #aot fanfiction #aot fanart #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan fanart #aot #night dazai #aot x black reader #aot x female reader #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot x reader smut #levi smit #levi smut #attack on titan levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman #aot official art #captain levi #levi x hange #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi x reader smut #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman smut

[whatbigotspost]

On being real mean and then less mean

Long post incoming........I've been chipping away at writing this for like a month now and (unlike my usual self) I've stalled out a few times unsure of what all I want to say. But I think I've got it squared up the way I would like to. Unfortunately, I need a long context laying preamble. Sorry this will feel like an online recipe experience 😅

As the 5 of you who usually read my blocks of text will know well, I grew up in a very toxic, abusive, high-control environment. If you wanted to intentionally produce kids who would have anxiety, shame, self-loathing, aggression, be overly-competitive, angry, and equipped with little-to-no social skills, you should be parented like I was. In my nuclear family, we couldn't have had worse life lessons or role modeling when it comes to building healthy relationships, strong friendships, and harmonious existence with others. Violence was often normalized. Manipulation was encouraged. Specific conditions and rules were put on receiving love and/or affection. We weren't seen as independent humans who had their own lives and thoughts and ambitions--we were seen as extensions of my father, brought into the world to be his unquestioning cheerleaders and adoring team, to do our best to become his clones, to live out his unrealized dreams, and to combat his grievances w/ the world.

In short, it sucked.

Above all, I was taught in a very deep and real way to hate myself, not that this was explicitly acknowledged mind you, but it was the implication of everything. This self loathing was an extension of my father's own insecurities and full inability to grow the fuck up and build a life for himself that was emotionally mature, resilience, and self-caring. This mentality, if truly internalized, creates ugliness from the inside that radiates outward. I can see that so clearly now, but back then, I didn't understand it at all.

I was implicitly taught a thought process like, "the best way to 'own' someone is to shit talk them into crying" or "you can make yourself look stronger and distract from your own shortcomings by staying 1 step ahead of everyone through making THEM feel like shit about their shortcomings."

But you weren't just mean to someone to stay ahead of them, you were also mean as a way to ingratiate others to you. "Telling it like it is" even if what you said was unnecessarily cruel, was a virtue. Like, "what? I'm just saying what we're all thinking!" kind of stuff. I was taught that "teasing" is a way you show someone you love them, where "teasing" means saying all kinds of awful things that are quite hurtful. I was taught that being funny was one of the most important qualities and it didn't matter if those laughs came at the expense of others' feelings and if, over time, your comments began to destroy those around you.

It's "just teasing." It's "just joking." It was a lot of "oh come, on grow a thicker skin" over "maybe saying cruel shit for fun is bad?" It was "God, I can dish it and I can take it, why can't you?" over "maybe I want friends who support one another instead of digging at our insecurities."

Some recent nostalgia I've been wallowing in this summer reminded me of my grossest self who lived by these rules.

Those worst moments, where I was a bully and an asshole, all occurred for me at school, when I was probably around 11/12 and older. School was a very interesting place for me. When I try to paint an efficient picture of what my childhood home was like for others, I often say, my family existed in a weird liminal someplace between mainstream, mid western white suburban society and a survivalist/separatist/cult/fringe culture (like Tara Westover describes in Educated or as seen in Captain Fantastic if you're familiar w/ either of those.) We were a cult of 4 and there were many things We Did Not Do, all my dad's rules. (My grandparent's house was a safe harbor unlike my home, but that's a tangent for another time.) That said, accessing education was something my father DID trust the local government to do (as long as he could emphasize over and over how we can't trust everything they say, we could trust their lessons of math, music, English, etc.) He strategically chose a place to live where I could get the best "free" education possible in Central Indiana. My social life existed fully in a traditional school setting, where it took me all of 2 seconds to clock that other kids' lives weren't like mine, and that was compelling to me. I became a lifelong student of interpersonal relationship dynamics far before I realized I had become a lifelong student of relationships. I remember when I was in elementary school journaling about and thinking about and talking about all the friend groups and dynamics, etc. Writing stories about friend groups. Creating Barbie universes and dramas with 2 neighborhood friends. Trying to spend more and more time w/ peers instead of family.

Beyond that, I loved school because I would receive praise and love at home for A's and praise and love from my teachers for being "so good" (aka offering 100% deference to adult authority as I been told to do, even if I could question them inside.) This all means when I was very young, I did SO WELL at figuring out school...how to make friends...how to get an A+...how to get teachers to love me...how to be The Good Kid...how to reduce my value to my grades and what I produced, which is a mentality I've still only begun to unweave from within me, some 30 years later.

Anyway, point is, despite the hand I was dealt, I somehow never had trouble making friends and with a lot of my closest friends, I wasn't all that mean to in the way I describe above, at least initially. But when I did apply that behavior, god damn was it ugly. I get that now, but back then, I felt cool as fuck.

The more it (temporarily worked for me) the more I used meanness. By the time I was like 17, I literally was known as mean and wore it as a badge of honor. Lacking emotional intelligence and an overtly loving home environment, I thought it was normal? cool? idk...to "not be able to handle mushy emotional stuff." I would (LITERALLY) run if friends were telling me they loved me. It became more and more common for me to apply, "witty mean girl" quips to even my closest friends. Stuff was said about me like, "oh, if she makes fun of you, it means she really loves you." I was always saying shit to gain laughs from others that really hurt some people and I would act like that was a THEM thing like "god, they're so sensitive, poor widdle baby."

NOT GOOD. Nothing to be proud of. Signs of someone who deep down hates themselves and hopes you don't notice because of a big, bad exterior. In this era, I was someone who attracted and accepted other toxic people and was abusive toward and accepted abuse from friends who had these same issues. How I met and fell in love w/ my partner who is not at all like this during that period of time back when sometimes confounds me. His boundaries and feelings are why I started really looking inward. His patience and willingness to understand what was going on for me was immense (as I was similarly patient for things related to his baggage.) FOR YEARS we had a dynamic where I'd "make fun of" "tease" "just joke" about him too harshly in front of others and he would ask me over and over to stop. I'd get better for a while, then I'd backslide and make him feel like shit in a group setting again--but hey! everyone laughed at my ~*~*just oh so hilarious comment*~*~ and so that makes it fine right?? Obviously, not, and the older I got the more I started to FINALLY see "mean" as mean and not "telling it like it is" or being a core part of my humor.

How I REALLY know that this toxic coping mechanism I used to my benefit was a thinly veiled defense mechanism style behavior to cloud my deep deep deep self loathing is because when I'd be talking w/ my partner about his very reasonable and normal request that I not say unnecessarily cruel things about him for fun in front of others, I would be afraid of things like, "But that's part of who I am? It's my humor."

I really thought so lowly of myself that I believed that if I wasn't witty-mean, people wouldn't love me. That I wouldn't still be funny. That I wouldn't be ME unless I was being MEAN. It was so backwards and upside down because my meanness did make me harder to be around, and people were right there loving me anyway, not because of it, but despite it.

It's so sad to realize this! Looking back and describing this girl now feels in both parts foreign to me and also like looking in a mirror. I've been in 20 years of some form or another of "recovery" from this kind of childhood now, and I'm about 15 years into true healing and re-parenting myself. Almost 14 years ago, I made the biggest shift toward killing this old mentality...I moved away from my home town and the people I spent my days around to that point. I had an opportunity for a hard reset in my social life and behaviors, leaving behind old reputations that didn't serve me. And I’m still me. I’m spicy and I’m real and I’m blunt and I’m funny but I’m not cruel or mean anymore. The old me sometimes still rears her ugly head, especially when I'm tired, stress, or dysregulated. But it's less "how I am" now than ever in my life.

As I've been thinking about this whole topic for quite a few weeks now, and I tried to articulate what I did that really changed me and allowed me to shed that mean girl shell of armor I was wearing that I had so thoroughly needed to outgrow. If these things resonate with you, I do have some pieces of advice.

Speak from your personal values 100% of the time. That means defining your personal values first, not just accepting what you think is valuable you've been told by others. Once I grew the maturity to understand I needed my own life values, it was very simple to grasp that I was not in line with them. My top 5 personal life values are: love, equity, humor, loyalty, and open communication. Mean jokes don't check many of those boxes.

Become your own best friend first. My behaviors were driven by self-hatred I did not choose. When I choose how I want to feel about myself, I choose self-compassion, and I actively cultivate this mentality and practice all. the. time so that I don't backslide.

Stop "telling it like it is." This is not helpful. No one needs something obvious and cruel pointed out. This is basic "THINK" acronym stuff. It's a classic because it works. Is what you're about to say.... "true, helpful, inspiring, necessary, kind." Telling it like it is is only TRUE, it's rarely -HINK.

Never "just joke" about something someone could possibly be vulnerable about. If someone has a physical wound, you don't jab your finger into it for fun. When someone has an emotional tenderness, you similarly don't jab a mean comment into it. When in doubt, just don't joke about it.

Have actual hard conversations and "call outs" in the right times/spaces. Sometimes behavior that one friend may call "mean" is actually a very necessary hard conversation to the other person. So it's helpful to just remember that those kind of real-deal communications are rarely done effectively or productively with an audience or by using humor. Real shit deserves a real shit tone.

Push yourself to say the nicest stuff and just be fucking sincere and genuine. Tell your friends you love them. Tell your friends when you are obsessed with what they are achieving/doing/saying. Tell your friends WHAT you love about them. Make an effort for your most important relationships to have far, far more "positive bids" than negative.

