#picking the perfect shade of grey

[papiliotao]

・❥・IN CLASSROOM 143

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Aether, Albedo, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao

♡ — Synopsis: what is it like sitting next to them in class?

♡ — Content: fluff, high school AU, modern AU

♡ — A/N: classes were just better when I sat next to silly people. That's probably where I got the inspiration for this from. Have fun reading!

AETHER is the living definition of overcommitment. He's quite popular among your peers, so it's only natural that people are queuing up to ask him to join their clubs. Unfortunately, he's a bit people pleaser, so he can never find the heart to turn them down. From music to volleyball, Aether is involved in almost every extracurricular that the school has to offer, and as his desk partner in history class, you begin to notice the toll it’s taking on him.

It shows in the way he's always late and gasping for air as he sits down beside you. It shows in the way he turns to you and tiredly waves at you each class, offering you a weak smile that makes your heart skip a beat. And it shows in the way his honeyed eyes droop as he fights the temptation of slumber, all while your elderly teacher's droning voice lulls him into a state of tranquility.

He's fighting a losing battle, and he knows it. Each time the boy gives in to his weariness and lays his head on his desk to inevitably drift into the realm of dreams, his expression softens. He looks so content. You can never muster the willpower to wake him up, so instead, you leave him be and diligently take notes to share with him once class ends. After all, even someone as busy as Aether needs to set aside some time to rest in their strenuous schedule. The dark circles under his eyes tell you all you need to know about the amount of sleep he gets.

But there's no way the frigid surface of the table he uses as a makeshift pillow is comfortable, so one day, on an impulsive whim, you offer up your shoulder as a headrest instead. Aether agrees gratefully, and from then on, the sweet boy leans against you as he rests. His warm breath sends tingles down your spine, and his soft hair tickles your skin, and although his proximity makes it harder for you to take notes, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

ALBEDO, the boy who sits next to you in chemistry, is studious yet eccentric. He’s known for achieving nearly perfect grades by utilizing his unrivalled intellect, and he’s always the first person his peers go to for help with their schoolwork despite the fact that he’s rather introverted. As a result of his reserved demeanour, he almost never offers his aid to others first, but you’re the exception. 

Whenever you look as though you’re struggling, Albedo won’t hesitate to assist you. He almost appears a little too excited to talk to you, giving advice anytime he sees an opportunity to. It's gotten to the point where even your classmates have picked up on his eagerness to speak to you, and they have started speculating that the bright boy is infatuated with you. You can't deny the fact that the thought causes your heart to flutter, but you try your best not to get your hopes up, just in case your peers are mistaken. Besides, Albedo is rather difficult to understand anyway, so it wouldn't come as a shock if it turned out that his intentions were simply being misinterpreted.

One example of said contradictory behaviour on Albedo's part has to do with his participation during lessons. Despite his stellar academic performance, he has a habit of zoning out whenever a topic doesn’t interest him. In those instances, you notice that he pulls out a sketchbook and flips to a page half-filled with doodles and begins to meticulously scrawl on the paper. Soon, snowy white is dyed shades of grey and black, undergoing a metamorphosis that transforms it into the finest of portraits. You’re always curious as to what Albedo is drawing, but you’re never able to catch a clear glimpse. Whenever you look his way, he hastily shuts the book, concealing its contents as if he is guilty of a crime.

Unbeknownst to you, the ocean-eyed boy beside you is doodling the one he is infatuated with: you. His feelings ebb into his sketchbook, and his art captures every dip and curve of your face, encapsulating all your radiance with immaculate precision. And yet, he never overlooks your imperfections either — with his pencil acting as a catalyst, he records them in great detail. Albedo is in love with every single aspect of you, even your flaws, which arguably garner more adoration from the boy than any of your other features because they make you distinct — the brightest star in a galaxy full of wonders. Perhaps one day, he will be able to show you his works, but for now, he is more than content with silently admiring you.

Peculiarity is a trait best embodied by KAEDEHARA KAZUHA, the boy who sits next to you in English class. On the surface, he seems normal enough — although one could argue that he is abnormally pretty with his snowy white hair and eyes the colour of autumnal maple leaves. However, he is also strange in other ways. Six months of conversing with Kazuha have led you to the conclusion that he is most definitely odd, but not necessarily in a bad way.

Unlike most of your peers, Kazuha often appears to have his head in the clouds, daydreaming in a world that he has made entirely his own. There are times where he stares out the window, sighing wistfully as he gazes at the vivid azure sky overhead. On other occasions, he writes poems in the worn notebook he always carries around, hardly minding the way you look over his shoulder to get a glimpse of what he's writing. Most puzzling of all, however, is his tendency to absentmindedly stare at you in the middle of class. He doesn’t even have the shame to look away when you glance back at him. He just maintains eye contact and smiles at you, causing you to avert your gaze first.

Despite the fact that Kazuha is rather odd, he is still a polite and compassionate person. Whenever you allow him to proofread your assignments, he compliments your work in embellished words that bloom with praise, and he offers advice in a way that feels warm and genuine. You feel at ease with him — unafraid of being judged. However, sometimes guilt gnaws at you when you ask for Kazuha's help because he's always the one assisting you. He has nothing to gain, but he continues assisting you out of the kindness of his own heart.

That's why when Kazuha asks you to read over some of his poetry for the first time, you agree without hesitation. A quick scan of the page Kazuha directs you to causes you to raise your eyebrows. It's a love poem that is cryptically addressed to ‘the one I adore’. You can feel the affection Kazuha harbors toward the person mentioned in the poem just by reading it. When you ask Kazuha who it's for, he simply chuckles and asks if you like his poetry, effectively dodging your question. You decide to let him off easy and give him a half-hearted answer, pretending that you aren’t jealous of the person he likes.

Over the remainder of the year, Kazuha continues showing you his poetry and requesting input from you. Each time you read his impeccably-crafted works, you feel your heart race. His poems are spun from the stuff of dreams — sweeter than the cotton candy clouds that hang in the sky outside the classroom window.

Sometimes you like to entertain the idea that they could be for you, but you always shut the notion down before it can grow into a fully-developed thought, too insecure to believe someone as handsome and thoughtful as Kazuha could ever hold such feelings for you. 

When it comes time for the final English class of the year, you swear that you’ve read almost every form of poem in existence from sonnets to haikus to odes. On that particular day, you notice something different about Kazuha. He seems more fidgety than usual, and he has entirely lost his ability to zone out, instead becoming hyperaware of his surroundings. The smallest movements you make cause him to whip his head around to steal a glance at you.

You discover the reason behind his atypical behaviour at the end of class when he hands you a simple white envelope. When you open it, you find pages upon pages of poetry, causing you to experience a sudden epiphany.

The one he loved was you all along.

Raiden Kunikuzushi — more commonly known as SCARAMOUCHE — is living proof that pretty privilege exists. At least, that’s what you believe.

He’s infuriating. No matter how abhorrent you find the way he treats his friends (who are honestly more akin to acquaintances), they never stand up to him. They simply allow Scaramouche to walk all over them. It's like he's put them in a trance with his breathtaking eyes, which are filled with starlight and tinted an indigo reminiscent of the awe-inspiring night sky.

But despite the fact that he is admired by many, his relationships are purely superficial. To his peers, he is nothing more than a sight for sore eyes, and that is what keeps the bitterness of envious sentiments from swallowing you whole. You’ll never be jealous of Scaramouche because his popularity stems solely from his looks. 

His situation evokes a feeling of pity within the depths of your soul. The notion of your contempt for the boy still remains ingrained in your mind, but you also can’t help but pity him.

Perhaps that is what pushes you to sit beside him in your physics class on the first day of school when you notice that he is all alone. You have your reservations, but the way Scaramouche is scowling makes you think he’ll explode out of sheer rage if you don't take action.

Things start off slowly. He doesn't speak to you at first. You simply see him glancing suspiciously at you in your peripheral vision, as if he believes you have ulterior motives. However, the awkward tension becomes too much for you far too quickly, so on a typical day of classes, you decide to take your chances and pass him a note in the middle of a lesson, asking him how his day was.

When Scaramouche first sees your note, he frowns. It almost appears as though he's in disbelief because someone has taken an interest in him rather than his looks. Nonetheless, he decides to entertain you and promptly responds to you, writing a reply underneath your message in impressively neat handwriting. This sparks a conversation. One instance of the two of you passing notes in class turns to two — and two to three until you and Scaramouche are discreetly conversing each class.

Your inconspicuous discussions with Scaramouche lead you to learn more about him as a person. Whereas before you thought he was just a shallow pretty boy, now you know that he’s both cunning and witty. He never fails to make you laugh with his sarcastic comments, and despite the fact that he seems rather mean-spirited at times, you discover that once he opens up, he is more than capable of caring for others. Case in point: on days where you're feeling down, he (attempts) to tell you jokes to make you feel better, and he gives you the candy that his mother packs for him, claiming that he "doesn't like sweets anyway."

If only other people could take the time to get to know the real him. Underneath the veil of entrancing vanity and mystery that surrounds him, Scaramouche is a surprisingly entertaining and contemplative person.

However, for now, it seems that Scaramouche is more than content with the relationship he has with you. He doesn't care for any of his two-faced "friends." The only one he needs is you.

Fate has rather unconventional methods of bringing people together. There are times where you believe it is sentient, cutting, weaving, and pulling on the delicate threads that bind humans together with its steady hands.

Fate must be alive and working its magical because there is no other plausible explanation for how things ended up this way. All that is to say, some otherworldly force must have noticed your desperation to get closer to your longtime crush, XIAO, and finally decided to take pity on you.

It's crazy to think that one minuscule decision can shape the course of your entire relationship with someone, but your own experiences are indicating to you that there is some merit to the claim. After all, your computer science teacher's spontaneous choice to seat you next to Xiao is what kindles the first sparks of your relationship with him.

It all starts with music. At first, Xiao doesn’t attempt to converse with you. He seems adamant on retaining his introverted ways. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to you; he's just inexperienced when it comes to socialization. So instead of making an effort to talk to you, he simply grabs a pair of earbuds and listens to his favourite songs whenever the teacher gives the class time to work.

This all changes when you muster the courage to ask him what he’s listening to. The way his eyes widen that fateful day, gazing at you with surprise evident in his pools of amber, is something you’ll never forget.

After all the silence on his end, you still want to talk to him? He is touched by your resolve, but he is also afraid of being too blunt, so instead of giving you an overly-verbose response, he asks you if you want to listen with him, offering you one of his earbuds. Xiao's heart jumps when you accept with an endearing smile. From then on, the two of you bond over music, and Xiao begins feeling comfortable enough to speak to you.

Gradually, years of distance and rigid formality vanish. Hushed conversations at the back of a sunlit classroom, shy waves from across cramped hallways, and accidental touches of his hands to yours replace the barriers that once separated the two of you. A once hopeless situation gives way to a radiant future as you finally begin getting closer to the boy you've pined over for as long as you can remember.

Sorry if there are mistakes. I feel like I'm making this worse each time I edit it :( Either way, thank you for reading and have a fantastic day/night!

