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queenie-avenue · 2 months

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Sent from Below, Fell from Above. [pt.1] [pt.2]

—> if angels can fall, demons can rise.

⤻ reader is a female, reader is a bunny-type angel(?), canon-typical cursing, very bad use of 1920s slang, heavily inspired by @jazjelspen 's angel baby fic, death, betrayal, mentions of racism, abuse of men against women and sexism, angst, spoilers for all of hazbin hotel season one, flashbacks

notes: a rather long one, and wrote another small verse for readers to sing. I wrote it while slowing down the melody in Emily and Charlie's parts.

💌 ⤻ archives.

You walked into the broadcasting room, your heels clacking against the clean floor as you looked about before acknowledging that someone was already there.

"Ah, are you my newest assistant?" The man seated there had the widest grin on his face as he sat there, legs slightly spread apart as you gulped, nodding your head so meekly. Ah, to be human again, when you were too scared to even raise your head. "Haha, that's wonderful, my dear. I was told you had quite the resume. Most impressive for a young lady." You nodded your head. "Very... very impressive indeed." He smiled at you.

"You are impressive too, sir." You quipped.

"Oh?" He tilted his head.

You blushed as he narrowed his eyes at you. "Both of us... we- we're not exactly what society deems as... correct."

"Is that why you're working here? You relate to me?" The creole man asked, leaning against his chair as he tapped a lanky finger on his desk.

"No." You shook your head, your wild hair shaking alongside you. "I admire you. I want to be like you. I imagine it must have been hard for to get to where you are now." You spilled your heart out to this man, because for years, you admired how someone that was meant to be pushed out of what society deemed 'right' managed to rise to the top, to become a striking star in the radio world. "So I'm here because I want to learn how to become a star, just like you."

His eyes widened as you faced him with that determined look on your face.

"What a bright young woman." He rose up from his seat, sauntering his way towards you as you stood there, waiting.

Alastor grabbed your hand, bowing down as he looked up at you, that sweet grin on his face. "Alastor, my dear, pleasure to meet you." He said, before sealing your fate with a kiss on your hand. "I hope that we can get along well." You gazed at him with wide eyes, your eyes raking over his bronzed skin and brown — almost red — hair. Glasses lined his gleaming eyes.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

"Hey, bitch! I'm talking to you over here!" Adam's voice rang throughout your head as your head snapped up to meet the first man on Earth. You frowned.

You never liked Adam. He was stuck-up, and you had heard the stories of how badly he treated Lilith and Eve, it reminded you of your high-school friends who unfortunately fell into the hands of those abusive men they had to marry. Adam had the same air as them, just less... smart.

"You want me to show up to the trial?" You repeated.

"Yes!" Adam yelled.

"I don't mind. That demon princess annoys me a little. I don't understand why she's trying to redeem a murderer like him." You hissed. The fact that girl — who probably knew of his sadistic nature — associated with him, left a bad taste in your mouth. Though wrath was a sin, you felt resentment and wrath for Alastor, and envy for how he did not seem to regret any of his actions that led him to hell in the first place. Meanwhile, you had to deal with the nightmares that came with being killed. For the first years in Heaven, you woke up in cold sweat as you remembered the knife that went through your heart.

"Well then, babe," you disliked Adam, but a temporary truce would be fine. "Let's start heading there, shall we?"

You nodded and unflapped your wings.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

You flew up to the seat beside Adam, eyes narrowed as you watched Alastor promenade in with the Princess of Hell and that girl you still had no idea about. The way he walked was still the same as it had been years ago.

You met eyes with Alastor, mustering all your courage to send a look of malice his way, as Sera announced the beginning of court.

"We are gathered here today to determine whether or not a soul in Hell can be redeemed to the Heavenly Realm by means of this Hazbin Hotel." Oh, you just knew Alastor named that Hotel, he always did have a sick sense of humour. You almost snorted at the name too, but refrained from doing so.

Adam nudged you. "Now." He practically hissed. Out of spite, you almost didn't stand up.

