#headers find me in your memory

[borathae]

↳ Full Art

"You run in on Yoongi touching himself in the shower and he begs you to punish him because of it. Hard."

Pairing: Yoongi x n.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut

Warnings: sub!Yoongi, masochist!Yoongi, rough Dom!Reader, he is naked and wet, CBT, cock slapping, safe ball busting with a knee, leaky cocks, dirty talk, degradation, he wants to be called dirty/bad slut, hair pulling, subby boy tears, drool, praise, handjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (m.receiving), Yoongi has a kink for being manhandled, male masturbation in shower, nipple sucking, cuddly aftercare, he's just a cute lil masochist who wants his balls busted and get hugs after <3

Wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: okay so, I'm trying trying the new format. istfg besties, Patreon is so stressful I might actually cry. idk how to do it so I'll like it 😭 okay so, my idea is that i'll post the story and a very cropped art preview (as seen on the header) here on Tumblr and if anyone wants to check out the full art to the story, they have to go to my Patreon. Engagement as far as stories is concerened is very bad on Patreon *glares* and I really miss yelling about the stories with you guys. So for my own peace of mind, i'll keep the stories on Tumblr and give all my true connoisseurs something extra spicy to thirst over on Patreon hehe <3 thank you for being patient with me. I promise to keep drawing and improving and to feed y'all thirsty hoes (affectionately) as much as I can 💜 also lmao those are long a/n fjajsdf have fun besties sorry it took a lil longer today, i tried to figure out how i wanna do sexy art of the month from now on fajdjfs

The bathroom is fogged up and smells heavily like Yoongi’s soap. Masculine, clean and expensive. You find yourself hazy because of it. What truly seals the state of you, however, is the view. Mirrors misted up, air milky from steam and right there in his expensive walk-in shower, Yoongi is having his throbbing cock in his tight fist. The water is turned off right now, but his body is still wet. His dark hair is slicked back, his silky skin is glistening and his head is tilted back in bliss as soft sighs slip past his pouty lips. 

You walked in on him touching himself. You really didn’t plan on doing so, but can’t seem to get yourself to leave. Or to stop staring for that matter.

He has a languid rhythm going. Slow, but clearly skilled. His long fingers are wrapped tightly around his veiny cock. His thumb is drawing circles on his flushed tip and pretty frenulum. He is sensitive there, likes it especially when someone is being gentle with it. His dark nipples are hard and the pale skin around them is flushed as if he had played with them moments before. Knowing Yoongi, he did. He is such a slut for nipple play. He is so fucking tender there. 

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out breathily, gliding his left hand up his own torso as he fucks his cock slowly. 

He is tensing and relaxing his stomach, broadening his stance as his knees wobble. He furrows his brows, biting down on his lower lip as small mewls leave him repeatedly. His long fingers close around his own biceps, giving it a needy squeeze. Look at the marks he leaves, look at how he is tensing his muscles.

You find yourself gulping and taking heavy breaths at the view.

What made him so goddamn needy? 

One thing Yoongi rarely does, is to jerk off. He sees it as something useless because if he gets horny, he has you to take the burden off his shoulders. He also rarely gets horny without you in the first place, so there is that. So to have him so incredibly lost in masturbation is rare and therefore insanely addicting.

What made him so needy? Was it a memory? A fantasy? A picture or video? Was it nothing of that sorts and he merely touched his cock wrong as he cleaned himself? Did the water hit the right spot and trap him in the delicious sensation of its wet massage? 

What did it to him?

“___”, Yoongi moans loudly, leaking onto the floor.

Your stomach clenches. Holy fuck. You did it to him. You did. The thought of you, the memory of your touch and the image of you did it to him. You let out a small gasp at the realisation.

Yoongi startles at the sound and opens his eyes. He stops, tenses up. You freeze, holding your breath. The air between you and him is tense and electric. He blinks at you, mouthing your name quietly.

“I uhm”, you begin, clearing your throat loudly.

He drops his hand from his biceps, tightening his fingers around his cock. He can’t seem to leave his trance of shock. The only indicator that the view of you is turning him on, is his increasing breathing and how needily his long fingers still hold his cock.

“I uhm, sorry. I wasn’t staring, I mean, I was but I- sorry, I uhm, I’m gonna leave now”, you stutter and turn to leave.

“Help me.” 

You halt, wobbling slightly because he is making your knees buckle. You turn around, dancing your eyes over his body.

“Sorry?” 

“Help me. Please”, he begs and tugs at his cock weakly, biting down on his lower lip as he does. Look at the needy kitten eyes he is making at you. 

“Really?” you get out, feeling dizzy at the view. You want to ruin this man. You really do.

He nods his head, lowering his eyes at you. He is taunting you as much as he is begging you.

You do not bother to take off your clothes, he only has to nod his head twice and then you are already in the shower, eating him up with just your eyes. 

Yoongi cups your face and kisses you. He mewls needily as he does it, sucking on your lips and tongue more than he actually kisses you. It is so lazy, so slow and yet so intensely passionate. He is so lost in you, so entirely addicted to your taste that he is solely running on it. Whatever he fantasised about before really did it to him. You feel up his torso hungrily, moaning at the delicious taste of him.

He is shivering with each touch, chasing the feeling of you with wiggles of his hips which force his cock to grind against your clothed stomach. The fabric of your hoodie feels rough against his sensitive tip. He craves the silkiness of your skin like plants crave sunlight.

He breaks the kiss with a sigh of your name, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I was bad”, he breathes.

“You were?” you are kneading his waist, staring at his flushed face with hazy eyes.

“Yeah. Thought of you ‘til I got needy”, he rasps and mewls quietly, mouthing at the tip of your nose, “touched myself to you.”

“Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Punish me.” 

“Punish you?” 

“Please.”

You step back and pick up his cock so you could slap his tip. Gently for now, to test the waters. 

Yoongi moans loudly, squeezing your cheeks softly. His knees buckle slightly.

“Like this, mhm?” you ask, slapping him again. Soft. Careful. Get him used to it. Or needy for more. You are fine with both options as long as it ends in your boyfriend panting and needy.

He scrunches his face in pleasure, letting out a shaky “mh-hm” before he follows it up with a breathy, “don’t stop please.” 

“Fuck Yoongi, you’re driving me insane. You’re so hot.”

“I’m a bad slut”, he croaks.

“Yeah, the fucking worst. Bad slut, such a bad slut”, you growl, giving him harsh spanks. Now that you know he wants it, you are so happy to give it to him.

He takes each of your spanks with a blissed moan and a twitch of his cock. His pink tip got so much pinker ever since you started playing with him. His chest is flushed as well, looking so untouched.

You take his heavy cock between your fingers and pick up his favourite rhythm. Then you step closer to litter his chest with kisses. Wet and sloppy. You need to mark his skin as yours and taste him in the process.

Yoongi arches his back, dropping his head against the glass behind him. Your name slips past his lips, his hands grab your waist and squeeze. 

“You’re a bad slut, Yoongi love, but you’re such a pretty slut at that”, you rasp and take his left nipple between your teeth. You tug on it, making him moan. You suck on it, making him mewl. You lick it, making him sigh your name.

He is tender there. Just as you said.

And as you give him heaven with just your mouth, your hands are busy feeling him up. Your right hand fucks his cock like it deserves to be fucked, while your left hand feels up his waist and hips. He fits so perfectly between your fingers. It is like he is made to be touched by you and only you. His skin is so soft and warm, leaving behind wetness on your fingertips from the previous shower. His cock is twitching so cutely in your hold.

You lift your lips from his right nipple after worshiping it as well, tilting your head so you are looking at his pretty face. You cup his pink cheek.

“Look at me.”

Yoongi obeys, fluttering his lashes at you. He is breathing so heavily, gazing at you as if you were his fucking everything.

“You’re a pretty slut. You know that, don’t you?”

He nods his head, choking out a shy “yeah.”

“You do. Good. Don’t forget it, kitten”, you order and slow your hand around his tip. It sits between your fingers. You increase the pressure slightly and move your hand again. Just a little, just enough that he’s getting fucked so good.

Yoongi gasps, widening his eyes for just a second before rolling them back.

“No, no look at me.”

Yoongi obeys with a mewl of your name.

“That’s better. I wanna look at your pretty eyes.”

“I have to cum”, he moans.

“Cause you’re looking at me?”

He nods his head, leaking all over your palm, “can’t hold it…like…this.”

“God, you lovedrunk slut, you”, you tease, giving his favourite spot a good rub.

“Please”, he begs, “please, can I cum?”

“Mhhm, don’t know. Do you deserve it?”

“Please I, mghm, I’ll give you head later”, he bargains with the prettiest kitten eyes.

“Obviously, you’re gonna do that anyways. Do better, Yoongi slut”, you warn, slowing down dangerously.

“Please”, he begs louder and thrusts his hips into your fist. 

It earns him a harsh spank, “behave.”

“Fuck please. I-I’ll cockwarm you, promise I, I won’t move. Please.” 

“But Yoongi, where is the fun in that? I’ll do that anyways. You know that bad, dirty jerk off sluts get cockwarmed”, you coo as your skilled fingers torture his flushed tip. He is burning up, smearing his precum all over your digits. 

“I have to cum so bad”, he croaks and spills tears, “please can I cum? I’ll be so good please.” 

“Fine. You can cum”, you say calmly even if your hand is giving his cock such a good fuck. He didn’t convince you, you just simply have a better way to ruin him how he so clearly craves.

“___”, he moans and closes his eyes sensually. Moments later, his swollen cock releases all over your hand. His knees buckle, he finds support by grabbing your shoulders and arching his back. His moan is loud and drawn-out.

“Look at you”, you moan with him, speeding up your hand now that he is giving you such a good show, “good slut, cum for me. That’s my good slut.”

Yoongi is shaking and trembling in bliss, but soon begins shaking and trembling for other reasons. You aren’t slowing down. His balls are empty, his cock so overstimulated, but you aren’t slowing down. You jerk off his cock as if it has a debt to pay, giving him burning heaven in the process. 

He finally realises what he signed up for and that your sweet words were nothing but deception. He didn’t convince you. You aren’t done with him. One wasn’t enough. 

“Please, please, pl-please”, he begs, trying to flee you as much as chases you. 

“One more, kitten. Give me one more.” 

“I can’t. Oh god, I can’t”, he mewls and stumbles as he tries to flee.

You grab him and pin him against the glass harshly, knocking a weak gasp out of him. His knees buckle, his teary eyes gaze at you with all the devotion he can muster. He loves when you’re rough with him, when you show him that he is yours to manhandle.

“Give me more”, you growl, speeding up around his cock.

“No please”, Yoongi mewls and tries to wiggle away just so you can put him back in his place. He parts his legs, hoping that you take the silent hint.

You do. Of course you do. You lift your knee against his balls hard enough that it hurts. Yoongi folds into himself with a pained moan, grabbing your waist. He is already so fucking hard again, throbbing in your hand as if he never released before. 

“Stop fleeing me”, you growl and knee him again, twisting your hand around his burning tip at the same time. 

Yoongi sobs, burying his face in your shoulder. It hurts so much. He has never been so fucking high on pleasure before. It feels so good. Yoongi swears every second is the best second he ever experienced.

“Understood? You do not flee me”, you give his tender balls one last harsh nudge with your knee, then grab his hair to pull his head back. 

He coughs out a sob, spilling tears and drool all down his pretty face. He can barely even keep his eyes open, let alone stop them from crossing. 

He is so pretty. 

“What’s with that pretty face?” you challenge, pumping his overstimulated cock quickly as you grind your knee against his balls at the same time. 

“Yours”, he croaks.

“That’s right. Mine. My pretty slut.”

“You’re making me cum.” 

“See? I knew you could give me more. Don’t hold back, slut.”

“Knee. Please.” 

You knee him a fourth time. Yoongi wails up, folding into himself in both pain and pleasure before spilling all over your hoodie and his stomach. So his balls weren’t empty yet. Of course they weren’t. You are proving to him how much of a slut he actually is.

He melts into you, shaking on your knee as your name leaves him like his prayer of bliss.

“Good slut, give me everything. Such a good slut. That’s so much better, I knew one wasn’t enough. Your pretty balls are never empty after only one. That’s it. Good slut”, you talk him through it, holding him safely as your hand milks him dry.

Soon Yoongi slacks into you, grabbing your wrist to stop your movements.

“No more.”

You don’t listen just to tease him, giving his burning tip a tight massage. He trembles and writhes, squeezing your wrist.

“Stop.”

You are going to stop, but first you need to tease him just a little more. A few more squeezes and rubs, a little pump and tug.

“Please”, he begs breathily, wiggling his hips away from you.

“You’re so cute”, you coo and finally drop his ruined cock.

“Thank you”, he sighs and sinks into you, hugging you tightly as he recovers.

You hug him back, tracing his spine.

“How was that, mhm?” you ask him, speaking in a soft voice.

He nods his head slowly, humming. 

“Yeah? Was it good for you?” 

“Was perfect”, he lulls and purrs contently, “thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Oh god, I need to lie down now”, he says and chuckles, “my balls are so fucking tender.”

“I can imagine. I kicked them really hard. Are you okay? Should I get something for the pain?”

He shakes his head, “you did it so right. Thank you so much.”

You smile, “that’s good to hear. You’re such a good boy.”

Yoongi nuzzles his nose against your neck and purrs softly, melting under your praise. You know exactly how to love him.

“I love you so much”, he mumbles.

“I love you too.”

“I actually wanna lie down though.”

You chuckle, “okay, okay let’s get you cleaned up and cozy. You’re gonna get back scratches in bed”, you say as you lead him to the shower head.

“And ear rubs.”

“And ear rubs. As my prince wishes”, you say and turn on the water to wash away the mess he left. Yes, you will change into different clothes, “how’s the temperature, love?”

“Good. Nice.”

“Yeah? Is it good how I’m touching you?” you ask as you clean his cock and balls with gentle fingers.

He nods his head, “hm.”

“Good. God, Yoongi love, you’re so handsome.” 

Yoongi blushes, lowering his eyes shyly. Yeah, you definitely know how to love him.

#yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi scenario #yoongi oneshot #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #sub!yoongi #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #bts oneshot #bts x reader #bts x you #sub!bts #bangtan smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan scenario #bangtan oneshot #bangtan x reader #bangtan x you #sub!bangtan #sibis art

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Got My Doll Back » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Enhanced!Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America, Sam Wilson/Falcon, and Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow

Summary: Bucky gets his wife back after thinking that she was dead for years.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mentions of past memories & trauma, fighting, crying, kissing, pet names (doll)

A/N: Y/N has the same powers as Wanda.

A/N #2: Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for helping find the first aesthetic picture🩵

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

“These 4 people are your mission. Get these 3 out of the way.” Pierce shows you pictures of Captain America, the Falcon, and Black Widow. “And bring the Winter Soldier back to us alive. Understand?” He says, showing you a picture of the Winter Soldier.

“I understand, sir.” You reply.

Alarms at the base you’re at went off, along with a flashing red light in the room. Pierce went to the security system to see four people walking through the hallways of the base separately. Pierce chuckles and smirks before turning to face you.

“This mission may be easier than we thought. Go to the south end of the base and bring the Winter Soldier to the room.” He tells you.

You nodded and headed towards the door. An agent opened it for you. You headed to the south side of the base. Your walk was cut short when you heard a woman’s voice. You turned around to see a woman with red hair and wearing a black mission suit, one of your targets. She rose one of her arms, getting ready to shoot one of her widow bites at you. Your powers glowed red in your right hand, along with your eyes glowing red. She began to walk towards you, but you used your powers to throw her against the wall, making her groan in pain when she landed on the floor. You ran away from her before she could get up and get you.

“Rogers, Barnes, Wilson. There’s a woman wearing all black with a red jacket is going to the south side of the base. She’s enhanced.” Natasha says into her ear piece.

“I’m on it!” Sam replies, running to the south side.

You rounded the corner to see your second target causing you to stop in your tracks, seeing a man standing across from you.

“I’m not about to fight a woman so let’s do this the easy way.” Sam says.

“That’s a shame.” You say, slightly tilting your head.

Your eyes turned red, along with a ball of red appearing in your hand. You threw it at him causing him to fall to the floor. You ran past him to find your other two targets.

“She’s going east now!” Sam says into his ear piece.

“I see her!” Bucky replies.

Bucky shoots at you. You quickly ducked to the floor to avoid the bullet. You chuckled and stood up with your back facing him.

“Got outsmarted by a woman, didn’t you, Soldat?” You say.

Bucky froze and his eyes went wide. The voice sounds all too familiar. It sounds like someone he knows. Someone from his past.

Steve rounded the corner and caught up to Bucky. He waved his hand in front of his face to snap him out of his thoughts.

“Bucky!” Steve shook him. “Did she do something to you?” He asks.

“N-No.” Bucky stutters.

Steve looks at you to see you facing away from him and Bucky.

“Turn around.” Steve orders.

Steve got his shield ready as you chuckled and turned around.

“You know, the last man who ordered me around, got thrown off of a building. I’m sure you don’t want that to happen to you, Captain.” You say, slowly turning around.

You looked up to see the two men with surprised looks on their faces. Bucky put his gun in the hostler and Steve lowered his shield.

“Oh my god.” Steve says, completely speechless.

“Y/N?” Bucky says with hopefulness in his voice.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, tilting your head to the side.

“Who the hell is Y/N?” You say.

Bucky couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His wife from the 40s was standing a few feet away from him. He slowly approached you which was a mistake on his part cause the next thing he knew was being thrown into the wall. Steve threw his shield at you, but you stopped it with your powers. It fell to the floor in front of you.

“Listen here, Captain and Soldat, but I’m not who you guys think I am.” You say.

Bucky stood up from the ground in time to see your eyes glowing red and a red light glow in your hands, making his eyes to widen.

“I was given a mission and I need to finish it. I’m sure you can relate to that, Soldat.” You say.

Before you could use your powers on them, you felt shocks to the back of your neck causing your body to tense up and lose consciousness. Bucky was quick to catch you before you hit the floor.