Use "teasing" or "self deprecating" humor selectively and strategically. Sometimes, my partner and I DO tease each other by having open communication and actually knowing one another's boundaries, I now understand what's fine and what's not. So I can proceed w/o hurting him. But I don't know most people to that level, so I'm not going to try to tease someone else in front of others w/o that knowledge anymore. Self deprecating humor has also been a go-to for me in the past and one of the people I could be meanest to was myself. I realized I should use it sparingly with people who I don't know well, too, because I don't necessarily need to give them a cheat sheet to what my baggage is. And lastly, in general, I think that we should ALL be very very careful to spare strangers our sarcasm, deadpan comments, or whatever. Many folks are neurodiverse or otherwise don't get your sarcasm and your implications can be lost in translation. You never know what topics, with strangers, might be a hornet's nest you stumble into.

PFEW! Ok, I think that's plenty for now! If you've got similar tips or thoughts, LMK! Of course, I still fuck up my practice of not being mean all the time, but the best thing about having done this work and shared it with those around me is that my friends are much more like to say something like, "OW! Was that your dad talking for a sec?" and help me than to just go on assuming I'm an asshole. 😆

#healthy relationships #abuse #interpersonal relationships #toxic relationships #child abuse #self compassion #healing #reparenting #resources #advice

[xpao-bearx]

"Partners In Crime"

Officer Callahan x Bad Girl!Reader

SUMMARY: As the resident "bad girl" of Hawkins, you truly only want one thing: to get into the pants of the resident dorky and dedicated police officer, Phil Callahan (and hey, maybe steal his heart too!).

NOTES: I recently just finished Stranger Things and yeah, great show, but have you SEEN the men??? 👀 Anyhoe, being the ✨️whore✨️ that I am, it really comes as no surprise that I'm simping over all the hot dudes but one of the hotties I've become obsessed with is CRIMINALLY underrated 😭

And so, of course, I took this grave offense ✨️personally✨️ and wrote this lil piece! Though I can't really call it little because it is SHOCKINGLY long (for me) and I sacrificed hours upon hours of sleep 🥲 But hey, when Phil fucking Callahan (and his gorgeous actor John Reynolds) makes you horny and inspired, YOU👏SEIZE👏THE👏GODDAMN👏MOMENT👏

If it isn't already obvious, this fic contains 18+ SMUT AND MATURE CONTENT and it gets preeetty steamy if I do say so myself~ It's also set roughly around Season 2, and I say roughly cuz I suck at remembering plots and shit so I just went with the flow 😅 And as always, PLEASE don't be a silent reader! Likes, comments, and reblogs are VERY much encouraged and appreciated!! \(^o^)/

I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing this baby! This is my first ever humble contribution to the ST fandom and, who knows, MAYBE not my last ;)

In the small town of Hawkins, you were popular as the "bad girl". You were loud, headstrong, and constantly got into trouble--completely unlike any of the "proper" ladies that talked shit behind your back. But the trouble you caused, despite the chaos it unfailingly left behind, was never anything actually hurtful. Hell, you were even caught a few times using your colourful language to make some middle school children cry when you saw them bullying some poor boys (one of them, you remember, being the Wheelers' son who always looked like trouble followed him himself).

A bad girl with a golden heart; a cheesy, living cliché. But that's what you were. You just wanted to have fun, to live in the moment. But in this bumfuck town where pretty much nothing happens before that Byers kid mysteriously disappeared then reappeared, how could anyone really blame you for trying to stir shit up simply for your own entertainment and for your damn sanity?

But some of the locals knew you on a personal level. Particularly, the Hawkins Police Department. Before you stumbled upon Hawkins a few years ago, you were a drifter; chasing after the high of wherever life would take you, free yet lost. Whether it was by chance or by fate, you only stopped at Hawkins to fuel up your motorcycle and have a quick bite at the local diner until suddenly--like something out of those fucking romcoms your mother used to watch--you met him.

Phil Callahan. He was only a rookie officer at the time, having not even grown out his beloved moustache yet. You noticed his police cruiser parked at the gas station with an evident bump on the front of the car. He was fuelling up, but his hand holding the pump was limp and he was as pale as a ghost; eyes comically wide behind his horn-rimmed glasses, brunette locks tousled and sticking out every which way after frantically running his free hand through it god knows how many times.

And staring at this clearly stressed, slightly pathetic man, all you could think was: HOT.

Before your brain could process what you were doing (though, let's be honest, you never really used your brain much in most of your life decisions), you found your feet walking away from your bike of their own accord and towards him.

Once you were by his side, it's only then that you realized just how tall he was. So much taller. He easily towered over you and it made your mind drift to other, much less innocent thoughts.

Namely him bending you over his car and fucking you within an inch of your sorry excuse of a life.

"Can I help you?" Your head snapped up from the stranger's voice, eyes meeting his narrowed ones. And--dammit!--he was much more unfairly handsome up close. His light brown eyes reflected almost green, raising a suspicious brow at you as his lips pressed into a tight line.

"Sorry, Officer--" Your gaze strayed to his shiny name tag, a grin tugging up the corners of your mouth. "--Callahan. I just couldn't help but notice you. You look like you just died inside, man."

His brows furrowed, glancing over his shoulder to the bump on his car before quickly darting back to you. "Thanks for your concern, ma'am, but I'm fine. Nothing a civilian should be worried about, anyway."

"If you don't mind--" You piped up once more as he set the pump away. "I think it's got something to do with that nasty bump ya got there, huh?"

"Uh, okay, actually I do mind." He sighed exasperatedly, no longer able to hide his growing aggravation. Today was just not his day, it seemed. "Ma'am, like I said, it is none of your concern." He put on his police hat, tipping it to you. "Good day."

As he turned away from you, you sidestepped him so that you were in front of him again. Your grin was much bigger this time, practically reaching your ears. "Uh-oh, are you in trouble, Mr. Policeman~?" You purred, one hand reaching out and playfully drumming your fingers along his chest. You intently studied him from head to toe, as if admiring an artistic masterpiece before biting your lip and giggling. "Lemme guess... You're a young, new police officer who doesn't know any better. You got so excited driving a police car for the first time that you drove it a bit too fast and crashed into a tree or some shit. Sound about right?"

His face flushed scarlet, and you weren't sure if it was from the shame of having his dumbass misdemeanor exposed or from your fingers making a shiver run down his spine--probably both.

"How do you--"

"This ain't exactly my first time having a lil run-in with the law, so I know how men like you work." You winked. "Hey, tell ya what, how 'bout I help you? You can tell your other piggy buddies that I'm some crazy bitch with anger issues you caught for speeding and in my oh so scary rage, I purposely crashed my motorbike to the front of your car just to fuck with you. You can even put cuffs on me~"

He blinked, utterly dumbstruck as he stared down at the total menace that was you (and the fact that a certain part of him reacted at you graciously allowing him to cuff you), feeling like forever until he finally found his voice that cracked slightly as he spoke. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Y/N L/N." You hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you leaned up on your tiptoes and dangled slightly off of him with the few inches left between the two of you. The sudden action caught him completely off guard, his hands dropping to your hips to support you and making him blush even redder. But you didn't care, smiling mischievously up at him. "Feel free to search me up in the system, Officer. I've got a permanent record, after all~"

And that's how you met Jim Hopper, Calvin Powell, and the rest of the Hawkins Police Department when Callahan brought you with him back to the station. They definitely didn't believe you guys, especially when you didn't have a single scratch on you that indicated you "crashed your bike to his vehicle" (Callahan cleaned up your choice of wording a bit). But it was amusing to see Callahan dragging you along in handcuffs, who appeared all too joyful with a shit-eating smile as if you just won the lottery. Meanwhile, Callahan's cheeks were flaming hot and his voice adopted to a nervous high pitch as he lied to everyone who were just barely containing their laughter.

It also wasn't long before you decided to settle into Hawkins in some shitty trailer park, but you couldn't really complain considering your drifting years weren't all sunshine and rainbows either.

Besides, Callahan made it all worth it.

It wasn't love at first sight, but there was absolutely attraction. Hell, you were practically (if not literally) throwing yourself at him during your first encounter, and after that it would be the same--if not more intense.

You were no stranger to trouble, but often times you would seek for trouble yourself on purpose just so you could wind up in the police station to bother--ahem, I mean, very persistently try to hang out with Callahan. Or you'd just go to the station despite having no business there, but Flo the secretary usually kicked you out before you had the chance to even lay eyes on the gorgeous four eyes.

Today, however, Flo wasn't there. You didn't believe in some higher power, but it was a fucking miracle that you were grateful for and didn't dare to question. And so you more than happily made yourself at home in the station, sitting down at Callahan's desk as you curiously pried into his stuff before a deep laugh from behind you broke you out of your little reverie.

"This is just ridiculous now, Y/N." Hopper shot you an incredulous though very much amused expression. "If you like Callahan so much--which I have no fucking idea why--then just ask him out on a date already."

It was no secret that Hopper can be a total grump, but oddly enough you became fast friends with him. He never gave you a hard time and you never bullshitted him, which in turn formed a weird sort of respect between the two of you.

You rolled your eyes at the huge man, turning back to Callahan's desk and inspecting his assortment of pens--which you thought was way too much and he probably doesn't even use all of them, but that only amped up his dorkish charm to you by, like, a thousand.

"You're one to talk, Hop." You scoffed, snatching a pen and beginning to click it continuously. "I bet your hand's tired from jerking off to Joyce Byers."

Hopper scowled, but a faint rosiness dusted his cheeks. "Okay, first off--" Click. "I do not jerk off to Joyce--" Click. "and unlike you--" Click. "I actually have the balls to ask her out--" Click. "she just hasn't--" Click. "WILL YOU STOP FUCKING CLICKING THAT GODDAMN PEN?!"