"Objection!" You said as you stared down at the Princess, then at Sera. "I apologise for interrupting you, your royal highness." You looked down at her, then up at Sera, who glared at Adam, instinctively knowing it was his idea to rope in the innocent you into his plans. "I understand that as a Winner, I typically have no say in how Heaven runs things." You summoned up all your might as you met Sera's eyes, utilising all that courage you had back as Alastor's assistant into your heavenly body. "But I must disagree on the type of people the Princess of Hell is trying to redeem." You pointed a finger at Alastor, his eyes widening in amusement as you accused him.

"This man, I knew him from when I was alive, my heavenly council." You looked at all the archangels and others that gathered around. "He was the man who killed me. A notorious serial murderer from when I was alive. More of his victims are no doubt here too, maybe some in hell. But what doesn't change the fact is that someone as dangerous as him," You pointed your finger at Alastor again, your face turning red as he simply tilted his head towards you, like a gentleman greeting a lady. The council gasped as they all whispered about, some glaring down at your murderer. For once, you felt like justice was being served for how abruptly your life had ended in Alastor's hands."Does not belong in Heaven after all the souls he has killed in his time in the living. No matter how much he repents, taking away another human's soul is an unforgivable crime!" You exclaimed.

The rest of the council agreed, as the Princess and the girl beside her looked about, frantic. Alastor simply smiled up at you, his little bunny.

"Order in the court." Sera said, attempting to calm everyone down after you riled them up with your voice.

"You've always been such a good public speaker, my little bunny." You saw red, he dared to call you that intimate nickname in front of the Heavenly Court? After you had revealed his crime to everyone to see?

It seems that Alastor's nerve had not died with him.

"Why is he even here?" You questioned Charlie, your fiery gaze never leaving the trio below you.

"I am the host of the hotel, my dear!" Alastor said, "I should be here to support my fellow colleagues in their endeavours. What kind of co-worker — let alone friend — would I be if I let them defend their case on their own?"

You were about to speak when you were interrupted by that Princess.

"In the Hazbin Hotel, we believe that everyone can be redeemed!" The Princess exclaimed despite the loud voices drowning her out. "Please, you have to listen!"

"You don't even have evidence that this Hotel can work. If you do, we'd be glad to see it!" Adam responded sarcastically, challenging Princess Morningstar.

"We have a patron that is showing incredible progress." She said.

"Who?"

"Don't tell me it's him." You glared at the Princess, daring her to confirm your doubts.

"Angel Dust!" What an odd name.

"Oh yeah! The porn demon, he's totally worth being redeemed." Adam blew a Raspberry at them. That was... immature. Still, your cheeks almost flamed scarlet as Adam gave you context for who and what this sinner the Princess referred to was.

"Well, if you know so much, what do you think it takes to get into heaven?" She pointed at Adam as your eyes widened. You had never thought about this before but... what did a person need to do to get into heaven? Did they need to be perfect? Because if so, you certainly belonged in Hell. Then, you remembered Alastor and your mood soured to think that you might have been in the same spot as him.

What was even more shocking was when Adam began to get flustered, flabbergasted by Charlie's question as Sera inquired as to whether Adam was okay. You watched even more shocked as Adam cursed at Sera and began to scribble nonsense onto a paper and sent it down to the girl. You caught a glimpse of the paper and your eyes widened.

"Are you fucking serious?" The ashen girl by the Princess' side asked, and honestly, that was your reaction too.

Adam snapped his fingers as Charlie challenged him, your eyes narrowing as an orb of light began to reflect, glowing bright before showcasing a bunch of sinners... partying? Was that how partying looked nowadays?

"Heavenly people, what more do you need to see? The pornstar chose a night of debauchery, that's not a soul worthy of being redeemed!" You side-eyed Adam. He had done way more debaucherous stuff than you cared to admit, and plus, if not partying was one of the factors for how you could get into heaven, the parties Alastor dragged you to would have caused you to plummet to Hell already.

"Are you telling me you never had a drink with friends after a hard day?" The Princess was right.

Thankfully, Sera was much more forgiving and less stupid than Adam, considering that she eventually allowed the Princess of Hell to continue. Still, you glared at Alastor, annoyed that you and Adam's ploy to get everyone so worked up over the serial killer in the room had not worked.

If the type of people the Princess of Hell, Charlotte Morningstar, wanted to redeem was a serial murderer, you would never accept the idea of redemption.

Alastor did not deserve such happiness.