“While you two were busy dilly dallying with her, me and Sam got the file.” Natasha says, holding up the file.

Bucky moved your hair from your face to get a closer look at your face causing his breath to hitch in his throat and his eyes to tear up.

“What did they do to you, doll?” Bucky asks, talking more to himself.

Sam and Natasha furrowed their eyebrows in confusion as they looked down at Bucky.

“Doll? Barnes, do you know this woman?” Natasha asks.

“He’ll explain later. We need to get out of here.” Steve says.

Bucky stood up with you in his arms and carried you to the quinjet, holding you like his life depends on it.

A couple hours later, you woke up in a room that you didn’t recognize. You looked around the room, gathering your surroundings. Your eyes landed on a man sleeping in a chair next to the bed you’re in.

“Hello?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky woke up immediately. A smile grew on his face when he seen that you’re awake.

“Thank god you’re awake.” Bucky says relieved.

He reaches to grab your hand, but you backed away from him. You felt yourself beginning to panic.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He says in a reassuring voice.

You took a moment to yourself to think. You felt yourself starting to become overwhelmed, your breathing became uneven.

“Wh-Where am I?” You asked, looking around the room again.

“My apartment.” He tells you.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to calm yourself down. That’s when memories flooded your brain. Visions of a man appeared in your mind. The man looks exactly like the man sitting next to you. You opened your eyes and looked at the man. There was a few different features about this man compared to the man in your vision. He has long hair, stubble, and a metal arm.

“I know you from somewhere, but I don’t know where.” You say.

“Take your time. It’ll come to you.” He says softly.

You took your time and thought. You kept thinking until your head started pounding by more memories flowing back into your mind. You put your hands on the sides of your head and squeezed your eyes shut. You jumped slightly when you felt a hand on your back, but you didn’t move away. When your head stopped pounding, you opened your eyes and looked up at the man with tears in your eyes. It didn’t take long for you to realize that the man next to you is your husband.

“Bucky?” You say in almost a whisper.

“It’s me, doll. It’s your Bucky.” He says with a smile.

Tears spilled from your eyes as you hugs him. Bucky pulled you onto his lap, holding you close to him. His eyes teared up. Bucky never thought he would get the chance to see or hold his wife again.

“I missed you so much.” You cried against his chest.

“I missed you too, doll.” Bucky says, tears rolled down his cheeks.

You sniffled and looked up at your husband, looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was told to—” Bucky silenced you with a kiss.

“You didn’t hurt me.” Bucky says, looking into your eyes.

“I-I blasted you with my powers.” You say.

“It wasn’t you, doll.” He says, cupping your cheeks.

You shivered when you felt cool metal against your skin.

“What happened to your left arm?” You asked with concern in your voice while looking at his metal arm.

Bucky didn’t want to upset with the details of how he really lost his left arm so he came up with a different way to tell you what happened.

“I got hurt years ago and when I woke up, I had this.” He explains, showing you his metal arm.

Bucky watched as you carefully touched it, watching as your fingers traced the plates of it.

“I’m sorry for hurting your friends with my powers.” You say, feeling ashamed for your actions.

“They’ll understand that it wasn’t you, doll.” Bucky says.

“I didn’t hurt Steve, did I?” You asked.

“No you didn’t.” He says.

You smiled to yourself, knowing that you didn’t hurt your best friend.

“Is it ok if I see Steve and meet your friends?” You asked.

“Of course.” He smiles.

You got off the bed and followed closely behind Bucky while holding his hand as he led you to the living room where Steve, Sam, and Natasha are.

“Someone would like to see you guys.” Bucky says to them.

You slowly stepped out from behind Bucky and looked at everyone.

“Do you remember me?” Steve asks, trying his best not to overstep.

“How could I forget my best friend?” You say.

Steve smiles as you approached him to give him a hug. You looked at the two people standing next to him.

“I’m sorry for hurting you guys.” You tell them.

“It’s ok. We understand.” Sam says.

“Don’t worry about it.” Natasha says.

All of you talked for a while until you got tired and wanted to go to bed.

“I’m happy that I got my doll back.” Bucky says, making you smile.

You smiled and laid your head on his chest and played with his dog tags.

“I love you, Bucky.” You say sleepily.

“I love you too, doll.” He almost whispers. “Get some rest.” He says.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Of course I will. I’m never leaving you out of my sight again.” He says, leaning down and kissed you passionately.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

#sergeant james buchanan barnes #sergeant james barnes #sergeant barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes #winter soldier #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #avengers #marvel #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x wife!reader #bucky barnes x enhanced!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine

[jasmines-library]

Hi love <3!

I was wondering if you’d feel comfortable with writing something with the bat-family finding out that the reader has like, the abilities to transfer injuries to themselves.

Like, one of them is hurt and reader just rips their gloves off mid mission and drops to their side, transferring the injury to themself. Bonus points if they automatically transfer some psychological trauma as well? And maybe reader avoiding talking about it and stuff, the family finally seeing the countless scars that reader got because of their power.

(This is has been stuck in my head for forever and I’ve never seen anyone write the bat-family as good as you do, so <3)

Heal

Note: I've literally wanted to write something like this for ages! thank you for requesting ❤️ also tumblr was throwing a tantrum and not letting me put the image I wanted as a header so you get a GIF instead :(

Warnings: Blood, Injury, Scars.

Word count: 1.7k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“Robin!”

The scream ripped itself from your throat as you saw him drop to the ground. The crook stood over him, removing the dagger that dripped with crimson red from where he had plunged it into Damians thigh. You practically launched yourself across the street as he fled, dropping to his side. He clutched feebly at the wound, eyes screwed up in pain. Your hand hovered over the wound as he cried out in pain gawping at the open wound. Blood gushed from the deep wound staining the concrete.

“Hold on Robin, you’re gonna be fine.” you told him as you tore off your gloves and discarded them on the ground. 

Then, pressing your hand firmly over the wound and wincing at his shout of discomfort, you began to heal the wound. It was a strange sensation that no matter how many times you felt, you never seemed to get used to. The tingling ran up your arms but quickly replaced by an agonising burn as Damian’s wound began to heal on his skin and began to appear beneath your thigh beneath your suit. You bit your lip to hold back the cry as you watched the gaping wound close leaving behind nothing but shiny new skin and another hole in his suit for Alfred to patch up.

Damian pushed himself up onto his forearms to regain his composure when he felt the pain dissipate from his body. Around you, the rest of the vigilantes were still battling the criminals who seemed to be flanking in from every possible angle. You helped him to his feet, asking if he was alright as you pulled on your gloves. He gave you a brief nod of thanks before dashing off with his katana in hand to help his family. You staggered behind him trying to hide the limp that you had developed from the wound. You could already feel it healing; one of the many perks of your abilities, but it still hurt like a bitch. But you pressed forward anyway, gripping your weapon tightly to help with the fight.

You had had much worse. Much much worse. Like that one time that Joker had captured Tim…you took all of his injuries. But the thing is, with injuries come memories. Each cell carries its own story. And every time you take on a wound, you take on some of the trauma that comes with it. It's not your own, but it feels so real. The images play inside your head on loop like a movie often cropping up at the worst times. The worst time was when Jason died. Although when he returned he was physically healed, he was still struggling; scarred by the memories that haunted him. So, when he started recklessly patrolling and you had offered to heal him, you took away as much of it as you could. 

Sometimes it was the memories that hurt more than the actual wounds themselves. To see and feel what they had been through broke you completely. The torment that Jason had been through that you had seen was something you couldn’t even muster up the words to describe. You couldn’t imagine what he went through and you would never be able to heal him completely, but you were glad you could help him as much as you could. Glad you could take away any of their pain even if it meant that you had to feel it for them. 

They didn’t know this. You had kept it somewhat hidden from them. The vigilantes knew you could heal wounds, but they didn’t know that you took on the injury. And you wanted to keep it that way because you knew that if they found out they would just stop you from doing it and you would be left feeling useless on the sidelines. 

Nightwing dropped down beside you, noting your slight limp as you fought against the criminals. They seemed to be thinning out now with the five of you fighting them. They either fled or dropped to the ground like flies.

“You alright?” He asked, swinging a right hook and sending a guy wielding a crowbar. You winced at the sight of it, hit with Jasons memories again.  

“Fine.” You grunted out as you blocked another oncomer. 

“You sure? You’re favouring your left side.” 

God damn you, Grayson. 

“Fine. Just took a hit is all but it’ll heal quickly. You know me.”

He eyed you uncertainly. He knew you were lying but he dismissed it. Dick had always had a suspicion that more happened to you than you let on but he had never pressed you to talk about it. Though, he was going to find out much sooner than you had hoped.

~

You stared at the scab on your thigh in the mirror; it would soon become a new addition to the tapestry of scars that covered your body. It was ragged, torn and an ugly reminder of the blade that stuck out of the young Wayne’s leg. Some of the scars that marred up your smooth skin were yours, though most of them once belonged to the boys. 

The scars flecked almost every inch of your body, all varying in size and shape. Some were small and round, others long and jagged and some in between. And though the scars saved your boys, you couldn’t sometimes help but wish that you weren’t left with them. Sometimes, it all became too much. For example when you healed a wound that had been forced upon them in such a brutal way that you would lie awake for hours with your eyes squeezed shut tight as you curled up on your bed waiting for the haunting memories to pass. Although your abilities meant that you healed quicker, sometimes you were still left managing the wound for days as it healed whilst still trying to hide it from the boys. You suffered in silence, often pondering if you should just tell them… but you never did. And it was worth it because seeing them okay put a smile on your face. 

You didn’t like to talk much about your abilities and how they worked, no matter how much they pressed you. Everytime the topic was brought up you would go quiet, or quickly change the subject, trying not to let the feelings resurface. You buried them deep to keep your secret.

“You okay, kid?” Jason frowned as you walked into the library, poorly disguising the last of your limp. He was lounging on one of the couches as he delved into one of Bruce’s many hardbacks. 

“Yeah I’m fine.” you dismissed, running your finger over the spines as you scanned the shelf for something to read to try and give yourself something to do for a few hours while your leg continued to heal. 

“You said that earlier.” Dick poked his head around the door, noting the way you tilted most of your weight onto your left foot as you stood on your toes to grab a book. “Your leg still bothering you?”

“A little, but it’s healing.” You shrugged, taking your book over to the couch and settling beside Jason. 

The eldest Wayne frowned, forcing wrinkles onto his forehead. “Shouldn’t a hit have healed by now?”

You cursed mentally. “It was a nasty hit.”

“You know, thinking about it didn’t Damian take a knife to the thigh?” Jason asked. 

“Yes.” Damian appeared in the doorway with Tim. “Y/N healed me though.”

“Strange.” Dick noted, tilting his head to look at you. The four of them had had a suspicion for a little while that something was going on. The way you avoided the topic was like having a sign waving above your head. 

“... it’s just a coincidence.”

“Just like the time you injured your arm training after healing my broken one?” Tim had you stuck. 

You bit your lip in the silence of the room. 

“Fine. Maybe I haven’t been totally honest with you all.”

Jason sat up and leaned forwards in his seat “Go on.”

You took a deep breath, preparing for their onslaught as you revealed the truth. “When I heal a wound, it doesn’t just…vanish.” The four of them watched you intently and you could feel a sheen of sweat try to break out across your forehead. “It transfers to me instead.”

Damian stared at you agape “But…”

“You’ve healed us so many times.” Dick said. “That's gotta be…”

Tugging your hoodie over your head, you revealed the scars to them for the first time. Tim had to hold back his shock. 

“Oh y/n/n…” The vigilantes all looked at the countless scars that covered your skin. 

“They’re not all yours.” You tried to lighten the mood, albeit it seemed to have little effect. 

“How have we been letting you do this? We should have know-”

“Stop.” You shut Tim down. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. Healing you is… special. Making sure that you guys get to live another day is more important to me than anything.”

“But you’re hurting yourself…” Damian said shyly, feeling incredibly guilty.

“It doesn’t hurt bad. My accelerated healing means I can get rid of wounds that would take weeks for you to heal in a number of days. Sometimes hours. I like helping you.”

The boys narrowed their eyes at you. They were sceptical however they could see the truth behind it. You were selfless; always giving to others in need. They didn’t like that you were being hurt because of their recklessness, and they were angry with themselves that you felt you couldn’t tell them the truth, but they could see the reasoning behind it.

“Besides” You added. “I think the scars are pretty cool. Like a piece of artwork. And I can use them to blackmail you in the future.” You grinned.

“Tt.” Damian rolled his eyes. “They are pretty cool though…”

There was a nod of agreement. 

“Thank you. y/n/n.” Dick said. “I honestly don’t know what we would do without you.”

“Bleed out and die probably.” You joked and he hummed with laughter.

“On a serious note,” Dick added “We have seriously got to stop getting hurt so much.”

🦇 Batfam Taglist:

@mamapucket

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

@aestheticdaisies

#batfam x reader #Batfamily x reader #batfam x sister reader #Batfamily x sister reader #batfam x brother reader #batfam x sibling reader #Dick Grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #Jason Todd #Jason Todd x Reader #Red Hood #red hood x reader #Tim Drake #Tim Drake x Reader #Red Robin #Red Robin x Reader #Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x Reader #robin #robin x reader #dc #dc x reader #dc comics #fluff #hurt/comfort #scars #healing powers #healing

[sweetnsour1]

10:53:01

Fluff, Bakugou x fem reader

Part 1 of 2

“You’re kidding.”  

“Why would I be kidding?” His tone had shifted. You could hear his brows and eyes furrowing at the strangled laugh you had shakily exhaled. 

“How did you find out?” He had to be fucking with you. 

“Um, the mission briefing...like usual?”  

“What?” Shit, so he wasn’t fucking with you. You blinked away tears of frustration already threatening to leak into your voice. Stupid. 

“Huh?”  

“So, you’re really leaving?”  

“Have to, beautiful.”  

“But...” 

“Yea, I know. I’ll miss you too.” His tone was getting softer with every awkward response you choked out. 

“No, I mean...” You let the words trail off. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d forgotten the meaning behind this quickly approaching date. Your brain couldn’t even craft a way to bring it up without whining. You couldn’t do it. “Just be safe, okay?” 

“The hell do ya think I am? I’m always safe.” 

“Safer than your version of safe, please.” Your tone was firm as it delivered the familiar words, a ritual every time he left for a mission.

The memory of the first time you’d made the request came to you easily. He was in the doorway of your office, backing out, bumping his wide shoulders into the frame as he failed to smoothly exit. Red spread across the skin directly below his mask. You had thought you had overstepped, maybe he was upset that you questioned his performance. Your head had tiled to the side in confusion when instead he only said, “Yes, ma’am.” He landed a smack against the head of the blonde hero snickering behind him as he walked off, mumbling something about shutting up.  

“Mmm.” You smiled. Maybe he was thinking of that day too.  

“‘Mmm’ isn’t a promise.” 

“I’ll be back before Saturday. Promise.” 

“Back with all the parts you left with.” 

“Ya gonna’ love me less if I don’t?” His words were obviously being spoken through a smile now, or a smirk more likely. 

“Depends on what you lose.” A part of you melts at the chuckle let loose in your ear.  

“Bullshit.” 

“Mhmm.” You’re quick to agree but want to hear him laugh again. “If you come back hurt, I’ll just kick your ass for not listening to me.” 

‘What if I come back without an ass?” His laugh is cut short as you hear a familiar voice inform him how that would be highly unlikely to count as coming back safe. The tone on the other end gets harsher as he tells the man with him to mind his damn business. You roll your eyes at the familiar sounds of bickering bubbling between the two heroes. You pull Katsuki’s attention back to you as you catch the sound of Deku’s mediating attempts only pacifying Todoroki.  

“Don’t you have a flight to catch?” 

“Yea.” You quirk an eyebrow at the leftover hostility worming its way into his conversation with you. He hears it too, coughing back to a gentler version before he continues. “I’ll see you Saturday, beautiful.” 

“See you Saturday.” Your words fall forward in a mumble towards the screen already reminding you that you’d ended the call. Fuck. Fuck. 

“Fuck.” 

You rolled your head forward; thankful it was still early enough in the day to start making all the calls you’d need to. You did a few of those dumb square breaths that your therapist swore by. It was annoying that it helped. A feline reminiscent stretch was the only other action you took before opening the most frequently used document saved on your phone. The twinge of regret at the sight of the bright orange header was promptly shoved aside as you began scrolling down to the vendors’ contact info. By the third call, you had quite a script ready to go as soon as someone picked up: Hello, sorry to bother you right before closing. I actually have you guys booked for the event tomorrow night. There’s been a change of plans and I would like you to deliver the (whatever they were in charge of) to (whatever organization could use it) as a donation instead of delivering anything to the venue. After that, it was always a short confirmation of details before you dialed the next number on the list.  

The biggest loss was the venue...no, that was wrong. The biggest loss was not being able to get Bakugou’s birthday right AGAIN. You really weren’t sure anymore if the blame was with you or the universe or maybe Bakugou was a villain whose only agenda was to thwart your birthday attempts. Well, you were pretty sure it was you, but it was way past ridiculous at this point. His birthday had been a disaster or disaster adjacent every year since you’d started dating.  

There was the first one where you got flustered when he had the audacity to go for the first kiss, getting you flustered enough to drop his gift, a very not waterproof limited edition and vintage All Might card, off the bridge and into the river. The next involved a mistake where you accidentally had Kirishima drop him off at the wrong address...not realizing there were two locations for the restaurant you two had your first date at. The one after, you ended up hospitalized for just a few days, missing his birthday completely because your dumb ass didn’t wake up in time. Although he technically had spent it with you, you just weren’t conscious. You both had work the one after that, so not really your fault on that one. But you did forget his present at the office and so ended up giving it to him the day after, so that part was your fault. 

He was always annoyingly understanding about the trouble you ended up causing on the one day every year that you wanted to be the least troublesome. He would just laugh it off, thanking you for an unforgettable day. He’d call you cute or sweet or a menace. He’d say his birthday wasn’t anything to stress about.  

