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storiesoflilies · 3 months

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Of Angels and Curses

Synopsis - In a world where Angels and Curses are locked in a never ending war, an unsuspecting seraph becomes entangled with the very thing she is fated to eradicate.

Pairings - Curse!Toji Fushiguro x f!Angel!Reader. Curse!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader. Angel!Satoru Gojo x Reader.

Warnings - Descriptions of violence and injuries, eventual smut.

A/N - Happy St. Patrick’s Day everyone! I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I think you guys really will too. Ehe! It might be easier to guess about the interludes after you’ve read this chapter, so please feel free to guess and comment your thoughts!! Ko-fi.

Next Part - Chapter 8.

-•-

Chapter 7

Y/N was awoken by the sound of screams, pulling her consciousness from the depths of slumber.

When she opened her eyes, her vision was bathed in a fiery red hue, and she was convinced that she had gone blind. It was harrowing to be stuck in this limbo that seemed to be eternal, condemned to travel through all the shades of crimson known to the universe. Amidst the all-consuming glow, it took Y/N much longer than it should have to realize that the blood-curdling screams were emanating from within her own throat, with such raw force that it ignited her lungs in agony.

“Easy, Y/N. Easy. You’re hurting yourself.”

Large, calloused and warm hands firmly enveloped both sides of her wrists, whilst thick heavy legs hooked with her own, effectively anchoring her in place. She felt his shallow breaths tickle her earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine, as the weight of his body pressed into her; tangible and solid against the swirling tempest of red and pain.

Y/N didn’t need to see to know it was Toji.

“Easy,” Toji repeated, his rumble a soothing balm. “I’ve got you.”

He has me.

Y/N ceased her screaming, and her lungs cried out in relief as she was released from the initial suffocating grip of terror. The red veil began to wane, allowing her to discern the dark silhouette of Toji’s figure hovering above her; a beacon amidst her tumultuous sea. Each breath she took was a battle against the ebbing tide of red, ragged and ungraceful, as a blooming pain started to spread on one side of her face. The rough ridges of his hands ignited sparks of electricity against her skin, sending tingles coursing through her skin that rose into a lightning storm. Y/N found solace in the heat of Toji’s touch as she finally gazed into his blazing eyes.

“C’mon, c’mon. You can see me, I’m right in front of you,” Toji coaxed, his voice smoky and deep as he leaned his forehead against hers. “That’s it, focus.”

Y/N could feel his breath trembling just as much as hers. Here was Toji Fushiguro, a King of Hell, brought into such a state of desperation and frantic urgency. She was so engulfed in the whirlwind of his various sensations, tantalized by the possibility that if he bent down just a little lower, then their lips would touch and meet as the universe always intended. But the pain persisted, wrathful and intent on cutting their red string of fate.

Oh, the pain.

She gasped and whimpered, instinctively bringing a hand to cup the vulnerable side of her face, but Toji’s grip on her wrists tightened. His face remained impassive, yet his emerald orbs burned with such fierce determination; pupils blown so wide that she could catch her own reflection in them. For a moment, Y/N almost forgot about her pain, or why she was feeling it in the first place.

“You really need to stop nearly fucking dying on me,” Toji breathed out shakily, in a whisper that was so frighteningly unlike the way he usually spoke. “Stop making me feel this way, I can’t handle it anymore.”

It was the way his voice cracked, and his eyes communicated with her soul in a thousand ways his words couldn’t, and it softened Y/N like a tender summer’s breeze. Toji’s emotions were crystal clear through their bond, and he wasn’t hiding anything from her; bare and vulnerable as she was lying there. Y/N knew then for sure that he never thought she was insignificant, or ever cared that she was Fallen – to him, she was his very soul. The kaleidoscope of everything that made up her being also moulded him.

Toji’s lip twitched, and Y/N noted just how painfully deep his scar was embedded. His lips moved closer by a hair, and Y/N really thought he was about to kiss her.

Until screams pierced through the air, coming from right outside her bedroom doors.

Geto burst through, wild and twistedly feral as his eyes locked onto Toji, and Nanako’s cries reached a high pitched cresendo as the door gave way. His lips curled into a snarl, Y/N sensed he was about to strike, and her body bristled in preparation for a fight.

And yet, Toji was so much faster.

A black flash hurtled towards Geto, and his weight was no longer on top of her.

With such force that shook the room, Toji pinned her brother against the wall, his forearm pressed against Geto’s neck. With gritted teeth, he snapped, “This wasn’t me.”

Geto struggled against him, but Toji’s iron grip was unyielding and far superior in strength, and a vein popped in his forehead from the strained effort.

“M-mahito,” he choked out, sputtering as he glared daggers at Toji. “Nanako s-ugh-saw him fleeing.”

With that, Toji released Geto from his grasp, who roughly shoved him away. The two kings stared each other down, eyes brimming with violence, neither willing to yield to the other’s intimidating display. However, Toji’s patience was wearing thinner by the second; Y/N could feel it, his essence dominating the atmosphere in a chokehold.

“Go on,” he goaded, chin tilted upwards as he looked down at her brother. “You want to try this again, huh?”

Geto audibly growled, chest heaving – he was cornered, and he knew it. But that didn’t seem to deter him; shadows gathered and danced in the room, as the host of Curses gathering to her brother’s defense snapped and snarled. Toji simply smirked, unperturbed by her brother’s offensiveness, and Y/N knew Suguru would be crushed in an instant if she didn’t intervene.

She sat up abruptly, her bones screaming and aching as if they hadn’t been used in an age, and desperately rasped, “Toji, please.”

Toji stiffened.

He waged a battle of sheer will within himself, torn between surrendering to his instinct to win and immerse himself in the thrill of combat, and the rational part of his soul that was tethered to her – urging him to yield and fight another day.

And he did.

A great king of Hell yielded to a Fallen Angel.

Toji took a step back, hands raised in mock surrender, wearing a sly smirk directed at Geto, who was slowly refracting his shadows while still maintaining an offensive demeanor.

“Did you know?” Geto hissed, like a coiled viper.

Toji’s eyes narrowed, his expression wiped from any cockiness as he turned deadly serious. “You seriously think I would give them my approval for this? No.”

“Then why didn’t you pursue him?”

“Why the f- because my mate was fighting for her fucking life.”

Her brother’s eyes flitted over to her, taking in the lines of red over the right side of her face, and he scowled. “Are you alright now? Can you fight?”

Y/N got up from the bed, trying to ignore that her decency was compromised in her sheer nightdress, and was about to respond when Toji interjected with a harsh tone. “She is not in any state to fight, are you mad?”

“I didn’t ask you, did I?” Geto snapped, quickly ramping up his offensive stance, his fists clenched and muscles tense. “Don’t forget where you are, Fushiguro.”

Concentrated effort… restrained anger.

Toji deadpanned, completely unimpressed. “I haven’t, but see reason, Geto. Nobody understands how Mahito’s power works. Do you want to risk Y/N’s life again?”

Geto clenched his jaw, and Y/N could almost sense the whirlwind of emotions raging within him. He craved a fight, his thirst for vengeance threatened to turn him into a harbringer of justice, and it was making him not think straight. A faint tremor rippled through to his tightened fists.

“I can fight, Suguru. I feel just fine,” she said firmly, displeased at the two Kings talking over her like her voice didn’t matter. If she was going to die, it would have happened by now, surely they both knew that.

Toji gave her a hard look. “Not a chance.”

“Mimiko is dead,” Geto murmured to her, low and almost shameful, completely ignoring what Toji had just said. “Mahito touched her as he was fleeing.”

Her heart dropped.

Oh no, not her.

Poor Nanako.

Tears swelled in her eyes, and fury ignited in her chest. Her green eyed Curse looked at her with a softer gaze, expression filled with pity for her loss.

“He’s killed a member of your court, and tried to kill me,” Y/N hissed, voice thick with malice. “We have to find him and make him pay for what he’s done.”

Geto shook his head. “No, Fushiguro is right. You need to see a healer and make sure your soul hasn’t been harmed.” He shot Toji a loathsome glare, and snapped, “Take care of her, or so help me, I will tear you apart.”

Before either of them had time to respond, her brother surged out the door, barking orders with a crack of his whip. The bustle of activity outside Y/N’s bedroom shifted away as Geto’s subordinates were driven into action, and Nanako’s wails dissolved into an eerie silence.

“I would like to see you try,” Toji muttered, mostly to himself. His gaze settled back on her, and he asked. “Who’s the best healer in this place?”

She swallowed heavily, exhaling deeply. “Dead.”

He rolled his eyes. “Tch, of course. Well, come with me then.” Toji’s eyes briefly roamed her figure, before he looked away and cleared his throat. “You’ll want to change first.”

She ignored his last comment, and asked suspiciously, “Where?”

“To find a healer. The rest of yours are going to be occupied with the casualties of war, and I’m not risking subpar idiots trying to help you.”

War.

Here it was, once again.

Only this time, she had become the very thing she had once fought.

And this was to be a war unlike any other she had ever faced.

“So this is it, then. It’s begun?” Y/N whispered, as the weight of the events of the past day and night took its toll on her.

“I’m afraid so. Mahito has obviously sided with Jogo, and an assassination attempt is a clear declaration of war,” Toji replied simply, almost casually. “Now, are you coming or not?”

Y/N knew the rational thing was to go and ensure there was nothing fundamentally wrong with her, and yet, the thought of leaving Geto on his own to fight made her physically ill. But it wasn’t like she had a choice in the matter; Toji would probably drag her kicking and screaming wherever he wanted to go.

“Y/N,” his voice called, snapping her out of her thoughts. Y/N’s breath hitched as Toji regarded her with that same gentleness he had not moments ago, and he murmured. “This war isn’t your fault.”

She scoffed. “Of course it is, I’m not stupid. I owe it to myself and Suguru to make sure they all pay for this.”

“And you will,” Toji agreed, annoyingly placating. “But you won’t be much use if you burst into pieces, hmm?”

Burst into pieces.

Just like Nanami.

Her stomach churned.

Bubbling anxiousness …

Y/N couldn’t say anything against that. And so, in addition to feeling Toji’s palpable fear for her through their bond, she relented and sighed.

“Wait for me on the balcony, I’ll be ready in a minute.”

-•-

Y/N hadn’t expected Toji’s healer to dwell somewhere so… dark.

Toji had vanished into completely into the inky black mist they had stepped into from the portal, causing Y/N’s heart to race frantically at the thought of losing him. She whipped her head around frantically, consumed by irrational dread, fearing that she was doomed to the darkness forever. Suddenly, he reappeared right in front of her, completely spooking her, with a sly smirk on his face.