You continued to watch, and the more you watched, the more you empathised with this Angel Dust... the more you felt inclined to care for him. You felt your heart — that you had assumed turned to stone for the sinners down in hell — slowly soften into clay for this sad man. Yet, despite how sad he clearly was, he was so strong. Stronger than anyone you had ever seen.

"See! He did everything on your list! He was selfless, he stopped Nifty from stealing and stuck it to that Moth man!" Charlie exclaimed, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

"Well, b- then why isn't he here then!" Adam sputtered out. "Hm?"

"Why isn't he here?" Emily and You said in unison.

"Wait, none of you know what gets someone into Heaven?"

The rest of the conversation was a blur to you as you struggled with the idea that you had no idea why you were in Heaven. If you had done one wrong thing... would that have condemned you to hell with Alastor?

You had not even comprehended the fact that they had started debating their ideas in song till Lute who was seated beside you, began to insult the sinner that all of you had been observing. Your eyes had solely been focused on Alastor the entire time, but theh quickly shot to Lute.

"What are we even talking about? Some crack whore who fucked up already! He blew his shot like the cocks in his mouth, this discussion is senseless and petty!" Lute sang, and you almost reached out for her, to not say such crude things in front of the Heavenly council and certainly to not insult a victim of abuse. Yet Lute and Adam flew away first and you frowned even deeper.

"Gotta say I can't wait to-"

"Adam." You turned to Sera.

"Come down and exterminate you!" Your eyes widened as you realised the severity of this situation. You now understood why this Princess was fighting so hard for this hotel.

Adam was killing the sinners.

He was no better than Alastor. No, even worse. Adam slaughtered an entire group of people without mercy. You felt bile rise up from your throat as they continued to sing, the tunes of their voice banging against your ears.

"Whoops!"

"Guess the cat's out of the bag!"

"What's the big deal?"

They didn't even see what was wrong with what they had said. You almost stumbled back thanks to shock and your absurdly long dress. Your entire world was sent into a frenzy as you felt so disgusted with yourself, for thinking that you could work with Adam, for siding with Sera and Adam — though briefly — for the idea of extermination. You felt yourself fall back, but someone was there to catch you.

Alastor's shadows manifested behind you, holding you close to his chest. "Be careful, Sweetheart." He said, helping you regain your balance as you felt too much anger with yourself to be angry at him.

"If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie!"

"Emily-"

"If Angels can do whatever and remain in the sky! The rules are shades of grey, when you don't do as you say, when you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again!"

Their words resonated with you, and you found your heart thumping to the melody of the song.

"Don't look there." Alastor whispered as a red hand came up to your face, covering your eyes. "I don't like to see you stressed, my darling." The warmth of his hand felt like that time when he had surprised you on your birthday, covering your eyes before revealing the cake he had bought and the decorations he had put up for you.

Despite how he covered your ears, you could hear the court arguing amongst themselves.

That's when you heard it.

Sera's voice boomed throughout the entire court, facing the sinners with a verdict. "I'm sorry, but this court finds that there is no evidence souls in Hell can be redeemed."

"Oh fuck yes! I win, suck it, bitches!"

"You better save the date cunts, because we're coming to your hotel, first." That's when Alastor manifested in front of them, his shadows pushing Adam back, almost causing him to topple over.

"Not a very clever idea, chum, it's rude to curse at ladies." Alastor warned, the shadowy tentacles slithering about, ready to attack Adam.

"Ugh, son of a bitch!" Adam cursed as he grabbed out his guitar. "Or maybe, I can just kill you fuckers now." He took out his guitar-axe and in a flash of light, you flew towards them, shielding the trio from Adam's strikes with your wings. Adam flew back when his guitar-axe made contact with your angelic wings, enchanted by a spell that slammed Adam and Lute back, crashing into the wall.

"Just because you're a winner, does not give you the privilege to harm someone else!" You yelled, never having such a fit of rage in your life as you spread out your wings. You were a bunny; prey, never the predator. But as you spread out your Enchanted wings, you felt yourself grow angrier as you thought of how Adam — that sadistic motherfucker — no doubt killed multiple sinners. Sinners who were just like Angel Dust, misguided, but deserving of redemption.