#r.archives *ೃ༄ #aether x reader #albedo x reader #xiao x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kazuha x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons

[swiftries]

NEW INTERESTS

summary: as business woman barbie, you had to be quite serious and uptight about your field of work. so when you couldn't make it sleepover night, which wasn't unexpected of course ꒰but nevertheless꒱ , stereotypical barbie comes to check up on you.

warning/s: top! barbie, bottom! reader, no smut, but it's implied, fluff/comfort, tired reader, talk of depression, swearing, not proofread, pretend they have genitals btw.

word count: forgot to check lmao

authors note: hi hi hii ! first post omg? i just watched the new barbie movie and..im fucking obsessed, i swear i missed half the movies dialogue tho cause i was admiring margot's gorgeous face. anyway i thought what if we had a super stressed, borderline depressed barbie who just needed a break from her thoughts ? enjoy pookies ! ୨♡୧

+ btw men dni.

navigation ! | ୨♡୧

the wheels of your pastel pink car came to a stop in your driveway as you sluggishly dragged yourself out of the drivers seat. another long day, another girls night you couldn't deal with. bright lights illuminated the moving bodies on the vast dance floor, pointed stilettos tapping and turning swiftly as stiff hands clapped and clicked to the music.

clutching your purse, you moved across the dance floor, avoiding flapping arms and desperate kens in need of a dance partner. as you got to the last section of your mission, you felt a pair of eyes on you, a pair of eyes that were too familiar for you to shake off. looking over to your far left you found a set ocean blue eyes staring right back at you. the one and only stereotypical barbie. the perfect one, the main bitch of barbieland acknowledging your presence.

conversations between the two of you were very scarce. with you having a very busy work life and her having none at all, you never crossed paths that much. but living right across from her was a given, so conversations at times were necessary.

brushing off the nervous feeling that had crept up on you, you silently scolded yourself for the rosy blush that had quickly painted your cheeks. once again, clutching your purse tighter, you resumed your journey to your apartment in the lively dreamhouse.

the scratched door creaked open as you released your grip on the plastic doorknob. in any other room you can pretty much expect bright pinks and yellows and lovely colors..but not yours. in fact it wasn't the case at all.

black scribble lines all over formerly hot pink walls, torn up grey bed sheets, deflated pillows, a bedside rug that was once a lovely shade of baby blue now a murky lake green, and scratches, whoever was messing with this room had a no sense for care, as this room, this room was desecrated with scratches and marks.

sighing, you flopped unto the creaky mattress, the back of your knees hitting the plastic bed structure. reaching over to your achy feet, you pulled off the black heels that had been causing you anguish the whole day.

dropping your heels, you unzipped your pale pink silk dress, one of the very rare bright pieces of clothing you had left. flinging it over to the other side of the room, you tapped over to your closet, the once shiny, luxurious white structure, scribbled on and vandalised; stripped of its pride. you looked through the distressed drawer that had been left open from the mornings' rush. music flooded into the silence of your room as picked out navy blue pyjama bottoms and a tight fitted white tank top.

as if by magic (no pun intended) , your desired clothing adorned your slim body as you strolled over to your bed, plopping yourself on it and sinking into the mattress.

thoughts clouded your mind like a raging storm, keeping you a prisoner of your own mind. weird barbie said this would happen a lot more so it shouldn't have been unexpected. but it still hit you like a brick every time the thought of stereotypical barbie flooded your head. her plump lips, the crystal blue eyes that locked you in a trance at the slightest glance and her hair, oh god her hair. you just wanted to run your fingers through the golden curls. you wanted to tangle your fingers in it, you wanted to ruin it, you hated how perfect it was.

you hated her. you hated how ken adored her, how everyone was so goddamn drawn to her, it was like the town revolved around her jobless ass. you wanted her. you needed her. you needed her to need you. but you had your ken and she had hers, and that was that.

the last person who uttered a word about a barbie and a barbie or a ken and a ken was weird barbie and look how she turned out. it's not like you weren't weird yourself, with your heels dropping, thoughts about death, uncanny interests in barbie , your burnt waffles and messed up room and messed up clothes, you were borderline line outcast. you just hadn't been sent to the weird house yet.

'it's only a matter of time though'. you thought shutting your eyes. the late nights and early mornings catching up to you.

it only seemed like a few minutes before you felt the opposite side of your bed sink and a warm hand on your icy shoulder. shrieking, you leaped into an upright position, very nearly hitting your head on your heart shaped headboard.

"jesus! what the hell.." you came to an abrupt stop as you looked over to your side meeting a very dear set of eyes. "look, i'm sorry for barging in so randomly, i know you were sleeping and you're a very busy woman and-" the words mushed together in your head as you focused on her pouty lips. you would let her talk for hours on end if it meant seeing those lips move.

"it's okay." you stated, the corners of your lips turning up. "really? i mean i could leave honestly! it's no biggie..i mean if you want me stay i could?" the icy blonde rambled meeting your gaze softly. "i promise your fine." you assured her shuffling a bit, suddenly feeling very naked.

"so why are you here?" you questioned, sinking back into the comfort of your duvet. dropping your gaze, she fiddled with her velvet night gown, undoing the strings and redoing them. "..well i don't know, you looked more down than usual and you at least make it to the nail painting sessions in my room, but today you missed the whole night altogether." barbie confessed, searching your y/e/c eyes for reasons.

"i know, but-" "you promised." she stated, cutting your flimsy excuse short. "i'm sorry. i've just- i've had some things on my mind as of recent." you explained, your eyes looking at barbies' room across from yours.

“ what type of thoughts?” you raised your eyebrow at her answering her question silently. “right. too far… sorry.” she blushed, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears. an uncomfortable silence filled the room as barbie crossed her legs, moving dangerously close to you.

clearing your throat, you glanced at her figure, letting the image cloud your senses. the curve of her hips to the sharp cut of her jawline, she really was the perfect barbie.

“i have thoughts about death too.” barbie whispered. you didn’t reply so she continued “all the time actually. they’re more frequent than they used to be. i thought maybe someone felt the same way as me so i shared it during the dance party downstairs, but, they just looked at me like i was.. weird.”

your heart rate tripled as you gazed up at her. she looked so.. vulnerable. all this time you had thought you were alone in this paradise. you thought of yourself as the elephant in the room. but there was a chance that the one person you thought was perfect, was just as fucked up as you.

“i’m so sorry, i’m gonna leave now-” “stay.” you muttered connecting your eyes with hers. “what?” the blonde asked, a bewildered look on her face. “i think about death too. maybe we have more in common than we thought.” you explained, running your fingers through your y/h/c haphazardly layered hair.

grinning immediately barbie sat back down, babbling instantly. and you did what anyone would do if they were in that same situation, you stared at her with hearts in your eyes, smiling broadly.

only mattel knew how you ended up sprawled across your bed with barbie straddling your lap, braiding chunks of your hair. who knew depressive thoughts could bond two dolls like this?

“your eyes are so pretty.” you murmured gazing up into her ocean blues. blushing she retorted : “oh shut up.” , but you could tell from her scarlet cheeks and darting eyes that she appreciated the compliment.

“can i kiss you?” you blurted, not being able to hold yourself back. barbie stared at you, her eyes glistening. preparing yourself for rejection you opened your mouth only to have it shut by pillowy lips.

stars behind your eyelids, in fact a whole constellation. gliding your fingers up the small of her back, you reciprocated the kiss as she cupped your face softly. biting your bottom lip, she explored your mouth slowly. sucking on your tongue, she extracted a well deserved moan out of you.

“fuck y/n” she groaned, grinding on you. moaning desperately, you fervently moved your hands around her body as she pulled away. breathing heavily you both stared at each other lovingly. “the others will hear..” she commented, returning to fiddling with your hair. agreeing, you smirked as she looked at your lips.

“i better go then. i don’t want you tired tomorrow, busy work life and all.” the blonde remarked as she slowly stood up. “mhm” you retorted, as you let your eyes wander all over her body.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, sleep well okay?” she stated, looking over at you as she got to the door. “i will.” you grinned, snuggling into your comforter. and at that she giggled as she closed your door, the echo of her voice promising you of better days. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🩰 ꒱ ˎˊ˗

#important stuff ! #🎀 #new fic ! #margot robbie #margot robbie smut #fluff #margot robbie barbie #ken barbie #mattel #barbie x reader #swiftries #barbenheimer

[starieq]

“Lovin her seems tiring..” part 1

Taggies/ warnings; Pro!HeroKats, cheating, fingering, creampie, blowjob, ridding, cumming, squirting, swearing, mention of sex toys, dirty talk, titty fuck, drinking, drunk messaging, dry humping.

a/n: i had a little to much fun with the Taggies/warnings, lmao!: hello! Tysm for all the damn love! I honestly feel really happy I decided to make an account cuz I’d just go on tumblr and read bkg fics. Some of my favorites have liked Stuffie animals and some followed me, which oml🥹 but i’am really just on here to make people’s day and make some new friends:D enjoy my first 18+ fic and tell me what anime characters or characters I should write abt! Love ya! 🤭🫶🏼

part 2!

You’ve been working with Katsuki Bakugo, aka, the more professional word, “Dynamight” for a few months now. As his pretty little assistant, you have to deal with his bull shitting, make meetings for him, make meeting PLANS with other pro heros, schedule trips for him and his little bitch of a girlfriend, Kira. God you fucking hate her. You don’t really wanna admit that you have a big crush on Dynamight, but only your diary knows that information. But, you get why he chose her. She has the perfect long black silk hair that hangs out with her ass, glossy lips, pretty dark green eyes, slim hourglass figure, and perfect pale skin. But, you also don’t know why the fuck he chose her, because all she does on her free time is spend Bakugos money on stuff she wants. You’re also pretty positive she spent some of his money on a fucking boob job. 

You come home to your cute apartment to your cat Loki, stretching on your leg begging to be carried and snuggle up with his favorite human in the world. If you’re feeling in the mood, you’d pick him up and put him on the little bed by the window where he spends most of his time sleeping, when  you two get up, sleeping when you’re getting ready for work, and sleeping when you’re at work. 

Anyways, you’re in the mood to just sit in your bed, legs spread wide, with your box of toys next to you. head propped up on some pillows while your vibration toy is on your puffy sensitive clit thinking of Bakugo pushing his redish pink angry head through your sensitive folds while you’re moaning his name. 

“F-fuck..! C-cant.. f-fucking take i-it! Bak- mh~ Bakugo!” You moan. The white bed sheets turning a light shade of grey. 

You take a look down in between your legs to see what just happened. You’ve never squirted before? Usually your clit would just throb. You swipe off hair from your forehead when you hear your phone ringing. 

You scramble out of the bed to get to your phone which was across the room. 

:caller ID; Dynamight🧡💥:

“Shit!” You whisper yell as you tried to swipe answer.

“Hello? y/n speaking,” you say trying to sound professional and calm since you just fucking squirted.

“Fuckin know who you are.” Bakugo grumbles.

“Sorr-“ Bakugo cuts you off.

“Need ya to schedule a hotel for me and you. Got a fuckin mission in Tokyo and ya need to come with.” He says with an annoyed voice.

“I-“ you get cut off again, but with a girls voice.

“Katsuki! I need more laced bras! Ugh, you’re so cheap! Gimme your card now! And who the fuck are you on call with? Trynna cheat on me while I’m in the same fucking room as you right now?!??” 

You’re guessing that’s Kira. God she’s annoying. She’s obviously a fucking gold digger out for his fame and money. You’d be so much better to him unlike his bratty girlfriend.

“I’m on the fuckin phone with my damn assistant brat! I don’t give two fucks if ya need laced ass bras! Leave me the fuck alone woman!” Bakugo yells. 

“Make the fuckin reservations tonight.” The last sentence he said before hanging up. 

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki bakugo #bakugo #bakugo katuski #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #reader x katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #kacchan #bnha #mha

[jksprincess10]

I’m starvin’ darling || Dbf!Joel and reader

I’m blaming @itgetsdark-x​ for this. Heavily inspired by one of her ideas.

A/N: No outbreak. Joel lost his wife and daughter. 

CW: Smut (MDNI) Age gap (reader in her mid twenties, Joel in his 40s), squirting, face riding. 