“Need some help?” he teased, and she scowled.

“Why’d you bring us here?” Y/N grumbled. “What’s your healer doing in a place like this?”

“I called in a favor while you were getting dressed,” Toji answered, as if that explained everything, and held out his hand for her to take.

She took it.

Tingles and sparks danced between them, each electric connecting sending Y/N’s heart pounding with a frenzy so fierce that she thought it would leap from her chest and settle inside him instead. Toji’s green eyes seemed to almost glow in the darkness, captivating Y/N so deeply that she had to avert her gaze. He cleared his throat, evidently as affected by their intense connection, and began to guide her through the mist.

“A favor?” she whispered, breaking the tension.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Mei-Mei will be there to mediate the exchange.”

Mei-Mei? Exchange?

Her heart stung at the mention of Toji’s second, and yesterday’s argument rushed to the forefront of her mind. “Sure,” Y/N said flatly.

She knew Toji could feel her coldness creeping back in, and he gripped her hand tighter. “You know, I-” he started, searching for the right words to say. “This isn’t the time to talk about yesterday, but I just- I didn’t mean to be so...”

“Cruel?”

Toji visibly looked uncomfortable, almost shameful, and he nodded. Y/N sighed heavily, “It doesn’t matter anymore. Let’s get this over with.”

He pursed his lips, and she knew he had so much more to say, but he didn’t. They pushed on farther into the mist, and Y/N’s eyes adjusted to the midnight darkness the longer they walked, although she could have sworn it was getting even blacker.

Plop!

Y/N recoiled sharply as her foot was submerged in water; unnervingly warm and thick.

No… not water.

She sniffed the air, and squinted at her foot.

Blood.

A strange sense of déjà vu hit her.

“Toji… where are we?”

“At the borderline with Sukuna’s territory. We’re going to meet with Uraume.”

“What? Uraume doesn’t serve you.”

“No, they don’t. That’s why this is a favor.”

She was going to meet Sukuna’s second. What sort of things had Toji done to earn a favor from the King of Curses? Y/N almost didn’t want to know, and her previously uneasy feelings were now sprouting into a full-blown panic.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing me here?” she hissed in a hushed tone, as if the mist would carry her words all the way to Sukuna’s ears. “How can we trust them?”

“Do you trust me?” Toji stopped abruptly, turning to look at her with narrowed eyes, his jaw set in a stubborn line.

Y/N didn’t miss a beat, because it was the truth. “Yes, but-.”

“Then trust that I’d kill them if they try to hurt you,” he swore in a low, voice as dark as the mist surrounding them.

She shivered.

A loud caw of a crow sounded above them, followed by the sloshing sounds of someone moving through the water towards them. Y/N gripped Toji’s hand tighter, and he returned the gesture. Mei-Mei’s slim figure came into view, a sultry smirk on her lips as she balanced a great battle-axe on her left shoulder.

“Uraume is just ahead,” Mei-Mei announced. Her gaze flicked down to their joint hands, and the corner of her lip curled upwards.

“Are they alone?” Toji asked.

Mei-Mei hummed in response, casually shrugging her shoulders. “They killed most of my crows that got too close. I can’t see.”

He made a sound of displeasure. “Fine, let’s go.”

Toji pulled Y/N forwards, and as they past each other, she and Mei-Mei exchanged a tense glance. Something deep within her gut told her that the lilac-eyed Curse looked down at her, as if she were no more than a speck of dirt on her pristine boots. The mere thought of Toji even kissing her filled Y/N with horror and a burning rage she didn’t know she was capable of feeling.

Within a few moments, the mist cleared ever so slightly, and the slight figure of Uraume came into view. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how small and delicate they appeared, like a tiny porcelain doll amidst a sea of blood. But much like Mei-Mei, they obviously concealed their violent tendencies with beauty; although, theirs was a quiet and ancient kind of strength. The bones of various creatures floated about in the blood, and some formed clusters that had somehow caught flame, burning in brilliant shades of red and blue. The air was far hotter here, and Y/N wondered just how blistering the heat must be at the center of Hell.

“Your mate needs my help.” Uraume’s voice sounded out from the distance, cutting straight to the point.

“You know the Curse, Mahito?” Toji’s voice echoed across the blood sea as he responded. “He touched her skin.”

Uraume cocked their head to the side, their air cold and intelligent. “She looks alive and well to me. Why did you bother calling for me?”

“I need to make sure he hasn’t latched himself to her soul,” he boomed back. “You’re the only one who can see.”

Their unique deep pink orbs settled on Y/N, and she straightened her back. It was if they were deciding whether or not to help, and Toji shifted impatiently beside her.

“You may approach me, Y/N,” Uraume finally said, and gave Toji a pointed look. “Alone.”

With that, she let go of Toji’s hand and stepped towards Uraume, remaining acutely aware of the dagger beneath her sleeves she could whip out if she needed to. But the way they looked at her, as if they knew what she was thinking, dared her to try it. Y/N knew better than to stand against a force she didn’t understand, and so she stood rigidly in front of them.

Uraume suddenly gripped her chin, their fingers seemingly made of ice and frost, causing Y/N to shudder.

Uneasiness…

The Curse turned her face side to side, observing every single little detail as if it were of vital importance. “You don’t remember?”

“I was asleep,” she answered, and Uraume shook their head, leaving Y/N with the feeling that she had answered the question incorrectly.

They hummed, letting go of her chin. “You soul is intact, so you have nothing to fear.”

Relief…

Uraume’s fingers ran down her face, like tender icicles melting in the sun, and Y/N felt the tenderness of where Mahito had touched fade away. They pulled their hand away and looked at her as if admiring their handiwork, while Y/N grazed her own fingers over her face.

“Do you know how I survived him?” she asked Uraume, a shot in the dark.

They raised an eyebrow at her. “You remember nothing anyways. It does not matter how you lived, only that you did.”

“Is it because my soul has the power of two? Because I’m Fushiguro’s mate,” Y/N asked desperately. She was on borrowed time, and Uraume seemed to have all the answers. “Does it mean that I could still survive should Mahito touch me again?”

Uraume held up a hand, silencing Y/N. “You survived, and that is the end of that. I would, however, advise against allowing Mahito the opportunity to place his hands upon you again.”

The cold Curse appeared to be in no mood to linger any longer than necessary, and to say that she wasn’t disappointed was an understatement. Y/N disliked being left in the dark; she much preferred to know exactly how and why everything worked the way it did. For Uraume to knowingly withhold information about her own body from her was absolutely despicable.

But what could Y/N do against the general of the King of Curses?

Not a thing.

That notion alone was maddening.

“One more thing, before you leave,” Uraume added, reaching into their pocket to bring forth a small box, and offered it to her. “Lord Sukuna has asked me to give you this.”

What?

Toji was next to her in a flash, watching like a hawk as Y/N hesitantly took the box from Uraume. She could feel him preparing for a fight, the energy coursing through his veins mirrored hers, but why he was so on edge she didn’t know. Y/N opened the box to reveal a dainty golden ring, the gleaming metal twisted and curled, prompting a deep frown from Toji.

“Why is he giving her this freely?” he asked, his words laced with confusion and suspicion.

“Lord Sukuna,” Uraume corrected icily, before continuing. “Told me to give Y/N this ring if her soul had no cursed energy.”

“That doesn’t tell me why,” Toji interjected abruptly, as she plucked the ring from the box and inspected it closely.

“That’s none of your concern. Do not question Lord Sukuna’s motives; just accept his gift,” Uraume bit back, casting a pointed glance towards Y/N as she said the last sentence.

Too unnerved and perplexed to form a coherent sentence, Y/N could only stare at the gift from Ryomen Sukuna himself. She felt even more in the dark than before, overwhelmed by a wave of confusion and apprehension. With a sudden gesture, she snapped the box shut as if hoping to conceal her unanswered questions within.

Mei-Mei cleared her throat and spoke for the both of them, “Thank you for this, Uraume. We are grateful for you and Lord Sukuna taking the time to help us.”

Uraume’s gaze swept over the trio, and Y/N could have sworn the blood beneath their feet was freezing over as they replied. “You owe him a great deal, Fushiguro. Don’t forget it.”

Toji’s nostrils flared, and he grumbled. “Sure.”

Uraume didn’t seem to appreciate his response but said nothing. They gave Y/N one last look, before they stepped back into a portal and disappeared.

Mei-Mei let out a small breath in relief, and commented, “That went well.”

She hovered closer to them, as if anticipating something, and Y/N tensed. Toji rolled his eyes, and reached into his back pocket, tossing her a small bag. Mei-Mei caught it effortlessly with one hand, and the bag clinked loudly – the noise betraying its valuable contents.

“Thank you. Do you need anything else,” she offered, and Y/N realized this was the first time she had glimpsed a hint of real emotion from the Curse at receiving her payment.

“No. You can go,” Toji answered, and Mei-Mei was gone in an instant, leaving the two of them alone standing in the ocean of blood.

Y/N opened the box again, carefully observing the ring. She noted the minuscule featherlight markings adorning the band, perhaps an inscription of some sort, but she couldn’t make out the words. “What is this?”

Toji sighed and extended his left hand, displaying a thicker gold ring resting on his pointer finger that Y/N hadn’t noticed before. “It’s a ring, just like this one, and it’s imbued with Sukuna’s cursed energy. It allows Curses like us to conjure portals.”

“Why would Sukuna make something like this for us? How did you manage to even get one, then?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. He came to visit me when I became King and gave me it. Said I was strong, and that I was the prime example of a perfect Curse. I apparently… fascinated him.”

It was the way Toji hesitated, looking visibly uncomfortable as he recalled his encounter with Sukuna, that intrigued Y/N. His emotions swirled with mistrust and nerves, and she realized that her seemingly invincible green-eyed Curse was almost afraid. It was a frightening reminder to her that Sukuna’s strength, particularly now in the absence of Gojo Satoru, was probably the only threat to Toji’s life.

“I suppose he’s given you a ring because you’re my mate,” Toji murmured, although it seemed as if he was thinking aloud.

“You don’t seem so sure,” Y/N replied, closing the box once more and safely tucked it away.

Toji’s expression darkened. “I’m not sure of anything Sukuna does, or why. I’d prefer to avoid anything to do with him as much as I can.”

It was no question as to why he was afraid, but Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what it was like to have been in the presence of Ryomen Sukuna.

“Well, it seems I’m not going to die,” Y/N joked lightly, wanting to lighten the tension that was gripping them both.

Toji snorted, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “So it seems. I’m glad.”