"Are you seriously defending them right now, you crazy bitch?" Adam grunted as he glared at you.

"I'm defending the principle of it." You hissed.

Sera and Emily looked down at you. Sera, in particular, had a sour look on her face.

"You say that demons cannot be redeemed to Heaven, but why can Angels fall?" You questioned. "Lucifer himself, was once an angel, God's favourite angel!"

"If angels can fall, then why can't demons rise?" You looked towards the Heavenly council as you sang. "After this, will you really believe all their lies?" You questioned through song as Adam got up, knowing you had little time to convince the court. "The rules aren't black and white, who decides what's wrong and right? Can you say that this is justice when you kill them again?" You sang, pleading for the court to just look past their prejudices.

Just then, you heard a snap of Adam's fingers as a portal emerged from behind all of you. "No!" You yelled when you noticed how the portal was leading to a red fiery pit you assumed was hell, but before you could even protest, you had been pushed in by Lute, causing the rest of the four of you to stumble back down into hell.

tags: @duckydinglers @ghostdoodlen @belletifeshyl

#hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

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As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 2

This was a collaboration with my dearest @munson-blurbs 💚

Summary: After you and Eddie have given into your feelings for one another, complications arise that were never part of your fantasies.

Note from Red: The love I received for part one of this story blew me away. I absolutely could not believe it. It was a labor of love and the fact that so many of you wanted more just made it even better. Thank you all for your love and kind messages. Feel free to keep requesting stories from this universe 💕

Note from Bug: I’m so grateful that Red allowed me to collaborate with her on this amazing series. I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), infidelity, age gap (reader is 20, Eddie is 32)

Words: 7k

Part One | All stories in this verse

“Fuck, Eddie!”

You’re in the back of his car—correction, Brittany’s car, since she’d told him to bring it to the shop and fix a busted taillight. If it was anyone else, you would’ve assumed she’d asked him, but with Brittany, you knew it was a demand. You straddle Eddie’s waist, his grease-smudged coveralls and plaid boxers shucked down to his ankles; your skirt is pushed up to your hips, panties somewhere on the floor. Eddie had practically ripped them off once you two were alone.

Eddie’s lunch break happened to coincide with the end of your classes for the day, so you’d happily gone to visit him at work. When his eyes first landed on you and dipped down to your skirt, you knew what you were going to spend the hour doing.

It had been two weeks since the night you first slept together, and it was the happiest two weeks you could ever remember having. Of course, the kids didn’t know what was going on, so it was important to both of you to keep up the façade of your usual relationship in front of the boys. Since Brittany came home from work shortly after Eddie, that didn’t give the two of you any time alone without the boys around. That meant there were stolen kisses, longing looks, or lingering touches when the boys weren’t paying attention. Brittany knew, obviously. She knew from that first night when she’d come out of the master bedroom and practically threw your jeans in your face and all you did was wink at her. What could she say, though? Nothing that wouldn’t make her a hypocrite along with an adulteress and pathological liar.

Eddie’s thrusting up into you now, pinning your hips down so he can get impossibly deep inside you. “Holy shit, sweetheart,” he pants, sucking a harsh bruise into your chest. “Keep sayin’ my name like that and you’ll make me blow my load.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you moan; half teasing him and half because he just feels so damn good. You bounce on his cock, matching his rhythm. He’s already given you two orgasms, and you’re approaching your third. His thick finger makes its way to your clit, rubbing quick circles over it, and you cry out at the overstimulation. “P-Please, Eddie; can’t take much more.”

“You’ll—fuck—take whatever I give you,” he orders through gritted teeth, but his eyes tell you that he doesn’t want to hurt you. You dig your nails into his shoulders, bracing yourself for him to quicken his pace so he can finish.

“Eddie,” you moan out again—and he wasn’t lying before. The sound of you saying his name again has his hips snapping up against yours, and the feeling of his cock twitching against your walls lets you know he’s about to come. His finger keeping a strong pressure on your clit, you bury your face in his neck as you feel your orgasm start to wash over you. “Fuck, I’m coming.”

It’s all Eddie needs to hear before he’s spilling inside of you, hips stuttering against your own as he works you both through the pleasure. You press kisses against the side of Eddie’s neck as you start to come down from your high, smiling against his sweaty skin. His hands loosen their grip on your hips, and instead of the bruising pressure he now rubs his fingers up your sides.