His words would be so much easier to accept if he didn’t seem to feel differently when it came to your birthday. He never gave a gift late or damaged or less than perfect. He never messed up the date or time or location. He never forgot any part of his plans or goals for the day. It was always irritatingly more than what you would’ve imagined or expected. Not that birthdays were a contest, but...if they were, you were fucking losing badly.  

You slid your phone further across the counter after your last call. This was supposed to be the year you got it right. You’d even enlisted a dangerous amount of help for a surprise party: Kirishima to keep Bakugou from finding out, the head assistant at their agency to get the scheduling information just right, Mina was charged with the guest list, Kaminari and Sero were assigned the entertainment (with final approval from you after a near x-rated disaster). You even had Midoriya help you decide on a present.  

Everything was finally going to be perfect. You were so determined. You had even stupidly begun to feel safe in your victory. The party was supposed to be tomorrow. And now, he wouldn’t be back for nine days. Fuck. Fuck.  

“Fuck.” 

You pawed at your phone again, sending a quick text to Mina so she could notify the guests of the cancellation. You were already exhausted from the last half hour of calls and just wanted to crawl into the bed that was now dumber and colder and emptier than it was supposed to be. Before burrowing, you sent “code yellow” to the One Brain Cell group chat, following the ridiculous list of emergency code phrases made up by Kaminari. You didn’t think you’d end up using them, but here you were.  

You then finally set your phone aside for real, pretending to set the urge to sulk along with it. This was part of the job. He was needed and that was a priority...helping people should come first (and it always did). Even if a selfish part of you, that seemed to get louder every time he was called away, wanted nothing more than to convince him to stay. The man you were in love with wouldn’t just give up his purpose or his morals like that. Not even for you. It was admirable. As a hero, you loved and respected that. As his girlfriend, it made you feel more jealous and selfish than you would ever admit.  

You would just have to not suck next year.  

Inspired by the request sent in by @mentallyablaze-writes

Masterlist

Part 2 coming soon

#Bakugou #Bakugou fluff #Bakugou x reader #pro hero bakugou #Bakugou imagines #bnha #bnha fluff #bnha Bakugou #bakugou katsuki #fluff

[twinsimming]

Pest Control by Twinsimming 🐞

Sims with dirty homes now run the risk of roaches spawning around their lot, similar to The Sims 2.

This is a script mod that can be placed in your Packages folder. It was built and tested on 1.69 but should work fine on 1.67.

Roaches

Once a day the number of dirty objects on your sim's home lot will be counted, and if the Dirty Threshold is met or exceeded, roaches have a chance of spawning.

There are three thresholds: Dirty, Filthy, and Vile. The dirtier the lot is, the more likely roaches are to spawn and in greater numbers.

Dirty Threshold = 5 dirty objects, 10% spawn chance (2 to 4 roach spawners)

Filthy Threshold = 10 dirty objects, 20% spawn chance (4 to 6 roach spawners)

Vile Threshold = 15 dirty objects, 30% spawn chance (6 to 8 roach spawners)

All sims in the active household will get the new Vermin custom moodlet that lasts 12 hours and subtracts -15, -20, or -25 points from your sim's mood depending on the threshold the lot meets.

Roaches spawning also carries a 10% chance of a sim getting sick (like TS2).

New Moodlet

Vermin: Given when roaches spawn on a sim’s home lot, lasts 12 hours, -15. -20, or -25 mood (inspired by TS2 memory)

Tuning

All of the tunable values can be found on the mod download page under the header “Tuning”.

Conflicts & Known Issues

Depending on the terrain paint, roaches may be harder to see. To find any roach spawners you may have missed:

Enter build/buy mode.

Enable buydebug cheat.

Look for any white boxes on your lot. Those are the roach spawners.

Enter live mode.

Stomp on the roaches.

Success!

This is a new script mod so there shouldn’t be any conflicts.

Credits

EA/Maxis for The Sims 2 and The Sims 3, Visual Studio 2019, ILSpy, s3pe, Notepad++, Gimp, and Script Mod Template Creator.

Thank You

Thank you to @monocodoll for helping with a scripting issue!

If you like my work, please consider tipping me on Ko-fi 💙

Download @ ModTheSims

#sims 3 #ts3 #sims 3 mods #ts3 mod #download #my mods #pest control mod

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥

She was content and in love, she thought she married the one she would spend the rest of her life with. Fate seemed to have another plan for her. One that involved her to finally learn the truth, causing two relationships to be tragically ruined and hidden memories to suddenly come to light. She finally gets on the path she was meant to be on in the beginning.

18+ only please, do not copy, repost or translate our works. You are responsible for your own media consumption. headers are made by me.

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

!warning! This series will include heartbreak, divorce, detailed cheating, bad thoughts towards self, betrayal, back-stabbing, horrible relationships, slight gaslighting and manipulation, smut (from cheating and maybe when she finds happiness).

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬:

part 1 - 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 2 - 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 3 - 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 4 - 𝐢 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞...

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 5 - 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 6 - 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 7 - 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

#imyourbratzdollwork #welcome to hell au #welcome to hell #johnny storm fanfiction #johnny storm #johnny storm imagine #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm x you #johnny storm angst #johnny storm fic #johnny storm imagines #johnny storm fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers angst #steve rogers au #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader #johnny storm series #steve rogers series #cheater husband johnny storm x wife reader #soulmate steve rogers x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction

[norrisleclercf1]

You Are My Sunshine

Pairing: Dad/Husband!Lando x Reader

Warnings: Slightly mentions of smut, pregnancy, fluff, dad!lando (yes that needs a warning that man would kill me being a father), just overall tooth rotting fluff

Rating: PG-13

Synopsis: Lando comes home after a race and has memories of your life leading up to this moment of him coming home to you and baby Carlie

A/N: I’m in a dad and fluff moment this week so be prepared for soft dad!F1 and fluffy writings

It wasn't every day that Lando could come home to you and the baby. But he was able to find a way to do just that and surprise you both. Lando hated being away from home more than ever now; when he was younger, he could've cared less, but then he met you.

At first, you both were just casual; everyone kept telling him to make it official before someone else came along and swept you away. Lando just laughed and shook it off, not wanting to face the truth of genuinely wanting to be his, fuck, he even wanted to marry and have a family with you.

Lando finally told you after his wreck in Miami, where he came back furious at how close he was to finishing, only to knock tires with Pierre and have to DNF. He didn't even know you were at the race until he walked into the garage and a body collided with his.

The familiar scent of your body wash soothed his anger and beating heart as he didn't care for the shuttering of the cameras catching the tender moment between the two.

"You're here?" He whispers in the crevice of your neck while you smile and kiss his temple.

"I'm so proud of you, Lan." It was simple words, but to him, it meant everything, knowing that even when he didn't finish the race or do fantastic, you still rooted for him no matter what.

After Miami, everyone knew that you two were official as Lando refused to let you out of his sight, and how he would defend you like crazy, hell he even shoved a fan once when they got far too close to you and tried to touch you.

Lando slowly pushed his front door open, trying hard not to wake anyone in the house since it was barely 3 in the morning. He smiled at the Monte Carlo skyline that dusted the tall wall-to-floor windows, having missed this view so much.

He remembers the first time he bought the place and showed it to you. He still gets worked up thinking about how he fucked you against the windows, finally telling each other that you loved one another.

It was another 2 years when he proposed to you. It could have been fancier. Hell, he didn't even have a ring when he proposed. Lando arrived home from a triple-header, exhausted and wanting nothing but to sleep. Instead, he was welcomed to you in the kitchen wearing his shirt and underwear, cooking his favorite meal.

"Will you marry me?" He blurted it out, scaring the shit out of you, making you jump and almost drop the plates.

"What?" You laugh, not believing your ears.

He walks over, gently takes the plates from your hands, and sets them down, turning back to you.

"Marry me. Will you marry me?" He repeats, fingers dancing on your waist and pulling you into him.

"Yes." You didn't think twice about answering him. You loved Lando nothing more in your life could take that away. He busts out that dazzling smile while he pulls you in for that warm heart-stopping kiss.

Of course, dinner was cold after he was finished with you, but he could've cared less about that.

Putting down his luggage, he steps out of his shoes and heads down the hall stopping at the first door and noticing it's cracked open. This wasn't normal for you or him to leave this door open to the nursery. With a gentle nudge, he opens the door and sees that your baby isn't in the crib. He feels that all too well-known panic clutch his heart but stops when he looks down the hall to see you asleep in your bed.

He sees a more petite body next to you and exhales that panic as tip-toes down the hall and leans against the door watching the both of you.

"You should tell him you're pregnant, Y/n." Daniel and Max argue as you fuss with your outfits, trying to plan what to wear, not to show off your bump.

"I can't, he's too stressed, and I don't want to make it worse with a baby. What if he isn't ready? What if he feels pressured to give up F1? What if he hates me for us having a baby so soon after we've been married?" You ramble off, your hormones and emotions taking over.

"Woah, okay, that was.....something. But, Y/n, you know damn well known of that is true." Max reassures you while Daniel nods, helping you pick out your clothes.

"Real question is, how does he not know with that small bump of yours?" Daniela asks to lay down an oversized Mclaren shirt and loose jeans so they won't hug your stomach.

"He's been super busy, and I've been wearing large clothing recently, so he hasn't questioned it." You shrug, walking into the hotel bathroom to change.

"Tell him, love, he deserves to know. Besides, all he has been talking about at the paddock is babies since Carlos and Pierre recently brought theirs to the races." Daniel shoots, making you groan and storm out of the bathroom.

"I'm scared." You mumble, shoving your feet into your tennis shoes.

"Listen, we would love to help you, but this is a conversation to have with Lando himself. Just tell him okay." Max whispers, kissing the top of your head and leaving Daniel not far behind him.

Never would you have thought you'd tell him you were pregnant while he celebrated his first P1 finish. People swarmed you both, screaming and spraying champagne when you yelled those two words to him.

Lando's smile grows to the point it hurts when he pulls you into his arms, kissing you deeply, but he soon makes sure to get you out of the crazy crowd.

Lando loves the picture in the living room; it was taken at the P1 finish when you told him you were pregnant. He moves closer and smiles at how your body is curved slightly around his whole world, his sunshine.

The little girl you had given birth to stole Lando's heart at that moment. Lando's wallpaper was a picture Daniel took of him holding your little girl while tears fell down his cheeks. Lando slowly slides his pants and shirt off and climbs into bed.

With careful movements, he pulls you both into his arms, making your tense body relax into your husband's arms. But his daughter Carlie named after Carlos, stirs awake and starts that heartbreaking whimper.

"Shhh sunshine, it's okay, it's just your daddy," Lando whispers, kissing her chubby cheeks as those gorgeous eyes glisten with tears.

He loved her eyes, she got them from you and swore it makes him want to have another one now, but he knows it's best to wait a year or two before another.

Carlie keeps up the soft whimpers while Lando ponders how to stop it before you wake. Hating it, he picks up Carlie, gently gets out of bed, and heads to the living room.

He starts to rock while he stands in front of the windows overlooking the city and starts to sing a lullaby.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are grey

You'll never know dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away." He whispers the words softly, Carlie looking up at her daddy, having heard his voice. Lando smiles at her, feeling his world stop at this moment.

"The other night dear, as I lay sleeping

I dreamed I held you in my arms

When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken

And I hung my head and cried

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are grey

You'll never know dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away."

Lando first sang this silly little lullaby when you were 6 months pregnant, and the baby kept kicking you; it was the Baku race, hot and miserable, and you just wanted to cry.

Lando remembers looking up and seeing the overwhelming look on your face and the way you pushed on the area where the baby was kicking. He stopped talking to the mechanics and walked over and pulled you close by your chair.

"Shhhh, it's okay. Take a deep breath." He mumbles while grabbing a cold water bottle; he replaces your hand with his own and tries to calm you down.

He couldn't help but start to hum the lullaby and soon began to sing the words that only the two of you could hear, but the baby soon began to settle as he kept singing. You stare at your husband as he smiles at your stomach and helps you calm down from the panic and emotions that grapple you.

"I love you." You whisper as he finishes singing and looks up at you; a tender emotion covers him as he kisses you gently on the lips and then your stomach.

"I love you both so much, My world and my sunshine." He kisses you one last time before he heads back to the car.

"I'll always love you and make you happy

If you will only say the same

But if you leave me to love another

You'll regret it all some day

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are grey

You'll never know dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away."

He soon starts to hum the rest when Carlie has her eyes closed and nestled into Lando's chest, her soft breaths hitting his skin. He smiles and leans down, pressing a kiss to her head.

"Hey." You whisper, startling him, making you giggle at the tired shocked look he gets as he relaxes again. "Sorry, did I wake you?" You shake your head no and walk over to Lando, wrapping his arm around you as he pulls you into him.

"No, I woke when you first came into the apartment." You smile at your baby girl snuggled tight against her father.

"Damn, and here I thought I was quiet." He curses, making you smile, but you don't reply as you just turn and hide your face in his neck, enjoying your husband's warmth.

"I'm glad you are home." You whisper after a few minutes of silence. "Me too, baby. Me too." He smiles into your hair, wishing he could save this moment forever.

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 imagine #f1 2022 #f1 scenario #formula one #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris gif #mclaren lando #lando f1 #f1 fluff #lando fluff #f1 mclaren #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo

[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

[dduane]

Judging books by their covers

Having spent the morning reading the notes on this post (and reading them, and reading them...), I realized I really needed to get to grips with a piece of work I'd been avoiding.

Some of you may remember me mentioning that the Young Wizards website's longtime ISP went out of business suddenly in July, necessitating the site's hasty relocation to a new home. In the process a lot of its internal URLs ceased to operate correctly, meaning that files weren't displaying. (As I was quickly reminded when looking for the original David Wiesner art for So You Want To Be A Wizard at 01:30 last night.)

Anyway, I just wound up spending the day rescanning book covers for the Young Wizards publication history page, and was reminded of some favorites while getting the work done. (And a note for the interested: if there's any particular cover from an English-language edition of the YW books that interests you, or you think the sight of one might jog your memory somehow, that page is where you'll find the images. Use the tabs under the header image to take you through the history of publishers and artists.)

Meanwhile, being reminded of what happened to the covers for So You Want To... alone is both funny and a bit sobering. Styles change, formats change, art directors change. Sometimes the covers get a lot better, and sometimes they, uh, don't. Look at the difference in styles alone among these, for example.

Most of the time the writer gets to take what they're given, and like it. Sometimes, though, they get to give advice.

Here, for example, is one time that happened.

This is for the UK hardcover of the first of the Feline Wizards books. The artist, Mick Posen, is a cat person... and he insisted on having pictures of the cats who inspired the NY worldgating team before he started painting. Just look at these three, especially Rhiow there in the foreground. Is this a hero, or what? :)

Here's one that caused a little controversy.

The question of the day: Is Nita wearing anything? And if so, what?

The art won Greg Swearingen a silver Spectrum Award for that Deep Wizardry painting. But he and my then-editor on the series, Michael Stearns, apparently got into it a little regarding a conflict between the text and the necessities of painting a YA cover. If I remember correctly, I think Greg was holding out for "She's not wearing anything in the text in this situation, she just turned human again after changing back from being a whale, she shouldn't be wearing anything here!" and Michael was saying "But the parents, what if we freak out the parents...!" ...Eventually it seems like some kind of compromise was achieved. Swirly light = magic, or something. (shrug) Not my problem. It's a lovely cover.

About this one I have, well, mixed feelings. At this end of time, the art looks clunky. Yet this is also my first bestseller. When the SF Book Club published this omnibus, Support Your Local Wizard quickly set records as their single most-requested item of all time for new members just signing up. Its print run ran to more than 250,000 copies, and it remained constantly in print until the Book Club itself ended.

I've always been fond of this one for Deep Wizardry, and also of the one the artist, Neal McPheeters, did for the Dell Yearling and Dell mass market paperback editions of So You Want To... . There's a solid quality to both of them, but the second one in particular, that appeals to me.

(For those in the notes on that other post who reacted immediately to Kit's antenna: This is one of the reasons why it features—along with one of Nita's wands from the rowan tree Liused—on all the covers of the revised/updated Young Wizards New Millennium Editions. I've seen a lot of memories jogged by its appearance.)

...Do I have a favorite favorite one of all these covers? As usual, it's hard to pick. But I have to admit that I smile, at the moment, when looking at this one—Greg Swearingen’s art again—since in a couple of weeks it'll be the fortieth anniversary of So You Want To Be A Wizard's publication.

We'll see what the publisher does for the fiftieth. :)

#Young Wizards #Young Wizards series #covers

[alaskasmonsters]

𝖆 𝖇𝖔𝖜𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖗𝖔𝖈𝖐 𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖞 | 𝖕𝖙. 2 (gojo satoru)

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader

content: reader has amnesia, pining, oblivious reader, not actually unrequited feelings, misunderstanding, clown behaviour (gojo IS in it after all), fluff, gojo being a softie

w/c: 7.069

summary: your amnesia still wasn't getting better and your confusing feelings for satoru, a man you didn't even remember, didn't help at all. and why did he keep acting so...weird?

a/n: happy april fools! instead of pranking you with a not funny joke like the majority of the internet i decided to give you a gift! the second part you’ve been waiting for for months haha…🥲 i hope the word count makes up for it a little as this did end up long!! i completely underestimated how much work this would be so forgive me for the v long wait 🙏🙏 i hope i didn’t forget to tag anybody!!this time i also can finally say that this is being posted on April fools because gojo is a jOKE! peace and love on planet earth ❤️ alsoo i coloured the header myself as a little extra hehe.

part 1

So. You were in love with Satoru. No biggie. 

You had fallen in love before, maybe even times that lay beyond the reach of your current memories. Loves that weren’t him. Loves that had been lost in the darkness of the six years you couldn’t remember anymore. Years that you feared you would never get back again.

Six years. 

You stared back at the reflection in your mirror, hands absentmindedly picking at your hair. You’ve been trying to make it look nice for the past half an hour but whenever you felt like you were happy enough with how it looked you made up your mind and started tugging at it again. 