The ring on his finger glowed a faint golden color, and a portal of the same shade materialized in front of them. He looked at her expectantly, cocking his towards it. “Let’s get out of here”

-•-

“Welcome to my city. I know that you and your brother are more traditional than me, but I still hope you’ll like it here.”

It was a pleasant surprise to find Toji’s city bustling with activity. The streets, although well-paved and smooth, had veins of molten lava coursing through it, casting a bright orange and red glow that illuminated the area. The buildings eerily reminded her of Heaven, but in a polar opposite way. Grand dark stone towers stood tall amidst the midnight sky, adorned with intricate carvings of strange and grotesque creatures.

Toji led her to the main marketplace, bustling with various stalls and shops selling food, clothing, and trinkets. It was teeming with all manner of Curses; some resembled her and Toji, some a mixture that blended both monster and humanoid features, and others were more horrid and twisted in appearance. As they passed, the Curses immediately took notice of their Kings presence, their stares burrowing holes in the back of Y/N’s head. But none dared to approach them directly, which was a relief. This was quite a public display of their bond, but with their secret out in the open, Y/N supposed it didn’t matter much anymore.

She decided to voice her inner thoughts. “This reminds me of Heaven.”

Surprise…

Toji looked at her as if she had grown two heads, one eyebrow comically raised. “Huh?”

“Yeah, your city is like Heaven, but flipped the opposite way. I don’t really know how to explain it, maybe Geto would disagree with me.”

“Is it… a bad thing?”

“No! It’s quite beautiful, actually.”

Toji appeared gladdened, as relief washed over his face, though Y/N could sense his underlying nervousness and shyness through their bond. She had to stop herself from smiling, because it was quite endearing. Following his lead, they strolled through the streets of his city, which he seemed to know like the back of his hand. She understood now why he was so determined to protect his people; Toji provided and protected them well, ensuring they wanted for nothing. This contrasted starkly with Suguru’s citizens, who often exuded an aura of sadness and neediness due to their struggles. Food was scarcer, skirmishes and raids along the border were common occurrences, and they had lost their King, whom they had known for centuries.

Of course, not having to worry about an impending war would certainly help.

Toji broke the silence with a question. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I’m curious. Do you miss it? Heaven, I mean.”

Did she?

Did she miss those first moments of the day when she lay in her bed, watching the first rays of the dawn filter through her window? There something so profoundly peaceful about that time, so uniquely ethereal, that it was one of her reasons for getting out of bed everyday.

Did she miss those moments when she and Nanami used to sit together on the lush meadows after a sparring session? When they would enjoy the cool breeze and the sun on their faces, and she would watch the wind flow through his golden locks.

Did she miss those times when Gojo used to gather a feast of figs from the trees outside his tower for them both to enjoy? He would always peel the fruits for her, a smile on his face as he let her have the best ones.

It would be a lie if she said no.

“Sometimes,” Y/N admitted quietly, not wanting to acknowledge the magnitude of how much she actually did miss it. “Parts of it.”

Toji hummed. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t, it was your home for…”

He suddenly started to chuckle, and she looked at him quizzically. “What’s so funny?”

“Sorry, but I don’t actually know how old you are.”

“Well, how old are you?”

“I asked you first, but I’m somewhere in the middle of the eight-century mark, I think.”

“I’m five hundred and seven.”

“Oh, very precise.”

“And you’re very old.”

Toji barked out a laugh. “Why should I bother counting, then?”

“So you don’t accidentally say you’re older than you actually are. You could be fifty years younger and you’d never know.”

“Pft! Fifty years isn’t much.”

“Fifty years is a lot.”

“Hmm, maybe I’ll ask if Mei-Mei has some old records from the Zenins. See how old I am exactly.”

Y/N’s mood turned sour at the mention of her, and her smile vanished from her face. She recalled their argument yesterday, and how Toji had told her she had no business knowing anything about him. Yet, here he seemed to have had a complete change of heart. Her near-death experience shouldn’t have been a requirement for him to allow himself to open up to her – something he still seemed reluctant to do. Was she not deserving enough to know who he really was? Would she ever be?

If not, then what was the point of fate – God – bringing the two of them together?

Toji sensed her mood shift, of course he did. It was still new to Y/N, the idea that her emotions could be sensed without his essence overpowering her psyche, the way Gojo’s had done in his Infinite Void. But Toji remained silent, which disappointed Y/N. They had reached a grand staircase leading up to what could only be Toji’s palace, as there was no other building they had passed that was as large as this one.

“I’m assuming you’re hungry,” Toji remarked, pushing open the oversized dome-shaped doorway to the palace. Y/N nodded, and he motioned for her to follow him.

The Curses dwelling inside the palace stared at them with wide eyes, bowing respectfully at Toji as he passed, their hushed voices whispered excitedly after the pair passed. Y/N could have sworn she heard the words ‘mate’ and ‘Queen’ being whispered, and that filled her with alarm. Toji led her to a balcony overlooking the city, dimly lit with smoldering lanterns, complete with a table and chairs.

“This is where I usually eat,” he explained, his voice gravelly. “It’s nice. A good view of the city.”

Y/N hummed in agreement and took a seat. Toji did the same, and servants immediately came in from the inside to place platters of steaming food in front of them both. They looked at her strangely when she thanked them and respectfully bowed at both of them as they left. It was awkward silence, to say the least, as they ate. Y/N could feel Toji glancing at her often, trying to lock eyes with her.

Toji finally spoke, pushing his plate away from him, and Y/N could feel his leg bouncing rapidly beneath the table. “Look, I’m not good at these things. But about yesterday, I couldn’t say all the things I wanted to say the way I wanted to – the right way, you know?”

“You’re not obligated to tell me anything, Toji.” Y/N replied evenly, though she was quite taken aback that a King of Hell was rambling. “Just how I’m not either.”

“No but you… you share things with me anyways. Freely. You don’t hide yourself from me, and I’ve never felt you do it.” Toji admitted, his voice slightly strained, his gaze fixed on his lap as his leg bounced faster.

He’s so nervous.

“What I’m trying to say, it was both of us that suffered a loss yesterday. We were both vulnerable, but I was so angry that we were so exposed. Because it was me who should’ve killed Mahito when I had the chance.”

“Toji, you said it yourself. Killing him would have warranted too many questions.”

“Yeah, but this outcome is so much worse because it was something neither of us could have controlled. Killing him would have been controlled.”

Toji sighed, shaking his head. “That doesn’t matter, and it’s not what I’m trying to say. I should have been there. I should have stayed. I wanted to ask you to come with me, to stay here with me. That’s why I came to you yesterday.”

“I know, Geto told me,” Y/N said gently, as if revealing some embarrassing secret.

“Oh, right. I forgot about that,” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I suppose that was me being desperate.”

“Clearly,” she giggled, her laugh tinkling like bells, and Toji’s eyes lit up. “You really think Suguru has that much influence?”

His face fell a little at that. “So, you won’t stay? Not even after what happened last night?”

Y/N could see it again now, Toji’s soul laid bare and raw before her. He was choosing vulnerability this time, laying his emotions on the line for just for her. It was truly what he wanted, for her to stay with him. Y/N couldn’t help herself, she reached over and placed her hand over his.

“No, Toji. It would be running away and leaving my family to fight a war that I caused,” Y/N replied softly, afraid of breaking him apart into tiny pieces.

“You wouldn’t be running, not to me,” Toji murmured, his eyes fixed on her hand over his.

“I know, but I would never forgive myself if I left them now.”

Toji stared at her, and she sucked in a breath. “You have such a fire in you now, you know? You know exactly where you need to go, and what you need to do.” He gripped her hand, sliding his fingers between hers. “Don’t ever put it out.”

She blushed heavily, feeling any lingering tension she had for her green-eyed Curse crumbled into dust.

“But if you need me, then call for me. I’ll come to you,” he continued lowly, his voice rumbling and almost sultry, as he squeezed her hand.

Y/N smiled shyly. “Thank you, Toji.” She looked over to the city, shying away from the intensity of the moment. “I can see what you’re trying to protect here.”

“They don’t deserve to be dragged into my… feelings.”

They sat together in comfortable silence, their hands still firmly in each other’s grasp, and Y/N had to fight to keep the smile from spreading widely across her face.

“You, uh-,” Toji cleared his throat, hesitating before continuing. “You asked me if Mei-Mei and I eve-.”

Y/N cut him off, waving her other hand quickly at him. “No, no Toji! You were right yesterday, and it’s something I don’t want or need to know.”

He sighed, rubbing his thumb on her hand. “Well, I didn’t mean that. But you should know that I never did anything like that with her.”

The relief was so immense that Y/N had to refrain herself from sighing loudly.

Anxiousness…

Toji mumbled, “Did you and Gojo ever… do anything?”

Y/N giggled wildly, and it was his turn to look at her quizzically. “I think you forget seraphim don’t do anything like that until after marriage.”

“Oh, I see,” he said, seemingly embarrassed. Perhaps he didn’t know, and Y/N wondered how much Curses really knew about Angels. After a minute of silence, Toji added. “So, uh, you- are you? Tch!”

She found his flustering quite endearing. “What?”

Toji sighed pointedly, gathering his thoughts to formulate a proper sentence. “Would you still prefer to do things that way?”

Y/N frowned. Toji was making her consider aspects of her old life that she had never thought of before. Would she remain pure until marriage? She’d embraced everything else about being a Curse – the freedom, the bloodlust – so why was this any different? And yet, strangely enough, Y/N couldn’t imagine doing it any different.

“I think… I think so yes,” she finally replied, her words slow, as if she doubted them herself.

Toji hummed. “And what about other things?”

Y/N almost choked on her own spit, her cheeks flushing bright red again. He smirked at her, and she pursed her lips indignantly. “Stop that.”

“What?” Toji said with mock innocence. She gave him a sharp look, but a smile was threatening to break out over her wavering lips. “Okay okay! Fine,” he conceded, a handsome smile lighting up his features as he laughed.

In that moment, Y/N thought Toji was the most gorgeous creature she had ever been blessed to lay eyes on.

“Tell me what Heaven was like then, if you don’t mind,” Toji asked, leaning in closer to her from across the table, his hand still deliciously warm.

Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “That’s quite a long story. I think I’ll need to hear more about you afterwards.”

He smiled. “Of course.”