You didn't even flinch, casually stashing the pen away in your pocket before you stood and faced him. "Enough about you." You huffed, crossing your arms as your eyes levelled with his. Hopper may as well be a living brick wall walking around ready to punch whoever crossed him, but you were never intimidated by the chief of police whom you've admittedly grown a soft spot for. "Callahan on for patrol duty tonight?"

"Yeah, and you owe me big time." He frowned when you blatantly ignored him, but what was new? "I need as much manpower as I can get to investigate what the hell's going on with the pumpkin patches yet here I am, like a fucking idiot, helping to set you and Callahan up."

"You looove me~" You teased, patting his shoulder and granting him a Cheshire Cat-like grin. "This is all for a good cause, big guy. And just think, the sooner Callahan and I get together, the faster I'll be outta your hair!" You chuckled. "And hey, you're thinking too much into those pumpkin patches. Probably just some pumpkin farmers having a pumpkin war. Go big or gourd home, am I right?"

Hopper watched as you laughed obnoxiously loud at your stupid pun, looking so proud of yourself as little snorts wracked your smaller frame and your shoulders shook from sheer glee. He shook his head, sighing heavily to himself.

"God, I actually feel kinda bad for Callahan..."

•••♡•••

Night couldn't fall any quicker, but once it finally did your entire body was practically bursting with excitement like a child who's about to go out for trick or treating.

You hopped onto your bike, revving up the engine and driving even more maniacally than your Munson neighbour did out of the trailer park. You didn't even keep track anymore of how fast you were going, your hair flying as you raced down the road and were greeted by Halloween decorations strewn about in various houses' lawns.

A few minutes later, you found yourself on the empty road leading out of Hawkins. And just as you predicted--had hoped--the shrill blare of a siren sliced through the air and the all too familiar red and blue lights nearly blinded your vision as a police cruiser followed close on your tail.

You couldn't suppress the giddy grin that tore across your face, slowing down by the side of the road and the car pulling up next to you.

The butterflies in your stomach were doing fucking somersaults now as you heard the car door open and shut close, boots thudding on the ground as your favourite officer approached.

"Well, well, well... Lookie who we have here~?" The singsong voice made your grin widen even more if it was possible, making your cheeks hurt. The beam from a flashlight hit your eyes, and once your sight adjusted there was none other than Callahan, staring down at you with his pretty brown eyes. "If it isn't Lil Miss Trouble."

"Cally!" You giggled like some lovesick schoolgirl, and if we were being honest, you pretty much acted like you are. "Fancy seeing you here~ Halloween ain't 'til tomorrow, so why are ya out on patrol?"

"Beats me." He shrugged. "The chief suddenly put me on duty. Also, you know how much I hate that nickname." He grimaced, turning the flashlight off. It was quite dark, but you could still see him well enough due to a lone street lamp a couple feet away. "Get off."

His sudden commanding tone sent a shiver down your spine, a certain part of you getting wet. And it didn't help that you decided to forgo panties, your slick coating the seat of your bike. You then jumped off, your breasts bouncing slightly. This action didn't go unnoticed by him, his eyes dropping to your chest and trailing down your figure until his gaze landed on your skirt--if it could even be called that.

You were wearing a leather mini skirt that left little to the imagination, hugging your curves just right and showing off your thighs. He thought that if you made one wrong move, you'd flash him your panties; of course, not knowing you weren't even wearing any.

"Did I ever tell you how much I love your moustache?" You purred, heart leaping when he went speechless and his mouth hung agape.

His eyes flicked back up to meet yours, snapping out of his trance. "Only the first hundred times." He then cleared his throat, pointing an accusatory finger at you with a hand placed on his hip like a parent scolding their child. "Flattery won't work on me, Y/N. Do you know how fast you were going? And why weren't you wearing a helmet?"

"I know I was going pretty fucking fast!" You guffawed. "As for not wearing a helmet, well, what can I say? I don't like feeling restricted. I like being free. If I could, I'd totally go naked."

You saw his Adam's apple bob as he gulped at your emphasis of "naked", a death grip on his flashlight as his jaw squared. "That's public indecency." He stated simply. He was getting better dealing with you, but the ever so slight crack in his voice was a telltale sign that you still very much had an intoxicating, beguiling effect on him. "And where the hell were you going? Were you...leaving Hawkins?"

You didn't miss the plaintive way he had asked the question, your heart melting. He cared for you. No matter how much trouble you caused everyone, caused him... He would still check up on you, and you even caught him several times keeping watch outside of your trailer when Will Byers went missing a year ago. He claimed that the police were patrolling every nook and cranny after the kid's disappearance, but you never saw Hopper or anyone else guarding other people's homes like how Callahan did yours.

"I'm not leaving, Phil." You breathed out, nothing more than a whisper as you looked up at him; serious, for once. Because as boring as this town was, you've grown fond of it. And Callahan played a big part in that and even if you weren't together, he was the closest to home that you've ever felt in a long fucking time.

He searched your face for any lies, brown eyes soft before a genuine smile graced his features. "You better not, Lil Miss Trouble." A beat passed between the two of you, breaths mingling together and you only just realized how close you both were standing to each other. He had you caged against your bike, and you had to strain your neck just to be eye level with the tall man.

Then something in his expression shifted, and soon he was drawing away from you. "W-Well, I'm gonna let you off with a warning. Just this once, though! Think of it as thanks for that time--" You cut off his rambling when you reached out, grabbing his hand.

"I didn't leave." You declared, an almost pleading tone in your voice. "So don't leave either, Phil."

For what felt like a dreadful eternity, you were swallowed by a deafening silence. You, who was usually so confident, found your will breaking with each passing second. Your grasp softened until you let go, feeling your heart sink to your stomach.

"...Forget it. Thanks, Cal--" But you couldn't finish; because in a blink of an eye, his lips were on yours. It was brief, feather light. But the chaste peck made your heart explode, and you didn't even question if this was just one of your silly fantasies. It felt too real--too good.

He slowly pulled away, resting his forehead against yours and his warm breath tickling your nose. "I'm not leaving." He murmured, such beautiful, sincere greenish brown eyes locking with yours. "I'm not leaving you, Y/N."

You felt tears prickle your eyes, but before you would ever allow them to fall you wrapped your arms around his neck and nuzzled your nose with his. "Then prove it." And you crashed your lips with his, this time fiercely, passionately. You felt the rough brush of his moustache, but that only made everything feel astoundingly better.

He finally closed the gap between you two, looming over you, the flashlight clattering to the ground as his much larger hands clutched on to your hips before he easily lifted you and plopped you down on your bike's seat. You wrapped your legs around his waist, nipping on his bottom lip that elicited a gasp from him which you gladly took as the opportunity to slide your tongue inside his mouth. His tongue tangled with yours and coaxed it into a sensual dance, earning him a most heavenly moan from you.

You two only pulled away for breath, a thin string of saliva connecting your tongues. But his glasses were foggy and tinkly laughter bubbled out of you, feeling like a druggie high off of life--high off of him.

He chuckled, taking his glasses off to wipe them before putting them back on. "Sorry." He smiled sheepishly. "That ruined the moment, didn't it?"

"On the contrary..." You were still laughing, but you held one of his hands still on your hip and guided it lower, lower, lower...until his palm was right on your bare pussy. "You always turn me on, Cal. It's pretty fucking ridiculous, honestly."

His breath hitched sharply when he felt how drenched you were, his pupils dilating and mouth forming an 'O' at the realization that you've been half naked this whole time. He pressed his palm closer to your core, your laughter instantly dying down as his thumb slowly rubbed circles around your clit. One of your hands flew to his hair, something you've always dreamt of doing ever since you saw the incredibly sexy messy state it was in the day you met him. Your other hand clung onto his shirt for dear life, a gasp escaping you as he pinched your nub and began to stroke his fingers along your slit.

He leaned down to your ear, his fingers gradually increasing their pace and you trembled from the pure ecstasy that overcame your senses just from his deft fingers. "You really are a little troublemaker, huh?" He chuckled, voice dropping an octave lower. "You planned this all along, didn't you? Fucking slut..." His lips dragged down your ear to the crook of your neck, biting down and leaving a mark that had you crying out. "My beautiful fucking slut."

"All yours, Officer~" You mewled, your hand latched onto his shirt making its descent to his crotch. You palmed him, feeling his prominent erection aching to spring free as he groaned. "Just be mine, too." You peered down at him, eyes hazy with desire and desperation. "Pretty please?"

"I think I've been yours ever since we met. Not like I had a choice on the matter, anyway." He snickered before capturing your lips once more in a sultry, intimate kiss. Your mouth moved in perfect tandem with his, but you both took your sweet time as everything else faded away. There was only you and Callahan, Callahan and you. And it's all you ever fucking wanted; all you needed.

Not breaking the kiss, you shucked your leather jacket off and carelessly tossed it to the ground. Your hands came up to cup the sides of his face, fingers caressing him tenderly while his hands crawled beneath your white tank top; imagine his pleasant surprise to discover that you didn't wear a bra either.

"Jesus..." He muttered, yanking your tank top up before kneading and squeezing your perfect breasts as his lascivious gaze met your own. "You're gonna kill a fucking cop here." He grunted, making you giggle which immediately turned into an elated whimper as he tweaked your pert nipples.

"Get down. Turn around. Ass up." He ordered, and you didn't at all hesitate to obey. In your haste, you nearly tumbled off of your bike though Callahan steadied you. "Eager, are we, Y/N?" He chuckled, but something about the way your name smoothly, seductively rolled off his tongue had you wanting to fall down on your knees and reverently suck him off instead. But you didn't dare disobey, spinning around with your back to him and bending over your bike.