Joel had been employed at your dad’s construction company for the last 5 years. After he lost his daughter and his wife, he let go of his own company he had with his brother as it was too much pressure for him. He seemed happy, working for your dad. They had become best friends. And when you came back home from studying in another state to become a teacher, you met him.

A gentleman in his 40s, dark brown curls greying in some spots. He had a nicely trimmed beard and kind eyes. Very charismatic and charming. You were attracted to him and insanely lonely for a girl in your mid-twenties. But surely, it was just a stupid girly crush.

You’d see him a lot as you were living with your lonely dad, taking care of him while trying to find a steady contract as a teacher. It had always been respectful, distant.

Until it wasn’t.

A month ago, he picked you up almost black-out drunk from a bar when your dad was already deep asleep. You had kissed in his pick-up truck in front of the house. After that, you kept seeing each other, but never addressing the nature of your relationship. You wanted all of him, and you took every crumb of his self he gave you, whether it was lazy kissing or heavy sex. You wanted it all.

It was the worst idea. But you were indulging in it, living in your obscene bubble until it would actually pop and break everyone around you. You would steal kisses in the kitchen when your dad wasn’t looking, you would spend the night at his place to give him some release when he finished late at the worksite.

Today, you had to leave the bubble you made up to be in public with him. You had to keep a respectful distance. It was an important event, your dad’s company’s annual barbecue. You were coming to help, and well, it was also at your house.

It was a warm summer day in Texas, the shining sun was high in the sky and the heat didn’t come only from seeing your lover.

You were wearing a sweet summer dress. It was a shade of dark green and decorated with flowers. You had put up your hair and laced it with a bow, which made you look like the sweet, innocent girl you weren’t. But this look was popular with your colleagues and got you loads of compliments, so you would know it would make Joel fall to his knees.

You were offering smiles and hugs in your backyard while your dad was already working the BBQ. You were always popular with your dad’s employees; they all loved you. Joel was keeping a protective eye on you from a distance, sipping on his beer.

“Anyone want more drinks? I’ll go inside and grab some.” You offered.

A lot of people raised their hand and thanked you.

“Le’mme help you out, sweetheart. You can’t bring all that by yourself.”

Joel. You smiled sweetly at him and offered your thanks as the two of you went back inside the house, the freshness of the kitchen tiles on your bare feet.

He looked around to make sure you two were alone and grabbed your waist to steal a kiss from you. Your hands laid flat on his chest, feeling the soft cotton fabric of his t-shirt.

“You look fuckin’ amazing, darlin’. Can’t wait to have you all for myself.”

You pulled on his shirt to bring him closer to you and got up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“Y’know the best part? I’m not wearing anything under it.”

He hummed in response and went for another kiss, but you pulled away with a teasing smile. You turned to the fridge and bent down to grab a fresh pack of beers, giving him a perfect view of your naked behind. You turned around before he could say anything and shoved the beer pack in his arms. You took another one and went back to the backyard. He looked so frustrated with you. You knew you were playing a dangerous game and frankly, the adrenaline you got from it made your heart race.

The two of you went back to the backyard and you served the beers to everyone who wanted one.

The party usually lasted until late at night. You had barely finished your diner and you just wanted to leave with Joel, but you had to be patient.

***

The sun was replaced by the stars and the music was blasting in the backyard. Drunken men were dancing, including your dad. You couldn’t help but laugh at your old man.

“Oh my god dad, you’re embarrassing me. ”

“Come on, my sweet daughter, dance with me!”

You got up to oblige, twirling in your dress. Joel was looking at you two with a smile and he could sometimes catch the glimpse of your soft curves. You shot him a sweet and innocent smirk.

Another man took you from your dad’s arms. He was the son of another employee, and you couldn’t care less about this white skinny guy, but you tried to. Only to make Joel jealous. Your bodies flowed together, and you were closer than you should’ve been. Arms intertwined behind the man’s neck, you had a perfect view of your lover’s grumpy expression. You saw him mouth “Just you wait.” And you smiled brightly at him. When your dance partner asked what you were doing after, you simply said you’d be busy. And God, you would be.

***

Finally, you found the stillness and silence of your home. Your dad had already gone up to his room and he was probably snoring, long gone after the number of beers he took. Joel had stayed to help you clean, well… that was his excuse. But you two knew you were the reason he stayed.

The second your duties were finished, he was all over you, hands grabbing at every inch of skin he could find, mouth altering between kissing your lips and leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck. You breathed heavily against him, even more as you felt his fingers playing with the edge of your dress.

“You fuckin’ tease… Couldn’t stand seeing that guy all over you…” His fingers creeped under the dress to brush against your burning heat. “ Couldn’t stand knowing you were naked under there for me.”

You pushed him to your bedroom that was on the ground floor, before locking the door behind your hungry bodies. Your lips smashed against his, all teeth and no delicateness. Frankly, you hated waiting so long for you two to be alone. But every time, the waiting was worth the wait.

Joel laid his back on your bed, pulling you on top of him without breaking the kiss. You could feel every inch of his body against the thin fabric of your dress, but still, you wanted more. You wanted to crawl into his skin, so he’d never forget you.

Strong hands met your ass and pushed until you were straddling his neck. You looked down at him, terrified. You had never done this and suddenly, you felt self-conscious of every inch of your body.

It was like Joel read your mind.

“C’mon darling, I’m starving. I’m taking care of you tonight.”

You inhaled sharply.

“Don’t want to kill you.”

“Stop being ridiculous and c’me here.”

He gave you another strong push so you would sit on his face. His hands came down to lift your dress again. He left a kiss on your throbbing heat, and you whined at the feeling. You had thought about him touching you all day and you were so sensitive.

“You’re beautiful in this dress. All for me.”

He licked a stripe up your pussy. One of your hands found his curls and the other one grabbed on the bed’s headboard. Finally, you completely committed and sat on his mouth.

“That’s my good girl.” He praised.

His gorgeous nose was pressing against your clit as his tongue was fucking your hole. Every movement of his head stimulated every inch of you. Your hips moved against him, looking for more friction. 

You were ridiculously close even though you had just started. His name fell quietly from your opened lips.

“M’close, Joel…”

You leaned into his touch, both hands on the headboard, as you were falling apart. White flashed before your eyes and a ball was coming undone in your stomach. Even though you had your orgasm, he kept going, pushing your sensitive body to find its limits.

“C’mon darlin’, I know you can give me more than that.”

His tongue circled your clit while one of his fingers came up to stimulate you from the inside. He curled his finger inside of your body. You concentrated on every sensation he gave you and it wasn’t long until you gave him more. This time, the feeling was different, more intense. He kept working you through your orgasm, drinking every drop of you.

Finally, you fell beside him, and you looked horrified as you saw the mess you had made. Your pillowcase and Joel’s face were ruined. Joel wiped his mouth and turned to meet your gaze.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” You apologized, cheeks burning.

“Don’t. It’s normal, and it’s hot.”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Wanna go again?” He whispered and you nodded enthusiastically. You were drunk on him, and you wanted every drop of pleasure he could give you. He went down on your body, lifting the dress to your waist.

“But, you – ”

“We have all night, sweetheart.”

His face disappeared between your thighs once again.

#joel miller smut #joel miller fanfictions #joel miller x yn #joel miller x reader #dbf joel miller #dbf joel

[cloudysleepingzone]

Heya^^ could we possibly get some romantic hcs about dazai, atsushi, and possibly fyodor with a artist s/o, they sometimes doodle on unimportant papers when the meetings are way too boring for them , and sometimes when they have free time they draw their lover in their sketchbook, maybe a painting or two of their lover <3 anyways love your writing and don't forget to hydrate! Have a wonderful day or night!!

BSD with an Artist S/O

Decided to add Chuuya and Tecchou due to a very similar request!

Contents : Dazai, Atsushi, Fyodor, Chuuya and Tecchou x Reader (separate), gender neutral reader (they/them used), fluff, suggestive for Dazai's part and sorta Tecchuu? Not really. Pet Names.

Dazai Osamu

Doesn't matter what your drawing, he's watching.

Can you blame him though? He just loves watching his lover just doing something they enjoy!

If you draw him he will start acting like a dramatic prince for a solid 10 minutes.

"(Name), draw me like one of your French girls~"

You sit quietly at your desk, the surface covered with your sketchbook and a handful of pencils and pens. "Belllaaa~!" Though your peace is interrupted by your loving boyfriend trying to get out of doing his job again. "What are you drawing beautiful?" He leans over you, his arms wrapping around you from behind as he props his chin on your shoulder. The sketchbook page had small doodles of the two of you, mostly just small cute doodles of holding hands, Dazai tilts his head slight to the side, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. "You know, if you need any ideas you could always draw us with less clothes~"

Atsushi Nakajima

Our sweet boy

He's so supportive of your work he loves seeing the look on your face when you make something your proud of

You draw him? Oh boy...he can't even form words

"You're getting even better sweetheart, you keep improving!"

Your a mess, your finger tips covered in different shades of blue and grey, just like the tip of your paintbrush. Atsushi was behind the canvas, laying comfortably on your shared bed with a soft smile on his lips. "Am I doing alright? I'm not moving too much?" He was doing an amazing job. A perfect job. "Your doing good sweetheart, I'm almost done". You've drawn him from memory plenty of times before, but it feels so much more romantic with him right in front of you. "You look really pretty when your focused..." He mumbles under his breath, even if your the one painting him, he's the one doing the most admiring <3

Fyodor Dostoevsky

To a non familiar eye he seems completely uninterested or even annoyed at your interests. But that's far from true

He adores your work though he sucks at showing it

Got a piece you're really proud of? Yep he's putting it in a fancy frame

You? Drawing him? Aren't you just a sweetheart...

It was already late at night, the curtains had been drawn and you were currently in the shower. Meanwhile your husband Fyodor was already dressed in something more comfortable and was waiting for his dear. Fyodors finger tips gently run over the cover of your current sketch book, which laid on top of a desk in your shared bedroom. He picks up the sketchbook, flipping through the pages slowly before a certain page catches his eye, a page seemingly dedicated to just him. His normally cold and hard gaze softens a bit at the sight, some being full line art and color and others being simple messy doodles. His admiring is interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening. "Sweetheart what are you doing?". Your husband gently closes your sketchbook, setting it down onto the expensive hard work surface. "Just admiring your work my dear..."

Chuuya Nakahara

New art supplies? He's buying it. You want a new set of expensive as hell paint brushes? Pfft, pocket change.

If you even mention getting into a new form of art he's already handing you his credit card without another question.

"It looks pretty already doll, make sure to show me when it's done yea?"

Like Fyodor, he puts his favorite pieces in fancy frames <3

You walk into Chuuya's at home office, not bothering to knock (not like he minds) "Chuuya, I finished that painting you wanted to see!" He slowly turns his chair around, a small smirk on his face, completely ignoring his task of sorting through files for now. "Let me see it babe". You turn the canvas around, showing him your paintwork you've spent a few weeks on. He stand from his seat, walking up to you and placing a gloved hand on your cheek, planting a loving kiss on the other. "It looks beautiful sweetheart, just like you. I'll be hanging it up." Chuuya had already started a small selection of your art that was displayed in fancy gold and silver frames over a fireplace, in the style as if they were million dollar paintings. To him they may as well be, to him your art is priceless. Your priceless.

Tecchou Suehiro

You could make something weird and he'll like it

He will just silently watch you draw whatever, doesn't matter what.

"That looks good sweetheart"

Drawing him? God I don't know if his heart can take something so sweet!