-•-

taglist: @kkhaosxx @better-imagination-9 @gabrielle2013 @angelheavensblog @cyberang3lic @justmarlen3 @pinknipszz @moonwingeys @luzzbuzz @moonwingeys @hornabbyyy @mitsuyasblackwifey @chosolover736 @spookyjyestha @elisqq @sillyrings978 @littlekittensoftpaws93 @starryluv4 @99k4manii @maid4nanno @chososrealwife @iloveitwhentheyrunnn @kamoslut @rubyrose2014 @hannah5max @transparent-nature @katsvgou

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pizzaqueen · 1 year

Text

After Steve sees Ghost, he decides to take up pottery. Eddie loves watching him because Steve always wears these old, ragged jeans, and often doesn't bother with a shirt, and he looks more hot covered in clay than anyone has a right to be. Also, he has the most beautiful hands Eddie's ever seen and he's still obsessed with them and watching them make something is hypnotic

(Eddie sometimes decides to 'help' like Patrick Swayze does. It rarely ends with any pottery actually being made)

#steddie #steve x eddie #steddie headcanon #as I type this I feel like someone else may have posted something similar 😬#i just got this image of joe keery sitting at a pottery wheel in a raggy old pair of jeans and no shirt half covered in clay and uh...#It’s a good image lol #pizzaqueentxt

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morganbritton132 · 1 year

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Oh man Steve’s nightmare on the tour bus 😭😭

How often do our boys get nightmares? I would imagine Steve’s are a grab bag of demodogs, Billy, the Russians, the lake etc. and Eddy’s are Chrissy, demobats, maybe even Jason Carver??

Anyways I love your EMTSS! Reading them helps me relax after a stressful day at work ❤️

I got your other ask about knowing how to spell Eddie’s name and honestly, I didn’t even notice it was misspelled so no worries. Also, happy to help you relax in anyways I can.

Nightmares are no stranger to any of the party members and it’s not unusual to receive a check-in phone call in the middle of the night, but it typically comes in waves. There is usually an increase in phone calls and nightmares around the anniversary of Will’s disappearance, the mall fire, or Vecna.

Steve tends to have more nightmares than Eddie, but he also keeps a fairly regimented sleep schedule whereas Eddie has insomnia. There have been times where Eddie won’t sleep or will sleep very little for days just to run himself ragged enough to have a dreamless sleep.

The way they react to their nightmares are also different.

Steve has a more physical reaction. Most of his nightmares are about situations where he had to fight back and it causes him to lash out in his sleep or when he’s trapped in his head. Steve is also a sleepwalker so he will bring the nightmare to you sometimes.

Steve’s nightmares tend to be about the Russians, about Billy, and about the junkyard going all wrong and losing the kids. He has nightmares about the creature that crawled through the wall in Joyce Byers’ living room and drowning in Lover’s Lake. He has nightmares about watching Eddie die in Dustin’s arms and not being able to do anything about it.

He also has nightmares about normal things he’s anxious about. He has nightmares about forgetting, about being forgotten or left behind. He has nightmares about the Upside Down coming back and being in a position where he can’t protect his friends anymore, but the worst are the nightmares about Barb.

They don’t even pop up around the time of her disappearance. He gets them most often around the anniversary of his father’s death. It’s always the same – the way his parents were more angry about it happening at their house than that it happened at all, the weird way that lecture got physical, her nearly empty funeral. He dreamed of her, water-logged and unforgiving, and how he could never find enough words to say that he was sorry.

Eddie’s reaction to nightmares are more subdue.

It’s a juxtaposition to everything everybody knows about him. He spent a lifetime running away, but the nightmares have always froze him to the bone. They play out in vivid detail behind his eyes while his body lays stiff and trembling. He is quiet in a way that is always scary to see, barely making a sound beyond the hitching of his breath.

Eddie dreamed a lot about Chrissy.

He dreamed about saving her, about doing everything right so she walked out of the trailer that night and how it didn’t matter if he did or not. He dreamed about the cracking of her bones and her eyes caved into her head, and it always felt like he was back there again.

He dreamed about the bats. He dreamed about the swarm, about fucking up and Dustin getting bit, but he also dreamed about Rick’s boat house. He dreamed of the basketball team finding him and beating him until he couldn’t feel the punches. He dreamed about Patrick, floating out of the water and knowing that he couldn’t save him either.

Eddie dreamed other nightmares too – about his dad and the time before he lived with Wayne. He dreamed about what his mother might say about her queer son and if it would repeat the echoes of his father’s anger. He dreams about losing Steve and not finding him, about Vecna coming back and ripping away the life he built.

He had nightmares and he’d wake up with a wet gasp in the arms of his husband because even though it’s not obvious, it always seems to be to Steve.

#I’m fascinated by the idea of Eddie’s reaction to what’s going on in his head being the exact opposite of everything you know about him #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson tiktok saga

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sergeifyodorov · 5 months

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would u do a little analysis of how each team has done so far this season … i trust ur opinions so much

EACH team okay... under the cut bc i am not subjecting the masses to 32 nasty little thots cody edition

Bruins: RIP patrice of course but the bruins are steamrolling as ever... i think that if there is any evidence of the universe simply not caring abt good things it is that the bruins slip and stumble and have some of their best players retired and still manage to put up a 50 win season every year. <- salty leafs fan but ANYHWAY the bruins are easily a Playoff Team. simply "there" 5v5, strong power play, they make their money off finishing (pastrnak you filthy animal) and goaltending (swaymark you filthy animals). they have been trending downwards of late so i'm not entirely sure of like their final standings place but with this kind of head start they're staying up.

Sabres: currently in what we the people call a "decade of darkness." might be a "two decades of darkness" if we're going to be honest. the active player with the most playoff points with the sabres is tyler myers. 7 points. yeah the tall one most famous for having a subreddit that posts the gamescore card every time he's on the bottom of the gamescore card. sabres are really hard to fix because their first real step to contention is "hoping devon levi turns out really good." not promising. bad enough that by selling a piece or two celebrini is in sight. maybe that'll help? a third 1OA?

Red Wings: presenting the mid-season Season Ruining Unforced Error Award early by saying: not that they were going to be as good as their first few games of sniping suggested, but signing patrick kane tanked any realistic hope they have of playoffs. is patrick kane good? he's actually alright. maybe this time the surgery worked. is the team made better by having him on it? it surely isn't! a few REALLY BADLY TIMED dylan larkin based misfortunes have made it go from bad to worse. they were in A2 like a month ago and now they're Out. strengths: finishing. weaknesses: everything else, including morale.

Panthers: okay you've probably clocked this by now but ive been Generally Salty so far and that is bc a) im easily tempted to haterhood and b) currently discussing each team in the atlantic which does nothing to make me less Tempted To Haterhood. that being said the panthers are Good and For Real About It. they can do everything except finish chances, which is fine when the other team has way fewer chances than you and your goalie doesn't let any of them in. fuck ALLL the way off. place your bets on these guys having a deep playoff run. cross your fingers for them not having a deep playoff run i can't stand chuckyposting again it's RAN ITS COURSE. (also: machuk is probably still injured and absolutely Not doing as well as he did the last few seasons. maybe because he's just not that kind of guy but it's probably at least mostly the broken chest thing)

Canadiens: they are bad EXCEPT when it comes to overtime + the shootout. also much like the sabres they're going nowhere fast. i expect at least one of their goalies to be gone at the deadline... furthermore i think ppl who are ragging on slaf's slow development are simply expecting all 1OAs to be like an auston or a connor type (pick your connor) where they come in and immediately adapt -- slaf rings very reminiscent of quinton byfield to me, who was picked 2OA in 2020 and is only now starting to break out. give him time he's a baby...

Senators: despite how much literally everyone talks up all their players constantly, they are not good either. like the sabres or the habs... atlantic is 4 teams in the genuine hunt, 3 teams who suck and have sucked forever and will suck forevermore, and the red wings who haven't made up their minds yet. the sens actually Do have a singular Biggest Problem though and that's goaltending, but they're not a good enough team otherwise that getting a quality goaltender is going to make them playoffs worthy, especially not in the very short (this-season) run.

Lightning: the lightning are weird to me because like i think they're still making up their mind as A People what they want to do. kucherov is the best player in the league rn, this is stamkos' ufa season and he hasn't been offered an extension, vasilevskiy is back and vasying his levskiy... i fully believe they have the capability of getting a playoff spot, maybe even A3 if they want. we've all seen them in the playoffs, we know how they can turn ~It~ on at will. as always they're a deeply mid 5v5 team powered by very strong special teams... the goaltending numbers say goaltending is shit but they've been playing in front of the genuinely unplayable jonas johansson most of the season so i think it'll be fine.

Maple Leafs: as the team ive watched the moast i can talk about these guys for evar so for all of our sanities i will be brief: Auston Matthews, Baby, Look At Him, That's Auston, Auston Motherfucking "Sexy Mustached Bitch" Matthews!!!!!!! powered by an extremely strong power play and very good offence, and defence and goaltending that is held together by Morgan Rielly and a dream. possibly the only reason they're in a playoff spot is the fact that martin jones didn't get claimed on waivers three months ago and i am being dead serious about that. for some reason they're at their best when they're down by two. they do really need both their #1 goalie to come back from injury and to make a splash for a genuine nhl-calibre defenceman, but they're stubbornly determined to win games even through nasty flu.

Hurricanes: their usual selves -- analytics darlings, can't buy a goal. this year they can't buy a save either -- Freddie is out with a medical condition, Raanta is straight up not good, and Kochetkov is... well, he's Kochetkov. they're not far out of a spot but they'll need a hot hand if they want to get comfy... which i don't expect, frankly. they're good enough to make the playoffs, but they're not really a team that goes on heaters, so they'll be bubble until the end.

Blue Jackets: genuinely not sure they know what they're doing like... okay. from an outside pov they are obviously Tanking. they're bad in every way that matters except for finishing and the standings show it. but also like... they're at the point in their development cycle where they shouldn't be tanking... or at least are on the verge of Shouldn't Be Tanking. and again, because they don't know what they're doing, they hired mike babcock for this... if they know what they're doing they'll toss kekalainen as soon as they can and, following this year's draft, start Fighting. but let's be real i doubt that. adam fantilli it's your time to shine... sorry sweetheart!

Devils: see Hurricanes. Great on paper, can't buy a save. They've obviously been stunted by Timo, J'accuse, and Nico all being injured at various points, but goaltending is their biggest and most solvable problem. Unlike the Hurricanes, though, the Devils are fully capable of going on a heater, so the gap between them and WC2 isn't as big as it looks (probably.) Luke Hughes is going to be something special.

Rangers: Looks like Lafreniere is finally getting his feet under him -- but the Rangers have always been far more about getting old, known players to get a second wind with them than they've been about prospect development, and Quick and Wheeler are both showing this pretty definitively. Another one of those teams that's run by special teams and finishing/goaltending. Easy playoff spot, likely solid run. Nothing too interesting here.