Though something dropped to the ground as you bent over, making Callahan arch a brow as he picked it up.

"My pen?" He scoffed, and though you can't see him, you can feel his disapproving stare boring into the back of your head like daggers. "Naughty girl, now you're stealing? Tsk, tsk." He flipped up your skirt, your ass now in full view as he licked his lips. His hands groped the pillowy soft flesh, releasing a low whistle of appreciation as he squeezed before suddenly raising his hand and spanking you.

"Ah..!" You exclaimed, looking over your shoulder with glazed eyes and flushed cheeks. "M'sorry, Officer~"

Smack! Another slap had you reeling in the best way possible, your pussy clenching at--unfortunately--nothing as you whimpered.

"Uh-uh. Didn't say you could look at me, did I, naughty girl?" He chided, seeing that you were wiggling your ass and trying to inch closer to him.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Three slaps, one right after the other. Your flesh glowed red with his handprint, making him smirk devilishly.

"M'sorry..." You said again, your voice coming out as a meek squeak. But more. You wanted more, more, more. "I'm a good girl, I promise!"

"I'm sure you are~" He hummed leisurely. "Just gotta prove it to me, right, baby?"

Before you had any chance to reply, he prodded your legs apart with his knee and his pants unzipping sounded like the most divine music to your ears. Both of your breaths got caught in your throats as the tip of his cock pressed against your pussy, stroking up and down your entrance slowly, teasingly. Your lustful impatience getting the best of you because, fuck, you deserved this, you were just about to slide down onto him when he suddenly pushed his entire cock in with no warning.

And fuck he was big. Much bigger than you ever fantasized, completely stretching you out as a long moan was drawn out of you and your upper body fell like a ragdoll on your bike. You vaguely heard him laughing huskily before he started to move; carefully, as if he was afraid you might break.

But with you? That didn't last very long, any pathetic thread of patience he had snapping as soon his thrusts started to become rapid, hard, wild--hitting that amazing spot deep inside your gummy walls over and over again, the lewd squelches of his cock slipping in and out of your pussy perfectly harmonizing with skin slapping against skin.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck..!" You screamed, toes curling and grinding your ass in time with his thrusts as he watched, utterly transfixed, with how you seemed to just fit him like a puzzle piece; the fucking addicting way you slammed back down onto him, your skin rolling with each bounce, your pussy clenching his cock like a goddamn vice and effortlessly accepting all of him.

He then wrapped a hand around your neck, squeezing just enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head before pulling you up so that you were standing and your back was pressed against his chest. He nuzzled his face just beneath your ear, hot pants grazing your skin as he never seized his pleasurable assault to your cunt as he continued to pound relentlessly into you like a beast in heat.

Suddenly, he pressed his pen to your clit. Your eyes widened as you felt the long, thin object rubbing against your sensitive mound, stroking and poking at your folds as his cock drove in and out, in and out.

"Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?" He whispered, planting butterfly kisses along the delicate column between your neck and shoulder, his grip on your neck tightening ever so slightly as he humped against you.

"Y-Yes, fuck, yes Officer..!" You choked out, rocking your hips desperately as you could almost see stars.

"Then cum, Y/N."

And you did; your walls fluttered and clamped down on his dick, your body stilling and eyes crossing as waves of the highest rapture coursed throughout your body. Callahan soon followed, a nearly animalistic groan accompanying the spurts of cum that gushed into your deepest, most intimate part as his hips stuttered to a halt.

You basked in silence, revelling in the satisfying afterglow. Then, agonizingly slowly, his twitching cock slid out of you, making you convulse and you could feel the hot cum trickling down your legs. He spun you around and gently grabbed your chin, tipping it up and examining your completely fucked out expression. You stuck your tongue out, and he didn't waste a precious moment as he leaned down and entwined your tongue with his. He held you closely, securely; hugging you to his broad chest as he stepped backwards until his back bumped into his car to support the both of you.

You were the first to pull away from the sloppy liplock, laying your head on his chest and sighing deeply. "That was..." You looked up at him, blinking dazedly. "...not what I expected."

"Did you not have fun?" He chuckled, though there was a hint of worry in his voice as his thumb lazily caressed your swollen bottom lip, kind brown eyes seeking yours. Shit, did he overdo it? Or worse... Did you realize that you actually weren't that into him?

"I did, it's just..." You trailed off before a giggle erupted out of you, shaking your head. "Y'know, the first time we met, I actually thought of you bending me over your car and fucking me. I never imagined I'd be bent over my bike."

"For fuck's sake, Y/N, you really are gonna be the death of me!" He whined dramatically, making you laugh and soon he joined you.

"So..." You grinned, fixing his glasses that had fallen to the bridge of his nose and running a hand through his sweaty, unruly curls that you loved too fucking much. "Was I a good girl, Cally~?"

"The fucking best." He returned your euphoric grin, booping your nose and, though he'd never admit it, he actually liked your nickname. Just for him, only by you. "Buuut you're a good girl that's coming back to the station with me."

"Huh? But I thought you're gonna let me off the hook for speeding?" You questioned, confused.

"I am, but you're forgetting your other crimes." He cleared his throat, rising to his full height and looming over you yet again. "Public indecency..." He traced his pen on your pussy, making you shudder as the cold metal glided across your skin up to the valley between your breasts. "...and theft."

"Well, Officer, if that's the case then you're not innocent either~" You smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck and dangling off of him much like you did the first time. "You stole my heart, after all~"

His face was as red as a tomato, smiling like a doofus as he hooked his hands under your plush thighs, hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. Taking you by surprise, but definitely not unwelcomed as he stared up at you with a stupidly smitten expression.

"We're partners in crime, then, Lil Miss Trouble~"

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things Smut #Phil Callahan #Officer Callahan #Phil Callahan Smut #Officer Callahan Smut #Phil Callahan x Reader #Officer Callahan x Reader #Phil Callahan x Reader Smut #Officer Callahan x Reader Smut #Reader x Phil Callahan #Reader x Officer Callahan #Reader x Phil Callahan Smut #Reader x Officer Callahan Smut

[blackbat05]

Life

Joaquin Torres x Reader

Plot: Life could be a cruel joke. You turn to escapism to meet someone with a unique perspective on your struggles.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: Let’s just say I’ve based this on the shit I’ve experienced so far in adulting and it hasn’t been long yet. Really hope everyone is doing alright and I’m so sorry for the lack of content. Tagging @the-slumberparty for the BINGO card game!💜 I think this fic could fulfill two slots? I don’t think this is how it works? Please correct me if I’m wrong?😅

Life.

It could be a bed full of sunflowers and roses, and you feel like you could take on the world.

But it mostly also involved you being punched in the gut without warning.

Let’s just say, you had enough of terrible working conditions and decided that the only power a poor working woman like you was to quit.

You pulled your suitcase behind you, weaving through the departure hall. Passport in hand, you managed to get through the self check-in with the help of an attendant. In record speed, you found yourself having two hours of spare time to kill.

Making yourself comfortable at the lounge, you satisfied yourself by watching the planes dock and prepare for take off at the landing strip. Your phone beeps and you sigh at the rude intrusion.

It was only your parents who meant well, telling you to take care and text them when you arrived. A rush of emotions overwhelms you as you read how proud they are of you for making this decision.

Honestly? You were feeling pretty shitty. You were ecstatic getting that job you studied so hard for, only to be slapped in the face with reality where the lack of guidance and cliquey colleagues increased your self-doubt and incompetence. When you announced that you were ending your short lived career, there was no surprise. Only nonchalance and a whole lot of gossiping behind your back.

You abruptly stand up, hoping to make your way to the washroom before you experienced another breakdown.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” You looked down to see a stain the size of a dollar imprinted on your shirt. The man in front of you with an opened juice bottle has what can only be described as a sheer look of terror on his face as he scrambles to hand you napkins from his bag. “Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?”

He doesn’t notice you staring at him blankly as he attempts to do damage control. You can’t help but to be reeled in by the way his curls bounce against his forehead rhythmically. Doe eyes furrowed in concentration, the man’s attention turns back to you and catches you looking at him.

“Yeah… I mean, yeah! I’m fine!” You shake yourself awake and into reality. “It’s alright. I wasn’t looking where I was going either. In fact, I could use a drink myself. Please let me get you another drink. I insist.”

The man doesn’t seem convinced, especially when you were about to board a flight with a soiled shirt. But if there was one thing you were good at, it was being stubborn.

An eventful way to pass time even, as you realized that both of you had the same destination on your plane tickets. Credit to the charming stranger, as he does not pry for more information. As the announcement booms through the departure hall, you shake his hand, glad to have made an acquaintance even if it was short lived.

***

The bright lights from the neon signboards mixed with the sounds from the foot traffic was enough to overload your senses. Yet, you felt completely at ease as you walked across the bridge that connected to multiple shopping malls.

Stomach growling, you opted to enter the next shopping mall to make your way to the food court. It was your happy place. Authentic, local cuisine that offered tantalizing flavors.

You weren’t the only one with the idea to come to the food court to escape the humidity. Tourists and locals alike prowl the area in search for seats to devour their purchased food and drinks. Carefully balancing your tray, you crane your neck to keep an eye out for an available seat.

“Y/N?”

You turn around at the voice to find a familiar face beaming at you.

“What a coincidence! You can sit here if you want.”

“Joaquin.” You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Am I glad to see you. Thank you.” You take the seat across him, eager to give your legs a break. “I thought I saw the last of you at the airport.”

“Well, I’m here now. I hope you aren’t rushing off to anywhere because I would like to know more about what brings you to the land of smiles.”