You just couldn’t decide how to wear it, whether to smooth it down or mess it up, or maybe use any product. You couldn’t remember how you used to wear it. This haircut wasn’t familiar to you. Hell, not even your face was familiar to you. Your cheeks used to be rounder, your eyebags weren't as prominent before and you couldn’t tell whether you looked tired or you were just growing old. 

“26 isn’t old, you dork”, is what Satoru had told you when you had complained to him about it. It was, though, when you couldn’t remember anything past twenty. 

You sighed, dropping your head against the glass of your bathroom mirror, the glass fogging where your warm breath hit it. 

Yeah, that you were in love with a man you couldn’t remember was only the tip of the iceberg your ‘life-past-amnesia’ ship was steadily heading towards. It was already a mess by itself, sure, but things were worse, way worse than they seemed at first glance. At least they were in this new life that included curses and amnesia spells.

It wasn’t just that you didn’t remember Satoru. Not how you’ve met or how you’ve fallen in love with him. All the moments that had slowly tipped you over the edge or maybe. Maybe there was only one moment that had made you fall for him. Brutal and quick, like a punch to the face. You had a few pictures, the doodle and the promise of the bowl of rock candy. The candy that you were allergic to but Satoru loved. Candy you probably bought just for him to grab handfuls of it and stuff it into his pockets when he came over to visit. 26-year-old you must be helplessly in love. 

The tip of the iceberg though? You didn’t think Satoru returned your feelings. Or the 26-year-old you's feelings at least. Considering how he’s behaved after finding out about your amnesia you were certain that the man only saw you as a friend. Sure, maybe he’s been trying to distance himself from you emotionally, because you not remembering him was hard for him, but that didn’t mean anything. After all, if Satoru felt the same way, if the both of you had been more than friends…wouldn’t he have told you? 

Yeah, he was very strict with the “Don’t tell Y/N anything about the past 6 years” rule but certainly, this would be an exception.

Which meant your love wasn’t just helpless, but also unrequited. 

You sighed, burying your fingers in your hair again and suppressing the need to rip your hair out. 

26-year-old you was such a loser. 

You gave yourself a minute to grieve the loss of your nonexistent coolness, then you straightened up again, carding your fingers through your hair to fix the mess you just created.

You’ve been losing your mind about this issue for way too long already. It’s like you couldn’t think about anything else anymore but Satoru and your feelings for him. Which was ridiculous.  You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about this since last week when you’d first realized that you had liked him, back in your living room when he’d confirmed to you that it was him who drew that ugly sketch for you, the one that looked like the drawing of a child.

Well…it wasn’t ugly…it was kinda cute. Knowing him you could imagine he was doing it to annoy you…or maybe because he tried to make you laugh? When thinking of the little sticky note you could almost picture his wide grin and the way he must have praised himself for drawing such a wonderful masterpiece just for you. Maybe he’d poked your cheek and made fun of your annoyed expression. Maybe he had kissed your cheek right after you’d told him to stop being a menace, giggling against your skin, breath warm and tickl…

Not that he’d done that before. Kiss your cheek. Why did you picture him doing that?

You shook yourself out of your thoughts. This was getting pathetic. Now that you remembered your feelings for him it was almost like they were trying to rush back into your body, like a wave being pulled back to land with force. And with the feelings, the wishful thinking, the yearning, came.    

Not that any of it was real. Your feelings were just a projection of your subconsciousness because you knew you were supposed to have them! And your thoughts were just you being a hopeless romantic, imagining sweet moments between you and Satoru that never happened. 

You barely knew the man. After all, it's been three weeks now, since that day you’ve woken up without your memories. Three weeks. And nothing. Your memories hadn’t returned and you were unable to recall anything from the past 6 years. There was only this stupid feeling of deja-vu you had when Satoru had shown you his eyes and the instinct to call him by his first name when you scolded him. And now those lingering romantic feelings. 

But that didn’t count. It was not enough. 

Why did you like Satoru? Why were you in love with him? You wanted to know so badly you felt like you were going insane. It couldn’t be just because he was pretty, right? You weren’t that shallow, right?

Not that he hadn’t displayed any good qualities so far. He was funny and attentive, he knew your favourite foods and paid attention to what you told him. At the same time he was one of the most annoying people you remember ever meeting and a little infuriating about 50 percent of the time…okay maybe more like 70 percent. And he thought it was funny, too, when he was being an annoying asshole. He always laughed at your sour expression. 

But…his laugh was kind of cute. Even if he was being a prick, you couldn’t stay mad at him for long when you heard him laugh because he kind of snorted when he did and it was ador…Stop.

You grit your teeth and spun around to leave your bathroom. You’ve been spending way too much in there trying to fix your hair, anyway. You were starting to behave weirdly, thinking about Satoru’s laugh and his eyes and his everything. 

Fuck. This was bad. Were you actually in love with him now? Not 26-year-old you. But this you. Even without your memories of him? Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. 

You stomped through your bedroom, glancing at the clock on your nightstand, the time reading 2:30 PM, before ripping open your closet. You had another 10 minutes. You can’t believe you’ve wasted so much time just being distracted with your hair and thoughts. You were sure that when you had entered the bathroom it had only been around 2 PM. 

You quickly grabbed some pants and a shirt, deeming both acceptable before slipping into them, almost stumbling over your feet as you tried to climb into the pants and then almost hitting your elbow against the closet door as you pulled your shirt over your head. One look in the mirror and you pulled the shirt over your head again. It looked stupid. Not a good fit with the pants.

You started rummaging through your closet again, internally scolding yourself for even bothering that much. You were only going out to grab food with Satoru. It wasn’t a big deal, you were sure you’d done that all the time.

Satoru had told you he’d pick you up. He hadn’t told you where you were going because it was supposed to be a “surprise” but knowing him it wouldn’t be anything too fancy. At least you hoped it wasn’t. He would have told you if it was, right?

You stopped and looked down at your pants. They would work, right?

You shook your head. Again. You did that a lot now. 

You finally decided on a button-up shirt, a little bit too big on you but the material was soft and it looked good. You had to roll up the sleeves a little but then you only had to slip into some shoes and you were ready. 

Just in time, because that was the moment you heard your front door open and Satoru’s voice calling your name in a sing-song voice. 

You groaned, having half a mind to stomp out of your bedroom and throw him out of your apartment. 

“Just because you have a key doesn’t mean you can just come in!” You called through your closed bedroom door – you had expected him to wander into your apartment unannounced.

His laugh was just as cute when the door’s wood muffled it.

“I told you I would be here by 2:30, Yn-chan. I’m on time!” 

You looked back at the clock to find he was right. He was on time. Didn’t mean he didn’t have to knock. This was your apartment, after all. He didn’t live here. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror one more time, giving your outfit a once-over and letting your fingers smooth down your hair one more time before you opened your door and stepped out of your room. 

“One day you’re gonna walk in on me naked and you will not survive that because I will kill you,” you scolded Satoru, waving your finger at him in a warning. 

The man just snickered at your comment, grinning widely as his eyes fell on you. His eyes were neatly hidden behind his sunglasses yet again. Still, you didn’t miss the way they looked you over, studying you with badly concealed amusement. 

You frowned, tensing. Did you look weird?

“Any special occurrence I don’t know about?” Satoru asked innocently, cocking his head at you.

You blinked. “What? Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately but his grin didn’t waver. 

You looked down at your outfit again, wondering if it was too fancy. You knew this wasn’t a date or anything but you couldn’t help but put a little effort into your looks. Maybe it was a little more than you’d usually wear but you didn’t think it was too on the nose. 

When you didn’t seem to understand what Satoru was referring to he took pity on you and stepped closer. 

“Where did you get the shirt from?” He asked, tone light, as he reached out to tug at our sleeve.

You looked down at it, wondering why he wanted to know so badly. The shirt looked like any other. There was nothing really special about it. Maybe it was a little bigger on you but you had plenty of oversized clothes.

“I don’t know. My closet.” You shrugged.

Satoru rolled his eyes beneath his glasses.

“Try to remember!” he insisted, tapping your forehead.

You sighed, tired of this specific game. Still, you knew you had no choice but to indulge him. He was only trying to help you, after all. 

“A gift,” you suggested.

Satoru smiled.

“Very good.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised but excited.

He hummed. “It used to be mine.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. Well…that was something. 

“And you gave it to me? Why?”

Satoru cocked his head to the side, looking at you expectantly. 

You groaned and hit his arm lightly. “I don’t know! Just tell me.”

The grin that snuck on his face was mischievous with an edge of…something. Something that made you feel a little dizzy. When he answered his voice was deeper than before, an edge of huskiness to it. 

“You look cuter in it than I do, Yn-chan.”

You caught yourself before your mouth could drop open, and you could do something stupid like actually swoon. Instead, you scoffed and turned your back to him, pretending to reach for your bag, giving you an opportunity to hide your reddening face from his prying eyes. 

Why did he have to say it like that? Was he trying to be a little shit?

Satoru chuckled as if he knew what you were doing. It didn’t help at all with the warmth in your cheeks. You grind your teeth as you slung your bag over your shoulder, then decide against it, only grabbing your keys and wallet to stuff into the pocket of your jacket. You let out a quiet breath to collect yourself before turning back towards the man. He waited patiently with a small grin on his lips.

“Are you ready?” he asked. 

You hummed and moved past him to step towards the door. You reached for the handle, then you paused. Feeling Satoru’s gaze linger at the back of your head, you touched a hand to your hair again, fiddling with a strand in the back you felt was not sitting right. 

Your lip jutted out in frustration and you had half a mind to excuse yourself to the bathroom to return to your earlier attempt at making your hair sit okay. Before you could do it, you heard Satoru approaching. 

Turning back, the apology you were about to mutter died on your tongue as you saw him leaning over you. His expression was serious as he caught your wrist between your fingers and moved your hand to the side before he started softly moving his fingers through your hair instead. You froze, standing still as he combed down once, twice, giving a harsh tug to one of your strands before he pulled back with a satisfied smile. 

“Here we go. What would you do without me?”

His voice sounded so so soft. 

You swallowed, trying to calm your fluttering heart down as you blinked up at the man who was regarding you with warm eyes. Oh no, oh no no no. 26-year-old you had a point. They had a good point. 

“Does it…look better?” You asked nervously, your hand moving up to touch your hair carefully before Satoru batted it away and chided you for trying to mess with his good work.

You glared at him, knowing full well your gaze had lost its heat, and he just chuckled.

“Your hair looks beautiful as always, Y/n chan, I just helped improve it,” he soothed you, waving his hand with a silly grin.

You bit your lip, averting your gaze.

“I guess it’s just different from what I remember.”

He hummed noncommittally. Then he opened the door wide, waving his other hand to motion you to go first. The crooked smile resting on his face at that moment did not leave your mind all night.

—

“You’re such a chicken, Yn-cha,” Satoru teased.

You gasped, offended. “Am not!”

He poked your cheek with a soft chuckle. “Such a chicken!”

You batted his hand away, contemplating for a second if you should just bite it. You had quickly noticed that Satoru drove one to measurements like those. Would you ever consider biting anyone else’s hand? No, not in a million years. But the man was so infuriating sometimes it just awoke this urge in you.

Satoru grinned like he knew exactly what you had thought, wiggling his fingers in the air between you as if to dare you to do it. Sometimes it really seemed like he could read your mind. You blamed it on your apparently close friendship before the whole amnesia thing. 

When you didn’t actually attempt to sink your teeth into his skin he let his hand fall to the side and stuck out his tongue. You punched his arm with a huff, leading him to let out a dramatic whine.

You couldn’t believe you actually liked this dork. It was still a mystery to you, even now that you’ve finally accepted your fate. After the not-date, it was hard not to. The night wasn’t very eventful, you had only visited a little ice cream parlour and walked around the city a little. 

Satoru had been an absolute menace and dragged you into all kinds of souvenir shops – like he didn’t live here in Tokyo…

But he’d been funny and charming despite everything. He had opened doors for you and had insisted you linked your arms together. “So I don’t lose you,” he had joked but it had sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach regardless. You had even ended up sharing a milkshake because Satoru had insisted. 

It had felt like a date. It really had. But it couldn’t have been. Satoru would have told you. If there was anything going on between the two of you he would tell you. He wouldn’t keep something as big as you two being in a relationship to himself. Amnesia rules be damned. 

But even if it wasn’t a date, it had only made you understand 26-year-old you’s affection towards him more. How were you meant to not fall in love with Satoru if that was how he treated you all the time?

Didn’t mean you could let him know about that, though. 

The man was still pestering you, digging his finger into your side and making you squeal and squirm away.

“Come on, tell me,” he urged you with a whine, “Who is the better-looking sorcerer? Me, and you know you want to tell me, you have to  follow your heart, or boring businessman Nanami?”

Yeah…that was what Satoru has been annoying you about for the last five minutes on your way to Shoko’s office. Five minutes. And only because you had passed Nanami on your way there and Satoru had noticed your eyes following the man after he had nodded politely at you in greeting and given Satoru a deadpan stare before he walked past you. 

Since then Satoru was relentless in his quest to find out if you thought Nanami was more attractive than him because well…Satoru was a menace. And his ego was apparently very fragile. 

“And I told you, I cannot answer this question honestly because your ego wouldn’t survive the fall, now cut it out, you big baby,” you teased him and pushed his hand away.

Satoru shook his head, not ready to give up yet. If the shit-eating grin on his face was anything to go by. 

“You’re such a chicken, Yn-chan. You’re just too embarrassed to admit how attractive you think I am. You think I’m gorgeous. It’s okay to admit I am the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes, hating that he was right. Nanami was a very attractive man. Unfortunately, you’ve found yourself more drawn to pretty men with gorgeous eyes and annoying personalities and an ego the size of all of Tokyo. Skill issue on your part.

“Sure, that’s it,” you deadpanned and Satoru hummed with delight.

“Admitting this takes strength, I know.” He gave a solemn nod and reached to pat your shoulder but you shoved him and sent him stumbling to the side, laughing.

You had to hide your smile.

You arrived at Shoko’s office only a little bit later. Satoru knocked but barely waited until the woman told them to come in before pushing the door open and sticking his head through the gap, giving a cheerful greeting.

You heard Shoko groan before being dragged into the office by Satoru, his grip around your shoulder as he pulled you in front of him. The woman’s features softened at your sight, the lines in her forehead smoothing out again. You waved at her with a small smile, understanding the annoyance Satoru was able to awaken in people. 

“I’ll leave them in your hands,” Satoru announced, grabbing both your shoulders and pushing you forward like a mother presenting her child.

“They’re not a child, you idiot,” Shoko sighed.

The man’s only reply was a smile, as he patted your shoulders innocently. You glared at him and called him a jerk and Satoru laughed. Before he finally let go of you again he gave your shoulders a squeeze as if to ensure you he’d be back, then he retracted towards the door. 

“Remember! No memory discussion! Alright, bye. I’ll pick you up in an hour.” He waved at both of you before slipping out of the office and closing the door behind him.

“I feel like I was just handed off to daycare,” you sighed and Shoko snickered. 

“He’s very protective of you.” She said it in a voice that sounded neither like she was excusing his behaviour nor like she was scolding him.  “Could be less annoying about it, though.” 

You hummed in agreement, taking a seat on the small sofa in the corner of the room. Shoko watched you quietly from where she was sitting behind her desk, tapping her fingers against the wood.

“I can imagine you’re getting frustrated by being asked this so much, but do you remember anything yet?”

You sighed, having expected that question. It’s been almost a month, after all. You knew that this was probably going on longer than any of them had expected. “No? I mean. Other than a few deja vus, if that counts.”

She nodded, staring thoughtfully at the screen of her computer. 

“Any other symptoms? Headaches? Nausea? Blackouts? Any physical pain? More tired than usual? Numbness?”

You shook your head, a small smile on your lips. “No, Doctor, no other symptoms.”

Shoko blinked, looking taken aback. Her eyes darted back towards you, then she burst out into quiet laughter. 

You frowned, confused.

“You’re still calling me out even without your memories,” She mused to herself when she calmed down, “Can’t help it, really.”

You leaned back into the cushions of the couch, feeling warm at the sound of Shoko’s laugh. For some reason, you felt incredibly pleased. 

“So you do this a lot then. Turn on the doctor mode,” you asked her with a teasing tone, wondering if you could get any information out of her without Satoru being around to shush her.

She rolled her eyes. 

“You complain about me mothering you too much when you get sick. But wouldn’t have to if you weren’t such a difficult patient.” 

You lightened up, grinning. “Mh, yeah, I like to ignore my illnesses until they go away.”

Shoko gave you an unimpressed look, seemingly displeased by how unashamed you were about it. You just shrugged. The woman decided to let it go, only muttering something to herself you couldn’t hear from the distance but were sure was about you being a brat. 

“Has Satoru been pestering you a lot about the memory thing? I bet he is, that idiot.”

Your smile fell. 

“No, actually, he barely asks about it,” you admitted, your eyes falling to your lap. “I feel like he’s pretending to be less bothered by it than he actually is.”

“Oh?” Shoko asked, but she didn’t sound surprised by your observation at all. 

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You know.”

“Why Satoru is holding you at arm’s length? Take a guess.”

“I don’t know. I barely know him.”

Shoko shook her head, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“You know him quite well. You just don’t remember. At least consciously.”

You frowned, sitting up. “What do you mean?”

Shoko leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, regarding you with a calm gaze. 

“You said you were having deja vus?”

You nodded, telling her about when you had called Satoru by his first name for the first time and the feeling you’ve had when the man had pulled off his glasses and showed you his eyes. How you’d felt like it hadn’t been the first time. 

That last part brought an amused smile to the women’s lips. “Of course, he’d try to copy that.”

You perked up at her words. “So that did happen before!”

Shoko hummed. “Which just proves my suspicions. Subconsciously you still remember the past six years.” She raised her hand and motioned towards you. “You instinctively know how to engage with your environment and with the people you are close friends with. You recognise familiar situations and you still seem to feel the same way towards us. You just fail to consciously access your memories.”