Islanders: On the other hand, the Isles are interesting because... like... how did they get There? They have a negative goal differential, for heaven's sake! Their special teams are godawful, their defence is a sieve, they blow leads like that's what actually gets you points in this league, and they're somehow second in the Metropolitan??????? Is it Horvat? Barzal? Sorokin? (It's probably Sorokin.) They'll make the playoffs but i doubt they'll succeed in them.

Flyers: This one's also weird. They have the power play and offence of a peewee team in the big leagues, but have become defensively Actually Super Competent and are somehow good because of this? I'm going to theorize -- because you've asked me to but also because I really want to -- that this is due, at least in part, to somewhat of an inverse Kane-on-the-Red-Wings effect from their offseason removal of Provorov and DeAngelo; without them, the team is now not only better defensively on paper but also better as a team in the locker room. They're [uncle voice] playing with heart now! I doubt they're a real contender, but I think they might actually make playoffs.

Penguins: ...this one's also weird. They're good on paper. Like, really good on paper? Defensively "just okay" but offensively great, goaltending is fantastic, special teams are shutdown. They just can't buy a goal and they can't buy a good sequence.

Capitals: This one's weird, too, but in the opposite way -- aside from the power-play, the Caps are actually godawful on paper, especially when it comes to finishing (because when Ovechkin takes such a high percentage of your shots but he isn't scoring, your team REALLY suffers) but somehow they've managed to pinpoint sequencing luck (win close, lose ugly) and are somehow in WC1. Do I think they'll make the playoffs? Absolutely not -- if either the Devils or Canes step up, the Caps are the odd man out -- but it might be fun to see them try. Or hell, I hope they win-close-lose-ugly their way to a goddamn Cup final. Would be funny as fuck for Ovi's second-longest ever playoff run to come at the fresh young age of thirty-eight. Dude looks ragged out there. I'm going to shut up now before I start talking about finding him sexy

Coyotes: Simple on paper: bad at running play, good goaltending and finishing. Essentially what the Canucks are doing at a smaller scale. The Leafs should never have let Kerfoot walk and I mean that unironically. Okay, anyway, the Yotes are a bubble team and won't make higher than WC1 because of the logjam at the top of the Central, but holy fuck do I want them to make WC1 (or a playoff spot in general.) People ask "how can we grow the game" a lot, and when it comes to what the NHL can do directly, the number one biggest thing is win in small markets. Arizona has already created one of the sports' biggest stars -- Auston! -- and it's an absolutely massive TV market and a potential hotbed of new fans and new, great players. Arizona making a playoff spot -- or even better, going on a run -- would be amazing for the NHL. And it would be funny. And I would like that.

Blackhawks: shoutout to dave !!! dave who works for the hawks!!! anyway the hawks are very obviously tanking and good at it. Their only real point of interest is their Sacred Child, and holy fuck is their Sacred Child going to absolutely fucking smash it when he's given a team that's not entirely made up of scrubs. i think his analytics, especially his defensive numbers, are, like, fine? but accounting for his leverage (all situations, especially the difficult ones), his teammates (his best linemate is Anthony Beauvillier, and tito... is a third liner), and the fact that he's all of eighteen, he's definitely on track to be a Real Force. i kinda love him... okay moving on.

Avalanche: All-over good: finishing their biggest obvious strength, but hockeywise they don't have any real weaknesses... although there is some serious Drama brewing in that locker room and i think it might just be getting started. with landeskog gone for at least until the end of this year (and possibly forever) and ej a sabre, there is absolutely no one in there capable of actually emotionally running a team: makar lacking in a leader's magnetism, rantanen an idiot, toews and mackinnon far too high-strung and competitive, and no one else with seniority. they're a good enough team that it's not really affecting them right now, but ... i don't know, i can kind of feel it coming. They'll make the playoffs, but when the pressure is on they'll either step up or completely fall apart.

Stars: See above: all-over good, but saving their biggest obvious weakness. I think most of this is spurred by Otter being out -- Wedgewood is a serviceable backup goaltender, but obviously not capable of being a real starter, and the team is stuttering because of it. I doubt it'll be for long or too much difficulty (they're a good defensive team, so it's not going to affect them a lot, but they might lose a game or two they might have won with Otter, especially if he's out for a while), but it's going to keep them from taking a step on top of the Central. Easy playoff team, probable contender.

Wild: They are bad! Penalty kill is their worst weakness, but they're not great in goal either and the combination is kicking their ass. As much as I respect how well they've done with that giant cap-space penalty from the Parise/Suter buyouts all those years ago, it's... kind of time to throw in the towel. Get Flower those final few wins, because by god are they devoid of much other success. Right at the tail of a competitive arc. RIP. Tank incoming.

Predators: Weirdly good, even though Saros hasn't been his usual self? O'Reilly esp has been an absolutely fantastic addition for the team over the offseason. No huge strengths, no significant weaknesses. Not an amazing offensive team, but it's Nashville so they were never going to be -- the place practically breeds defensive forwards and all-around dmen. I don't expect they'll seriously contend, but they'll make the playoffs (unless someone offers the farm for Saros).

Blues: I genuinely think so little about the Blues .... that whole thing with Jordan Kyrou has been the most I've thought about them for a bit. That and the fact that only three of their games haven't been decided by the first goal? They're not good and they're really boring. Yeehaw.

Jets: THE JETS let's get JUICY. Jets' biggest strengths by far are a) 5v5 defence and b) finishing/goaltending. Even with Kyle Connor out they're sniping and Hellebuyck and Brossoit are both absolutely on it. The Jets have always seemed to have this problem where on paper (take a shot every time I've written "on paper" in this post if you want to die of alcohol poisoning) they seem fantastic, then January onwards they absolutely plummet. And it's not January yet, so that might still happen, but that kind of thing tends to happen because of a dramatic morale shift, and now that Lowry's captain and Wheeler's left for New York... that might not happen? They've banked enough points that unless they're historically bad from here on out they're still a playoff team. If they keep up what they have going so far, they're a contender, but if it's the same Winnipeg with the same problems, then they're not.

Ducks: Taking a step in the right direction with Carlsson and Mintyukov, but still bad! I really hope Carlsson recovers well, he seems like a sweet boy. Also: what on Earth are they doing with Zegras. Is he a defenceman now? Are they making him play defence? Are he and Dixie D'Amelio still dating? I have many questions. I just hope whichever high draft pick they get is an idiot. I feel like they need another dumbass baby on the team.

Flames: The Flames also appear to have no idea what's going on. And frankly, neither do I! They're too good to be obviously tanking, but not near good enough to be a bubble team. They're definitely reluctant to sell, but their best hope to win soon absolutely should be selling. They have one of the worst contracts in the league on their payroll (wow... I hope the guy in charge of my favourite team didn't sign that!) and a bunch of really solid late-round picks and prospects cutting their teeth on the NHL. In short: they aren't going to make the playoffs and should be leaning into that, but they don't seem to have realized this yet.

Oilers: For the sake of not gloating, I'm going to sum this one up with a Marek quote: If you have a goalie, it's 70% of your team. If you don't, it's 100%. They've had finishing trouble, but considering they absolutely run the show at 5v5 AND special teams (they put nearly SIXTY SHOTS on Vasilevskiy the other day) a little finishing shouldn't be quite so dangerous if they didn't have two sieves minding the net. McDavid might hit 150 again and the Oil might still miss the playoffs. If they get in, they're going far, but at this point it'll be tough as fuck to make it in.

Kings: Average penalty kill. No other weaknesses. Kopitar 4 Selke.

Sharks: This is an absolutely glorious tankjob. No other way to put it. This is the pinnacle of tank design. This is the Wayne Gretzky of tankjobs. This is the Casablanca of tankjobs. This is the Saturn V of tankjobs. Nothing has been so beautifully engineered to suck since Sir James Dyson patented his vacuum or Nancy Reagan walked the earth. It's beautiful. It's gorgeous. I am in awe. They deserve Celebrini purely because of how flawless the tank is. I don't care if he has a warm undertone and would look pink in that fantastic teal. The boy needs San Jose.

Kraken: Good defensively at 5v5, bad pretty much everywhere else. I'm going to be honest with you all, last year was kind of a flash in the pan -- Seattle isn't great and they're neither headed upwards nor downwards. Not a bubble team, probably won't pick top ten. They haven't decided whether or not to build up or tank. Beyond the fantastic aesthetics and four-unranked-lines shtick, they don't really have a whole lot of competitive mojo: no star forwards, no goaltending. Wholeheartedly mid.

Canucks: oH BABY!!!!! The 23-24 Canucks made us all learn what PDO is. The 23-24 Canucks are first in the motherfucking league after being one spot out of being in the Bedard lottery. The 23-24 Canucks are on track to have the best shooting and saving percentage in league history. The 23-24 Canucks' leading goalscorer is Brock Boeser, the guy they've almost traded practically every year since they drafted him. The 23-24 Canucks started the season by naming the Wettest Little Man On The Planet captain and they haven't looked back since. I think they're an easy lock for a playoff spot -- but within the playoffs, do I know what they're going to do? I absolutely do not. They could PDO their way to a Cup or they could bow out in four games flat. Either is equally likely. They have thoroughly embraced Good Chaos. Quinn Hughes might win the Hart. Everything's coming up Vancouver.

Golden Knights: Not as good as they were last year. Ultimately still pretty good. Easy playoff spot. Definite contender. Jack Eichel is better than ever and I love him for it, the dickhead.

#asks #mwah anon thank u... this is so long under the cut KJHDKSFJSKDJFHSK #tldr: some teams are good and some teams are bad. sometimes this is interesting and sometimes it's not.

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jungle-angel · 8 months

Note

😲 more prompts!! omg ❤️‍🩹 can we get 1 and 17 for bob, please?

Oh honey absolutely!!!!!!! I just watched The Caine Mutiny Court Martial and needless to say, it did very, very unholy things to me (lol).

Your poor husband hadn't stopped coughing since he had gotten home from the party at the hotel last night, the wetness having settled in his chest and offering him no relief from the bone cracking coughing.

"Still feeling terrible Admiral Floyd?" you chuckled, kissing his warm forehead.

"I think I need a doctor," Bob croaked, finally having a chance to take in a breath.

You kissed him again, not caring in the least if you got sick. Bob reached out, his gentle hand caressing your bump to feel the kicking of the baby boy who was just weeks away from being born. "Sweetheart, I don't want you both getting sick," he groaned.