“Y’with me, baby?” He smiles, kissing you again. This time, his touch is tender and loving, a stark contrast to his animalistic hunger just moments earlier. “God, you’re so beautiful when you come for me. You’re always beautiful, but, I mean, damn.” He licks his lips, making you giggle. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world to be with you, I swear.”

“Funny,” you say, resting your head against his shoulder. “I lay in bed at night thinking about how I’m the luckiest girl in the world. After I make myself come while thinking of you, that is.”

“Of course,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “Not gonna need to do that tonight, huh? Did I wear you out, pretty girl?” His calloused hands against your soft skin have goosebumps breaking out along your flesh.

“Yes,” you say, body still thrumming from the three orgasms. Picking your head up from his shoulder, you give him a sly smile. “Not bad for an old man.”

“Old man?!” he sputters, faking offense. “Baby doll, I’m 32 years young.” You stick your tongue out at him, reveling in the giddiness that being with him brings, and he leans over and licks your nose.

“Ew!” You can’t stop laughing, making it nearly impossible to kiss him like you want. “You boys never grow up, huh?”

Eddie flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Nope!” He smacks your ass and helps you readjust your skirt. “C’mon, we can split a sandwich for lunch. Bet my girl worked up an appetite.” He winks at you, and your stomach flutters at the words my girl. There’s a pang of disappointment with it, too, because you’re not really his girl. If you were, you wouldn’t be relegated to fucking in secrecy.

“Um, Eddie?” you murmur as he starts to open the door. “I’m, um, missing something.” When he looks at you with a puzzled expression, you whisper, “have you seen my panties?”

“Oh, shit,” he says, hand abandoning the door handle. He helps you look around the floor of the car, barking out a laugh when neither of you finds them. “What the hell?”

“How did they just disappear?” you ask, brow pinched in concern. Standing up as much as you can in the cramped space, you lean into the front seat to look. Eddie glances up and abandons the search when he gets a look at your pussy, his cum still leaking out.

“Fuck, what a view,” he muses. Looking over your shoulder at him, you roll your eyes and plop back down in the seat next to him. You swat him on the chest, and he catches your wrist, leaning in to press kisses to the side of your face as he laughs. “Think you’re gonna have to go home and get a new pair before you pick the boys up from school. And maybe some pants instead of that skirt, too. Unless you want me pulling you into my room and telling the boys I have to have a nice, long talk with you.”

“Hmm,” you grin, biting your lower lip. “It would be nice to have sex in a bed instead of the backseat of a car.” Of her car, nonetheless.

Eddie laces his fingers through yours and pulls you towards his chest. “How about,” he starts, leaning his head on the headrest, “I get us a hotel room one of these days. We stay up all night, sleep in real late, and then order room service for breakfast in bed.”

“That sounds incredible,” you agree, bringing your lips to the back of his hand. “When can this little vacation happen?”

“This weekend?” he suggests, but the light in his eyes dims as quickly as it appears. “Shit, wait. I told Brittany I’d wait at home for the plumber while she…does whatever the fuck, with whoever the fuck.”

Brittany. Brittany Brittany Brittany. You want to feel sympathy for him, but you just can’t. A scream lingers in your throat, but you swallow it down. “No, I get it.” But you don’t. You don’t understand how he can have someone who cares about him, who loves him, right in front of him, and continue to stay with the woman who breaks his heart time and time again.

“Rain check, baby? I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He gives you those puppy dog eyes that you’re pretty sure could have him getting away with murder. You hate that it works on you so well, but it does.

“Guess since you just gave me three orgasms, I’ll say okay.” Even if you don’t want to. But for now, you’ll let it go. “Now, where’s that sandwich?”

The rain outside provides a calming sound as you’re curled up on the Munson couch, Ryan tucked into your side as he reads to you from his favorite book. He’s so proud that he got an A on his spelling test today and his excitement is contagious. So, when he asked if you wanted to know what his favorite book was about, of course you’d said yes. Or rather, his favorite book this week.

“When the puppy ran down the street, the little boy chased him,” Ryan reads to you. Luke is sitting on the carpet near your feet, tongue poked out in concentration as he fashions his Legos together to make, what you assume, is supposed to be a fire truck.