You pause, hesitant in dredging up the horrid memories. Joaquin senses this as he naturally steps in. “I lost a close friend. I can’t tell you much but his death affected me terribly. I needed to get away so here I am.”

He slurps more noodles to fill the silence. You can’t imagine the scars that Joaquin is holding behind his smile.

“I guess you could say I lost someone- well, something too.” You twirl the noodles around your chopsticks. “My sense of worth.”

“All this while, I thought I knew what I was fighting so hard for. I was so happy to be finally be able to make that difference that I always dreamed of as a student. But reality is often disappointing and terrifying.” You slowly savored the noodles as your chest constricts. “Maybe I’m just running away from reality.”

“Looks like the world hasn’t been kind to us both.”

“Touché.” You raise your glass bottle of soda, clinking it with his. “If the world wasn’t going to be kind to me, I figured I should be kind to myself.”

Joaquin nods in approval, taking a sip from his own drink.

As the crowds come and go, you get lost in the conversation with Joaquin, truly enjoying what it means to be in the presence of another human.

***

You had a blast.

It turns out that this wasn’t Joaquin’s first rodeo, as he took you to many places beyond touristy traps. Eating breakfast at a Michelin star coffee shop. Visiting the temple with locals. Meeting adorable canines at a dog cafe. Chilling at the hotel bar to finish the evening.

“I’m definitely coming back here!” You saved another picture of you and a majestic husky at the cafe. “Thanks for the amazing day, Joaquin. I didn’t even know half of these places exist!”

“Glad my reputation as tour guide still stands.” Joaquin takes a swig of beer, watching the vibrant nightlife that had no intention of dying down. You take a sip of your Bloody Mary, still reeling from the adrenaline of the past few days.

Even though you were aware that all good things had to come to an end.

“What’s next? Although being a hippie sounds very appealing but I can’t imagine it isn’t very cost friendly.” Joaquin keeps the conversation light, knowing how touchy the subject could be with you.

Little did he know how much of a positive impact he had on you for the past six days. Sure, it was a trip to shake loose all worries and responsibilities but Joaquin managed to keep you grounded. No one can run away forever, Y/N.

“I’ll try.” You watch the mini whirlpool you created. “But I’m not going to lie, I’m scared. The idea of being disappointed by others when you’ve already gave it your all… I don’t know if I can take it.”

“Then you know how to fall better. Sure, you’ll take a hit but that’s really all we can do. To fail better.”

Joaquin’s wisdom hits you and you wonder again what kind of horrors he had to witness and endure to come out with a rock solid mentality that was unshakable.

“You’re still in the game, you haven’t lost. So keep your chin up.”

“Is this what you tell your fellow soldiers?”

Joaquin chuckles. “No. This is what I tell to the people I care about.”

In the midst of tourists being invested in the soccer match that was shown on the large television and servers expertly serving countless of drinks and meals to hungry customers, time slowed down and the confusing thing called life seemed to make a little more sense in the chaos.

Joaquin checks his phone with a frown on his face. “I’m sorry-”

You waved a hand, dismissing his apology. “Duty calls, I get it. Thanks for everything, Joaquin. I mean it.”

He leaves a bill on the table, shooting down your protests. You can’t help but to feel a pang of sadness at how quickly Joaquin had disappeared from your dreamlike holiday as quickly as he came into your life.

A waitress comes to collect the bill and to your surprise, she slips you a piece of paper. “The gentleman told me to pass this to you once he left.” Her eyes have a knowing twinkle and leaves you to check the content - a number scribbled in blue ink.

Call me, Joaquin.

You toss your head back slightly, amused at the situation. Dialing the number, Joaquin picks up on the second ring.

“So, does this mean I can see you back home?”

“You bet.”

Life.

Maybe it punched you in the gut to fall into a bed of roses.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres #danny ramirez

[suga-kookiemonster]

Sometimes I see people being curious about the dishwasher shitter and let me tell you how I found out it was a person shitting in a dishwasher:

English is not my first nor second language, it is in fact the third, so when I read sometimes my head goes blank on a few words. For example: the phrase "who shit in the dishwasher?!" In my head I read "who shit in the rhjdndbhrnrbbrhdn?!" Because it's easier or whatever (and they're not very common in my country), sometimes that happens with names, it's very convenient when reading stories, specially smut, because I associate the character without caring about the names and I detach from hurtful plots.

So, I was rereading Ego last year and let me tell you, for some reason I processed for the first time that it was in fact a dishwasher and became extremely disgusted I was immediately on Joon's side, not that I wasn't before, I just saw the disgust for the first time😅😅for some reason my head pictured a washing machine and somehow that was less disgusting because how do you clean that shit? I would never use it again if I lived there and wouldn't associate with anyone that lived there as well because what if there's still poop there? How is it possible to disinfect and trust the process like that?

That being said, it had to be one of them that's fucking with Joon or all of them are in on it so no one snitches when they see because there's no way no one caught the person in the act.

I think I never saw you answer this before, but I didn't follow you when you started posting Ego, what prompted the fic to be written? I think there are a few fics that came from specific pictures of Tae, but I was curious to know what prompted the baby angel Kookie to grace us with his exhibitionist ass🥺

Anyway, I'm waiting patiently for Kook's new fic💕💕💕💕💕

first of all, you are the coolest for speaking 3 languages 😮‍💨 i am in AWE!!💕 secondly, your commentary is hilarious and it never crossed my mind when i was writing the fic that dishwashers aren't necessarily a universal thing 🤣 though fraternities are distinctly american, so i guess that would automatically set the lens the fic is read through. in any case, thank you for validating ego!joon, though i think we all are definitely on his side on that topic 😂😂

to answer your question on why i originally wrote the fic, ego was the first bts fic i ever wrote, and i started it right around the time i first found bangtan in 2017 and my obsession with the group was going full force LOL. i've been in fandom spaces for most of my life, and once i have a new obsession, my first task always seems to be to check out the fanfic and see what's up. i read a number of fics i loved and some others that weren't my cup of tea, but what really made me want to join in was that nearly all of the second-person writing (which i had never seen done before in fanfiction) was obviously written from the perspective of a white person. i, as you know, am not white, and there were only so many times i could read about "my" face flushing red and running my hands through "my" hair before i started to wonder if this new fandom i had found actually wasn't very happy about me (or others who look like me) interacting with the content. so, i simply said fuck it and decided to write my own "reader-insert" fic that i could actually insert myself into!

at the time, i was intrigued by irl jungkook's duality--he's such a shy sweetheart, but he certainly knew how to burn up the stage! and this idea floated into my mind where you accidentally walk in on sweet, shy jungkookie railing another girl, and though he sees you watching, he doesn't stop. so, that scene in the first chapter was the genesis for the fic, and everything else spiraled from there! the characters kinda created themselves as i wrote them, and though i obviously had a broad outline of the fic before i started writing it, a lot of the shenanigans popped up while i wrote each chapter. it was a lot of fun! haha

anyways, thank you so much for asking 💜 i can't believe it's been that long since i started writing ego, and that certainly took me back 🥹💕 i appreciate you, and thanks for looking forward to my next fic!

#asks #fic: ego #fic: ctrl alt del

[bakhtaks-blog]

Hi everyone 💜 Sorry for the sudden disappearance, a lot had happened IRL.

There's been some ups and downs. One of the ups was that I had FINALLY learned to set and respect my own boundaries, and to prioritze my mental health more. Something I should have done much sooner, but better late than never as they say. I also learned that being on social media too much and on too many platforms is too overwhelming for me, so the only art social medias I have are DeviantArt and Tumblr. Just letting you know in case you see me on other platforms, if you do, then that's not me 😅 I've also cleaned my art gallery. I know I can be cringy, and I don't mind it tbh because if I get an idea I like then of course I'll draw it for my own amusement. But with that being said, shit, have I made sooo many cringy art that I no longer can stand looking at. Either because of the artstyle or because I don't agree with/like the work itself because I've changed my mind (as you do). I'll still make art I personally like, but hopefully not too cringy for my own taste XD

Now to one of the downs... A very special person close to me sadly passed away, and I am to this day still grieving over them as the wounds are still fresh. I never thought I would experience this type of loss right now. I'm still processing it all and trying to continue on living, but fuck, does it hurt not having them here. I'm really not okay, but I will be with time, no matter how long it might take.

As for here and now, I think I'm ready to make and post art again. I miss drawing dumb stuff for both myself and everyone who enjoy my work. I do want to give a headsup that I might make some artwork to help cope with my loss (you'll probably know what those are if I ever post them) but you don't have to worry about me, again, I may not be okay now but I will be with time.

Thanks for reading through, I hope you’re all doing well. Here's a new temporary banner of Pennywise choking me:

#art #bakhtaks-blog #bakhtak #personal #shit a lot can happen within 1-2 years #the loss of the special person is still what's in my heart #I just hope they're at a much better place #but yeah guess who got LOTS of dumbass ideas to share with you all ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) #whenever I got time to it of course #also what has happened with tumblr?? I have so many questions but guess I'll just work my way through it lmao #thanks again for reading through my <3

[wyxan]

for the writers ask game!

5. What's a tag you never want to use for your works even when it applies?

32. Do you have a word/expression that you always use in your writing?

and 33. Give your writing a compliment.

Do you remember when you asked me this? Me either. Let’s all pretend no time has passed and I haven’t spent the last (months) going “oooh I have an ask…oh shit, oh yeah I gotta answer that, those are great Qs”. Thank you for asking <3

5. Oooh. I never want to use hurt/no comfort because I never want to write it. I’m too much of a sad B in general, I don’t need it in fic too 😅

Ok but, a tag that would apply that I wouldn’t want to use? Hmmm. I’m quite anti spoiling my works too much, so it might be quite story-specific. Like if a character dies and I know I’ll bring that back, I’m not sure I’d tag temporary character death?