"Bob I already checked with your sister," you assured him. "She said if it happens alot more than you think. The best she can do is keep an eye on it."

"I know, I'm just being overprotective," he told you before another round of hacking began.

You drew the duvet over him and wiped away the sweat from his forehead with a rag you kept in the bathroom. You should've known that winter was prime season for sicknesses if your students at Auggie and Patrick's Waldorf School had taught you anything.

"Do you wanna go to the urgent-care clinic up the road?" you asked.

"Maybe Mickey can bring me?" Bob asked. "Unless the doc's still doing house calls."

"Here," you said, pulling a pair of jeans, his blue button-down and his navy blue Carhardt jacket out of the closet. "Get these on and I'll call either Mickey or Jake to take you to urgent-care."

Bob hummed a weak response as he slipped into a fresh set of clothes. Sure enough, both Mickey and Jake had shown up while Phoenix had come by to keep you company.

**************

"Take another deep breath for me," the doctor told him.

Bob took another deep breath as the Navy doctor listened to his heart and lungs, the crackling in the airways obvious enough to indicate an infection.

"Well, the good news is that it's treatable," the doctor told him. "You'll have to be on antibiotics for a week, taken with food and absolutely no dairy until this thing has cleared."

"Damnit," Bob silently mouthed. Growing up on a ranch all his life had made him a fiend for milk, cheese and yogurt, but getting this infection cleared was top priority.

"Scrip will be available at the PX pharmacy and can be picked up anytime," the doctor told him. "I highly suggest you go home and get some rest in the meantime."

"Thanks doc," Bob said before gathering his jacket and the slip to leave.

He followed Jake and Mickey both to Jake's truck, wanting nothing more than to get home and rest and trying to suppress the cough that was still rumbling in his lungs.

"You sound like you need a shot of whiskey and bed," Jake chuckled.

"Fuck you Hangman," Bob groaned, laughing a little.

*************

"Mommy! Mommy! Daddy's home!! Daddy's Home!!!" Auggie chirped when he saw the truck pulling into Jake's driveway and letting Bob out.

You hoisted yourself out of the cozy window bench where you and Auggie had been reading, the fire crackling away in the fireplace while the snow fell outside and while Natasha had been preparing lunch in the kitchen.

Bob opened the front door and immediately Jock, the little black Scottish terrier, had jumped from Auggie's lap to paw at Bob's leg, his little tartan sweater keeping out the harsh winter cold that blew in through the front door.

"Hi sweetheart," you said, taking each other in your arms before he started coughing again.

You kissed his cold, reddened cheeks before Auggie came bounding in from the living room. "Daddy, you sick?" he asked.

"Uh huh," Bob answered, scooping up his son and kissing his cheek in return. "Gonna go lie down."

You helped Bob upstairs with Jock following you, letting him crawl right back under those covers, shuddering from the cold but brief walk into the house. Jock yipped a little before crawling in beside his master, licking Bob's cheeks and making him laugh a little before you kissed your husband.

"Auggie what are you doing?" you chuckled.

"I've gotta take care of Daddy," the bespectacled five year old announced proudly.

You laughed a little upon seeing Auggie in his little doctor's uniform that had been his Halloween costume, carrying a ziploc bag full of the first aid items you kept around the house.

"Ok now Daddy, open your mouth and stick out your tongue," Auggie demanded.

Bob playfully stuck his tongue out at Auggie but didn't open his mouth.

"No Daddy, stop doing that lizard thing," Auggie told him, pretending to be stern. "I gotta look into your mouth and see what made you sick."

You were biting your knuckles, resisting the urge to laugh.

"Yep!" Auggie exclaimed, shining the flashlight into Bob's open mouth. "You've got worms."

"Worms?!" you blurted out, unable to control your laughter anymore.

"Looks like we've gotta operate Daddy," Auggie concluded. "But before we do I gotta have you throw up into this."

Bob was laughing and coughing all at once as Auggie held up Jock's empty water dish near the bed he shared with Dolly, the little Pekingese puppy who was probably playing with Diedre in her room.

"Alright Doctor Auggie, out, out, let Daddy rest," you told him.

Bob pulled you in for another kiss, still laughing once the coughing had subsided.

"Daddy," chirped a quiet little voice from the three year old standing in the doorway in his little dark green turtleneck and denim overalls.

"What's up Patrick?" Bob croaked.

"Mommy said you sick, so I brought you Teddy," Patrick told him.

Bob was melting at the sight of the fuzzy, cuddly little teddy bear that Patrick had in his hands. It was the same one you and Bob had gotten when you had taken Auggie and Patrick to their very first Red Sox game, a fuzzy little vintage bear with curly fur and his own little red, white and blue Red Sox jersey and little wooden bat. Though the bat was still sitting on Patrick's dresser, the fuzzy little bear had been the one stuffie Patrick always snuggled with when he was sick.

"C'mere buddy," Bob croaked again, lifting his little son up onto the bed and giving him the tightest hug he could give him. "And thank you."

Patrick reached up with his little hands to grab Bob's face, planting a big wet kiss right on his father's cheek, jumping off the bed and waddle-running out of the room to go eat lunch.

"You ok?" you asked Bob.

"I'm alright sweet pea," Bob assured you. "I thought it was cute that they tried."

You smiled at your husband, gently caressing his cheek as he melted into your touch, only to be interrupted by the growling of his belly.

"You hungry now?" you chuckled.

Bob nodded. "Can I have some hot chicken soup?"

"Anything for you Bob," you answered, kissing his cheek before you went down to the kitchen to get him some of the hot chicken soup that Phoenix had made.

You returned just a minute later with the mug full of soup, steaming and hot for Bob and a thick crust of grainy bread for him to eat with it. When he had finished, you crawled in beside him, his hand pulling the duvet over the both of you as you turned out the lights and settled in with Jock having moved to the foot of the bed and warming your feet.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #admiral!bob #admiral!bob floyd #admiral!bob floyd x reader #dagger squad

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innocent-writers-soul · 1 year

Text

Tate Langdon x Fem!Reader (smut)

summary: you pass by the room where the noises come from and decide to look in to see what is happening there and a strange picture opens in front of you;

warnings: male masturbation, dirty talk, cumming, voyeurism, exhibitionism (?), mention of blood and aggression; not proofread (i apologize if i forgot smth)

word count: 839

You look at Tate and think he's cheeky. He is out of control; he has no brakes or they work too late. And sometimes you can predict what will happen in the end, but there are moments, the consequences of which even for you remain a mystery, for example, like now. You look through the gap in the door and see Tate lying back down on the floor, blood dripping from his nose, he does not stop smiling and laughing maliciously, not even defending himself from attacks. His T-shirt is pulled up, revealing snow-white skin and a slightly embossed body, and you fleetingly understand that you are more similar to him than you could imagine. The only difference is that dark feelings have been born in the depths of your soul and almost always remained there, while Tate has a lot on display — he is not ashamed of himself most of the time, not ashamed of his gloomy and vulgar side. And it even fascinated you to some extent. Delighted, but sometimes frightened, because it was rarely possible to understand what was in his head. And considering the fact that you were still not particularly close and familiar with him, the atmosphere around him was still dangerous, but, nonetheless, exciting.

You quickly look at Patrick, who is standing at a distance from the door, half a turn, with his back to you for the most part, but in such a way that you can watch him clenching his fists in fury, his face twists in aggression, but then he completely freezes with mixed emotions in his eyes. You don't understand what's wrong, but when you return to Tate, your breath hitches.

“Admit it, you haven’t felt such a strong dick for a long time while imprisoned in a house with Chad,” the guy unzippes his fly and begins to stroke himself through the fabric, deliberately sobbing and sighing loudly, “but I have something that might interest you…” Long fingers take out an impressive arousal, the veins on which are already beginning to show — it is difficult to match the childish face of Tate with it — and move up and down at an increasing pace; lube collects under his moving palm, the sounds of squelching spread in the room where there is no furniture yet, and his ragged breathing is the second thing that echoes along the walls. A bright, lively, playful and mischievous smile does not stop leaving his face, his tongue constantly licks dry and cracked lips, he jerks off, looking into Patrick's eyes, but your heart stops beating completely at the moment when he looks at you outside the door, strengthening grip on the length, narrowing his eyes. “And maybe not only you,” he tosses his hips up in reverse motion, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead and rolling down his temple, blood continues to drip onto his T-shirt, but he doesn't care much. However, as well as you and Patrick. You forcefully squeeze the wood at hand, incomprehensible feelings arise inside you, you panic, the phrase “YOU ARE DISCOVERED” lights up in large red letters in your head, while Tate approaches his peak, biting lower lip, closing eyes a little in bliss, arching, but keeping an eye on you. You can’t tear yourself away from the view, it’s too captivating and beautiful, you think that your hand would look good on Tate’s place, but you quickly turn these thoughts away, feeling the uncontrollable atmosphere and your own arousal. You clenches your legs, feeling a throb between them, a tingling warmth beginning to spread in your lower abdomen, and you can’t help but continue to watch and tremble from overwhelming feelings. Your other hand reaches down to calm your admiration at least a little, but when you see that Tate notices this, tilting his head to the side a little, still watching with interest, you fast move it away. This is new for you, because you have never felt anything like this before, especially since you have not peeped at a jerking guy, but everything happens for the first time. Tate meanwhile comes to his senses, his curly tangled hair in even more disarray than usual, he sighs languidly, licking the cum from his palm revealingly, slowly putting two fingers into his mouth, not taking his eyes off you and still grinning.

You let out a barely audible breath, legs do not obey you, but you harshly go away, unable to endure the scene in front of you, of Tate himself, heading to your room at a fast speed, forgetting your (un)secret hiding place and hearing that Patrick has apparently recovered from his daze, beating Tate again. Your face is burning and reddening more and more every second, hands are freezing, heart is beating so fast and you cannot calm it down. You still have no idea what will come out of this situation, but something inside tells that Tate will come to you tonight, not letting you forget what you saw during the day.

a/n: english is not my first language but i tried my best, as always. before that i had been writing in my own for many years and now decided to improve english. in a very interesting direction, i need to say. hope you enjoyed! :)

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whore-ibly-hot · 11 months

Note

What if we were the ones with the big chest? 👀 Which yans would be more of a boob than ass guy?

Also,how is your day going? I want to start interacting more with u ☺️

(I'm doing good, a bit sleepy, thanks for asking!)

Joey is a fan of both ass and boobs, as he finds the reader attractive no matter what. He never had a crush on anyone beforehand, so he doesn't really have a preference. His type is you, no matter what.