Here you are, sitting on your boyfriend's back while he does sit ups. It was actually pretty normal at this point. The only sounds in the room was the huffs coming from Tecchuu throat and the sounds of pencil scratching against paper. "Hm...maybe I should draw you like this, it would be pretty good anatomy practice" you quickly sketch up some messy line art you can fix later, shifting slightly to show Tecchuu. "Huff Looks good" Despite the slight strain in his muscles he's able to respond pretty easily. I get up from your seat on his back, letting him get up with a groan before stretching his arms. Moving your pencil back to the paper, you continue to look from your boyfriend to the paper back and forth. "This is a bit better" you your sketch book around, it was just a simple sketch of his muscular figure but it was like fine art in his eyes. "You've been improving a lot haven't you?"

#fanfic #fluff #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd fanfic #atsushi x reader #request #atsushi nakajima x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #fanfiction #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd tecchou #tecchou x reader #bungou stray dogs tecchou #tecchou suehiro x reader

[euaphoric]

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ pairing — painter!jungkook x f!reader, best friends to lovers

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ warnings — fluff, diet smut, body painting, jk is such a sweetie pie (Uᴖ⋏ᴖU) <33, jk loves boobies hehe

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

he told you this would only take an hour max, but here you are 2.5 hours later still sitting in the same position that you were obligated not to move from. “koo, how much longer is this gonna take?” you sigh out of boredom, hugging your legs while your head rests between your knees. jungkook was taking his sweet little time with this painting, he needed everything to be absolutely perfection. he really thought an hour was all he needed but during the process he realized his eye for detail was much more critical than usual. “just stay still and look pretty for a tad bit more please, almost done i swear.” he says, darting eyes focused solely on the creation he’s making in front of him. gliding his brush along your spine, the softness of the bristles struck you with a tingly sensation from the paint he was layering onto your back. you were letting him use you as his final art project, he wanted to deviate from the norm and use a human body as his canvas and who wouldn’t be more perfect for that then his beautiful best friend? he’s known you for years, since as long as you both could remember, even going so far as to attending the same university. as time went on you’ve grown to be more than comfortable with him; but this was on another level of intimate. you felt too exposed with your bare back facing him but he didn’t make you feel weird about it which put your mind at ease. you were completely at his disposal to fulfill the vision he wanted and you couldn’t let him down no matter what. you’re not quite sure how you ended up agreeing to this but he was pretty good at convincing you to do things for him. “you’ve said that for the gazillionth time now, im getting hungryyy.” you whine. “shh, you’ll get to eat soon! i told you i would treat you to a meal right after this didn’t i? patience is key sugarplum.” there he goes with that damn nickname, he used to say it to make you cringe but now you find yourself endeared by the term. he took his angled brush to pick up a shade of lilac, adding a grey-ish pale blue tint to it, fluorescent pigments of yellows and oranges adorned your bleak skin.

surprisingly you didn’t mind this at all (minus you being super hungry), you didn’t mind the feeling of the brush against you, it was almost relaxing in a way. he was being really gentle with you as he promised, he didn’t talk much during it since he was so highly engrossed in his artistic endeavors. at least he was kind enough to play music in the background, you softly hummed the lyrics to ‘nights’ by frank ocean. you had no clue what the end result will be be and the wait was only getting longer and longer, the curiosity was killing you. “okay, donee you’re free to go now bub.” he announces, “you did so great for me!” giving you a head pat with traces of dry paint still on his fingers. “whoo! fucking finally, i’ve been starving!” you attempt to leap off the bed but he pulls you by the arm “wait, wait need to take some pics first!” he says, stopping you from going any further. he pulls out his phone to snap a few shots of his artwork, “this is probably the most beautiful piece i’ve ever done by far, thank you so much for letting me do this with you y/n.” you giggle at his immense amount of gratitude he was showing, “of course kook, that’s what homies are for right?” “right, homies…” his voice sounding a bit sulky when he said that. “can i see the photo you took?” you ask, you’ve been waiting for this reveal since he’s talked about it. he nods and hands you his phone, “let me know what you think.” your eyes set on the screen in front of you, it was no secret he was a highly talented artist but this was absolutely absurd. you couldn’t believe how intricate and beautifully he was able to capture such an image — his work was otherworldly astonishing. the scenery was of a deep indigo sea below the falling sunset, blends of periwinkle, magenta, and ivory in the sky; the silhouette of a woman’s body in the forefront, looking off into the distance. it was better than anything you’d expected, his work deserved its own showcase within itself.

“wow koo this is…” you had trouble finding the right words to even praise him, “this is stunning, how are you so talented at literally everything you do?” he chuckled, “thanks love and i’m only good at it because i practiced a lot over time, i wouldn’t have been able to do this without you though sugarplum.” he uses that little name yet again. “so, when can i put my shirt back on…?” you wonder, feeling a tiny bit awkward still covering your chest. “it’s still drying, it’ll dry fast though just give it like 5 more minutes sweetheart.” what the hell is his problem today, what’s with all the pet names all of a sudden? you turn to face him, a wide smile plastered on his face as he still looks at the photos. you could sense how proud he was through his mannerisms, you could read him like a book. “you know what i’ve always wanted to paint on?” he asks you, glancing up from his phone. “what?” “breasts, they’re so pretty!” of course he’d say that, your best friend could be a total perv sometimes. you slap his arm playfully after that comment, “you’re such a dork!” “yeah but i’m your dork.” he smirks. he was so cute it hurts. “could i try painting on yours?” he wasn’t meant to actually say that out loud. you paused for a minute, thinking whether or not he’s just joking with you but by the tone of his voice it didn’t sound like he was. “you.. wanna paint on my boobs?” you definitely understood him the first time but shock was getting the best of you. “pretty much, yeah.” he openly admits, “only if you’re comfortable with it though of course!” he felt his cheeks get hotter the more he talks. “i mean- this won’t be weird for you at all? you’re my best friend.” i guess now was a good time to finally come out with it, “i love you y/n.” “awe, i love you too koo.” “no, no, not like that… for fucks sake i’ve been in love with you for so many years!” there was no use in hiding it anymore, it was either this or live the rest of his life in pain and suffering. “and you’re just telling me this now?” you said, dumbfounded by his confession. “you didn’t ever think it was obvious? i was waiting for the right moment but it just never came.. well, until now.”

you should’ve known all along if you’d actually paid attention but your oblivious nature would blind you to believe it be something else. he’s always been your ideal type, even though you’ve never explicitly said it, you know once you do this there’s no turning back. “okay, i’ll let you paint on them.” “wait- really?” his eyes lit up with solar systems in them, feeling like he just struck rare gold. you nod, slowly unveiling your arms from covering your chest. jungkook watches you in awe, he thinks you were handcrafted by the angels above themselves, everyday you manage to make him fall even harder. you were sat near the edge of bed as he admires your figure, taking in the very sight of your raw beauty. “you’re so gorgeous y/n..” he husks, grabbing your hand to pepper butterfly kisses along them, all the way up to your arm. “everything about you is art to me.” he brought you closer in his distance, pulling you into a deep kiss as he gropes your thigh. your hands wander down his back while holding you firmly, sliding his fingers gracefully up and down. giggling into his mouth from the ticklish feeling on your thighs, taking that as an opportunity to slip his tongue in. in this moment, you still couldn’t believe you’re kissing your best friend, but oddly enough it felt natural. you both stayed like that for ages, kissing and enjoying the way you both taste, this all feels like a fever dream to him. once jungkook pulled away he left both you and him breathless, panting heavy as he brings his hands to fiddle with your perked breasts. he sensed a second pulse in his pants, it didn’t take much for him to be turned on by you at all. “so perfect..” he breathes against your neck tauntingly, “just for me.” he’s always loved physical touch but this was foreign to you, you’ve never imagined the hands of your best friend wrapped around your breasts, playing with them and sucking on your hard nipples. cute moans escape your mouth from it being agape, you run your fingers through his blonde mane as you look down at him taking your whole titty in his mouth. he looks so pretty underneath you. when he breaks away your chest glistens with his spit and saliva, however, it’ll soon be covered up with more paint.

jungkook found you so breathtaking. that’s why he scrambled to the idea of making you a part of his art project, he wanted to create something unique and special to him. after you’ve been making out for what seemed like hours, he shifted his attention back to the task at hand. he grabbed his palette with premium paints and squeezes just enough out to make sure none of the colors goes to waste. he dips his inked finger into the fiery crimson hue, applying the cold substance to your left breast, making you yelp. he smirks, biting his lip at your etherealness. he twirls his finger around your nipple, creating intricate patterns with the saturated varnish. you’ve never felt more beautiful, his love for art and you combined gave him a life worth living. another color gets added to the mix, a bright turquoise, this time dragging his fingers across the side of your non painted chest. you shiver from his touch easily, the sensitivity of it all being too much for you. your eyes close at the feeling, vibrational frequencies leave your whole body quivering. “fuck koo…” you moan as every molecule in you feels shaky. “yes sugarplum?” he asks, looking up at you with doe eyes. “i love when you call me that..” your breathy pants were giving jungkook all the more reason to want to smother you right now. “i’ll always call you that beloved, don’t worry.” he assures, “and to think you used hate that nickname, tchh i knew you secretly liked when i called you that.” his fingers smear more bold paint onto your breasts, he could do this all day if he could. the sounds of your moans coexisting with the music was a harmony in heaven. jungkook loved you so much it hurt, “you mean so much to me, you have no idea..” he said, placing another kiss to your delicate lips, “i’m beyond crazy about you y/n, i’ll do anything for you.” his lips travel over to your chin, pecking the sides. “hmm really, anything?” you question the validity, watching him mix more colors together. “yes babydoll.” he coos, eager for your response. “oki, i’ll tell you but you’ll have to feed me first— then want you to paint something else after.”

@genkima ִֶָꨄˎˊ˗

#jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #jk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook imagines

[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

[wannaeatramyeon]

I just thought what type of personality is thier child like and what type of dad they are.

Example: Daniel's child will be a chubby child like he is, probably shy and cute child. Daniel would be a dad that give confident to his child so they won't exprience hardship like and also both of them will have a shenanigans of eating in the middle of the night.

Gun's child would be mini Gun but doesn't look for fight like his dad. You can say the child is more of gentleman than Gun tendency. The child probably be like "Mom, How and why did you marry dad" Points at thier father who is rampaging in fight.

Thanks for the ask Sam and sorry it's taken so long 😭

Agree with your HC altho I wonder if Daniel might swing too much the other way being a health nut (after all the bullying and Lookism) and you would have to help him find a happy medium??

Lookism Boys as dads + what their kid is like

Wow that's a mouthful. HC for Jake Kim, Samuel Seo, Warren Chae, Goo Kim, Ryuhei Kuroda, Eugene, Vasco, Zack Lee, Johan Seong

General HC

Most would take after their dad and be at least adept with fighting

Unless specified they would turn out pretty ok. We all know the flaws these men have (except Jake he can do no wrong 🙏) so the coparent needs to balance that out

Jake and Samuels kids would be bff, much to chagrin of Samuel lol. He ends up seeing Jake far too much for his liking but his kid is happy so what can he do

Warren's kid and Yenna bff. Duh

Goo's and Ryuhei's hate each other at first. Always getting each other into trouble. Until. Wow, think of the chaos we can cause TOGETHER

Gun's kid IMO would probably get on with someone like Eugene's. But would be hilarious if they got swept into the Vasco/Zack/Johan dynamic

Eugene's is a bit of a loner. All the fancy upbringing means they have connections and networks rather than close friends 😔

Vasco's, Zack's and Johan's would be like siblings. Constantly pick on and insult each other. They're allowed to. But if someone joins in - WTF DID YOU JUST SAY?? YOU WANNA FIGHT?