32. Idk about a word or phrase but I have a sentence structure I always use and now I’ve spotted it in so conscious of it! I always follow a past tense verb with a present tense verb. Literally the opening line of one of my fics: “Peter flitted back and forth, straightening paper napkins and opening and closing cupboards”.

OK NO I realise a word / sound I always use: “argh” and also “ugh”. Shout out to @noxnthea for some excellent iterations of those in the pod of Waiting For Something More!

33. Hmmmm *eyes you suspiciously* - “chairing” myself, huh?

I think I’m pretty good at writing funny and sharp characters. I’m also really proud of the way that I share that across male and female characters - big fan of my Peter, MJ, and Steph in particular. I’m writing Jason at the moment and my style is fitting him so well. I like that I just try to become my characters for a bit - I think that authenticity comes across in the way they read.

That’s loads of compliments! Yay me.

#thank you for asking!

[dragoon811]

I have had a shitty week. Can someone manifest me some good vibes?

Sunday started nice. Monday was a holiday (Family Day) so I got some extra weekend. I was looking forward to it - then Elder Child crawled into my bed just past midnight with a fever.

Monday she stopped eating after lunch (two bites of banana), but was drinking water.

Stayed home Tuesday to help her combat the fever. Wednesday morning she had no fever so my daycare lady was able to take her and I went to work. She kept me updated etc all day.

My gut didn’t like how much she was sleeping so after work I decided to take Elder Child to the children’s hospital. Convinced my husband to pack me a bag, thinking they’d throw Tylenol at us and we’d sit in the waiting room for 8 hours to be told it’s an ear infection/sinus infection…. But I got home to her and her fever returned. (And my period started. JOY.)

Loaded her into the stroller, threw myself in, and off we went! Waited in line at triage.

Triage called us, we weighed her, we talked. And I said I was concerned because she hadn’t eaten, the fever was back, my sister was diabetic and I was starting to worry because when she was sleeping I couldn’t rouse her easily, and her breath smelled and basically asked them to check her blood sugar.

So they did. (This was NOT an enjoyable experience for Elder Child.) it was at 2 - new to how Canadians measure shit, I’m really glad the little screen added in red: “CRITICAL LOW”.

The nurse made a phone call and stressed, surprised, that Elder Child was alert.

Upon the second attempt at a reading because it was low, Elder Child was more prepared. She kicked, she fought, she puked all over herself, and bolted for the emerge doors.

Ok. Skip a second test. (Note: I did not pack spare clothes.)

We were taken right back to a room in the emergency wing. Unsettling.

Then a flurry of people - a lady trying to help Elder Child adjust and calm down. Nurses. Doctors asking questions. (Another note - I have not slept well in 2 weeks, am hearing impaired, and now overwhelmed and scared. Not a good combo.)

Gave Elder Child a nasal spray to calm her (this resulted in another bolting for freedom, also thwarted), another blood check….and once the spray started to work, we tried to prep her for an IV/blood draw.

This was ALSO strongly disliked. More holding her down. I did a lot of crying.

We went through the symptoms - tummy hurting, drinking some water but hadn’t peed in like 6-7 hours, fever, sleeping constantly, not eating. Ended up doing ultrasound, X-ray. Ten bottles of blood (and she FREAKED). Finally got her to pee. Yes, she peed on me.

Refused food. Refused popsicles. Refused juice. Started IV - first sugar bolus. Then hydration. We named the IV robot Frank. Elder Child, loopy from the spray, patted it and told it it was doing a good job. Also, during our walk to ultrasound, said she was Frank’s pet puppy and he was taking her for a walk, see her leash? 😅

Spent the night. (Another note: my daycare kept her sister until bedtime. And we arranged to take her as soon as she woke up because we cannot trust my husband with her care.) Lots more holding her down and blood checks.

Also please note: Elder Dragoon wails and screams when distressed. She was very distressed. I felt really sorry for the staff because I couldn’t calm her.

In the morning she managed to eat a bit! Yay! Tried to disconnect the iv - sugar went down. Hooked her back up. Spent the day trying to get her to drink 100ml of apple juice.

Ended up discharged at almost 4pm - diagnosis: fever, causing hypoglycemia. Apparently kids don’t have as much stores as adults and the fever was burning through what she DID have.

So I spent today waking her every 4 hours and getting her to eat or drink. It took her an hour to drink half a juice box. But by dinner today she was improved and actually had food. And accepted popsicles.

Still have to get her eating or drinking again in about 20min. Then set the timer back.

I just want a full REM cycle of sleep. I am SO fucking tired.

#shut up dragoon811 #baby dragoon the elder #tw hospitals #tw blood #tw sick kid

[stardew-shitposterino]

WAIT NO CUTE CAN I GO FIRST

Personality:

-bit of an introvert (agoraphobia is strong with me 😅)

-pretty happy most of the time!! I try to be as optimistic as I can be

-that being said of course sometimes I crash really hard and just need a few days to get myself back into that happy mindset

-people pleaser, but not in the sense that I have no boundaries. I just really enjoy seeing people happy with life and if I can help bring some of that happiness to them, I will!!

-actually extremely insecure which makes me recluse

-more of a couch potato, sure I like to be outside and stuff but I’m not much of a hiker. I’d rather lay on a blanket outside n watch the clouds or something

Likes/interests:

-pink. Anything stereotypical “girly girl” (I hate overly gendered stuff but it’s the best way to explain it. Glitter!!! Pink!! Butterflies!!! Flowers!!! All of that stuff

-this doesn’t usually reflect in my style though because I v much am a drabby tshirt and sweatpants person 😭

-that being said I also DO love dresses!! Like a lot, just not super short ones. I feel like I’m too exposed 😭

-I v much do art, I like to read but I’m not HUGE into it. Prefer to read manga over novels for sure

-unfortunately a weeb

-cats!!!

-my fav foods are queso, Alfredo, and any kind of soggy rice 😅

-I prefer psychological thriller kind of movies that make your head hurt!!!!

-dnd/Sanrio/care bears/ I FUCKING LOVE COWS

-I’m also just about in my late 20s but idk if that’s an interest at all? 😅

-and obviously video games, but stardew is actually the only ‘cozy/life simulator’ game I’ve ever played. More into Zelda and assassins creed :)

I think that’s it :) I’m bisexual so I will be happy with a Bachelor and bachelorette!!

Ily thank u for taking ur time to do this 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Oooh my first one ! This one is a bit tricky as I can see multiple matches for different reasons 👀 I’ll go with my gut feeling:

-Shane:

- I’m torn on him because there is a possibility of you two not being good for each other as you share some traits, but it could also be a possibility for you two to come to terms with your struggles (like insecurities) and find an open ear in one another.

-You both are homebodies and like similar kinds of food :D I could see you both ordering takeout and watching some new thriller that just released.

-Your more happy-mindset would also be a nice contrast to his more pessimistic outlook on life, but your “off-days” would show him that it’s ok to not always be 100% positive.

-He thinks you look so cute when you doll up and get all euphoric at your new clothes. Your interest in Sanrio would also be a good base for you and Jas to get along, two women in his life that mean a lot to him.

-he would be SO DOWN to play Tears of the Kingdom with you. Of course it’s a single player game, but just sitting next to each other and helping one-another out doing the quests on their respective switch, or just watching the other play and laugh at whatever stupid shit they can come up with instead of playing the main story hehehe.

-he likes chickens, you like cows, you two share a fondness of a cute farm animal, and it helps a ton with building up that relationship as you two like talking to them, or about them with each other.

-Abigail:

-It’s pretty clear why I chose her. She is a gamer, she loves adventures, she’s an introvert.

-you’re more a homebody, she’s kind of something in-between. You both can spend lazy Sundays together playing video games or you can go outside and wander around in nature or do something fun (if your agoraphobia allows it of course)

-the girl eats rocks…it’s save to say she’s more than happy to eat anything with you, so if you wanna eat rice or pasta every day, so be it.

-she’s not a girly girl, but I think she’d love to dye your hair at least once! You like pink, so why not get some colour in there that matches some of the dresses you wish you wore more often?

-I’m not sure whether she’d be a weeb, but she’d never say no to watching a Shonen anime with you, or even read the manga 👀

-Sebastian:

-why? He’s a nerd, he likes to be inside and play video games and code as his job.

-He’s an introvert like you, so he’d understand when you want to log off and be alone for a bit.

-You could watch movies together ! I HC that he isn’t that much into movies, but once he gets into it, he is very invested, so it could still work out !

-if you draw (because you said you do art), he’d be more than happy if you made some character models for the game he’s working on, or for his discord server etc. he isn’t the artsy type, so he’s more than impressed you are able to cook something up that looks incredible !

-he wouldn’t want to hike with you lmfao 😭 but he’d want to ride on his motorcycle with you, if you want to. Some adventure, but not too much physical activity, yet a lot of fun.

-He’s a weeb, your honour, I feel it in my bones. Do I have to say more ?

——————————————————————————

-all of them seem to be cat people (Shane might be a dog person, but for our sake I say he’s a chicken person and likes both cats and dogs alike, but chickens win) , so that’s also a plus for all :3

I hope you can sort of agree with my picks. Im sorry if I didn’t pick anyone you have hoped for, but I think these 3 are the best matches out of all the marriage candidates. I thought of maybe Leah, but your interest in art would be about one of the few things you’d have in common I fear. I think there are some others that COULD work, but when I read your summary, these came to my mind instantly lol.