You frowned, not quite understanding what the woman was saying. Were feelings connected to memories? Could you being in love with Satoru be a sign that your memories weren’t as removed as you had first suspected? 

Shoko, who noticed your confusion, explained further, “Y/n, I remember when you first got here. It took you months until you opened up to us more and started warming up to Satoru. Even though you are now affected by amnesia you didn’t revert back to that state. You still act as you did a month ago before you lost your memories.”

So the loss of memories wasn’t really the issue, you just couldn’t access them.

“So…what do you think I should do?”

She shrugged. “Trust your instincts.”

You sighed. Right. Your instincts. Like you could trust them when they were so ridden with your wistful yearning. What if you told Shoko that your instincts were screaming at you to wrap your arms around Satoru, bury your head in his chest and stay there? That your instincts were screaming at you to grab his face and kiss him. That your instincts were telling you that the two of you should be dating and that it was unfair how you were stuck with those feelings instead of 26-year-old you who actually knew how to deal with them.

Shoko clicked her tongue and let out a snort, making you look up with panic. Had you said any of that out loud?

“What?”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe that jerk pulled the eye move but not that stupid hand thing with Infinity on you.”

“Infinity?” you questioned, feeling like the word felt familiar to you. 

“It’s one of his curse techniques.” Shoko looked up to the ceiling, pursing her lips.

Then she started to explain to you, as simply as possible, what Infinity was and how it worked. You listened to her with wide eyes, feeling yourself grow a little dizzy. 

“Infinity?” You echoed.

“Infinity.” Shoko repeated again, raising an eyebrow at your pale face. “I know you don’t remember anymore but there is no need to look so terrified.”

“So no one…can touch him?” 

“Without his permission, yes. The jerk turns it off sometimes when he pleases.” She rolled her eyes.

At your silence she turns to you, a frown twisted her face. “What is wrong?”

“I just…we’re kind of touching all the time.”

Shoko gave you a look and you blushed, cheeks exploding in warmth. That sounded…not like you had wanted it to sound.

“No…not like that, it’s just- casual, I guess. But…”

Shoko grinned. “I see.” Then she burst out into laughter.

You felt yourself blushing even more, lips jutting out in a pout. “What’s so funny?”

“The asshole always turns it off around you. It’s probably subconscious at this point.”

You blinked. “He does?”

Shoko lifted a brow, giving you an amused look. “Surprised?”

“I- of course!”

Why wouldn’t you be? You wouldn’t put it past Satoru to turn on Infinity whenever you hit his arm or shove him just to annoy you.  

Shoko just shrugged, eyes twinkling with mirth as she told you, “Some motivation to remember I guess.”

“Shoko!” You whined.

The woman just chuckled again. “You could try to surprise him. Touch him when he doesn’t suspect it. Just to test the theory.”

Yeah…maybe you’d do that. 

—

You sighed, watching Satoru empty the bowl of rock candy you’d just restocked the other day, grabbing a handful of them before throwing himself back down on the couch. Your eyes followed his fingers as he skillfully unwrapped each candy with one hand before Satoru stuffed them into his mouth. He hummed appreciatively every time. 

You couldn’t believe a 26-year-old you was so desperately in love with him to be indulging this behaviour. 

“I didn’t stock them up just for you to eat all of it within a day.” 

Satoru turned his head a little in your direction but his glasses were hiding his intended side-eye. 

“But you got them for me, didn’t you?” 

He grinned as you stayed silent, knowing he’s seen right through you.

“You’re so sweet, Y/n-chan.” 

You huffed. “Shut up. Who says I got them for you?”

“You’re allergic and as you’ve said before I am the only one who’s shown up to your apartment the past few weeks. Who else would you get them for?”

You leaned back in the chair, eyes resting on the bowl on your desk. “My secret boyfriend obviously.”

Satoru hummed. “I thought you came to the conclusion he didn’t exist.”

You bit your lips, glad he has turned with his back towards you again so he couldn’t see your conflicted expression. Maybe you’d just come to the conclusion that you wished Satoru was the secret boyfriend…

You couldn’t stop thinking about that conversation Shoko and you had had that day. About Satoru’s distance, about your lingering feelings despite the memory ‘loss’ and about Infinity. Especially that last part hadn’t left you any peace. What reason was there for Satoru to shut it off around you? Even when you threatened him with your chopsticks? Or was it just another amnesia rule? Did he want you to remember Infinity by yourself?

You frowned, eyes gazing towards his seat on the couch. He was still happily munching on his candy, his back exposed to you.

What had Shoko said? You should try to test him by touching him when he didn’t expect it? This way he couldn’t just shut it off at the last moment. This way you’d know for sure if he automatically disabled it around you.

Your fingers itched and you balled your hands into fists to stop yourself from tapping them against your thighs. You were sitting close enough that if you leaned forward you would be able to touch him. He was still busy with the candy, making happy noises.

Your eyes zoned in on the uncovered patch of skin on his neck, a pale stripe peeking out between his hair and his collar. 

Satoru made a questioning sound in the back of his throat and you realised he was still expecting an answer. 

“How do I know you’re not just keeping him away from me? Maybe it’s just another one of your amnesia rules.” You tried to joke, keeping your voice steady. 

He snickered, shoulders shaking as his head fell forwards a little, exposing even more skin of his neck.

You stared at it, feeling your heartbeat out of your chest.

“Though I definitely have the power to do that I don’t think-”

You pushed your finger against the skin of Satoru’s neck.

The man stopped, neither flinching nor moving away. He just waited.

Your eyes went wide, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your finger. He hadn’t activated Infinity. He couldn’t even have known that you would touch him. Your mind was reeling.

“Sorry, you-uh-there…there was a hair!” You yelled out, voice rising an octave, as you swiped your finger down his skin to pretend like you were brushing it away.

Then you quickly snatched your hand away.

“I see. Thank you.” Satoru’s tone was unreadable again. And he still didn’t turn around.

Not that it would have helped ease your mind to see his expression, not when the glasses were hiding his true feelings by covering his eyes. 

“Of course.” You laughed awkwardly, now wanting nothing more than to bend forward and press your lips to the spot you had just touched. 

You shock yourself out of that thought. Get a grip.

You cleared your throat. “So you have… the power to keep my secret boyfriend away, huh?”

It was meant to lighten the mood, maybe get rid of the sudden tension you felt between the two of you. But Satoru stayed quiet for a while.

“I’m the strongest.” He said it like it was a fact and for some reason, you didn’t doubt him. 

You smiled. “Maybe he’d get very upset if he found out you ate all his candy and would try to fight you.”

“I’d win,” Satoru insisted, finally turning around to look at you, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips. 

And then with one smooth move, he bent over the back of the couch and snatched the bowl of rock candy from your desk. You gasped, watching in shock as the man dug his hand in the contents and fished out even more candy than he had before.

You jumped up, reaching for the bowl.

“Give it to me.”

“Nope.” Satoru laughed, holding his hand out of your reach.

You bent over the back of the couch, stabilising yourself on his shoulder as you climbed half over the backrest, Satoru’s laughter filling the air with your annoyed yells.

“Satoru stop being a little shit. I just bought these. That’s way too much sugar for you.”

You reached over him, catching his wrist and almost losing balance and falling but were able to catch yourself in the last moment, luckily not smashing your foreheads together in the process. Wait…foreheads?

You froze, hands still holding his wrist as you realized that you were now sitting in Satoru’s lap. 

Like actually sitting in Satoru’s lap. Butt on thighs. Sitting. 

You…what? 

You couldn’t move, you tried to will yourself to do something. Anything. But your body didn’t respond, too overwhelmed that you were sitting on Satoru’s lap. 

The man looked unbothered, eyes twinkling with mischief as your cheeks exploded with heat and you kind of wanted to slap him because what the fuck? 

You let go of his wrists and quickly tried to move back and out of his lap but had to have Satoru save you from losing balance and almost falling backwards in your attempts. Which he did by grabbing your waist with his hands and pulling you back in his lap, letting go of the candy still in his hand. The sound of them clattering to the floor filled the following silence. 

“Careful,” he chided you, voice playful. 

You stared at him, eyes darting between the dark lenses of his sunglasses and across his face as you tried to work out what was happening. 

“See something you like?” he teased, hands still comfortably resting on your waist.

That’s what you noticed suddenly. He hadn’t let go of you. No, he was keeping you in his lap, like he wanted you there. And what he just said…was he flirting? 

Seriously flirting? 

You reached forward, not knowing what possessed you as your fingers traced the frames of Satoru’s glasses before softly plucking them from his face. The man didn’t stop you. He remained still, unblinkingly staring up at you with those blue eyes that mirrored the sky. You folded the glasses absentmindedly and clipped them to his shirt before your hand reached for his face again. The cap of your finger brushed the skin of his cheek, barely able to notice the softness of it when you came back to yourself. What the fuck were you doing.

You reeled back, almost falling out of Satoru’s lap again if it wasn’t for the man’s grip around you.

“Why are you fighting it?” His voice was suddenly serious.

You blinked, overwhelmed by what had just happened, what was still happening.

“Fighting what?” You breathed out, flexing your fingers in his grip.

Without much explanation, he pulled your hand back to its previous position a few inches away from his face before letting go again.

“Trust your instincts and stop fighting them, otherwise your memories will never return.”

You swallowed.

“What if it’s not instincts?”

He cocked his head. You didn’t continue your sentence.

What if it was merely your feelings for him? What if you messed things up for 26-year-old you?

Gojo sighed, shoulders falling and for a second you saw disappointment fleet through his gaze before it was replaced with a feigned expression of amusement.

“You’re such a chicken.”

He straightened up and you realised that he was letting you go, that you could get out of his lap now. Instead, you did something stupid. 

You grabbed his face with both of your hands and waited long enough to see him perk up in surprise, eyes wide as they stared up at you, and then you leaned down to press your lips against his. 

Satoru didn’t even wait until your lips were fully connected before he pushed forward, head tilting until your mouths could slot together perfectly. Something in your chest fluttered as he pulled you closer against him, your chests being pressed together. You gasped into his mouth. He used that opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips and you followed his guidance, letting yourself sink into the sensation. You shuddered against him, overwhelmed with the feeling of him but at the same time, it felt normal…a little bit like you were coming home.

You both pulled back to catch your breath, not moving far away, noses still close enough to almost touch. This was insane. You couldn’t help staring at him, his eyes looked so bright and a little crazy. You just noticed how impossibly blue they were. Bluer than the sky even, like they contained a whole other universe in them.

You swallowed, tongue darting out to wet your tingling lips, the taste of sugar lingering there.  You didn’t pay any attention to it, too distracted by the excitement that bloomed in your chest when Satoru’s eyes darted down to follow the moment. 

A laugh bubbled past your throat at the absurdity of it all. Only yesterday you wouldn’t have thought it possible that Satoru would let you kiss him, much less kiss you back. That you’d been sitting here in his lap, all because of…well…

“You deactivated it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Mh?” 

“When I touched your neck. Infinity.”

His eyes widened, finding yours. “You remember that?”

You gave his cheek an apologetic squeeze, “Shoko told me.”

He visibly deflated. “So you still remember nothing?”

Yeah…there was still that. Your memories. You swallowed, eyes darting down to his lips again and you remembered what Shoko had told you. What Satoru had just told you. You have to trust your instincts.

“I can’t tell if it’s a memory or more of a feeling. But I think we’ve kissed before.”

“Oh yeah?” Satoru teased, visibly brightening up again. 

“Satoru.” 

He hummed, fingers squeezing your waist as he pulled you closer against him. Your thumb brushed his cheek and your noses brushed. 

“Do feelings count as memories?”

Satoru lifted an eyebrow.

“You’re getting philosophical with me.”

You softly pinched his cheek.

“Would you let me kiss you again?”

His eyebrow quirked up. “Would that help with your memories?”

“Would you let me even if it didn’t?” You whispered, already leaning closer. 

“Are you asking these questions to figure me out or because you want to kiss me?” he asked, but his voice sounded hoarse and you could tell that he wanted you to kiss him just as badly as you wanted to kiss him.

“I’m following my instincts,” You muttered and leaned back in to connect your lips again.

Yeah. This was like coming home. 

—

After that afternoon you became bolder. Pulling Satoru down for kisses, reaching to hold his hand, sitting close enough your legs were touching, snuggling up to him when you were watching a movie. 

To your pleasant surprise the man was accepting your touches with ease, Infinity still shut off around you. You didn’t talk about it at first, happy to just enjoy this new but somehow familiar dynamic you had. But there was really just one explanation for this. 

“We’re dating.” 

Your statement didn’t seem to surprise Satoru at the very least.

“Is that a question or a statement?” he mused, not even turning around as he prepared your food at the counter of your kitchen.

You closed the distance between the both of you and slung your arms around him, testing, and just like you’d expected, he let you. Not just that, it almost felt like he was leaning into your touch.

“I’m pretty confident,” you hummed, tightening your grip and pressing your face into his side.

“You’re remembering?” Satoru asked but he didn’t sound convinced.

You scrunched your face. “Did I ask you out?”

Satoru tensed and peaked down at you, eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“Are you guessing?”

You grinned. “I asked you out but you kissed me first.”

His eyes widened. “Y/n…”

Your grin softened into a smile at his hopeful eyes. 

“It’s not really remembering, I think. It just…feels right. It’s like I just know it.”

He sighed, reaching out to twirl your hair between his fingers. 

“Are you even trying?” He sounded so whiny. It made you giggle again.

“You’re such a jerk. Why didn’t you just tell me we were dating?”

“You need to remember yourself for the curse to wear off,” he justified, but then admitted what you had already suspected, “It was also very funny to watch you squirm and be all flustered around me. You were so embarrassed for wanting to see my eyes.” He giggled to himself. “And to hear about that secret boyfriend of yours you buy those candies for was very entertaining. “

You rolled your eyes. “And you were that secret boyfriend the whole time.”

Discarding the food at the counter the man turned around in your grip so he could sling his arms around you as well. He rested his head on top of yours.

“You never told me you were allergic.”

You shrugged. “You would have made fun of me for being so smitten with you.”

“Because you are! You love me so much!” he sing-sang, rocking you in his arms, making you laugh. 

“Yeah, I do,” you agreed softly.

taglist:

@crystal-lilac @duf3h6237 @hufflefluffslytherin @chucky-26o1 @lordbugs @patchi-chi @chewymoustachio @enesitamor @yourbloodyqueen @lady-cryptstone @iwatobiswimbros @kite11 @kurookinnie @spacedaddydinn @nishayuro @cinaiel @marblesphere @zhah-zu @olaf9086 @oriontingz @bloobrryktty

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojou x reader #gojo satoru #gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #gojou satoru #gojou x you

[legitalicat]

Out of Time

Chapter 1 - "Along Blackwater Bay"

AN: This dedication has been removed. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoy your works.

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

Find the series Master list here!

Summary: Princess Y/N Velaryon awakes on the shore of Blackwater Bay confused, hurt, and alone. She is found and escorted to the Red Keep, where she learns the circumstances surrounding her awakening.

TW: memory loss, reader is AFAB, talks/descriptions of injury, first person POV because I suck at any other POV I am sorry

Word count: 3.7 K

I awoke on the shores of King’s Landing, the water from Blackwater Bay rushing up my lower legs. My heart was pounding as I sat up. There was no reasonable explanation as to how I ended up here. Last night I went to sleep in my bed, feeling rather warm and fuzzy from the wine I had consumed at dinner.

The early morning light was shining through the mist that was coming off the water. Slowly, I made my way into a standing position. My black dress was torn around the hem, soaked from the sea water. My muscles were sore and my bones stiff. Every breath I took felt as though I was being punched in the left side. I was near certain my brown hair was wild, no longer in the neat braid I most commonly kept it in.

There weren’t any citizens on the shores this time of morning. For many, they would have already went out in their boats to begin their fishing for the day. The others, it was simply too early to start the day. However, I did see two city watchmen doing their rounds on the docks.

“Excuse me!” I shouted to them, waving my arms. They approached me, their gold cloaks shining in the sun. I recognized neither of them.

“Princess Y/N?” One asked as he stopped in front of me. I nodded softly. “Come with us.”

I could not really tell which guardsmen they were. They were in full armor, donning a helm and chainmail covering all but their eyes. Being roughly the same height as each other, that wasn’t even helpful to determine who I was following. However, I knew that nobody wearing golden cloaks would bring any harm to me. My stepfather would have their heads if my mother didn’t get to them first.

So, I made the only decision I could make in this instance. Silence laid over us like a thick fog as I walked with them through the city streets. One in front of me, one behind me, their hands on the swords at all times. We went to the barracks at which point they told me to stay in the front room. The one that had walked in front of me went off , I suppose to inform his commander of this situation, while the other man stood in the room with me. It was not long before there were a few other watchmen and even a serving girl to sit with me.

Nobody dared to speak to me other than what was necessary. Even when I threatened them with my status, first born child of the heir to the Iron Throne and betrothed to her heir, so that one day I would be Queen, did not loosen their tongues. None of my questions were answered. All that was said was that my mother would answer any question I had.

They spent longer than I thought necessary preparing a carriage to take me up to the Red Keep. I was almost certain I heard their commander send a small group of men to shut down the streets between here and the Red Keep but that couldn’t be right. Never had the streets been closed because of my travels, as there had never been a time that I was in danger. Once he received word that all the streets were closed and nobody would be looking to the street, I was put into a carriage.

My ride to the Red Keep was done with the singular maid in the carriage with me, one watchmen controlling the carriage, and three others riding around on horseback. They weren’t brought to my precession until after I was already in my seat. And still, nobody spoke to me. I could only glance out the windows at the city to try to see the citizens of King’s Landing, but it seemed though I had heard the Watch’s Commander correctly and the men did completely empty the streets.

It was midday by the time that the carriage stopped in front of the door to the keep. The door was opened and I was offered a hand to help me out. It was the first protocol that had been kept in my presence. And now that I was on the ground, I finally saw the first people besides the Gold Cloaks and the maid.