Jake Kim

As a dad

Listen. I don't know whether my levels of delusion are way off with this man but he can do no wrong. He would be the best dad, best househusband. He would be harsh but fair and sooo much fun. Unfortunately your kid would be spoilt rotten with all the Big Deal Uncles and Auntie.

The kid

Like father like son/daughter. Absolute unwavering sense of right and wrong, maybe sometimes not too understanding of the shades of grey. A confident kid and heartbreaker - not purposely tho but their rizz will be off the charts like their dad. Of course a natural born leader. That runs in the family too.

Warren Chae

As a dad

Oof. If you thought he was protective over Sally then you have another thing coming. Needs a bit of talking around to give them their freedom and experiences. Apart from that you really can't complain. Warren has an infinite amount of patience. Also reads to them all the time to stop himself missing out words.

The kid

The cutest kind-hearted little soul! Would just be so nice and sweet! Super well adjusted and surrounded by loving adults (Hostel), and also Grandpa Manager Kim. Yknow the kids who are also constantly dirty? Like constant speck of dirt on their face? Yeah also that.

Samuel Seo

As a dad

It might be better if you're a single parent because he is gonna pass on some gnarly generational trauma. Your child will either end up like a mini-Samuel or fingers crossed there will be shitloads of therapy (for daddy and child).

The kid

Strives for perfection, and super ambitious. There's no avoiding some traits. Another natural leader, but rules less with an iron first than Sammy. Would be vain af, and looks after their appearance a LOT. A bit shallow and judgemental but will eventually grow out of it.

Goo Kim

As a dad

Shrewd af and always knows what's going on. Good luck to their kid because there is no lying to Goo. He'll play along and then drop the hammer. However, a bit too lenient so you would have to be the disciplinarian. Lets the kid just get on with things and learn by experience. "Oh you wanna play with the sword? Have fun!" "GOO NO-!"

The kid

Little shit. Sorry there's just no way they wouldn't be a mouthy little asshole. Goo would make sure they respect the parents, but otherwise they are a danger to society. A troublemaker. Figures out all the loopholes to any rules and laws... A constant headache but you can't help but be impressed.

Gun Park

As a dad

Does a lot of research before their kid is born. This guy is pretty thorough with things he is interested in, so if he's taking an active part in the kid's life then he will be meticiulous. Initially. Then, like Goo, will let their kid make their own mistakes. Otherwise, very hands on, doesn't believe in outdated parental roles. After all, this is Gun's ultimate masterpiece.

The kid

Christ. This kid could be the most intimidating child to have ever lived. Not as intense as their dad, but they are playing 5D chess while everyone else is just learning their shapes and numbers. They're cocky and confident, with the skills to back it up.

Ryuhei Kuroda

As a dad

Extremely similar to Goo imo. Would also love to embarrass the kid. Not purposely mind, just he can't keep his hands off or kissing you and no kid needs to see their parents so grossly in love.

The kid

An absolute menace, just like their dad. Huge prankster, mostly harmless. Don't get them together with Goo's kid because jfc they would be absolute terrors together. Unlike their dad in his youth, they would respect the shit out of women. You've seen to that.

Eugene

As a dad

Probably a little cold and severe, putting a bit too much emphasis on grades and perfection. Despite that, would actually be pretty good. Someone that reads up a lot on how to raise a kid, bonding with them etc etc. to form a somewhat healthy relationship.

The kid

Private school little wunderkind. Will grow up with the absolute best of everything and spoilt too so you would need to keep them grounded. Expected to take over Workers. Business acument and ambition will be drilled into them from an early age.

Vasco

As a dad

What is there to say about Tabasco that we don't already know. Would dote on them hand and foot. An absolute pushover! Their kid pulls out the puppy eyes and it's game over. Would teach them to protect themselves but probably draw the line at anything more.

The kid

Really creative? Vasco would place less emphasis on grades and would help to nurture their interest in the arts. But actually super smart too thanks to Uncle Jace's influence. Tbh I think the kid would be pretty perfect and with the kindest heart and stands up to bullies just like dad!

Zack Lee

As a dad

So so similar to Vasco. Has all these ideas on what they should and shouldn't do as a parent. Kid pops out, and Zack's a goner. Literally would do anything and everything for their child. Go absolutely crazy with pride if the kid is interested in boxing.

The kid

Would have no game... Like dad. Sorry. Good job they would be good looking af to even it out. Not a huge emphasis on education and grades thanks to Zack's influence. More focused on athletics. A little shallow and arrogant, but a huge softy underneath.

Johan Seong

As a dad

Panic and anxiety from the day their kid was born and every day after. First because of worrying about their eyes, second because he's just not comfortable with having an actual dependent. Tries to teach them about the evils of the world. Eventually chills out overall and reverts back to being the gentle-hearted boy he used to be.

The kid

For practical reasons, taught braille from an early age just in case. But otherwise a mini-Johan but without the trauma. Very softly spoken and sweet. Just an absolute ray of sunshine. Always accompanied by their dog, their bff and partner when a fight arises.

#im sorry this isnt very good 😭 #i think i repeated myself about a hundred times writing this #lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism hc #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #jake kim #samuel seo #goo kim #lookism ryuhei #ryuhei kuroda #lookism eugene #vasco #euntae lee #zack lee #johan seong #slimesam hits again #wannaeatramyeon

[theepisceswriter]

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐓 — Gojo Satoru

♡ Synopsis: You and Gojo go together real bad and he loves spoiling you.

♡ A/N: MUVA IS BACK !!! This is my Renaissance moments (crickets cause nobody probably remembers who I am nmplpw). After lying to y'all like my daddy and saying I'm gon come back every summer, I finally returned with a lil sumn sweet for yall and who else to signify coming back after a long time than Gojo? I hope y'all enjoy and I did good, feedback appreciated since this is basically me dusting off lmao. Love you!!

♡ WC: 1.6k

♡ TW: not proofread, she/her pronouns, afab body parts, penetrative sex, intimacy, 18+, and I believe that's really it lmk if I missed anything.

“Gojo?”

His ears instantly picked up on the soft sweet soundwave that was your voice, vital to his ears like bees are to flowers. The quietness and tenderness of your voice alone is enough to provoke that primate instinct in him to protect, provide, and nurture. From his relaxed position on the bed, he’s quick to toss the phone that previously had his attention on the dresser and divert his eyes in your direction to give you his undivided attention.

And trust that when his gaze finally fell on you that’s exactly what you had; his undivided attention.

“Well, aren’t you just a sight for sore eyes?” He cheekily grinned, head tilting to the side.

Your nude body that leaned against the bathroom frame was clad in a brown fur coat and nothing else but the precious jewels and gold that adorned your neck, wrists, and fingers. All courtesy of him, of course and you couldn’t be more thankful to have a man like Gojo in your life; One who spoiled, protected, and loved you like his life would end and become a waste if you left it. The love between the two of you was genuine and pure. You brought him out of a dark place mentally and he saved you from your humble beginnings. Without each other you’d both be lost and you guys knew that. Which is why everyday you showered each other in affection and love so neither of you would forget what this union meant to you.

“It’s the new one you bought a couple of days ago, do you like it?” Your fingernail lingered between your teeth as your eyes met his piercing gaze, his usual hue a shade darker as he drank you up in all your glory. You were so perfect just the way you were that you didn’t even need lingerie to catch his attention. How he hit the jackpot with you he has no idea, but he thanks himself everyday for every single choice that led to this moment.

“No.”

“No?” Soon you’re mirroring him, the same cheeky grin and head tilt occupying you too.

“I fucking love it.” He reiterates, motioning with his head for you to come to him.

You comply quickly as ever, gliding to his side in seconds giggles leaving your mouth in the process. You find yourself straddling his lap with both of his large calloused hands in the crevices that separated your hips from your thighs. You can feel his erection forming and pulsating against the thin fabric of his grey sweats. Which in turn pulsates against your bare clit the moment you’re settled on his lap. The small gasp that leaves your lips at the sensation leaves him almost in a drunken dazed, the effects you had on this man were far more powerful than any sorcery anybody could conjure up.

His love for you ran deep, but any lighthearted playful feeling that filled the room was now replaced with a thick yearning for lust. So close and passionate that you could quite literally feel the physical manifestation of your desire for each other in the form of an addicting body heat. Just as he was in a daze-like state over you, you were equally lusting after him. That’s what made this relationship so raw and lasting; everyday feels like the honeymoon stage when you’re both putting in the same effort.

“You drive me crazy you have no idea,” He muttered as he trailed his hands along your curves, his eyes following along closely watching the way your skin dimpled underneath his touch. He didn’t mind spending his family’s hard earned fortune on you if it meant he got moments like these, he’d go broke over you if he could just to show how devoted he was to you. 

“I think I have somewhat of an idea,” Your arms found solace around his neck which you then used as leverage to pull him closer to you. The motion caused the fur coat to fall beneath your shoulders exposing your breast to him in the most teasing peeks that brought him to a rock hard state. You made sure to tease him even further by pressing your chest as close as possible to him as you leaned in to steal a kiss, the cold metallic jewelry in your nipples touching his every other movement sending electricity through his chest.

His lips engulfed yours with a ferocity so high that he nearly had half of your chin in his mouth as well and you made sure to return that energy just as strong, swallowing his lips right back. You didn’t even realize you had begun to swirl your hips down on his erection until you felt the vibration of a deep guttural groan on Gojo’s end reverb against your lips.

God, you could stay like this for hours, days even, but there was nothing you wanted more in this moment then to have him deep inside of you. And there was nothing he wanted to do more in this moment then please the both of you.

“Gojo, I want you so bad, baby,” You were able to huff out once the two of you pulled back from each other. Both of your lips swollen and red, a true testament of your passion in this moment. 

“I’ll always give you everything you want from me, love,” His words came out in a murmur because the minute his lips detached from your lips they went straight to your neck, peppering your sensitive crevice with kisses. He teased your nipples with two quick kisses before he was lifting you and his hips up to pull his erect cock out of his sweats. Which now had a dark stained patch on the crotch area courtesy of you.

“Always so nice and wet for me, this pussy knows who it belongs to huh?” Before you could even elicit a response you were cut off by a moan. He wasted no time in dragging the swollen pink tip of his dick between your slit to collect your wetness as lubricant before slipping it inside of you with ease all the way to the base.

“My god!” You gasped out loudly, your walls immediately clenched around his cock but that didn’t stop your wetness from seeping out of you; creating a damp mixture with your cream at his base.

“This cock is all yours baby, don’t belong to nobody else but you,” He could barely get his words out in between grunts, just as turned on as you, if not more. His hands returned to your hips to lead the both of you to a rhythm as you rode him and lift you up just a little bit higher than you would naturally go so he could watch his cock slip in and out of you. Call him crazy but the sight was equivalent to fine art in his eyes, it was a marvelous sight that he adored to observe; how well the two of you fit each other. He was certain, just as sure as you were, that he’d never be able to be this connected and feel this much pleasure from anyone else during sex. Every single feeling he had for you uniquely belonged to you. He would never allow anyone else to have access to him the same way you do. This was a once in a lifetime connection and neither of you wanted it to end anytime soon.

“I love you so much.” He growls out through clenched teeth. That knot in his stomach was tightening and he could tell you were close to the edge too from how much stronger your walls began to clench around him.

This had to have been the type of pleasure Frank Ocean was talking about in Pink Matter, he thought.

“I-I love you- FUCK ! I love you more, Gojo.” You can barely get your breathless words out through pure bliss and pleasure. The only reason your eyes were still open was because you enjoyed watching your partner’s face twist and contort with each bounce you made. His clean and pale face now pink with lust and his signature white hair stuck against his forehead with sweat.