Thanks for your submission !

#sdv inbox #sdv pairing #stardew valley #sdv #sdv bachelors #sdv asks #sdv shane #shane stardew valley #stardew shane #shane sdv #sdv sebastian #sebastian sdv #Abigail sdv #sdv abigail

[deliciouskeys]

okay like being entirely honest i absolutely adore homelander i think he's stunning and i love the content people make for him but like... something that kinda bothers me and stops me from being able to fully enjoy homelander smut especially is the fact that he's literally a r*pist? and the way he treats women in the show is appalling i don't even care if it's the influence of trauma in his life it still makes me feel really uncomfortable..... idk it's just been on my mind recently since i've only recently been actively engaged with the fandom.

and like the whole butcher x homelander thing is really cute and the art for it is great and the memes are funny and whatever, but at the same time...... HL literally sa'd the love of butcher's life and constantly endangers the life of her son, and butcher has committed his life to destroying him....idk i just think about it whenever i see any homelander content. it's sad though. i have to catch myself whenever i find myself liking him too much because i have to remind myself how awful he is.

of course this isn't meant to hurt anyone who makes/enjoys the content!! but.... hmph. idk. does any of that make sense lmao?

Well, Anon, I’m not sure what you mean by “fully enjoy”. Everyone’s mileage may vary and you’re not obligated to like all content for a character or pairing.

“The whole butcher x homelander thing is really cute”

Ha! Well it can be, but I think there’s always an undercurrent of LOL DARK in this pairing. Most people in Butchlander fandom seem to have a morbid streak of humor and most are pretty sober about the fact that this is enemy slash with a good reason to be enemies (at least for one side). It helps that Billy Butcher is no saint, it helps that HL has an unusual backstory, but if you don’t like reading about bad people getting it on, you probably won’t like it.

There are a few writers that I know who just outright reject the r*pe part of show canon (not my preference, but you can indulgently hc whatever you want, anon, no one is stopping you).

Personally: Homelander is not only a rapist, but does a lot of other bad shit too. The fics I enjoy the most are probably ones where his warped logic and skewed values are depicted explicitly, actually, and where he’s put into bad enough straits to re-examine some of that. My indulgent saccharine hc is that the effects of being raised in a lab as a weapon can be at least partially undone by tough but genuine love— yes, precisely from a person HL has hurt, where the love is definitely not transactional, rather than from Vought personnel to whom he’s bringing benefit and profits. … And that Billy would ever provide that, given particular sets of circumstances 😅

Fics that that have made me uncomfortable (and I still read them lol): ones where HL brutally r*pes Billy (basically Billy Butcher whump for having the hubris to think he could defeat a supe), and ones where HL enters a relationship with Billy having r*ped and/or outright murdered Becca and Billy doesn’t know about it (to me this is the most disturbing, heh, makes HL more evil than he is on the show).

As for art… a picture is worth a thousand words, and a thousand words isn’t going to be able to address all intricacies, so you’re even more free to hc whatever backstory you want onto a piece.

TL;DR you can enjoy this pairing to whatever capacity you find enjoyable. I think you should also give yourself some slack and enjoy things that you’re naturally drawn to that may not be morally upright, but that’s just my opinion :)

#thanks for the ask! #fandom ethics #butchlander #homelander meta #homelander #billy butcher #fandom meta #the boys #the boys tv

[rosecoloredknight]

15 (+1) questions tag game - tagged by the ever full of whimsical energy 🩷💫 @bunniexmai 💫🩷

thank you for the tag!! I don't think I can answer these as creative and fun as you especially on mobile, but I'll tryyy

🌲 1. Are you named after anyone?

Actually , yessss, Me and my twin were both each named after our grandparents!! So he, my brother was named after my mother's father, while I was named after my father's dad!!

🌲 2. When was the last time you cried?

Tonight, but it's not because of self pity or anything like that. I mean yes, I'm a little bit sad about my life and am scared of the unknown of it, but I'll be okay 😊😊

I cried because my head hurts so much from my sinuse infection :/

🌲 3. Do you have kids?

No and honestly, I'm slowly accepting and being at peace with never having one in the future. SIGH.

🌲 4. What sports do you play/ have you played?

Oooh, Basketball, American football, football, baseball, and track!! I really want to try ice skating someday!!

🌲 5. Do you use sarcasm?

I'll use this again, What the fuck is sarcasm? Who is sarcasm? No, WHY is sarcasm?

yes, I dooooooo. But only in close friendships or with family because that shit is annoying and rude haha

🌲 6. What is the first thing you notice about people?

Like last time, their personalities and demeanor. I really don't really care about appearance unless it's something derogatory? But other than that, I like to keep it to myself, but characteristics are a huge radar for me.

🌲 7. What's your eye color?

Still these sexy, irresistible, and all consuming brown eyes 😌😌

🌲 8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings ALL THE WAY. I will only watch scary movies with my niblings or my future partner. Never by myself.

🌲 9. Any talents?

hahaha, I wishhhh 🫤

🌲 10. Where were you born?

TEXAS, but like the south side by the border!!

🌲 11. What are your hobbies?

Oooooh, reading, drawing, walks, jogs, basketball, gaming, cooking, baking, and visiting random stores like comic book stores, thrift stores, etc!!

🌲 12. Do you have any pets?

I used to have a cat named Ebony and a dog named esperer 💕

I miss them so much.

🌲 13. How tall are you?

5'7 or 5'8

🌲 14. Favorite subject in school?

ELA!! Something about going over about something I just read and trying to dissect it was fun for me!!

🌲 15. Dream job?

Working as an LPC in foster care centers/orphanages, homeless shelters, and retirement homes!!

However, more truthful, any stable financial job in which i can pay my bills, but still have enough for groceries, take out, or treat myself and loved ones to gifts would be enough for me 😊😊😊

🌲 16. BONUS/in place of 10- what reminds you of home (doesn't have to mean house... just things that remind you of the feeling of home)?

Hmm, this is a little difficult, but grocery shopping, walks at the park, every time I visit adoration at the chapel, playing soccer or in the playground with my nephews, walking from one place to another without having to rely on anyone to let me down or force to wait for them, music, movies/shows, playing video games - these all help me escape and daydream about feeling safe and cozy. A feeling that I think home would feel like; free, adventurous, grounded, safe, warm, and comfortable.

Did I make sense? I'm half asleep 😅 almost passing in and out!!

Thanks again for the tag!!

#tag im it #personal #life

[pandoraslxna]

Can I ask you something.... ? So I bought a sex toy and it was supposed to be a good quality one. In the end, I got it today, it smells very weird. So I read up some things on the internet and silicone isn't supposed to smell....

Now I really have no Idea where to buy my dildos and I wanted to ask you if you could tell me some good websites 😅😭😩🙏🏻💕

I searched so much but it always ends up being mixes of silicones, made in china chemicals stuff and in glass ? Maybe that but its scary

Please help a 18 y/o girl that needs her sexual needs satified 😭😂😂 My sex drive is a little to high and I dont want to keep using shit and hurt myself...

Hii pooks, I’d love to help you out here but the only trustworthy shop I buy my toys from is from germany and I’m pretty sure they don’t ship their products to other countries 😭

I’ve also bought toys from amazon before but I can’t guarantee you that the quality of those will be any better :((

There are actually several reasons why your toy could smell, it doesn’t necessarily has anything to do with a bad quality. If you want to get rid of it, you could buy one of those sex toy soaps and wash it under hot water until it’s gone and then use it with a condom. If it's something that can be boiled, then boil the fuck out of it. Dishwashers are apparently great for that, but ive never tried that myself so can't verify it personally. But just filling a sink full of boiling soap water and dunking the toy in until the water cools should be fine too, obviously only if it is safe with the type of toy/material!!

I hope this could help you just a little, and maybe someone else that’s reading this could recommend you a shop that sells high quality toys? 🫶🏻

#𝒯𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝑜𝓃 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

[canirove]

Nayef Aguerd Imagine | two

Author’s note: Another request from Wattpad. It was supposed to be something cute where he helps you during your exams while you are studying, but I think I got a bit distracted 😅 Hope you still like it and thank you for reading! 💜

Masterlist

*Female reader/pov

"Your tea, my lady" Nayef says, putting the big West Ham mug in front of me.

"Aww, thank you" I smile.

"I've also made you a snack. It's just some fruit we had that I cut nicely and arranged like those spreads people do on Instagram, but" he shrugs.

"It's perfect. You are perfect."

"So are you" he says, kissing the top of my nose and sitting on the bed next to my desk. "How is the studying going?"

"I could do with a little break, to be honest. Maybe stretch my legs."

"Then come here" he says, patting the spot next to him.

"I like it here better" I smirk while sitting on his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Cheeky" he laughs. "What were you studying?"

"The reign of Henry VII."

"Is he related to the one who had many wives?"

"The one who had many wives" I laugh. "But yes, he's the father of Henry VIII."

"Did he also marry... How many wives did he have?" Nayef asks while massaging my low back. I had stopped feeling it after being sat down for so long.

"Six. Divorced, beheaded and died. Divorced, beheaded, survived" I sing. "And no, his father wasn't like that."

"Who is your favourite?"

"Uh?"

"From the six wives" he says, his hand now under my shirt, moving up and down my back.

"Anne Boleyn."

"What happened to her?"

"Beheaded. Which is how I will probably end today. My neck is killing me" I sigh.

"Are you asking me for a massage?" Nayef smirks.

"You already are at it, so why not keep it going?" I reply with a matching smile.

"You are gonna have to move from my lap, tho."