At the top of the stairs stood my mother, my step grandmother holding her hand tightly as they both looked at the carriage. Queen Alicent had always been a forceful presence in my life, demanding things of my mother and father that were crude and unfair. Though she never liked my brothers, I seemed to be near and dear to her in a way that not even her own daughter was. One could almost convince me she viewed me separately from them as though I were anyone but my mother’s daughter.

Flanking each of them were their respective sides of the family. My twin, my betrothed, Jacaerys stood beside my mother. He was more shocked than I had ever seen him when we made eye contact. There was Lucerys beside him, who looked older than he should as he was a man grown, and the same could just about be said about Joffrey. The other two boys on my mother’s side could’ve only been Aegon III and Viserys II, my two baby brothers, but they were not babies. They were easily nine and seven respectively. It shouldn’t have been possible. It was only last night that they could have easily fit in my arms, now they were half my height.

When I looked to Alicent’s side, Aegon and Aemond stood beside her with Helaena further back. Her three children, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor stood hand in hand beside of her. Again, everyone looked older than they should, older than when last I saw them.

My step father Daemon and my step sisters Rhaena and Baela were not with my mother, but the maid whispered to me that they were visiting our grandparents in Driftmark. She gave me no answers to any other question.

Out of everyone, there were three people that desperately wanted to break free from the crowd. Obviously my mother was trying to hold some decorum, some sort of semblance of what it means to be a Targaryen, even though I could see her inching closer. Jace was completely frozen with shock, the pull that existed between us not enough to motivate his feet. Then there was Aemond, who seemed to be willing to disregard all things that could be considered proper as he took the steps two at a time to close the distance between us.

His arms were around me before I could blink, and despite the physical pain when he touched my side, it caused a comfortable feeling in my brain that soothed something inside of me. I returned his affections, desperate for some sort of connection. As much as it had always annoyed my brothers, Aemond and I were very close growing up. He and I were the last to get dragons, the last to fulfill what it means to be a Targaryen. It binds you in ways that you can’t explain to anyone else.

“Byka zaldrīzes,” he whispered to me. Little Dragon, the name he gave me the moment he claimed Vhagar, to assure me one day I would have one too. “How I have missed you.”

“I don’t understand, Aemond. Why is everyone acting as though I am not real? One would think I died.” I asked him, loud enough so that my voice would carry.

“You have been gone for nearly six years,” my mother said. I pulled myself from Aemond’s grip to look at her.

“What?” my voice was cracked under the pressure that was building in my chest. “No. No. I was just with you all last night. I would know if I had been gone.”

Then I turned my gaze to Jace, who still looked as though he has seen a ghost. His inability to come to me, the way he watched me like I was about to dissolve in the wind, not even commenting on Aemond’s grasp on me, it told me all I need to know. The words were true and I had missed out on six years.

But I needed him beside me. He was my brother, my twin, I have existed for as long as he has and will continue to exist as long as he does. We were written in the stars, always destined for each other. We had given each other everything as we knew we were to be married one day.

“Issa dārys,” I called to him. My king. He will be my king one day, a good husband and father to my future children. We will rule the kingdom together, side by side. We’ve known this for our entire lives, and once we could really understand it, there was no turning back.

He slowly descended the stairs to me. Our eyes stayed glued to each other as he closed the distance. My body yearned for him. He was my other half; we were not two separate entities, simply just two pieces of the same soul.

When he was within arm’s reach of me, his ability to show restraint faltered. He grabbed me by the face and kissed me, all regard for propriety out the window. But it wasn’t as though I minded. I belonged to Jace, I always had, so it was only natural that I returned his affections. Propriety be damned.

It was less than a minute, rather tame compared to all other kisses we’ve shared, but the moment it was over, I become increasingly aware of cracks forming in my heart. His forehead resting against mine, I could guarantee I was home. I was safe as long as we were together.

My mother had informed me that I was not to be alone for the coming weeks. When we were alone in the room I had growing up here, she held me to her and cried. She insisted on me having a bath before I see the Maesters. A few of her most trusted maids helped me out of my dress and into the bath. The way her face contorted in mental anguish, tears forming in her eyes, as she looked over my body was something I would never forget. A glance in a mirror showed I had bruises and scars scattered across my body, including over my ribcage on the left, and a busted lip I was unaware of until now.

“If it brings any comfort, I do not remember it happening,” I said to her quietly as she sat beside the tub. There was a failed attempt to prove to her I was okay as I went to pour water over my hair, but the stretching motion caused enough pain I lost my breath.

“It causes me more worry than anything,” she told me. Her voice was fragile in the same way a flower is, soft and delicate, able to be broken in one move if anyone chose. “But it is nothing you need to fret over. We shall have the Maesters examine you and treat you, in a few weeks it will be as though this didn’t happen.”

Mother asked the maids to go inform the Maesters of our need and then sent one to bring me food from the kitchens. I think it was in equal part that she needed to feel useful but also needing to just be alone with me. There was no part of my brain that could even fathom what she had been feeling for these years.

She caught me up on all of the happenings in our family while she washed me. The night I had gone missing, my grandsire was greeted by The Stranger. She lost the babe she had been pregnant with within a few days of that, a girl that was named Visenya. It was an impossible amount of grief to deal with in such a short time and all I wanted was to take away all of her pain and suffering.

“Did Otto not try to put Aegon on the throne?” I whispered to her as she took her time gently washing my hair. She refused to let it wait for the maids, insisting that five years is long enough for someone else to care for me.

“He wanted to, but when I sent Alicent a letter informing her of your disappearance, she halted her father’s plans,” she told me. “Nobody, not Aegon nor Aemond, cared for the throne after you were gone.”

“But why? She has hated you for as long as I can remember. They have hated us for just as long. What difference did I make?” I asked.

“Oh sweet girl, they have never hated you. I cannot say how they felt about your brothers, nor can I deny the resentment Alicent and I have felt for one another. You, however, have been loved throughout it all. You were the light of your grandsire’s life, Alicent has adored you from the moment she laid eyes on you. Aegon and Aemond both used to beg for your hand. You, darling, take after your father.” She ran the water through my hair, rinsing all of the dirt and oils from it. I ran my right hand through it, as that was the only arm I could lift so high without crying, and it felt much cleaner than it had before.

“Which father?” I spoke, barely above a whisper, standing with her assistance.

“Both Laenor and Ser Harwin loved you dearly, as they were both loved by you. You enchanted them from the moment you made your entrance into the world, and you did so until they died. You are both of them, the best of them, in a perfect package.”

I could only nod. Jace and I knew from a very young age that Laenor was not our blood. He claimed us all the same, cared for us as much as he could. Ser Harwin, though, made every difference in our lives. Even if Luke wasn’t completely aware, our father spent every moment he could watching over us. He trained with the boys every morning, attended my lessons as much as possible, trained me in swords in the eve. He was there for Luke’s birth, was there within a few hours of Joffrey’s. And the love he held for my mother, to be willing to love her from a distance and sire children he could never claim…it was admirable.

“Jace never married,” I stated. It was not a question, but an observation. I knew far too well that if he had, he would never have put the shame on his wife that would’ve been given to her when he kissed me so publicly.

“The two of you share a special connection. He could not bring himself to agree to any marriage proposal until we knew one way or another. He said that he would only be with his other half unless there were no other options,” she spoke softly. She helped me into a new dress, a beautiful sea green color to represent House Velaryon.

“So, until my body washed ashore somewhere?” I asked, a ghost of a laugh coming through. I could see a frown slowly creeping onto her face. “Mother, I’m sorry. I can’t Imagine how difficult the last few years have been.”

“You are back now, my darling girl. That is what matters,” she told me, sitting me in the nearest chair so that she could braid my hair. “Aegon asked me to annul his marriage to Helaena. Their’s was not a happy one, I do not wish that upon any of my family.”

I was grateful for her gentle touch as she worked carefully with my hair. It wasn’t as though my mother had ever been rough with me, but there was a gentleness that she always seemed to have whenever we were sick or hurt.

The first time Jace flew on Vermax, he pulled me onto the saddle. We both returned blistered and aching. Yet once it hit midnight and my fever had fully set in, it was realized I had an Infection because I wasn’t wearing proper dragon riding clothes and my skin was rubbed off until I was bleeding. She sat by my side for nearly a week then. She prayed to nearly every god, even the ones she had no faith in, and she was so soft with me you would think she was a mere common woman instead of the future Queen.

“And Aemond?” I asked her once she pulled her hands away from my hair.

“Refuses to marry. He has wanted to marry you since the two of you attempted to run off to Dragonstone when you were children,” she chuckled. “If I did not know you, I would say that was his idea.”

“In my defense, we had been speaking about the Valyrian traditions that have been lost. He and I were going to marry in the tradition of Valyria and then Jace and I would marry under the Seven,” I told her, a smile on my face.

I was approximately five years old when that became our plan in life. Aegon the Conqueror had two wives, so I would have two husbands. Of course, whenever Jace was told about this plan, he vehemently denied me. He said he would give me everything that I would ever need when he was king.

“He was hoping that Jace would find a new bride, so that when you came back he could have you,” she told me, taking my hands in hers. “Before you ask, yes. He was certain you would come back. He spent nearly a year searching all of Westeros for you on Vhagar. He only returned at the request of Helaena.”

“What do I do, mama?” I whispered. “It has been so long, so much has changed. Little Aegon and Viserys won’t even know me. Is Vhaela even alive?”

Vhaela was my dragon. She had been a wild dragon that approached King’s landing near six moons before my eighteenth nameday. She was the most gorgeous shade of amethyst, her scales glittering in the sunlight whenever I flew her. She had rested on a mountain not far out from the city and I snuck out of the castle to get a closer look. Never had I known of a dragon who was so calm and regal when being approached. It was like she was royalty and she knew exactly what the difference between us was. It was this confidence she carried that lead me to attempt to claim her, and she graciously agreed to a partnership with me.

“Vhaela is in the Dragon Pit. She enjoys flying when Aemond and Jace go, I believe she feels close enough to you through them to allow them to care for her. As for your younger brothers, we did not let them forget. They know you, not in the same way they know Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, but you are not a stranger to them,” she assured me. Her voice did not waiver in this. It was instead supported by a firmness that could only result from a confident truth.

She turned me to face her directly, hands starting to squeeze mine. The look on her face was so tender, so comforting, I wasn’t sure what to do except let a few tears leave my eyes. It all felt so overwhelming, and there was no certainty as to what I should do.

“You wished to be betrothed to Jace at a young age. Do you still wish it?” she asked me quietly. “Or does your heart desire another?”

“I love Jace with my entire being,” I told her firmly. It was everything I could do to ignore how my heart began racing.

“Save for the piece of your heart that has long been held by Aemond.”

My head dropped. There was nobody that I had ever told of my affections for Aemond. He had never exactly been subtle, that I would admit. A year before Luke’s claim to Driftmark was questioned, my Grandsire the King had requested my appearance at court. He wished to spend time with me. And during that time, Aemond and I grew as close as we were as children. Maybe even closer.

But that did not matter. Those were the adventures of a young girl. I was promised to Jace formally when my family came to King’s Landing. Any affections that I had for Aemond was left behind in that moment.

The kisses that we shared In the library or in the gardens were innocent. The nights spent in my chambers, talking until the sun comes up. We absolutely did not do anything that was considered something that could ruin me. We did not make each other come undone for hours every night.

“That was a girl’s exploits. I belong with Jace, we were brought into the world together and together we shall always be,” I said while trying to keep my voice steady as hers. Yet, when it came to the overwhelming truth of Aemond and I, I was never steady. And so I turned away from her, withdrawing my hands from her touch. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her stand.

“I only wish to see you happy, to marry for love and not for duty,” she told me, taking a flower from a vase nearby and sticking it in my hair. “Allow yourself to court both of them. There have been many changes during your time gone. When you have been made completely sure, I will not question your mind again.”

Before I could say anything in response, knock on the door echoed through the room. The Maesters were here to examine my injuries. Instinctually I turned to face mother, who silently promised me she was not leaving. With a deep and painful breath, I was able to nod and allow them inside.

#dividers by benkeibear #aemond targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #out of time

[beautifulchris]

fate brought us together again

a sequel to love die young

⤷ pairing: bang chan x gn!reader

⤷ genre: smau w/ a few written parts, fluff, angst, humor, romance, drama, college!au, exes to lovers!au

⤷ tw: will put them accordingly to each chapter but mostly swearing

⤷ synopsis: after spending two years abroad, you come back to the only college that accepted you; the same chris goes to

⤷ featuring: stray kids, loona's olivia hye, nct's mark, an oc, itzy's ryujin and yuna, enhypen's jake, p1harmony's intak… more to come

⤷ disclaimer: ignore the timestamps i have no time for this hhh; you might find typos despite my efforts so i apologize in advance; almost none of the pics used in this au are mine: © to rightful owners; none of this is meant to represent anyone in real life; this is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only!

⤷ notes: header made by me. you don't have to read the prequel to understand but i would appreciate it if you did :)

updates: every other day, 8pm CET

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @straykidsland @kwritersworld

taglist: @soobin-chois @raethethey open!

status: completed

started: 15/07 10/07 as a gift for 100 followers❤️

completed: 31/08

profiles — road trip adventurers | it wasn't me | extras

chapter one — coming back home

chapter two — first day

chapter three — who's y/n?

chapter four — new friends

chapter five — "you wish you were me so bad"

chapter six — senses are sensing

chapter seven — i've heard of him (lying)

chapter eight — i miss you

chapter nine — i have no fear.

chapter ten — team 60

chapter eleven — opportunities (w)

chapter twelve — don't start a battle you'll lose

chapter thirteen — sick joke (w)

chapter fourteen — what are friends for

chapter fifteen — revelations

chapter sixteen — friends? (w)

chapter seventeen — i hate you guys

chapter eighteen — down memory lane (w)

chapter nineteen — manzoned

chapter twenty — embrace (w)

chapter twenty one — go get your man (w)

chapter twenty two — chrizz

chapter twenty three — everybody else knew

chapter twenty four — double sense

chapter twenty five — fate

epilogue

#kflixnet #k-labels #straykidsland #kwritersworldnet #stray kids bang chan #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fake texts #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids smau #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz angst #skz fluff #skz bang chan #skz smau

[contextfreepatentart]

Context-Full Patent Art

Every now and then I see people in the comments who seem to genuinely want a better idea of what one of the posted bits of art here was supposed to be patenting. Giving that context myself doesn't seem in the spirit of the blog, but I absolutely want to encourage people to do the legwork to go sniffing around for original sources.

It's something I have to do a lot in my day job, something I've learned to enjoy, and the thing that led me to start Context-Free Patent Art a dozen years ago in the first place.

Let's start with today's post, which is a perfect example of art that raises more questions than it answers.

Almost every post on this blog has a header detailing the date of the patent or application and the number, which you can find on the top right. In this case, this image is from Patent Application # 20020022516.

Longtime Context-Free Patent Art fans might remember this image from when it was first featured here over a decade ago. I figured that a lot of the people following the blog now haven't seen some of the gems from years ago, so I'm going to be doing re-runs of some of my favorites this week. There's a bunch more I think would be good to bring back, so I'll use the vintage cfpa hashtag in the future so you know when a duplicate post is intentional (as opposed to me just forgetting I've posted a thing before, which happens a fair bit).

Back to the matter at hand though, if you're ever curious, the US Patent and Trademark Office has a super-handy patent search function. It's pretty easy to find from their main site (uspto.gov), but you can also just bookmark this link to the basic search form:

Check out the search results, click on the link for the .pdf, and you'll get the complete patent/application to peruse at your enjoyment.

In this case, you'll find the patent being applied for covers a method of "Advertising inside electronic games" and you'll learn that:

In FIG. 1, girl 10 is climbing onto a hamburger 11 like one sold at a fast food restaurant. However, in the displayed image, hamburger 11 is as large as girl 10. The person playing the game will therefore perceive hamburger 11 as fantastically large. That unusual scale will help to burnish the image of hamburger 11 in the player's memory as well as draw his attention to it while he plays the game.

Not shown in FIG. 1 are other characteristics which electronic games could apply to hamburger 11 which cannot be shown in unanimated line-drawings. Hamburger 11 will compress as girl 10 steps or pushes on it. That action will be accompanied by squishing and slurping sounds...

Yeah, the explanations are weird too, sometimes.

Sorry for all the words, I just wanted to make it as clear as possible to people that if they're ever curious about stuff they see on Context-Free Patent Art, it's usually pretty easy to find out what the deal is.

[bats2102]

ACOWAR set up an Elain+Lucien Book

ACOWAR is Elucien coded. This book lays out all the major plot points, characters, and powers that will shape the relationship between Elain and Lucien. As I revisited ACOWAR, I couldn't help but notice a ton of textual evidence hinting at a final pairing between them.

For those who disagree that Lucien demonstrates any traits that correlate to a mating bond, I encourage you to actually look at Lucien’s behavior and actions through the ACOWAR novel. And if you are not interested in re-reading the novel, that’s okay I brought receipts. 

This analysis will provide compelling evidence of the Elucien connection and illuminate how ACOWAR lays the groundwork for their future storyline. Below are the main areas that will be explored, each accompanied by corresponding headers.

Early Mate Behavior 

Lucien’s introspection and selflessness

Primal mate behavior and the BOND BONDING

Parallels between their “souls” and characters

Lucien’s Devotion to Elain

The Internal conflict regarding bond

Future plot/story

And for good measure: Amren thinking Lucien is also Hot AF (ACOWAR edition)

Early Mate Behavior 

Lucien demonstrates mate behavior early as page 10 in ACOWAR by showing concern and determination to find Elain, whom he believes is being kept by Rhysand. Feyre, however, counters Lucien's determination by dismissing the significance of the mating bond between him and Elain. She argues that the mating bond is merely a physical reaction and implies that Lucien's actions are driven by instinct rather than genuine emotional connection to Elain. Feyre tries to undermine the legitimacy of Lucien's feelings by suggesting that he's being controlled by the bond and doesn't truly know Elain.