His hand travels to the back of your neck to connect you two for one last nasty kiss as you both creep up on your orgasms. This time tongue was involved and the kisses were bigger and sloppier than before, the two of you intoxicated with a dangerous mix of love and lust. Just the kissing alone would be enough to bring you to your orgasm quickly, but of course cocky Gojo had to collect some of the mixture of you guys’ saliva from the corner of his mouth and use it to rub your clit in circles.

“Cmon my pretty girl,” He mumbled against your lips, “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock for me, please. I need your slick covering me, please.” He practically begged.

And that was all it took for that overstimulating wave to crash over your body. A mixture of a moan and groan ripped from your lips and echoed throughout the room. Which led Gojo to join you in your high seconds later, your moans, knowing that he was producing, them doing the trick.

Immediately you fall off of him by his side and he’s quick to pull you into his side, grip tight as ever like he was scared he was going to lose you. You nuzzled into his side, neither of you caring to clean up just yet. Part of the reason being because you wanted to enjoy each others company and the other reason being because you were both very much still out of breath.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” You recited in an almost sing song voice as you peppered his chest with kisses.

God bless anyone who’ll try to take him from you.

#gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru. #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #JJK. #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujustu kaisen fanfic

[mayajadewrites]

For Me (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

summary: Levi Ackerman has a staring problem. Specifically staring at a woman that he has been admiring at his local coffee shop for months. She doesn't usually notice, however, one day she did. She would flip his world upside down, but would she let him in her world?

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

modern attack on titan au (no titans)

CHAPTER ONE: EARL GREY

ao3

"One Earl Grey tea." The barista at your favorite locally owned coffee shop sings. She's always in the best mood, even on days where the sky looks like it's about to break out into tears. "If it isn't my favorite regular!" She smiles and slides the tea towards me. "Writing anything good today?"

"One can only hope." You smile, grabbing the cup of tea. The steam is almost dancing off of the hot liquid, the warmth gracing your skin. "I'm working on my latest fiction novel. Romance is not the easiest to write for, contrary to popular belief." You offer her a warm smile. "I'll see you soon."

"Good luck!" She waved as you walked to your usual table. The coffee shop is based off earthy tones, plants hanging in the corner along with welcoming decor. As you sink into your seat, you feel a pair of eyes on you. You think about looking up into the eyes that could burn a hole in your skin, but you don't. You have work to do. 

Your tote bag sits on the seat next to you, almost bursting with anything one would need for a day out. You pick your headphones out of the bottomless pit and pick out your 'writing playlist'. Next, your laptop. As you open it, you stare at your reflection across the black screen. A sigh leaves your lips as you type in your password and begin brainstorming for your next novel. 

Your books have become more popular as more people are reading now-a-days. Thanks to social media, a few of your books have gone semi-viral. Typically you write fiction, specifically romance. Your fans are usually on the younger side, falling in love with your characters and wishing for more books featuring them. 

You bite your lower lip as you begin typing, only to press down on the backspace key a few seconds later. Since when is coming up with ideas so hard for you? 

You feel goosebumps populate your skin as you sense the same pair of eyes looking at you again. This time, you indulge. Your eyes meet his steel grey ones and it feels like time has stopped. The world now only contains you and him. You expect him to look away, but he keeps staring. 

Raising an eyebrow, you continue to hold his gaze. Without looking down, he takes a sip of his tea from the ceramic white mug that comes with every drink. 

His jet black hair mostly stays on one side, covering one of his eyebrows. You notice his undercut, which looks like he just recently got it buzzed. You study his skin, clear of any imperfections. His mouth is almost in a straight line, but his lips are pouting ever so slightly. He is dressed like he's going to work as a CEO - suit, tie, all that. 

You break the staring contest you were participating in when you hear someone next to you trying to get your attention. 

"Hey, sorry to bother you." A man with light brown hair smiled, watching you take your headphones off.

"Okay..." You look at the man, waiting for him to speak. "Did you need something?" 

"I-I just wanted to tell you that you're beautiful." His cheeks began to turn a shade of red. "And I would like your number." His eyes darted to the floor. You raise an eyebrow, analyzing his face. He looks young, can't be older than 23. You notice a group snickering as the man seemingly embarrasses himself in front of you by the color of red that is burning his cheeks. 

"Do you have a name?" You ask, taping your almond shaped fingernails on your laptop. You look down at your hands and admire your perfect manicure with your favorite nude shade of nail polish.

"Jean. I'm sorry, I should have started with that." 

"Yeah, maybe." You glance at the group again. "Are those your friends?"

"Yes. They didn't think I was man enough to come up to you and ask for your number, which is why they're rudely staring right now." 

"I appreciate your bravery, Jean." You smile at him, holding your palm out. "Hand me your phone." 

Without hesitation Jean slips his phone into your hand. You open up the contacts app and add your name and number. You tell Jean your name as you give his phone back to him. 

"Thank you. I'll... text you later?" Jean ended the sentence as a question. 

"What else would you do with my number?" You let out a soft laugh. "Yes, we'll talk soon." 

Jean walks back to his group of friends, putting his hands up to show victory. He's with 3 women, and 3 men. The men pat Jean on the shoulder while the women shake their hands, continuing whatever conversation they had going on before Jean came up to you. 

When you turn to focus on your laptop once again, you feel eyes on you again. 

This man will not stop staring, and he's almost shameless about it. 

__________________________________________________________

Back at your apartment, you begin your 'Sunday reset' of your apartment. It's a weekly tradition for you - your sheets get washed, the floors get mopped, and you get your house ready for the week to come. Since you spend most of your time there, you try to make it as clean as you can while still feeling like a lived in home. Your phone buzzes in your pocket as you strip your bed of your sheets. 

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Hey! It's Jean.

YOU: Hey there.

JEAN: Thank you again for giving me your number, I can't believe a woman as beautiful as you would even give me the time of day.

YOU: I admire your bravery and think it's cute that you got all red trying to talk to me. And thank you, you're very kind.

JEAN: Can I take you out for dinner this week? Wednesday?

YOU: Sounds like a plan. Text me where and what time and I'll meet you there. 

JEAN: Will do! :)

You smile to yourself as you put your phone on your side table next to your couch. Your mind wanders as you clean, leading back to the man that has a staring problem. Why was he staring? How long had he been staring for? 

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfic #attack on titan #aot

[sstan-hoe]

— 𝐵𝑒 𝑀𝑦 𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒 —

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 — modern!aemond targaryen × fem!reader

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 — “i thought you’d at least ask me to be your valentine…” “we’ve been together for three years, i thought that was a given.”

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 — once again pure fluff! also domestic aemond, you're welcome ;)

𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒 — I really hope this is not too fast paced and you should follow, reblog and/or comment !! Also whoever find the Alicent × Rhaenyra reference...you're good have good eyes....

𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒'𝑠 𝐷𝑎𝑦 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡

It was a quiet morning in your shared apartment with Aemond. You were still nuzzled up in the warm bed sheets while Aemond prepared breakfast.

As you slowly gained consciousness your head turned to the night stand which had a calendar on it. Today was marked with a red heart, it wasn't your anniversary but Valentine's Day. Your heart skipped a beat at the thoughts of what Aemond had probably planned.

The smell of fresh pancakes filled the apartment, and the Targaryen man swiftly worked around the kitchen.

It took Aemond weeks to plan the perfect Valentine’s day for you, it would start with breakfast in bed, then your favorite movie – Legally Blonde – followed by a living room picnic given it was raining heavily and at the end of the day a night filled with sex.

Aemond was proud of himself that he thought about this all by himself as he was not the biggest romantic.

Meanwhile you sneaked out of bed with the sheets wrapped around your body to keep the warmth.

There he stood, your boyfriend. His long white hair bound into a man bun, he wore no eye patch and he was also topless, giving you the opportunity to admire his abs.

Aemond took out the plates and while turning around to put them on the kitchen aisle he noticed you standing there. You looked at him with innocent eyes, then walked over to him.

He sat down and opened his arms to embrace you, “good morning,” you mumbled against his chest. “Good morning my love,...why did you not stay in bed mhm?” he questioned you in a soft tone.

“I wanted to be with you,” you returned, tightening your grip on his waist. The man gave a light chuckle. He loved your sleepy state, you were like a kitten. You wanted to cuddle all the time and were needy.

In one swift motion he picked you up in bridal style and walked you back to bed. Confused, you looked at him as he placed you on the smooth cushions.

“You stay here and I will bring breakfast to you,” he promised and kissed the crown of your head before leaving. If your eyes could, they would take on the shape of hearts. Sometimes you wondered how you deserved someone like Aemond.

Five minutes later your boyfriend came back with a tray, filled with two plates, pancakes, strawberries, whipped cream, two hot chocolates, cutlery and syrup. He placed the tray in front of you and then joined you, “it looks beautiful Aemond,” you praised him and kissed his cheek.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said before cupping your cheek and pressing his lips to yours.

Smiling into the kiss you felt butterflies in your stomach. Aemond retreated back and took a strawberry from the glass bowl, dipped into whipped cream he held it up to your mouth. Gladly you took a bite from the strawberry.

“What else have you planned huh?” you grinned at him, “well we will watch a certain movie, then have a living room picnic before an eventful night of pure pleasure,” he said in a seductive voice against your neck, placing light kisses on your skin.

“Fifty Shades Of Grey?” you asked with wide eyes at the mention of a movie. Aemond looked at you bewildered, “what? No, Legally Blonde.”

Your face fell in embarrassment, “well then don’t say ‘certain’ like that!” you scolded him playfully and slapped his chest.

“Not my fault you have a dirty mind,” those words of Aemond Targaryen earned him another slap and a nose covered in whipped scream.

After breakfast Aemond didn’t even let you help him clean up, instead he told you to put on the movie. He came back and got back under the covers, lifting his arm to invite you in a cuddle session which you gladly accepted.

As the movie went on you couldn’t help but wonder when he was gonna ask you to be your Valentine.

After the movie ended Aemond instructed you to pick out a blanket for the picnic while he would get everything else. The task was rather easy it seemed but with how many blankets you had it became difficult to decide.

Meanwhile Aemond cut various kinds of fruits, took the champagne from the fridge and chocolate along with some pre-made sandwiches and glasses.

When he was finished and entered the living room he expected to find you there but it seemed you still hadn’t found a blanket. Shaking his head with a smile he sat everything down to help you with the decision, “need any help my love?” he teased you as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Nope, I got it,” you responded and looked between a green blanket and a black blanket, “green doesn’t fit…but black doesn’t either…maybe we could use both? Have them be together,” you thought out loud.

“Sounds good to me, love,” Aemond agreed and took the green blanket from you to walk to the living room with you following close behind.

You laid the blankets on the ground and then placed the food as well as the champagne and glasses on it. Aemond then sat down and held his hand to you to signal you to sit in his lap, “your throne my queen,” he jested, causing your cheeks to warm up and a giddy smile to graze your lips.

Together you enjoyed the picnic, after thirty minutes even the sun peeked through the gray clouds and shined through the floor to ceiling long windows.

You laid your head back against Aemond’s shoulder, enjoying the sun as it warmed your skin. It was already six in the afternoon as you cleaned up and the missing question clouded your mind once again.

“I thought you’d ask me to be your Valentine…,” you spoke your thoughts to Aemond who stopped what he was doing instantly.

He walked over to and gripped your waist to pull you against his broad chest, “we’ve been together for three years, I thought this was a given.” Tilting your head up you shook your head, “nope, it is a question to be taken seriously.”

Aemond rolled his eyes playfully, “would you do me the honor and be my Valentine?” He looked down at you with a teasing smirk.