Fritz likes hips more than ass or boobs, as that was taken as a sign back in the day a woman was more fertile and could bear many children easier.

Ahmed and Patrick are both boob guys. Patrick likes them because they are easier to grope in public without him having to pull up any skirts or panties, and Ahmed likes them because they are easier to photograph and imagine them exposed.

Johannes also has no preference, but as much as he likes to think he is respectful and would treat a big breasted reader the same, it's obvious he is much more flustered and shy around a reader like that. He's just never seen a woman's exposed chest, and he can't handle himself if there is a lot of you in that area.

Carl is an ass man. Before he coerced you into being his little fucktoy, there where many times he'd watch you bend over, or stretch. Plus, he enjoyed the feeling of grinding himself against your ass through your thin pajamas on the many nights you slept over. Without you knowing, of course.

Puck likes all of you, as he knows humans are much more conservative and shun nudity unlike his wild and passionate fae brethren. Anytime you are exposed, he knows it's a lot for you, but you do it because you trust him. He assures you that all the parts you hide from him are beautiful. His only preference is that when around him, you show yourself off rather than wear mortal rags.

Joshua has no particular interest in any of the parts specifically, as he is more curious than anything. After the slaughter of the impure, he's not even fully sure what exactly he's into, as sex Ed wasn't big in the town even before the adults were killed. Gabriel drives home the importance of consumation but the simple farm clothes of the cult members and the lack of attraction to any other people leaves Joshua unsure what he would like, if he even knew what there was to like.

Gabriel is interested in only your virginity. The idea that an outsider has come into the village still pure and untainted surely must be a gift from there God. He knows that you were sent as a gift, and that your purity could only be given to him once he truly proved himself as a worthy disciple. He thinks only of the day when you must hear who his God has chosen as your betrothed, and God willing, it will be Gabriel. In his eyes, is it truly taking a girl's purity if it's taken by a man so holy and devoted?

Mattias likes boobs, because he's so used to past partners waiting for him to initiate and give all the physical affection even after a particularly rough fight. You aren't like that, and his favorite spot to feel fully wrapped up in you is with his head on your chest. (He jokes he likes your tits because the remind him of speedbags.)

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silverstudios · 30 days

Text

Mum says it's my turn to write!

(Based on that break in idea I had)

The plan was simple, Patrick had told them, wait for the owner to leave, smash the window in the back, steal everything not bolted down. It was simple:sell everything they stole to the pawn shop down the street and under that shitty breakfast place, make bank, go back to the frat house and use that money to party all night long.

Marcus glanced at the other three of this “Operation”, Patrick (their self proclaimed “Leader”), Nicholas (the “Brains”- the mere thought made Marcus roll his eyes), and Tom (that football playing brute). And then, of course, him- the only one of the group who knows how to drive a car.

Truth be told- he knew this was a stupid, bad idea. They were committing theft, a crime punishable by law, and even if the police here were chill as hell, that doesn’t mean this was alright. But he needed that cash, and he needed the good social credit with these dumbasses to get through the rest of his college courses in peace.

He just has to finish those courses- and then he can leave this backwater town behind and live it with his business major in some fancy city somewhere.

“Oh- there they are.” Patrick whispered and pulled the group down into the bush- poor thing- and watched as a lanky person exited the house, locking the door behind them. Marcus raised a brow at the weird outfit- white lab coat and red goggles?- before shaking his head and watching as this poor bastard entered into their car- beaten up thing, almost as bad as his car is- and drove off.

The rag tag team of thieves waited for a few more moments to see if they’d return, but after a minute or two Patrick stood, smiled at them and motioned for the group to move.

Marcus took a deep breath to banish away the rising feelings of guilt and shame as he followed after his “friends”- god they were actually going to do this, robbing this poor guy blind- and had to close his eyes as Tom broke the lock on the back window, shoving it up so hard a small crack formed on it.

“Remember- everything that isn’t bolted down.” Patrick snickered- like this was funny, like this was a fucking gaming and not a criminial action- and climbed in, followed shortly by the other two. Marcus waited at the window, his stomach flipping and throat thick.

He could run and leave these dumbfucks with no ride back, he could do the right thing and call the police station, there are many things he could do…

And he chose to climb into that window.

…It was a nice house, a bit small from the looks of it. The kitchen seemed nice, with its wooden floors…with….claw marks on them??? Maybe the dude has a pet. There was a cork board with newspaper clips pinned to it, a sink full of dishes (mood my guy, mood)....multiple things of peanut butter jars on the counter (not even the good kind of peanut butter) and a fridge with more claw marks on it.

Marcus looked toward the others, who were already shoving glasses and pictures into their shitty backpacks, and sighed. They seem to have the kitchen under control…

He wanders out of the kitchen, looking around the living room. The guy had turned the lights off, making it nearly pitch black in there. Marcus slammed his hand on the wall and began fumbling for a light switch, eyes downward looking for any small critter on the floor. He might be robbing a house but dammit he will not kick someone’s pet, even by accident.

The light flashed on, bright and sudden, and made Marcus squint his eyes shut. This dude has a lightbulb that has the power of the sun, or maybe all those drinks from last night were still messing with him….

He blinked away the spots in his eyes, sighed heavily and flung his backpack off his back. He looked up, ready to see what kind of things he could fit in this dinky old bag-

And his heart stopped in his chest.

Sitting there, on the couch, a mostly eaten sandwich in its hands, blinking just as heavily as he was (maybe he had flashbanged it as well when he turned that light on), making direct eye contact with him…

Was something he thought was just a small town boogeyman, a grim fairy tale to keep the kids from being stupid and trusting strangers. The Smiling snatcher, east ridge demon, whatever other fucking nickname this town had for this- This creature. This creature that, even while Sitting down, could tower over him. This creature which was slowly gaining a twisted, malicious grin on its face, its snack placed onto the coffee table next to the beaten up couch.

“Ey Marcus, found anything good?-'' Patrick stopped dead in his tracks next to him, his breath caught in his throat. And based on the pause on the rustling, the other two dumbfucks either saw the creature as it stood through the little kitchen window thing or heard their fearless leader shitting himself-

But they all heard this creature Snicker and glare at them…

And if anyone was near this house- they would have heard all four boys scream bloody murder as it charged forward, a sickening cackle escaping it.

…

Alex flung their door open with a loud sigh. Just another day working for Lankman, another day of intense guilt and mild annoyance at all the incorrect veligun information stated as truth. They glanced up, blinking for a few seconds….and sighed even louder.

Clyde laid across the couch, a satisfied looking smirk on it’s face, a hand resting on it’s chest and tail flung over the top of the couch. Claw marks lined the walls that weren’t there this morning, a keep plastic table they had gotten a few days ago sat broken in half and they could barely make out the sight of their back kitchen window being both open and broken.

Part of them wanted to ask, part of them wanted to know….but the rest of them was just too tired to give a single shit.

“Hiiiiii Sandwich man~” Cylde purred from it’s spot as Alex passed it. “How was work?” “Same as always, awful and guilt wrecking.” “Hey, at least you have tomorrow off, yes?” “Yeah at least there’s that-” Alex paused, looking back toward Clyde with a raised brow. “.......Clyde?” “Yes?” “......Why do I hear….screaming, coming from you?” The veligun merely smiled larger, it’s clawed fingers tapping across it's chest and shrugged. Alex watched it for a second…sighed and shook their head. “Want a sandwich?” “Yes!” It sat up quickly, a short, muffled chorus of screams and shrieks racing from it’s body. Alex just rolled their eyes and headed into the kitchen, taking a mental note of the four backpacks sat in the corner.

#doai sitcom au #long post #Writing #no beta we die like men #silver rambles #hehehehehehhehe

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queenimmadolla · 2 years

Note

Can I request a Eddie one shot where it’s that scene where he was basically telling Steve how Nancy still loves him and she didn’t hesitate to go after him but like instead it’s Eddie and female reader and it’s Steve telling Eddie that and Nancy and robin tell the reader something similar where it’s obvious they 1. Still love each other or 2. They like one another. You can choose whichever or go however you like!

Had to squeeze in some angst but I still think it’s pretty good, hope you like it!

𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, exes to lovers)

“I can’t fucking believe I’m gonna die like this,” You muttered under your breath, watching your feet as you made your way through the Upside Down, covered in who knows what, drenched and exhausted. You’d been perfectly content (anxious) at home as a witch hunt for your ex-boyfriend assembled. Why you cared was beyond your knowledge, why Chrissy Cunningham being in his trailer in the first place plagued your mind was something you refused to think about. Thinking about it gave it more power over you and you would not let Eddie have more power over you. Not after he’d dumped you last week only to hook up with the most popular girl in school despite sneaking around with you for months because he didn’t want to go public with your relationship. Your feelings were beyond hurt.

Despite the emotional pain, you’d been about to go looking for him when the witch hunt came to you. As in Jason and his shit friends had abducted you from your home, foolishly believing there was a possibility Eddie could still care about you. They’d dragged you with them to the boat house where they had found Eddie and tried to use you as bait, only you’d been able to slam your fist back into Jason’s balls. His grip had dropped from around your neck as he crumbled to the ground and Patrick made no move to stop you–his eyes almost pleading with you to escape–as you dove into the water.

Jason recovered quickly, though, jumping in after you. Patrick had jumped in after him, pulling him away from you to give you more time to escape. You’d almost reached Eddie’s boat, where he was leaning over, ready to pull you on board when you could hear Jason start yelling at Patrick. Despite Eddie yelling at you to keep coming to him, you turned just in time to see Patrick go under. Then he’d shot up into the air, where he proceeded to contort in ways the human body was not ever meant to, like he was some soda can before plummeting down to the water. At that point, Eddie was in the lake with you, tugging you with him and you went willingly, positive Patrick was dead.It had more of an effect on you than you cared to admit. He’d been nice to you the entire time you’d been Jason’s hostage. More than once, you’d almost been on the receiving end of Jason’s emotional tantrums and Patrick had been the one to step in and take the hit. Almost like he was used to it. He’d kept you calm, let you know he wouldn’t let Jason harm you, that he’d get you out of there.

You had tried sympathizing with Jason, aware stupid ass police officers had been the reason he believed Eddie played a major role in Chrissy’s death but he was taking things way too far. You didn’t think he’d stop until the boy he believed to be his girlfriend’s killer was dead. You’d been stuck with Eddie in the woods until help came in the form of Steve Harrington and his rag tag group. Then you’d been on that damn lake again, unable to think of anything but Patrick’s body hitting the water.