The doorknob rattles and your stomach jumps for joy as Eddie makes his way inside. He shakes his hair out like a dog coming out of the bath, and it makes both the boys giggle. You just watch him adoringly and he shoots a wink your way when he notices.

“My boys!” He holds his arms out wide, and Luke and Ryan bolt over and give him a giant hug. “How were our little rascals tonight, baby—uh, babysitter?” His cheeks flush red as he realizes his slip-up; luckily, the boys don’t seem to notice.

You clear your throat. “Just the absolute worst,” you joke, watching their little jaws drop at your response. “Destroyed the house, yelled and screamed the whole time, and refused to do any of their homework.” You hold out your hand, keeping a straight face. “Just pay me and consider this my resignation.”

“My angels would never!” Eddie gasps, flinging his arms around your torso and pulling your back to his chest. “Boys, don’t let her leave!” Ryan and Luke cackle with laughter, each grabbing one of your legs and clinging on for dear life.

“I’m under attack!” You unsuccessfully try to shake the kids off, inadvertently pressing your ass to Eddie’s groin. You’d put on a new pair of panties after your lunchtime tryst, but you kept the same skirt.

Luke grips tighter, his hands now on your thigh. “Hey, Gollum,” Eddie says to him, breaking character for a second, “watch where you’re putting your grubby paws.” Luke nods and brings his hands back towards your knee.

“Thanks,” you whisper to Eddie, your voice barely audible.

“Gotta look out for my girl,” he murmurs in your ear, and you freeze at the pet name. The words sound so lovely coming out of his mouth, directed towards you. But there’s still this little voice in the back of your head telling you that it’s not true. And for once, that voice is right.

“Okay, okay,” you say, looking down at the boys. “You got me! I’ll stay!” Ryan and Luke release you, cheers of their victory being shouted as they dance around you. Eddie’s grip loosens on you, and you step out of his arms, crouching down to be at the same level as the boys. “Homework done?” You look at them and they both nod their heads. “Baths?” They both give you sheepish looks and you’ve gotten your answer. “Why don’t you go take your baths now? That way after dinner you can play a game with daddy?” The boys both give their dad excited looks before they slip down the hall and towards the bathroom.

“Volunteering me to play games, huh?” Eddie asks, snaking his arms around your hips once the bathroom door can be heard closing. He pulls his body against yours and your nose wrinkles up when you see all the dirt and oil on his blue coveralls.

“You need to take that thing off,” you say. Immediately, there’s a spark in Eddie’s eyes and a smile’s already on your face before he’s done anything. But you know the crazy tactics his mind comes up with, so you’re curious.

“Take it off, huh?” Eddie says, taking a few steps back from you. His hand goes to his zipper, and he starts to pull it down at a glacial pace. “This would be better if I had some music.”

“Should I put on Madonna? Or maybe Billy Joel?” you tease. His eyes narrow at you as he gets the coveralls down his shoulders. Once his arms slip out, you have to admit that this pseudo-striptease is working for you. Eddie recognizes he’s got you now, and he starts to swing his hips back and forth, which just makes you burst out into giggles.

“What?” he asks, body never pausing in its movements.

“Babe, you know I adore you. You’re handsome, you’re kind, you’re hilarious, a great dad. But you can’t dance.” The laughter spilling out of you has Eddie joining in as well. “It was hot until then.”

“Fine,” he says as he stills his hips. “I’ll just take my clothes off for you then.” You raise your eyebrows and cross your arms over your chest, ready to watch the show unfold in front of you. It’s hard for him to find a sexy way to step out of the coveralls, so he just kicks them off and to the side. When he takes his t-shirt off, he steps forward towards you, rolling the shirt until it looks like a long piece of rope. He brings it to the small of your back and uses it to pull your body up against his.

He smirks down at you and you’re just about to lean in for a kiss when the front door opens. Both you and Eddie turn to look and see Brittany coming in. She slips a raincoat off and hangs it on a peg near the door. When she turns, she freezes as she eyes the two of you. Eddie shirtless, you pressed flush up against him.

“Please tell me the boys aren’t seeing this bullshit?” she asks, as if she suddenly has an interest in the well-being of her children.