You pretended to think hard, “well…, I don’t know…,” you played the game and were tickled in response, “Aemond,” you giggled. He stopped tickling you to capture your lips in a breathtaking kiss, it knocked all air from your lungs.

“Yes, I will be your Valentine,” you said breathlessly after Aemond pulled back. He grinned at you and nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck.

“Very good choice my love,” he praised you, bucking his hips into you.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x black reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen valentine 💌

[her-penetrating-soul]

━━━━━━⚘ᥫ᭡​᭄∘˚დ━━━━━━

🤍🎨 ‿⚘She found the purest pantone colors to paint him where the world had left him grey. Even though grey is was such an eloquent shade. She managed to craft him into colors that delighted his beautiful soul. Those were shouting to be seen for the world to gaze into his profoundness. She knew glimpses of his enchantment. She could see that even though his soul was darkly, she knew there was more than meets the eye. She had memorized all of his poems. She knew there was a soul dying to come out. Where the world had left him wandering into the frailness of the moonlight. He was a radiate light of his own. His was dim, yet she could see there was a shimmer in his dark beauty. Picking up her paint brushes, she could feel his soul merge with hers. Not only were their souls crafted as one. She was synced to him in a way she couldn't convey. Her colors became a part of him. He was blossoming within her radiance. His grey hues became a part of her twilight delight. It's as our souls had become one. He was my absent colors & I was his illuminating rainbow. A perfect palette of colors found in my water colors also in my eye shadow palette. Those smoky colors make a perfect hue of hymns. He formed a part of that kindred of color hues that formed apart of my entire life. She finally had understood all long that he was solely awaiting for someone to see his own hues of shades. Painting this portraing on my shimmering moonlight. I realized he & I weren't so different. We were the same solely on a distinctive spectrum of colors. I was born into the light of colors. He was born into the grey hues of colors. He was abandoned long ago to discover life on his own. Yet little did he or I knew our worlds were going to collade as one. He would be those missing hues of my life. I'd be those cheerful hues he longed for. To be cherished, loved, and adored for the stillness of the moonlight. For I radiate colors that times blinded those around me. For my aurora was golden. His was dimmed. Two souls soon to be embedded into one Sonnet of Hues. Painting his soul into mine, for we met long ago. ln a different lifetime. For whenever he was around, I felt lime I was home. His grey hues entwined themselves into my purest of colors. He was there all along upon my canvases, awaiting to be found. He's breathtaking in all his demeanor. He is distinctive from all those colors I have encountered. He is a crisp, cooling grey. You find in the night sky when you sit underneath the twinkling stars. He is there in those clouds before a rain storm is coming. Those pure colors you find in the horizons. If you gaze closer, you shall see. I'm not incorrectly. He is gorgeous, and his soul is divine. His hues of colors merged into my bright, radiate of hues together. we formed a beautiful painting for the world to gaze upon. He was the missing hymn to my water colors. I was the missing puzzle to being draped deeply within his abyss. Two distinctive worlds are everso close to one another upon this canvas of radiance. All it needed was to be a complete palette of colors all embedded into one Symphonies of hues. A group of colors never to be found until he & I became one.⚘⁀🎨🤍

Written: April 11th, 2024

©Copyright Rights Reserved:

🎨🤍༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶🤍🎨

━━━━━━⚘ᥫ᭡​᭄∘˚დ━━━━━━

#her penetrating soul #art #artistic #art gallery #brunette #paint brushes #canvas #color hues #beautiful #soulful #soulful beauty #soulful love #soulful expressions #soulful sentiments #soulful moments

[hardlyinteresting]

A good day's work

Day 10 of the #MarchHotchness event. Find the other days HERE Thank you to @hotchfiles for creating this event 💕

As always Request here! | Masterlist

Your paint-splattered clothes lay scattered on the en suite floor: white and pale blue, smudges and speckles of colour tint your old t-shirts and jeans. A breeze runs through the house, bringing in the cool evening air, and the sound of cricket chirps. It carries away the smell of freshly coloured walls. 

A rare day off left you and Aaron free to stop by the local hardware store. What was supposed to be a short trip to pick up lightbulbs ended two hours later in the paint department, carding through colour chips, determined to find the perfect shade. 

The desire to repaint the master bedroom had been a topic of conversation since the day you moved in together. The pale beige walls were drab and dreary in the space. With the bedside lamps on at night, the colour glowed with a yellow undertone that left the room anything but relaxing. After long days, and nights away from his family, Aaron deserves a place to unwind and destress. 

You had considered grey for the room. Aaron said the shade reminded him of the concrete in his office. You immediately vetoed the colour. 

Green felt too upbeat. Positive, and inviting? Yes. Tranquil? No. Purple had been too bold for Aaron’s taste. The shade you’d selected was muted, and warm like a hug, but ultimately too much of a deviation for his taste. 

The bedroom looks beautiful in blue. Ataratic, and soothing. In the daylight, it felt as warm as the open sky outside. You both breathe deeper into the space, exhaling a great deal of your stress and anxieties. By the time you’re completing the second coat, the orange gleam of the setting sun casts a brilliant reflection on the wall, it envelopes you and leaves you beaming. 

The blue handprint he leaves on your hip draws your attention back to the blot of paint you had dabbed on his nose earlier in the day, and the flecks of colour that have dried on your arms. It’s a good reason to pull him into the ensuite shower. Dutifully, he washes away smears of blue from your cheek, and then the rest of you. He watches the pigment dilute itself, melting away with the soap suds. He can’t say for certain, but he thinks that this might be what peace feels like. 

The bed is still in the middle of the room, pulled away from the stilling drying walls. Unsure how to enjoy the sense of amusement, or child-like satisfaction the vaguely chaotic sight brings him, he chuckles. It’s more exhaled air, than any real kind of sound, but it’s enough to convey his joy.  The half-huff leaves you bubbling with your own laughter. You’re both safe to do that here. 

In the soft moonlight, the room is no brighter than the endless night sky. The depth of the shade soothes you, it wraps you up and holds you, not unlike the arm he drapes across your waist. Falling asleep comes easily and with no complaints. A good day’s work deserves a good night’s sleep.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch x reader #criminal minds fic #marchhotchness

[threadsun]

Anonymous Asks: "Even when they don’t try, vampires have so much sex appeal it’s unfair lol could I request either headcanons or short scenarios for these two characters in separate situations by themselves?

Since Ian and Joseph are the newest vampires they probably haven’t gotten a control on their new bloodlust yet and therefore can’t control their feeding habits right?

What if reader were to accidentally cut themselves while they were starving and they go in complete predatory sadist mode and pounce on them?

One terrifying but very hot feeding session later and Shaun and the other guys have to yank them off of reader only to see it’s too late and they’re knocking at deaths door.

The only way to save them is to turn them."

Oh... oh this is good!! You're a genius!!

Content: blood, biting, sewing needle, vague horniness, aphrodisiac saliva

Ian:

"Shit."

You barely hiss out the word, fingers clamped tight around the base of your thumb to try to staunch the bleeding a little. It's surprising, how much one sharp needle can do. You'd never expected sewing up one of Ian's shirts to be so dangerous.

I mean, normally a little prick of the thumb wouldn't be dangerous. But...

"H-hey, are you...?" Ian's voice is already breathy, hands cradling yours as he brings your thumb up to his lips. "Y-you're... bleeding..."

"Ian." You try to pull your hand away, shuddering as his tongue laves over his fangs.

"You smell so good. Please, just a small taste..."

He doesn't wait for an answer, lapping at the pad of your thumb and moaning. It sends tingles up your arm, heat spreading through your veins. It's always like this when they feed. Something about their saliva, you think. It gets your blood pumping in the most delightful way.

It hasn't been that long since Ian fed. He'd struck out for the nearby village to find some unsuspecting victim and then come home to wallow in his guilt. But he's insatiable. Something about being newly turned, perhaps. Or perhaps just the way he is. Regardless, he's starving. And you taste like heaven.

His lips are on your neck before either of you can stop him. His fangs sink deep into you, drinking your blood like it's the only thing keeping him alive. The more he drinks, the more lightheaded you get. That pleasure, that tingling, fills your body. You're hot all over. You're desperate. And you're losing blood at a concerning rate.

By the time Shaun finds you two, you're barely awake. The flush of life has drained from your face, leaving a concerning grey tint in its wake. Ian is still feeding, grinding his hips against your thigh as he does and moaning against your neck. Shaun wastes no time in pulling him from you.

It's days before you wake, starving and with an odd ache in your neck. Not to mention the painfully sharp fangs poking at your lips.

Joseph:

It's a thorn that gets you. Reaching into the tangled mess of roses to pick the perfect one for your centrepiece, a sharp thorn catches your neck. It's barely a sting, and the blood is minimal. As careful as you are with your blood around the house, you're not quite so worried outside.

Perhaps you should be.

Joseph, poor Joseph. Too scared to feed. Too guilty to take even your offered blood. Starving, desperate Joseph. He's tried so hard to be good. To keep away from you when he can hear your blood more loudly than your voice. To keep from sinking his fangs into that soft neck he so longs for...

But your blood is such a shade of crimson. The vase in his hands slips. Water, leaves, flowers scatter across the garden path. There's no sound from his lips other than a whine, like he's being forced against his will to bite deep into your neck and drink like his life depends on it.

And with how starved he is, you can't bring yourself to stop him. You've offered yourself willingly to him so many times. How can you deny him now? When his starvation has finally gotten the better of him? You'd be cruel to stop him, even as you go weak in the knees. After all, it feels good for you too. The warmth, the thrill, the electricity in your veins.

He holds you to his chest. Your dizzy body collapses into him, only hoping he can drink his fill before you're drained dry. You want to give him all he needs, but you only have so much blood in you. And he's been starving himself for... well, you don't even know how long.

Nick is the one who finds you two. Joseph kneeling on the ground with you cradled to his chest. He's still licking the blood from your neck, even as he sobs over your limp body. He can't help himself. He's finally getting a taste of life again. You wouldn't want him to stop.

When you wake from death, Joseph is by your side. No apology will ever be enough for him to forgive himself, no matter how many times you forgive him. And nothing will ever soothe the regret that he'll never taste your sweet blood again.

#swwsdj #something's wrong with sunny day jack #sdj ian #sdj joseph #ian duff x reader #joseph haberdae x reader #gn!reader #18+ only #sunshine #this is obviously non-canon to the broader AU but >:3c

[the-arcade-doctor]

[[ STOP KOSA ]]

[[ RULES ]]

[[ GAMES AND GAME RULES ]] [[ PRIZE CORNER ]]

Some context: Text Doctors are a collection of Tumblr-based RP blogs featuring plague doctors made out of ASCII symbols with their own unique lore, they're mostly variants of the first one to don the title, Doctor Screech, a eldritch monster who hails from the abyss and landed in a world of violet occupied by walking fungal-infected-corpses and other such nasties.

HEY YOU! ARE YOU BORED? WHO AM I KIDDING, YOU FOUND THIS BLOG SO OF COURSE YOU ARE, LUCKILY FOR YOU, THIS IS AN BLOG FOR THE MOST… INTERESTING PLACE ON THE WEB!

WELCOME, LADIES, GENTS, AND EVERYONE ELSE TO

A PLACE OF INTRIGUE AND DANGER, MYSTERY AND WONDER! WHERE GAMES FEEL ALMOST ALIVE AND THE OWNER IS OVERJOYED TO MEET NEW FRIENDS!

ARCADE SCHEDULE

OPEN - 9:00 OR 11:00 AM

CLOSE 11:00 PM AFTER HOURS - 12:00 PM TO 6:00 AM MORE INFO BELOW, ENJOY YOUR STAY!