In response, Lucien challenges Feyre's perspective by drawing a parallel to her own situation with Rhysand. Countering that if that were the case it would apply to her bond to Rhys as well. He questions whether her relationship with Rhysand a physical reaction is also just, implying that their bond might be more than Feyre is willing to acknowledge.

“Despite what Jurian implied regarding how my sisters will be treated by Rhysand, I had told him, despite what the Night Court is like, they won’t hurt Elain or Nesta like that—not yet. Rhysand has more creative ways to harm them. Lucien still seemed to doubt it (ACOWAR pp.10)”

Lucien breathed, “Where is he keeping her?” I knew who he meant. I shook my head. “I don’t know. Rhysand has a hundred places where they could be, but I doubt he’d use any of them to hide Elain, knowing that I’m aware of them.” “Tell me anyway. List all of them.” “You’ll die the moment you set foot in his territory.” “I survived well enough when I found you.” “You couldn’t see that he had me in thrall. You let him take me back.” Lie, lie, lie. But the hurt and guilt I expected weren’t there. Lucien slowly released his grip. “I need to find her.” “You don’t even know Elain. The mating bond is just a physical reaction overriding your good sense.” “Is that what it did to you and Rhys?” A quiet, dangerous question. But I made fear enter my eyes, let myself drag up memories of the Weaver, the Carver, the Middengard Wyrm so that old terror drenched my scent. “I don’t want to talk about that,” I said, my voice a rasping wobble. (ACOWAR pp. 12-13)

Lucien's strong commitment to Elain's safety, is not solely driven by their bond it is also powered by his past experiences and concerns about Rhys's reputation. Unable to confirm Elain's well-being, he fears she may be subjected to the Night Court's dark reputation, intensifying his urgency to locate her. We know as readers that elain is not being harmed in her stay in NC, however Lucien has only known NC to be a place of horror thus the inability to confirm Elain's safety leads Lucien to contemplate the possibility that the Night Court's notorious reputation is being imposed upon her, adding an extra layer of concern and urgency. 

“She is my mate and in my enemy’s hands—” “I’ve made no secret from the start that Elain is safe and cared for.” “And I’m supposed to believe you.” “Yes,” I hissed. “You are. Because if I believed for one moment that my sisters were in danger, no High Lord or king would have kept me from going to save them.” He just shook his head, the candlelight dancing over his hair. “You have the gall to question my priorities regarding Elain—yet what was your motive where I was concerned? Did you plan to spare me from your path of destruction because of any genuine friendship, or simply for fear of what it might do to her?” I didn’t answer. 

If you are going to re-read a portion of the novel, I implore you to read pages 145-150 (Kindle edition) of ACOWAR. This portion of the novel really provides a look at character dynamics, Lucien’s loyalty, themes of trust and betrayal, and foreshadows future conflicts. Lucien argues that he NEEDS TO SEE elain safe, and he was willing to stand up against his perceived enemy the NC to ensure that is achieved. From his perspective, he likely sees parallels between the Night Court's actions and Tamlin's treatment of Feyre. Rather than escalating tensions or reacting rashly to the complexities of the mating bond, Lucien opts for a measured response: "There is a longer story to be told, it seems (ACOWAR pp.146-147). This response defuses the immediate tension and allows for further discussion without further antagonizing Rhysand. Lucien's choice to stand down and patiently await the chance to see Elain underscores his unwavering commitment to her well-being and his understanding of the delicate circumstances at hand, showcasing his loyalty and depth of character.

Lucien’s introspection and selflessness 

And you know what Lucien does next, he listens to Feyre’s story. He actively listens to her story, willing to acknowledge and understand her expirences while reflecting on his own role, he doesn’t dismiss her words or react indifferently: 

“So, I told him. All of it—the story that perhaps would help him understand. And realize how truly safe Elain was—he now was (p.149)

“I hadn’t realized I was a villain in your narrative,” Lucien breathed. “You weren’t.” Not entirely. (P.150)”

This shows a level of introspection and self-awareness on Lucien's part, as he acknowledges the possibility that his actions may have been seen in a negative light by others. (Which I could argue almost all characters in the series do not reflect on the consequences of their actions and their effect on others. So pro self-reflective Lucien!)

When Lucien request Feyre to tell him about elain. He takes Feyre’s assessment of her sister in this passage “Elain would put on a hat and gloves and kneel in the dirt, weeding. She acted like a purebred lady in every regard but that (ACOWAR pp.13)” and runs with it. He LISTENED to Feyre’s description of elain so closely that he knew she would wear gloves when she gardened and considered in the next book (ACOSAF) that it would be a suitable gift to give her gloves, that is thoughtful, and I will not argue otherwise. 

Furthermore, when this man is telling Feyre how he was SA during calanmai, rather than focusing on himself in regard to this traumatic expirences, he is worried of what elain will think of this situation. Lucien was SA and his thoughts were still centered to the care of elain.

But Lucien … “You took Ianthe into that cave on Calanmai?” He wouldn’t meet my gaze. “She insisted. Tamlin was … Things were bad, Feyre. I went in his stead, and I did my duty to the court. I went of my own free will. And we completed the Rite.” No wonder she’d backed off him. She’d gotten what she wanted. “Please don’t tell Elain,” he said. “When we—when we find her again,” he amended. (ACOWAR pp 33)

Primal mate behavior and the BOND BONDING (just evidence of their bond, for those who want to invalidate it)

“But Lucien’s attention went right to the hallway toward the back, his nostrils flaring as he scented Elain’s direction. And who she’d gone with. A low snarl slipped out of him— “Relax,” Rhys said. “Azriel isn’t the ravishing type.” Lucien cut him a glare. (p.254)

“It felt … strange,” Elain breathed. “Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib.” Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry.” Elain only stared at him for a long moment. (pp.301)

“There’s a bond—it’s a real thread,” he said, more to himself than us. “And?” Mor asked. Lucien ran both hands through his long red hair. His skin was darker—a deep golden-brown, compared to the paleness of Eris’s coloring. “And I got to Elain’s end of it when she ran off.” “Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek. Whatever he’d felt, it wasn’t what we were looking for. Even if we had no idea what, precisely, that was. “We can try again—another day,” I offered. Lucien nodded but looked unconvinced. (p.302)

Being the one to trust elain’s visions and act upon them. Also, everyone else being concerned about their bond if something happened to him.

He only glanced at Elain, whose face was again a calm void while she traced a finger over the embroidery on the couch cushions. “Yes. Let me help in whatever way I can.” Even Nesta seemed relatively concerned. Not for him, no doubt, but the fact that if he were hurt, or killed … What would it do to Elain? The severing of the mating bond … I shut out the thought of what it’d do to me.

Lucien is the one to ask for a healer to see elain, he recognizes that elain went through trauma, LUCIEN WAS the one who verbally acknowledge elain went through trauma. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to have a healer look her over. Externally and internally.” I was tired enough that I could barely summon the breath to ask, “Do you think the Cauldron made her insane?” “I think she went through something terrible,” Lucien countered carefully. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have your best healer do a thorough examination.” (pp. 288-289)

And you know who thinks Elain’s mate will help her??? MADJA, Why? Because their souls connected

“Does she need further help?” Nesta said through her teeth. The ancient healer jerked her chin toward Lucien. “See what he can do. If anyone can sense if something is amiss, it’s a mate.” “How.” The word was barely more than a barked command. I braced myself to warn Nesta to be polite, but Madja said to my sister, as if she were a small child, “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.” 

What if Lucien was a gift from the cauldron?? 

“But what if the Cauldron gave something to Elain?” Nesta’s face drained of color. “What?” Equally ashen, Lucien seemed inclined to echo Nesta’s hoarse question. (p.336)”.

Parallels between their souls and characters

Elain and Lucien’s characters parallel one another and complement each other so splendidly. Lucien being the son of the high lord of day, and elain character first appearing in ACOWAR in a “suite filled with sunlight” in a “chair before the sunniest window (p. 154).” 

Elain is further associated with LIGHT and SUNSHINE, through the novel:

“Even wasted away by grief and despair, Elain’s beauty was remarkable. Hers was a face that could bring kings to their knees. And yet there was no joy in it. No light. No life. (p.246)”

The frustration. “What can I get you, Elain?” Only with Elain did she use that voice. But Elain shook her head once more. “Sunshine.” (p.302)

Well would you look at that, elain HERSELF thinks she needs sunshine.

They are both social beings who require light to feel alive: 

“Weeks of cloistering Elain had done nothing to improve her state (p.248)”

They both have eyes that allow them to see things that are hidden to others: 

“What makes you think you could find her?” Rhys asked. Not rudely, but—from a commander’s perspective. Sizing up the skills Lucien offered against the risks, the potential benefits. “This eye …” Lucien gestured to the metal contraption. “It can see things that others … can’t. Spells, glamours … Perhaps it can help” (p.339)

In the following passage Elain displays agency by taking control of the situation and proposing a plan of action to address a potential threat. She actively engages in decision-making and asserts her autonomy by insisting on speaking to the individual herself, despite objections from others. Similar to Lucien, who just left to find the individuals from elain’s visions and serves as an emissary and prioritizes the protection of his people. Elain steps forward with a plan to negotiate with a potential threat to ensure the safety of those seeking sanctuary.

Elain considered. “I can speak to him.” “No,” I said—at the same moment Nesta did. But Elain cut us off. “If—if you and … they”—a glance at Rhys, my friends—“come with me, your Fae scents might distract the dogs.” “You’re Fae, too,” Nesta reminded her. “Glamour me,” Elain said—to Rhys. “Make me look human. Just long enough to convince him to open his gates to those seeking sanctuary. Perhaps even let you set those wards around the estate.”

Elain also remembers that Lucien was the one to seek out the individual from her vision: “And even with the truth laid bare … none of us told him that Lucien had gone after her. Elain seemed to remember, though. Who was hunting for that missing queen.”

Both characters' aversion to violence highlights their compassionate and empathetic personalities, as well as their desire for peace and harmony. While they may find themselves involved in conflicts due to external circumstances, they both harbor a deep-seated discomfort with the inherent violence of such situations, reflecting their shared values of empathy, kindness, and a preference for peaceful resolutions. The repetition of this in the interaction where Elain reveals she only stabbed the enemy, not made the killing blow, underscores her aversion to violence and her reluctance to engage in battle, mirroring Lucien's own distaste for violence.

“Will—will many of these soldiers die?” I cringed, but Nesta said, “Yes.” I could almost see the unspoken words Nesta reined in. Your mate might die sooner than them, though” (p.485)

The sound as both armies collided … I didn’t have words for it. Elain covered her ears, cringing.

“Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but … yes, I’m in one piece.” A faint smile bloomed on Elain’s lips (p. 675)”

Devotion to Elain

This man is devastated by Elain's mental state. Since the bond is a profound connection between two souls, and based on the text, Elain currently doesn't know how to block the bond, it's crucial to consider that every emotion Elain experiences is could also be felt by Lucien. Given her current unwellness, imagine the agony of being told she's fine and safe, only to witness her as a mere "hollow" version of the person described to him, likely feeling every ounce of the despair she's currently enduring.

Lucien was standing in the doorway. And from the devastation on his face, I knew he’d heard every word. Seen and heard and felt the hollowness and despair radiating from her. Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind. She had been always so full of light. (ACOWAR p. 156)

(Side note: elain being described as light again when at her best)

He saw her in this state than decided that he would be willing to subject himself to Rhysands control and the NC in order to be near her. 

“This house is warded against winnowing, both from outside and within. There’s one way out—the stairs to the city. It, too, is warded—and guarded. Please don’t do anything stupid.” “So, am I a prisoner?” I could feel the response simmering in Rhys, but I shook my head. “No. But understand while you may be her mate, Elain is my sister. I’ll do what I must to protect her from further harm.” “I would never hurt her.” A bleak sort of honesty in his words. I simply nodded, loosening a breath, and met Rhysands stare in silent urging. 

Lucien is acutely aware that Rhysand intends to exploit Elain's presence in the Night Court to manipulate him. And we know that this is indeed true as evident from Rhysand's own admission, "I trust in the fact that we currently have possession of the one thing he wants above all else (p. 195)," which underscores Rhyland’s strategic mindset. Recognizing Lucien's unwavering commitment to Elain's safety, Rhysand leverages this vulnerability to exert control over Lucien's actions. Moreover, Rhysand manipulates Feyre's perception of Lucien, exploiting her concerns and emphasizing his own ability to sway Lucien's decisions. This manipulation is evident in Rhysand's question to Feyre, "If he got Elain away, back to Spring or wherever … do you believe, deep down, that he wouldn’t sell what he knows? (p.195)." This inquiry serves to sow doubt and uncertainty, further solidifying his hold over Lucien and Feyre's perception of him.

Now from pages p.675-68 there are many important points between elain and Lucien but given how long this already is I will focus on a few. Following the battle, Lucien’s concerns regarding elain’s wellbeing are immediately demonstrated by ensuring her condition. Lucien acknowledges her contribution and shows understanding, indicating a supportive and encouraging dynamic between them. This is shown through Lucien acknowledging that elains visions were correct, the loss of her father, and her contribution to the killing of hyburn. During this elain invites Lucien to velaris (with encouragement of Feyre, she is still the one who said it), and are later seen in close proximity of one another. They are seen walking side by side or falling into step with each other, and there’s an unspoken understanding between them where they seem to intuitively know how to support each other without needing to verbalize their feelings. So, no I do not agree that they are ill suited or do not like being in each other presence, I believe it to be more complicated than that. 

Internal conflict regarding bond

To be honest, I'm just going to ask you to read pages 248-254. If you can read this, look into Lucien's thoughts, and believe that Lucien does not demonstrate mate behaviour and that Azriel is the character who understands and has undying devotion to Elain, then you're missing important components illustrated of Lucien's feelings. 

Lucien's concern for Elain is palpable as he observes her deteriorating mental and physical state. He feels her pain and suffering deeply, evidenced by his internal turmoil and desire to alleviate her suffering. Despite the risk of facing Rhysand's wrath, Lucien ventures out to seek a moment of respite, yet his primary focus remains on Elain's well-being. In the context of Lucien's guilt regarding Elain and his past relationship with Jesminda, there's a significant emotional burden that he carries. Lucien's guilt could be manifesting in his interactions with Elain, leading to moments of hesitation or emotional distance as he grapples with conflicting emotions. He may struggle with feelings of inadequacy or unworthiness, believing that he's not deserving of a mating bond with elain due to his unresolved feelings regarding Jesminda death, for which he holds himself responsible. Lucien's guilt regarding his mating bond with Elain and his past relationship with Jesminda adds layers of complexity to his character and relationships.

The highlighted passages below offer a crucial moment in the narrative, revealing the complex dynamics between Lucien and Elain and hinting at future storylines. His unwavering belief in Elain's abilities and the importance of her visions is evident as he volunteers to pursue the truth behind her latest revelation. 

As they are left alone together, the potential for significant developments in their relationship becomes apparent, as the deliberate departure of the other characters to create a space for Lucien and Elain to engage in a private conversation, the contents of which remain unknown. The deliberate departure of other characters creates a private space for Lucien and Elain, foreshadowing what could happen if provided the space to properly explore their mating bond. 

Before departing, Lucien shares a silent exchange with Elain, their gazes locking in a moment with Lucien’s filled with unspoken longing and sadness. Despite the palpable connection between them, neither Lucien nor Elain vocalizes their emotions, leaving the true nature of their bond ambiguous. Lucien's failure to glance back at Elain and Rhys's departure symbolize the unspoken barriers and uncertainties surrounding their relationship. This poignant moment highlights the intricate dance of emotions between Lucien and Elain, setting the stage for deeper exploration in future narratives.

“There is a reason why Elain is seeing these things. She was right about the other queen turning old, about the Ravens’ attack—why is she being sent this image? Why is she hearing this queen? It must be vital. If we ignore it, perhaps we’ll deserve to fail.” Silence. I surveyed them all. Vital. Each of them was vital here. But me … I sucked in a breath. “I’ll go.” Lucien was staring at Elain as he spoke. We all looked at him. Lucien shifted his focus to Rhys, to me. “I’ll go,” he repeated, rising to his feet. “To find this sixth queen.”

“And for once, my sister rose to her feet and came toward us, the three of us not so subtly heading upstairs. Leaving Lucien and Elain alone. It was an effort not to linger atop the landing, to listen to what was said. If anything was said at all.

Before that dark wind swept in, Lucien looked back. Not to me, I realized—to someone behind me. Pale and thin, Elain stood atop the stairs. Their gazes locked and held. But Elain said nothing. Did not so much as take one step downward. Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye—the longing and sadness.”

“And when Lucien turned to signal to Rhys to go … He did not glance back at Elain. Did not see the half step she took toward the stairs—as if she’d speak to him. Stop him. Then Rhys was gone, and Lucien with him. When I turned to offer Elain breakfast, she’d already walked away.” (p.345)

Elain's conversation with her fiancé Greyson reveals the complications of her feelings regarding Lucien and the mating bond. Initially, Elain expresses uncertainty and confusion about her desires, admitting that she doesn't know what she wanted when she returned to Greyson. This passage with her literal fiancé illustrates her internal conflict (There is no evidence that elain wants to reject Lucien in the text of ACOWAR). Greyson's refusal to accept Elain's bond with Lucien further exacerbates her emotional turmoil, as she struggles to reconcile her mating bond with her desire for a conventional human male. 

Elain’s internal struggle to assert her agency and autonomy in the face of external expectations and societal norms will be important in her character development. Elain's initial denial and resistance pave the way for a journey of self-discovery and growth, where she must confront her fears and insecurities before embracing her true identity and forging a deeper connection with Lucien.

Graysen swallowed. “Did you think you could come back here—live with me as this … lie?” “No. Yes. I—I don’t know what I wanted—” “And you are bound to some … Fae male. A High Lord’s son.” A different High Lord’s heir, likely, I wanted to say. “His name is Lucien.” I wasn’t certain if I’d ever heard his name from her lips. “I don’t care what his name is.” The first sharp words from Graysen. “You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?” “It means nothing,” Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—” “You belong to him.” “I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.” Graysen’s face hardened. “I don’t want it.” (pp. 499-500)

The following moment marks a significant turning point in Elain's life as she realizes that her connection with Lucien has severed her ties to her previous human existence. Foreshadow the complexities and conflicts that may arise in Elain and Lucien's relationship, as well as the internal struggles Elain will face in reconciling her human past with her fae future. 