Eddie had tried to talk to you, console you but you’d shrugged away from him and moved onto the otherside, next to Steve. Knowing Eddie was alive soothed your worry but your annoyance and disdain for him was at an all time high. You were in this mess because he just had to play hanky panky with someone else’s girlfriend.

When Steve had been pulled under and everyone jumped in, you’d been about to dive in after Robin.“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” Eddie screamed at you, hand darting out to secure itself around your wrist as you stood with one foot on the edge. “I’m going in! They need help!” You frowned, ignoring the sensation that had shocked its way through your nervous system at his touch.

“Like hell you are, you’ll get yourself killed!” His eyes were pleading with you but you couldn’t see past your own hurt. “Just stay in the boat, please I can’t lose you!”

“I’m not yours, remember?” It made that ache in your heart rip wide open to say and you couldn’t stand to look at him any longer so you’d torn yourself away and jumped in. Probably wouldn’t have if you had known you’d have to fight bat looking demon creatures. You’d been on the tennis team so you were impressively knocking them out of the air like flies until a fucking wave of them were approaching. You’d all run into the cover of the disgusting looking woods rather than face them. Now here you all were, licking your wounds and making your way to Nancy’s house.

Eddie and Steve were somewhere behind you while you walked alongside Nancy and Robin.

“Are you guys like a thing?” Robin blurted out in a whisper, “I wasn’t gonna ask but if we’re gonna die, I’m kind of curious to know. He seemed to be coming onto you pretty hard in the boat.”

“No, we’re not a thing,” You sighed out, rubbing the soot—or wherever the fuck the nasty shit in the air was, off of your face. “Anymore.”

“I told you,” Robin lightly slapped Nancy’s shoulder with the back of her palm. “He looked pretty crushed when you ignored his help getting in the boat.”

“Yeah, well, when you get dumped you kind of don’t want anything to do with the guy after. Not that being held hostage and getting sucked into another dimension with him isn’t romantic.”

“Are you being sarcastic?” “Yes, Robin. I’m being sarcastic.”

“So, it’s over? Donzo? Caput?”

“As dead as the girl in his trailer.”

Robin pursed her lips and nodded while Nancy bit her lip.

“You know, he sort of implied she was there for other reasons.” Nancy supplied and you winced, trying to push the imagery out of your head.

“I don’t need nor want to know that.”

“No, no, not that! Business related.” You glanced her way to see her raising her eyebrows, hoping you’d understand her implication.

“You want me to believe Chrissy was at Eddie’s to buy drugs? The first scenario sounded more believable.” You huffed, glancing behind you just in time to see Eddie’s gaze dart away.

“It’s true,” Robin agreed, having grown fond of Eddie in their short time forced together, “I mean, yeah the guy was sad about her death, but I think it had more to do with the fact that he ran away.”

“What was he supposed to do?” You chortled, picturing Patrick’s death again. If Chrissy’s was as brutal as that, there had been no saving her. And why a coroner seemed to think a practical teenager was capable of breaking limbs, dislocating a jaw and crushing their eyes in like that was also questionable. Someone deserved to be fired. “Unfold her broken bones and tell her dead body to get up and run?”

Robin shrugged her shoulders, looking almost like she agreed with you, “Yeah, I don’t know exactly what he expected to do there, to be honest. But I know he feels at fault, almost. And I know he stares at you like my dad stares at my mom.”

You and Nancy both raised your eyebrows at her.

“In love! He stares at her like he’s in love! He jumped in after you, right? That guy has been hesitant every step of the way but he came in through that weird ass portal thingy right after you did. You weren’t even settled on your feet when he came through. It means something. Look, I can’t exactly be with the person I’m interested in, but if sh-they were looking at me like he looked at you? I’d be in their arms right now, professing my love and ready to take on Vecna.” Nancy stared at Robin, looking slightly awed at her speech, “Wow, Robin. That was actually really good.” “Because I mean it.” She was giving you a look you didn’t need to decipher, too busy thinking about how scared you’d been when you didn’t know if he was alive or not. You could lie to them all you wanted, but you couldn’t lie to yourself about being in love with Eddie. A love like yours wouldn’t just go away after a week.

“Nancy jumped in after Steve, are you saying that means she’s in love with him?”

“No!” Nancy made a face, shaking her head. “Now that is done. Plus, I’ve got a boyfriend who I am very much in love with. If it had been Jonathan, that thing wouldn’t have had the chance to drag him all the way through after I was done with it. Steve’s my friend. I wasn’t about to let him drown. Robin jumped in, too.”

“I am also not in love with Steve,” Robin commented dryly, as displeased with the idea as she was in Starcourt. Behind you, Eddie was getting a similar pep talk. “So what’s going on there, Munson?” Steve gestured to you as they hung back. Eddie glowered at him before his gaze was focused on the back of your head again. “None of your business.” Steve shrugged, satisfied with having tried. Eddie quickly grew restless. “She hates me.” He admitted with a frown. “Highly doubt that.” “Did those bat things get your eyes, too? ‘Cause you are definitely not seeing what I’m seeing.” Eddie had expected you to ignore him, you’d done so immediately after the break up but he was hoping now that you were in an actual life or death situation, you’d be a little more open.

He’d been scared shitless when Jason called out to him from the shore and he’d seen you with him. Then he noticed Jason’s hand gripped around your neck. All he knew after that was rage.

By some fucking good luck, you’d both managed to get out of the situation relatively unharmed, though he knew how effected you must have been with Patrick’s death. You’d been in a near catatonic state until the others showed up and informed you on exactly what was going on. Then you went right back to purposely ignoring him while all Eddie wanted to do was hold you until this was all over. “We’re literally in a very filthy version of Hawkins, she saw me almost eaten alive, there’s a very good possibility we won’t get out of here and she still won’t talk to you. If she hated you, she’d have no trouble chatting you up in these circumstances, for the hell of it. But she’s not, which means she’s really hurt, really mad, or both. And that means she cares, a lot more than she wants to admit.” Eddie dragged his stare away from you to glare at Steve, suspicious of his intentions, “You noticed all of that? Is there a reason you were paying such close attention to her?”

The jealousy stirred in his belly, though he was aware he’d been the one to end things between you, meaning he didn’t really have the right to be jealous, Eddie was. He was so very jealous. He’d wanted to rip Steve’s arm off when you’d been the only one to accept Steve’s assistance getting into the boat and not his.

And you’d jumped in to save him, despite knowing him for even less time than Eddie had. The implications were there and Eddie didn’t like them one bit. The only reason he’d broken it off with you in the first place was all the flack he was catching as of late, he knew the moment you went public with your relationship, they’d group you in as a freak with him. You were anything but a freak. Smart, beautiful, vice president, you had a lot going for yourself. Who the fuck was he to hold you back? So, he’d painstakingly let you go; felt very much so like he was ripping his own heart out along with yours. Then a week later, everything went to shit. Still, through all the supernatural events taking place, you were at the forefront of his mind. You were all that mattered. Making sure you got out of this alive was his only goal, whether you hated him or not.

“Whoa, no! She’s all yours buddy, I’m just stating my observations. I’ve gotten pretty good at reading women, lately. Ironically, I can't seem to find one.”

Eddie glanced between Steve and Nancy, aware of their previous relationship but there didn’t seem to be any romantic interest between the two, Steve remained relatively unbothered (though annoyed with his lack of a female companion), it seemed that chapter was truly over.

“You’ll find her eventually. As for her,” Eddie’s attention was back on you as his longing hit him full force. “I love her. Really messed things up and I don’t think she’ll forgive me.”

“Won’t know if you don’t try, right?”

“Right.”

When they reached Nancy’s house, Eddie pulled you aside in the entryway while the others all seemed to conveniently vanish.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” Was the first thing out of your mouth, you moved to head up stairs but once more, Eddie held you back.

“Don’t know if you noticed, honey, but right now might be all we have. I get it, you’re mad at me. And you have every right to be, I’d just rather not go out if this world—or, this dimension, I guess—without you knowing I’m stupid fucking in love with you.” Eddie declared, hand squeezing your unresponsive one.

“Sure,” You rolled your eyes, trying to yank your hand out of his grasp. Eddie wouldn’t budge, slowly reeling you in.

“Why are you so intent on being hard headed?”

“Because if we weren’t in a really fucked up alternate dimension, you wouldn’t be talking to me right now. You’d be nice and cozy with a pretty cheerleader in your trailer. Let’s just get back to our normal, shitty dimension and go back to pretending we never existed to each other, yeah?” It wasn’t a question. You tried to pull away again but once more, Eddie didn’t release you.

Instead, he tugged you forward until the tips of your shoes were touching, grinning victoriously down at you.

You were stuck in a world filled with monsters and the idiot was smiling??

“You’re jealous.” He stated, eyes alight with delight as his thumb stroked along your wrist. “You still love me.”

“What!? No! I just-I’m pointing it out!” You stuttered out, floundering to come up with an explanation as to why you brought up the other girl.

Eddie finally dropped his hold on your wrist only for his hand to move to the back of your head, holding you in place as he crushed his mouth to yours.

You raised your hands in surprise before they moved forward to rest on his chest and surprisingly, you didn't push him away. Instead, your hands bunched the fabric, face of the Tiefling mascot scrunched in your fist as Eddie worked your mouth open. The kiss tasted heavily of Lover’s Lake but you hadn’t thought you’d ever be in the position to kiss him again so neither of you gave a fuck.

Eddie pulled away, much to your dismay, panting out, “She was there to pick up special K. That’s it, okay? Just business. Only person I wanna be cozied up to is you, honey. I was fucking stupid, we should be together, baby. Me and you. How it was always meant to be and yeah, okay this whole ‘we’re all gonna possibly die’ thing prompted me but that’s all it was, a prompt. Bucket of ice cold water, a kick to the ass, a wake up call; if I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die knowing the love of my life is aware of just how much I love her. Never stopped. Not for a single goddamn second.”

You were fighting back tears when you flung yourself at him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as his wound around your waist, clutching you tightly to him.

“Don’t say that! You’re not gonna die. We’ll get out of this.” You weren’t so sure, especially now that you know what the clock meant. You hadn’t told the others you’d heard the cursed sound while you were in Jason’s car after they had snatched you. You couldn’t tell Eddie, he’d be devastated about your impending fate.

“Say it,” he begged, pulling back only enough to stare down at you with pleading eyes, “please.”

“I love you.” Your response was instant, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Eddie made a choked sound before he was dipping down for another desperate kiss. The two of you stayed molded together for a handful of minutes, indulging in your renewed declarations until Steve called out.

“You guys hear that? Dustin?”

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