ENTRY #1: THE DENIZENS J:\\ THE MAKER \\\\

>> Jay. a 5’8, 17 (now 18) year old boy (when he feels like) with tan skin, wearing a black hoodie with a green “87” on it, grey sweatpants, and black shoes, under his hood lies a led visor displaying green animated eyes. He runs an arcade, overseen by a plague doctor suit made out of keyboard symbols, it has a parasitic relationship with his soul that enhances his ego. he runs an arcade as a front to gain more power to cut the strings of fate the gods have cast upon him.

[ jay speaks like this. ]

Jay, he found his way into a mysterious world occupied by a lone plague doctor, a beast who wore a mask of violet, the first ever "text doctor", at least, that's what he called himself, the plague doctor made out of... ASCII symbols? His name was Screech (@the-text-doctor), they got to know each other, the beast was wiser, older, had a family and most of all? POWER. Jay eventually stumbled onto a stray portal, and found a dimension with a lone arcade in it. It was empty, abandoned. It was quiet at first. Then the trials began with new technology Jay founded. His suit. A green, distorted form of the plague doctor made of symbols he met from days before. it was a beast forever crying emerald tears.. It took over the dimension. Slowly at first, but then rapidly, the floors turned black, the walls turned a dark shade of green, the arcade grew, seemingly floating. It was all falling into place. J:\\ THE SUIT \\\\ A green plague doctor made out of ASCII symbols, slashes make up his limbs and torso, and tear streaks fall down his mask. His left arm is corrupted heavily, with claws made of black triangles. He also has one corrupted wing made out of corrupted textures and glitch artifacts, on his chest lies a dark green mantle with two mirroring "J"s. His belt is made of square brackets and equal signs. This suit was made a host of the place it is now known for, but also to fight, and fight it does, it would be unwise to pick a fight with it in it's unnatural habitat.

thanks to @just-hyper-active for jotette's neck fluff [ J:\\ JOTA SPEAKS LIKE THIS. ] [ ♀J:\\ JOTETTE SPEAKS LIKE THIS. ]

The suit, when worn, made him agitated, angry, violent, egotistical, envious, and any other sense of the words, so much so that it took over his very soul, encasing it in a green hue, and wings, ever since, everyone wanted that exotic, digitized soul for themselves. The Jotette side grade makes Jay feels as if he's the prettiest thing on two legs, still as pyschopathic.

It was perfect for what he needed. He's been researching other worlds for a while, so they were next, but until then? He needed somewhere to cover up his research... the arcade would do just fine. He'd get to lounge around all day, and work on gaining more strength by night. Eventually, he opened the arcade, and attracted quite a crowd. He didn't feel much for them, just lambs to the slaughter, he thought. but eventually he grew fond of some of his visitors, some he loved seeing, some less so. his power grew... but he needed more. He eventually found other worlds, more creatures like his suit, “text doctors” as he calls them, more forms to take, more things to assimilate into his growing matrix of code and hate. J:\\ THE LESSER GODS \\\ In the world of digital evils known only by "EXEs", there lie creatures who couldn't get their hands on the vessels everybody knows them for, Sonic, Mario, Pac-Man, the like. These creatures have been festering inside unknown and uncared for video games, i.e one-off titles or edutainment games. They all think the ranks of Sonic.EXE have it too easy since they have more recognizable vessels, so they've decided to form in gangs of sorts, Jay has felt pity for them, and built a refuge for some of them called Circuitboard City. ENTRY #2: THE DIMENSION, THE BOARDER BETWEEN THE PHYSICAL AND DIGITAL REALMS

J:\\ OUTSIDE \\\\ A vast, black expanse, adorned with grid-patterned green lines and shrouded mountains that conceal Circuitboard City. Green floating stairs serve as the arcade entrance, the space under the arcade leading to an underground subway entry point for access to Circuitboard City.

J:\\ SUBWAY \\\\ The Subway, a dark green and somewhat dirty underground passage, links the arcade to the wonders of Circuitboard City, some Lesser Gods have taken refuge here as opposed to Circuitboard City.

J:\\ CIRCUITBOARD CITY \\\\

helped by @just-hyper-active The cyber-city sprawls beyond the mountains, initially visible like a distant skybox. However, the true nature of this place is revealed when you journey there through the Subway, unlocking Circuitboard City in it's fullest. Jay shelters Lesser Gods amidst the skyscrapers, surrounded by advertisements for JOTA's Arcade.

J:\\ ARCADE INTERIOR \\\\ Inside the arcade, a surreal extension of JOTA's twisted yet whimsical persona unfolds with moving wall patterns and nonsensical floors. Rows of cabinets, a prize corner, and a maintenance room entrance mark the journey. As one ascends towards JOTA's office, the rooms defy Euclidean logic, with unconventional door placements, and other such glitchy mishaps.

J:\\ HALLWAY \\\\ A simple hallway stretching to both the left and right of the office. J:\\ MYSTICS ROOM \\\\ A room where Jay's been studying various deities and other such creatures, such as Zalgo, Screech, and more. This room is to the left of the office hallway.

J:\\ JOTA'S OFFICE \\\\ JOTA's office, a dark green room adorned with silver accents. A faux bird rug lies in the center, and a dark green desk bears a lunatic's scribbles. Nearby stands a simple polygon statue of a pixelated emerald-textured plague doctor. Wall sketches depict a green heart with expansive wings and stylized plague doctors drawn from simple lines and shapes. Above, a mounted skull with a "GAME OVER - JOTAPHOBIA" plaque completes the room.

J:\\ JAY'S BEDROOM \\\\ Jay's bedroom, features a beanbag bed, the sole Sega Genesis in the arcade ever since a run-in with Sonic.EXE himself, Sonic posters, and invisible ink-laden posters of the other text doctors, the Cade Crew, and Jay himself. The dark green room houses a simple stand with drawers, holding obscure games, and a basic TV. This room is to the right of the office hallway.

J:\\ JOTA'S THRONE \\\\ On the main floor, JOTA's throne, a giant green chair, stands amidst corrupted textures and computer parts, adorned with a "GAME OVER" banner. J:\\ SUIT JUNGLE \\\\ Behind the curtains of the throne room lies the enigmatic Suit Jungle, featuring towering, unreachable arcade cabinets and one of them stands far above the rest, displaying myriad copies of JOTA's suit, glaring at whoever roams by, amid twisted metal trees and digital leaves, static falls like water and error messages are the closest thing to clouds, more copies of the suit are found crawling around, acting as birds, glitching green messages, seemingly written by Jay himself adorn the place's floors and walls.

the voices I have for all of my anons unless said otherwise: https://tts.cyzon.us EXE

Jay first encountered Sonic.EXE, also known as "X," during an event called Incident X. This voidspawn manifested itself as Sonic and attempted to claim Jay's soul. The encounter took place fashionably late at JOTA's arcade, following the Halloween EXE Takeover in 2023. Since then, X has been engaging in periodic battles with Jay's suit.

X derives pleasure from toying with human souls, leaving Jay concerned about how long he can keep the entity amused before facing potential death. In the aftermath of the incident, Jay discovered the existence of other entities similar to X, collectively referred to as The Lesser Gods or The X Underlings.

#important jota lore #jehehe #god this took forever #rp blog #writing #oc rp #roleplay blog #ask blog #roleplay #asks are open #my writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #creative writing #writerscommunity #worldbuilding #sonic.exe #exe oc #exe community #creepypasta #.exe #pinned post #introduction post #blog intro

[solunstell]

List of bsd headcanons

Dazai:

Has bpd. A lot of his traits remind me of my friends with it

He some kind of trans. Nonbinary. Transfem. Transmasc. Idk he's megender lmao

He's described as appearing very youthful in the first two light novels. I imagine that once the events of the main timeline start picking up though, with all the time stopping or slowing abilities that *dont affect him*, he actually ages faster than the other characters. I draw current dazai with small wrinkles, which also hints at stress and stuff

Also, I imagine current dazai getting tanner as he works in the light, as well as getting more prominent freckles.

Round/doe eyes because that is part of his appearance in my opinion. Seeming unsuspecting and innocent, especially during his mafia days

Bad eyesight in his right eye from being under the bandages for so long. Saw this headcanon and loved it

Similarly, beastzai has bad vision in general

I always call No Longer Human an anti-ability in my head, fun fact

He loves to touch other people. Not a fan of being touched by others unless asked

I draw him with red eyes in color, and usually black eyes in ink (inconsistent artstyle my beloved)

Aroace spectrum

heavy sleeper. Very

Chuuya

FRECKLES and tan from sheep days

He likes to be close to other people more than actually touching. Presence over contact

That shade of eyes that changes colors in the light (but I use a grey base lol)

Also some sort of trans, but in a different way than dazai

Brownish red hair. Not blazing, not just brown

That man is AUTISTIC

One time instinctively kicked a friend with his ability active, expecting them to dodge cuz he's used to dazai easily dodging. They did, but they were SO CLOSE to getting hit. Imagine a confused face like wtf why you try to kick me

Light sleeper, but every now and then sleeps like he just learned how to close his eyes

A lot of his jokes go over people's heads because they expect him to be serious and his voice just doesn't change between serious and not serious

Ranpo

Autism plus adhd ftw

Aroace spectrum

Poe

He/they vibes

Anxiety

Gay af

I can 100% see him being into knitting. Imagine the guide plus ranpo all in matching sweaters

Loves baking. Sooooo bad at it

Lucy

Bi (with a lean towards girlies) she/it

VERY good at baking

But she won't share :(

Atsushi

Anxiety, so much anxiety

Aroace spectrum vibes

Very easily idolizes people and then gets surprised when they actually like being around him

Akutagawa

Aroace spectrum

Autism cuz he is so mecore sometimes

Very trans vibes from me

(I like to imagine him having tourettes cuz I have tourettes and I am Not projecting)

Atsushi (special kitty hearing) and jouno being the only ones who can hear some of his tics. He will be horrified that anyone notices them

Wait no actually I'm gonna incorporate that into my belief system. That's canon now

Mori

Genuinely cares about a lot of his workers, but not all of them

He gives great bonuses for birthdays

He absolutely loves vtubers if bsd were in a modern setting. Rip mori. He'd have also loved vocaloid lmao

Ozaki

Masc energy. Fem energy. Ooh I can see ozaki with any pronouns and identity

Kinda person to accidently either overpack or underpack. Always has painkillers, never has a pen

Ridiculous memory. Incredible gift giver. Would get someone something months or years after overhearing them say they wanted something once

"Whyd you get me a hairdryer?"

"You said you needed one. I saw it and thought of you."

"...that was months ago. I got a hairdryer already."

"..." *takes hairdryer back* "sorry wrong person. I don't have my contacts in my bad"

She has perfect vision

Kunikida

Trans vibes. In any and every direction

Adhd af

Will always conveniently have room in his schedule when Aya wants to go do something and needs someone to go with her. No, he's TOTALLY not frantically writing and erasing things, get your glasses updated

You can usually count on him to continue the bit cuz he won't realize there is a bit occurring

#long post #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bsd dazai osamu #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #chuya nakahara #nakahara chuya #chuuya nakahara #chūya nakahara #kouyou ozaki #ozaki kouyou #mori ougai #ougai mori #edgar allan poe #ranpo edogawa #bsd edogawa rampo #bsd ranpo #atsushi nakajima #nakajima atsushi #ryuunosuke akutagawa #akutagawa ryunosuke #akutagawa ryuunosuke #bsd akutagawa #lucy maud montgomery #aya koda #doppo kunikida #kunikida doppo