“So, Elain silently cried, the tears so unending that I wondered if it was some sign of her heart bleeding out. Some sliver of hope that had shattered today. That Graysen would still love her, still marry her—and that love would trump even a mating bond. A final tether had been snapped—to her life in the human lands. Only our father, wherever he was, remained as any sort of connection.” (p. 503).

Future plot:

Anyways ACOWAR set up elain and Lucien’s future plot lines. Through introducing koschei, elain’s vision, vassas curse (Lucien=spell cleaver, elain=discovered vassa), Tamlin and spring court (after all elain does think the WORLD needs more garden (p.693)) Eris and Lucien’s dynamic, discovering Helion is Lucien’s father, elain mourning her father (Lucien and him knew each other), elain and Lucien discovering their magic (their eyes) ... ect... 

And if you want to argue that Azriel has any major role in these plot lines I encourage you to read ACOSF and HOFAS as there is ample evidence that the characters and plots introduced in those novels are more centre to his and Gwyn’s character (I can bring more receipts... as essentially ACOWAR set up nessian and Elucien, and ACOSF set up gwynriel and Mor+em). It is crucial to analyze the plot lines beyond the lens of mere smut and romance, as this narrow focus undermines the depth of storytelling Sarah J. Maas has woven into the narrative. By broadening our perspective, we can fully appreciate the intricacies of the plot and explore the multifaceted dynamics that extend beyond the relationship between the MMC+MFC. 

And finally, while I can acknowledge that all these points are directed to an elain and Elucien book. SJM will still and will always have the final say.... 

Amren thinking Lucien being Hot AF (ACOWAR edition)

Even fucking Amren thinks Lucien is hot af.

But it was Amren who said from the floor, “You should kill Beron and his sons and set up the handsome one as High Lord of Autumn, self-imposed exile, or no. It will make life easier.” “I’ll take that into consideration,” Rhys said, striding toward her while I remained with the others. (p.159)

#elain x lucien #lucien vanserra #acowar #acotar #elain archeron #pro elucien #lucien acotar #pro elain archeron #fated mates #elucien #pro lucien vanserra #acotar series

[lunarbuck]

Kinktober Week 2: Formal Wear

header: @jen-with-a-pen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader (any race)

Word Count: 2k

Prompt: Formal Wear

Warnings: bucky is your ex bf, unwanted touching (by someone else, not bucky), sexual tension, oral (m receiving), smut (p in v), praise, pet names [dove, pretty girl, baby], light spanking, swearing, possessiveness

a/n: y'all...... you're not even ready for this

my masterlist | kinktober masterlist | @lunarbucklibrary

You slide your hands down the smooth satin of your dress, relishing the way it glides against your skin. Tonight’s party is one you’ve been looking forward to for some time now, and you can’t wait to see the look on his face when you walk through those doors.

You’re dressed for revenge, and you don’t care how petty it is.

After a quick ride to the venue, you pause just outside the doors to the ballroom. You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders, before pushing the doors open. Your heels click on the marble floor, and you flash a smile at the familiar faces that greet you.

This isn’t your first Avengers gala, and it certainly won’t be your last, but tonight is different. Tonight isn’t about greasing palms and fake smiles. No, tonight is about one thing and one thing only.

Making sure Bucky Barnes knows just what he’s missing out on.

He broke up with you a week and a half ago. You spent the first week feeling like your heart had been ripped out and stomped on, unsure if you’d ever recover. The past few days, though, have been spent getting ready for this moment right here.

You find your way to the bar and order a vodka soda, letting your eyes wander around the room. You can tell the moment he spots you. His gaze licks down your back like fire, making you shiver. 

As you sip your drink, you feel someone approach, but you can tell it’s not Bucky. “You look gorgeous tonight,” a man tells you. At first glance, you don’t recognize him, but a moment later, you place him as an investor you’ve sweet-talked a few times before. His hand slides along your lower back, and you’re quickly reminded of how handsy he tends to be.

“Thanks,” you reply, cringing inwardly. 

“Wanna dance?” He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, tugging you away from the bar and to the center of the front of the room where people are dancing. The bass thumps in your chest as you dance with Mr. Handsy, ignoring the way your skin crawls at his touch. 

A flash of metal catches your attention, and suddenly, he’s right there. Bucky Barnes, in all his tuxedo-d glory, stands just four feet next to you. He’s not dancing, not even swaying with the music. He’s just standing there, staring at you. 

Your body hums under his heated gaze. You watch his eyes drag over your figure and suppress a smirk. His eyes darken, and his tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip. 

Mr. Handsy presses himself against your back and slides his hands along your hips. Bucky’s eyes flash to the man touching you, and you see him clench his metal fist. He looks so fucking good right now, bathed in the low light. Bucky’s tux is perfectly fitted to his mountain-like, sculpted body.

You can’t help the desire that pools in your lower belly. Despite the way your brain is screaming, your pussy can’t seem to hear it. Even though he broke your heart, you remember how amazing he made you feel.

Mr. Handsy’s fingers brush your ribs, and you’re rudely snapped awake from your memories. You turn around in his grip and push against his chest, trying to put space between you and his unwanted touches, but his fingers tighten around your ribcage.

You open your mouth to tell him off, but you’re abruptly pulled backward and into a familiar, muscular chest. His cologne invades your senses, woodsy and masculine. Mr. Handsy frowns but ultimately decides that you’re not worth fighting the Winter Soldier over.

“You wear this dress for me?” Bucky’s low voice growls in your ear. You stand up straighter as his hands slide across your hips to your lower belly, pressing your ass against him. 

“No.” You silently curse the way your voice wavers, and you don’t have to be looking at him to know that Bucky is smirking. 

“Don’t lie, dove. You know you’re shit at it.” You bristle at the pet name, the one that has always made you swoon.

“‘M not lying.” Bucky’s metal fingers drift up your body, tracing between your breasts to circle your neck. He doesn’t squeeze, he wraps his fingers enough to remind you how much you liked it when he held you this way. 

“Little dove, you’re just asking for me to fuck the truth out of you.” You press your thighs together and shudder, wetness pooling in your panties. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to flaunt how well you’re doing in Bucky’s stupid, perfect face, get drunk, then go home feeling great. 

He isn’t supposed to be talking about fucking you, and you aren’t supposed to be grinding your ass against him. 

You shake your head, unable to come up with the words to tell him to fuck off.

“You know what I think? I think you got all dolled up just for me. You wanted to show me how big and bad you are, but all you’ve done is show me how much you miss me. That right, dove?” Your body betrays you, but the more time you spend in his arms, the less you seem to care.

Bucky gives the column of your throat a light squeeze, and your lips part on a gasp. “I bet you’re fucking soaked right now. If I slipped my hand into your panties right now, they’d be wet.” The slit of your dress goes high up your thigh, so high that he could do just that if he wants. Part of you silently begs for him to find out, for his fingers to drag over your clit. 

Without another word, Bucky slides his hand to cup the back of your neck in a possessive grip and guides you off the dance floor and toward the doors. You’re in a trance, hypnotized by his words and intoxicating presence.

Bucky walks you to the elevator bank, jabbing the number for the top floor, then turns to you. He towers over you, blue eyes blazing, and your breath catches in your throat. A bell dings, and he walks you backward into the open doors of the elevator. Your back hits the wall, and he leans over you, hands landing on either side of your head.

“You look good enough to fucking eat, dove,” he rasps. “You really gonna tell me you don’t want this?” Bucky slides one of his muscular thighs between your legs, pressing it where you need him most. “Gonna sit there and pretend you don’t want me?”

As much as you want to push him away, shout at him, tell him that he’s full of it, you know it’s a lie. You want him so badly you’re buzzing with it. You need him more than air.

When the elevator reaches the top floor, Bucky’s fingers circle your wrist, and he tugs you to his room, shutting the door behind you. The moment the latch clicks, you know you’re a goner. 

He approaches you slowly, and you try to keep the space between the two of you, walking backward until your legs hit the bed. You wobble on your heels and can’t catch yourself before your ass hits the mattress. 

Bucky stands over you, stealing your breath, as he slowly removes his tux jacket. He smirks, the look full of heat and hunger. His hands cup your jaw, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. You gaze up at him, unable to keep your eyes off his face. 

“So beautiful, dove,” he tells you. Without thinking, you slide off the mattress, knees landing against the plush carpet on the floor, so you’re kneeling in front of Bucky. He raises an eyebrow as your fingers fumble with his belt. You manage to tug it free, popping the button on his slacks before pulling the zipper down. 

You pull his cock out, not bothering to get rid of his pants, and you salivate. Before Bucky, giving oral was a chore, but with him, it brought you so much pleasure. That hasn’t changed, it seems. You drag your tongue over his tip before taking him into your mouth. Bucky’s fingers slide along your scalp, gripping your hair. You bob your head, taking him as deeply as you can, gagging when he hits the back of your throat.

“Shit,” Bucky groans. “Missed your fucking mouth, dove.” Your clit pulses at his words, and you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the pressure. Your tongue teases the vein on the underside of his cock, and you hum when he moans. 

You know Bucky’s body like the back of your hand, and when his hips jolt, thrusting his cock further into your mouth, you pull away. You can’t help but smirk at the disheveled look on his face. He was getting close, and you just ruined that for him.

“Wipe the smirk off your face, little dove. You’re gonna regret that.” Bucky hoists you up onto the bed, and you land face down, bouncing with the impact. His hands slide along your legs, pushing your skirt up to expose your panties. You shout when his fingers wrap around your ankles, tugging you backward until your feet hit the ground. With the height of your heels, your ass sticks out and up in this position. 

Bucky’s fingers trace along the outline of your panties, sending chills down your spine. He tugs the waistband, drags the garment down your legs, and helps you step out of it. Your mind spins as the cool air caresses your heated pussy. 

“You’re such a liar, dove. You’re soaked, and it’s all for me, isn’t it?” You clench the comforter tightly, trying not to squirm under his gaze. A light smack to your ass makes you yelp. “Answer the question, dove.”

“Y-yes,” you whimper. “It’s all for you.” Bucky chuckles and grips your hips until you feel his cock drag through the wetness between your thighs. 

“Your pussy knows who it belongs to, isn’t that right, dove?” You shake your head, hiding your face in the blankets, but that earns you another slap. “Don’t fucking lie to me, pretty girl. You and I both know how much your pussy fucking loves me.”

The tip of his cock presses against your entrance, and you stifle a moan. Bucky is big, the biggest you’ve ever had, and in just the week and a half you’ve been broken up, you’ve craved this more than you care to admit.

“You can tell yourself whatever you want, baby, but your perfect cunt is telling me all I need to know.” He slides into you, stretching your pussy around his cock, and you moan loudly. He doesn’t give you a moment to breathe or adjust. He just sets a brutal, deep pace and fucks you like he owns you. 

Bucky fucks you into the mattress, your back arching to take him deeper. You’re putty in his hands, unable to resist the pleasure he pours into your body.

“That’s right, dove,” he whispers huskily. “Take my fucking cock like a good girl.” Your pussy clenches when he calls you ‘good girl’, and you know he did it on purpose. He knows how much you love that. 

“You missed being my good girl, huh, dove?” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you moan, not caring how pathetic you sound. Bucky leans down, clasping the back of your neck with his metal fingers, and pushes you further into the mattress. Your orgasm comes barreling toward you, and though your mind screams at the betrayal, you fall over the edge.

“Shit, yes, dove. Come all over my cock. You’re squeezing the shit out of me, baby.” You shake with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you can tell Bucky’s getting close. His hips stutter, rhythm faltering as he fucks you harder and harder.

“Fuck, dove, gonna fill you up.” Bucky comes on a loud moan, squeezing the back of your neck tightly before pulling out. You feel his fingers drag along your inner thigh before pushing into your pussy, forcing his cum deeper inside of you. 

Your breaths are shallow as you come to terms with what just happened. As much as you wish you regretted it, you don’t. And as much as you hope this will be the last time this happens, you know it’s just the first. Bucky is your drug; you’re addicted. It’s going to take a long time before you’re able to quit him.

@flightlessangelwings | #fawktober 2023 list

I am discontinuing my taglist. Please follow @lunarbucklibrary and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics.

#jane’s writing #kinktober 2023 #fawktober 2023 #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #James bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #fem!reader #marvel fanfiction #James buchanan barnes #the winter soldier x yn #the winter soldier fanfiction

[livelaughloveloak]

━ CLOUDED . . . ! 🦢

short fic

(sorry photopea isn't cooperating rn so I'll fix the header when it's working)

summary: Neteyam almost dies after getting shot, only with your help he'll survive.

a/n: sorry had to make a fic to this song because I love jhene Aiko 😩 This is a really short fic for my liking so ig it's more like a drabble? 1.1k words.

warnings: near death experience. angst to fluff. She/her pronouns. Reader is Navi

we do not exist in any other instant.

here in this dimension you and I are meant to be.

If you were to tell people about love, you'd tell them about you and Neteyam. Neteyam was your pillar, the only thing holding you up when you were at your lowest. Neteyam was there for you. He would always say "With every beat of my heart, my love grows even more for you" Oh how you adored Neteyam. You have chosen him and he has chosen you, but how you wished life was this simple.

"That was crazy cuz!" Lo'ak yelled and high fived you and Spider when you guys finally emerged from the water. You tried your best to stay afloat, all of your energy has been drained from fighting the sky people. Your eyes scanned around until you spotted red growing in the water, worried you looked down at your body trying to check if you've been hit anywhere. You were fine and the two seemed fine so that leaves Neteyam. You quickly looked at him breathing heavily, almost drowning from the waves, barely keeping his head up. "Oh no Neteyam" The other two boys heard you and quickly looked your way only to have the same shocked face as you had on.

"Shit!! Help him" Lo'ak was now yelling in fear rather than excitement. You called for your ilu which came quickly to your aid. You put Neteyam behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he slumped on your back breathing heavily into your ear. Your heart was pounding so roughly that you swore even Neteyam could feel it. "Watch his head!" You said out loud as you all carried his limp body on the small island which his dad was on. If someone would tell you that one day you'd be here watching your beloved mate die you'd probably laugh at their face. "What happened?" Jake asked panicking before lifting Neteyam's body up to check his back. There was an exit hole, Neteyam was bound to bleed out. "Shit!" Jake looked around frantically trying to find something to clog the wound before it was too late.

You sat beside Neteyam with his head in your lap, tears falling down your face almost landing on his. "Stay awake for me" You begged him. Neteyam's eyes were scrambling everywhere as he was also panicking, he was so young with dreams and ambitions. He didn't want to die. His eyes settled to look into yours. You cupped his face, softly caressing his cheek. "Tìyawn" He croaked slightly smiling, glad to have you with him at his final moments. "I'm here Teyam do not worry." "My love don't look at me like that, I don't want your last memory of me to be like this" More tears came out of your eyes after hearing his words.

You didn't want to lose hope as it was all you had at this moment. You heard a rip before Jake finally spoke again "Quick shove this in the wound and swim back to the village fast" He passed you a piece of cloth which you put on top of the wound. "I'm sorry this is gonna hurt" And with that you shoved it in, your heart shattering after hearing Neteyam's screams of pain. You picked up Neteyam slightly struggling due to his weight and the fact that he was taller than you.

Lo'ak came to your aid and the both of you put one of his arms around your shoulders before carefully placing him in your ilu. Lo'ak decided to stay back since the fight was not finished. After bidding him a farewell you quickly rode your ilu towards the village where the Tsahik is, surely she can help.

You arrived at the shore screaming for help which thank ewya the Tsahik Ronal heard. Ronal looked at Neteyam limped only standing up with your support. She took him inside her hut and commanded you to stay outside while she tried her best to keep Neteyam alive. A thousand questions flooded your head. ‘Will he be alright’ All you wanted to do was be within your Neteyam's arms again, laying on a tree branch or maybe staring up at the sky naming every star. You wished you didn't have to walk around in the future hearing strangers say “Ewya did it for a reason” or “He is in a better place now” If ewya had a reason, what could have it possibly have been? To teach you a lesson? No person should die this young.

Soon enough the flap to Ronal's healing hut opened revealing her. You rose to your feet hoping you were not about to hear a "I'm sorry" come out of her mouth. "He is alive thanks to you, just very weak." You trembled as relief washed over you after hearing the Tsahik's words. "You can come inside now child" She stepped to the side to make space for you "Thank you." You bowed to her and walked in to see Neteyam lying peacefully with bandages wrapped around him. "Wake up soon my love." You sat down next to him and picked up his hand, kissing it.

A month. A whole month has passed and still Neteyam was in his deep slumber. The war is over and the sky people have lost. A party was set to celebrate the great ordeal of winning against such demons. Normally you'd be dancing around and singing within the light of the bonfire but you couldn't. You couldn't have fun and laugh knowing that Neteyam was still in a coma. Often you'd find yourself sitting beside him having some sort of physical touch with him. In fact that was what you were doing right now.

You had fallen asleep next to him by accident, obviously tired after many sleepless nights. Before the war you'd always sleep within Neteyam's strong arms. “Neteyam the mighty cuddler” you'd joke. You were lost in sleep almost ignoring the fact that you felt someone's hand on the back of your head caressing it ever so softly. You would've kept your eyes closed before you heard a quiet. "Ma y/n." Your ears twitched trying to process if you were just dreaming or not.

After a few minutes you opened your eyes to see bright yellow ones staring at you. You pulled him into a hug carefully avoiding his wrapped up wounds. "You're finally awake" you sobbed as Neteyam rubbed his hand against your back trying to comfort you. "shh calm down, I will always come back for you even if I were to die we'd meet again in ewya's paradise."

#atwow #avatar imagine #avatar #imagine #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #avatar the way of water #neteyam fic #Spotify