"Oh, well" I say, moving to sit on the bed. "Better like this?"

"Perfect" he says as he rests his hands on my shoulders and moves his thumbs over my neck, making me gasp. "Does that feel good?"

"Very" I nod.

"Tell me more about Anne Boleyn. Why is she your favourite?"

"She was such a clever woman... And she basically changed the country's history."

"Interesting... Any other favourites?" Nayef asks, now using all his fingers to massage different spots on my neck, the feeling making me feel goosebumps all over my arms.

"Catherine of Aragon, his first wife. She was such a strong woman."

"So are you."

"If I was strong, I wouldn't be feeling like I'm melting under your touch" I chuckle.

"Oh, are you?" he says before kissing my neck, making me feel his smile on my skin.

"You know I am" I whisper, biting my lip to try and control myself as he keeps kissing me.

"Should we do something about it?"

"About what?" I ask while he slowly moves his hands from my shoulders all the way down my arms, caressing my skin.

"About your melting. You can't go back to studying feeling like that, can you?"

"I cannot" I say, his hands now around my waist and under my shirt, one of them dangerously going up.

"You will end up mixing the kings, the wives, the years... And I can't let that happen. You have to nail that exam."

"I do" I say, feeling my body tensing more and more while he keeps teasing me.

"Though your tea is probably getting cold. And I put so much love on making it. Your snack too."

"And I'm very thankful. But Nayef..."

"Yes, my love?" he says, kissing my neck once again, spreading more heat over my body.

"I'm not in the mood for tea or a snack. Or reading about Henry VII and how he made it to the throne."

"What are you in the mood for, then?"

"You" I say, turning around and throwing myself at him, somehow managing to hit the table and knocking the cup of tea as I lay us down on the bed. "Fuck, shit!"

"Are your notes ok? Your laptop? Your phone?" Nayef asks with a concerned look.

"They are, yes" I sigh after checking the table. "But now my snack is all wet."

"Like you?" he smirks.

"Nayef!" I say, punching him in the arm.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he laughs. "That hurt, you know?"

"You deserve it" I say, sticking out my tongue. "And look at the mess we've made."

"The mess you have made."

"Whatever. I can't go back to studying, so I think you should finish your massage."

"And give it a happy ending?" Nayef asks, arching an eyebrow.

"And give it a happy ending, yes" I say, rolling my eyes but not being able to hide a smile.

"As the lady commands" he grins, grabbing me by the waist and throwing me back on the bed, kissing me while I can't stop giggling like an idiot.

#nayef aguerd #nayef aguerd imagine #nayef aguerd fanfic #football fanfic #football imagine

[naneun-no]

7 Things

🌸🕺🏻🥊💟🩲🫦👖

(My thoughts are scattered lately so here are seven strays, if anyone actually reads this lmk your thoughts!)

🌸 1. Was listening to Wild Flower and was reminded once again how much I wish Jimin could have sung the chorus 🤣 I totally get why he didn’t, I get that it was RM’s thing, and it’s really cool how many different artists he was able to collab with for Indigo. I just can totally hear Jimin belting in his indie-girl voice when I hear youjeen and it makes me wistful. I know I’m not the only one.

🕺🏻2. Speaking of indie-girl voice, I’m trying to manage expectations for JM’s album but I love his voice and vibe so much I’m having a hard time tempering my excitement. I’m sorta hoping for some sort of fusion of Prince, FINNEAS, the song Promise and Jimin’s verse in Vibe 😅 but also, I’m looking forward to being surprised. What about y’all?

🥊 3. I’m cracking up, Jimin is still shameless. Out there for everyone to see talking that flirty shit all “Keep growing and protect hyung 🥺”, bitch —

💟 This might piss people off, but 4. I had kind of written off Dreamers after listening to it a few good times when it first came out. It was okay to me, but just that. Okay. After watching the Bangtan Bomb for Dreamers I’m way more into the song, and can I just say — that is Big Hit’s entire marketing scheme in a nutshell and I can’t stress that enough. I’m even aware of it, and it still works like a charm on me. Cause like, that second verse of Dreamers is almost objectively bad. The weird rap-sing combo with meaningless lyrics that does absolutely nothing to support the lofty beauty of the chorus. And that’s not Jung Kook’s fault, he didn’t write it, but imo, it’s still a pretty mediocre submission to the world history of recorded music. But seeing JK in the studio stressing and poring over the sheets and doing his best and learning the choreo and working his ass off makes me listen to it with rose-colored… eardrums (bad metaphor sorry) and next thing I know I’m jamming to it while I clean the kitchen, singing along to that second verse like it’s poetry. So it’s as a good a time as any to remember that while BTS does in fact make good music, sometimes very good music, not all of it is equally good* — and some of it is very close to being not good at all — but we are conditioned to like it anyways because we love the seven men who are making it. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Just… you know. We should probably recognize it, at least occasionally. *I realize Dreamers isn’t a BTS song, but the same applies to certain ones they’ve made/collaborated on. Thoughts?

🩲5. Are we all ready to accept that JK is not going to be the next face of CK? Lol. I guess it could still happen, but I sort of began to doubt it when my boy was downing beer and scarfing chicken two nights in a row. We know that ain’t the way he eats when he has a photoshoot coming up, lol. Even if it wasn’t Jung Kook, CK still got themselves an itty bitty waist big eyed beauty though, so I’ll be respectfully enjoying myself some Jennie in her underwear for the time being 😘

The last two are song recs:

🫦 6. Trigger, Seori. From 2020.

Or do you wanna bite my lips and taste my blood? Come be dirty with me.

*shivers in bisexual*

👖7. Hurt, New Jeans.

Not as depressing as the title makes it sound!

If you made it this far, I need song/musician recs too. Send me some?

Until next time ✌️

#random thoughts #jikook #bts

[pocket-lin]

hii <3

4, 11, 16 and 19 for the fandom asks??

(almost just wrote a plea for you to answer all of them but managed to restrain myself😅)

hi hi hi!! thank you for asking me these, this is so much fun!! reading back on these answers after I've written them is shocking because I really can just go on and on about stuff, huh? I really don't talk that much irl so I didn't know I had all this in me hahaha I'm so sorry!! I'm actually so embarrassed 😅 I'm gonna put the answer to 11 in a separate post so I can actually attach the picture I'm proud of!

4. say something nice about a ship you don't ship (it can be another ship in your fandom, a mutual's OTP, etc)

the one ship that's jumping out to me is dramione. I am a huge hater of this ship (sorry sorry sorry if you're reading this and it's your thing I love you and support you!!!) but you guys make some really cool shit and I'm happy you have a community you can share it with!! I've poked around in the ao3 and tumblr tags and its absolutely not for me, but there's some really beautiful and horny stuff out there for this ship and I so genuinely love that for all of you!

16. a tiny detail in canon that you want more people to appreciate

if I'm being totally honest with you, I haven't interfaced with the harry potter canon in a very long time. i already own all the movies and books and stuff, so I wouldn't even be giving jk money by rewatching/reading them, but it just kind of makes my stomach hurt when I think about supporting her in some way. I've had to work through a lot of complicated feelings in regards to jk and harry potter in general, as I'm sure many people have had to do! her words and actions and how I feel about it are not complicated at all, but what to do in the aftermath of it was something I had to figure out. I mean, I have a hp tattoo on my ankle!! my pinned post is about this specifically, but where I've ultimately landed on it all is this: I don't want to let her steal any more joy from me than she already has. there are so many queer and trans people in this fandom creating such incredible stuff, and I just don't want to lose that! I got off on a whole tangent here and definitely have a lot more I could say on the topic, BUT all this to say, I can't really think of tiny hp details anymore!! and in this specific fandom, I'm totally okay with that!

19. your current fandom(s)

the fandom that I interact with the most is definitely harry potter, but I have a bunch of other stuff I'm super into!!

the whole reason I got back into any fandom–and the entire reason I logged back into Tumblr for the first time since 2018–was because of our flag means death!! I've loved rhys darby since flight of the conchords and was so pumped that he was a lead in an hbo show! I was totally shocked when ofmd turned out to not be queerbait!! something about that first season just flipped a switch in me and I looked for fan fiction for the first time in like, 10 years!! I actually didn't even know about ao3 and tried to go to ff.net and it was a whole thing. getting back into fandom was very intimidating, I'm not gonna lie. (wow I really could just talk forever huh?)

my other fandoms are: the sandman, the witcher, good omens (I was so late to that show but jumped on right before the second season completely on accident), check please!, disco elysium, red dead redemption (especial rdr2), the x files, the walking dead, the rivers of london series, and d&d: honor among thieves.

and then there's some stuff that I don't even know how I got into!! like, the spideypool ship. gang, I've barely seen any marvel movies, I haven't read very many marvel comic books. and I honestly don't plan it because I just don't like marvel (once again, could go on about this forever, I was a manager at my local comic shop and have many opinions). but someone I follow posted about a fic (and I am not immune to beautiful fan art) and then I fell down the rabbit hole!! def have recs if anyone is interested!

another one is the ted lasso fandom. I genuinely don't remember why we never finished watching the second season but then the reviews for the third season was kinda mixed so I never went back to it. and then I saw a writer I'm head over heels for had a ted lasso fic (other lives by @andthepeople) and WHOOPS I fell down another rabbit hole!! i also have ted lasso recs!

essentially, if ya boy's read/watched/listened to something, you know he's gonna go look at what the freaks (affectionate) are posting on ao3.

#I'm genuinely so embarrassed by how long my answers are #but also I've already written it all out so I'm gonna post it hahaha #fandom asks #ask games #fic recs #not gonna tag this with any fandom/ship because its all over the place!!