“No,” Eddie huffs at her. “They’re taking a bath.”

Her cold eyes scan you up and down before she scoffs and makes her way back towards the master bedroom.

“So, uh,” you back away, letting your gaze drop to the ground, “mood officially ruined.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, running a hand through his curls. “I’m sorry; you should get going.” He picks up the discarded coveralls and digs into his pocket for his wallet, handing you a twenty.

You nod and accept the money, cheeks burning with embarrassment. What, were you expecting an invitation to dinner after his wife just caught you about to suck face? “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he affirms. His expression seems lost, though you can’t quite pinpoint it exactly. You wonder if he feels the same heartbreak as you.

Eddie walks you to the door, giving you one last kiss before you go. It’s soft and sweet, but there’s something tainting it. After Eddie closes the door behind you and locks it for the night, he starts on dinner. The meal goes surprisingly well for an evening in the Munson household. There’s no shouting, no arguing, and Brittany even asked Luke about school. The little boy was clearly shocked but proceeded to tell her about the hamster someone brought for show and tell today. Tucking the boys into bed was suddenly a team effort, more than Brittany’s usual quick kiss on the cheek before practically shoving them into their rooms.

Once they’re both in bed, Eddie grabs a towel and heads into the bathroom for a shower. He closes the door and turns the water almost as hot as it can go. He steps in and does his usual routine. Quick rinse of the body, grab the soap and suds up, then grabs his dick in his hand and starts to think about you.

The way you showed up at the shop in that little skirt, begging to be touched. The way your tight pussy clenched around his cock as you rode him. The way you said his name over and over like a prayer—dammit, Madonna was right. He lets out a terse laugh, making a mental note to tell you tomorrow.

“Y’like that, baby?” Eddie groans softly, tugging on his hardening length. “Like the way I fill up all your holes, hm? Gonna take it all for me, my good girl?” He imagines you on your knees in front of him, obediently swirling your perfect tongue around his sensitive head as he fucks your face. “What’s that, sweetheart? You want it in your mouth? God, you’re so fuckin’ good to me.”

He stops for a second, practically edging himself, before running his slick palm over his shaft again. “But I really need your pussy tonight, baby. Need that tight, wet, perfect pussy. Jus’ like that, fuck.” He’s got a mental image of you bent over, leaning on the hood of a cherry red convertible, that damned skirt pushed up as he pistons into you from behind. “Yes, yes, oh, fuck YES!” Thick, hot ropes of cum spill into his hand and onto the shower tile as Eddie moans your name out louder than he intended. He freezes as the bathroom door swings open. There’s a pause, then a few footsteps closer to the shower, then the door closes.

“If you’re gonna fantasize about the kids’ babysitter, at least don’t let them hear. Can’t have them growing up and acting like you.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches and he lets his softening cock fall from his hand. He tries so hard to let the things she says roll off his back, but sometimes he just can’t help it. “Acting like me, huh?” He rinses his hand off and wipes his cum from the shower wall. “You mean, working hard trying to support my family?” He snatches his shampoo bottle up and squeezes some into his palm. “Wanting to spend every free second with my kids? Yeah, what a shame that would be.” Eddie scrubs the shampoo into his hair, fingers massaging his scalp as he works the citrus scented foam through his locks.

“No, I mean the part where you seem to think you’re in some porno film, fulfilling some sick fantasy. You realize she’s a kid, right?”

“She’s not a fucking kid,” Eddie snaps, pulling the shower curtain back just enough to glare at Brittany. “Can I finish my shower in peace, please?”

Brittany shrugs, holding her hands up in front of her. “You’re the one who sounded like you wanted some company in here.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he mutters under his breath, staying quiet for the boys’ sake, not hers.

Coming home from work has always been Eddie’s favorite part of the day. How could it not be when he knows he gets to see you and his kids when he gets there? But ever since you and Eddie got together—if you could even call it that—he loved coming home even more. He couldn’t tell you the last time he came home from work to be greeted by Brittany, happy to see him. It’s been at least two years.

But that’s exactly what happens when Eddie gets home today. His heart plummets when instead of your gold car in the driveway Eddie sees the red one that he just fucked you in the other day. Begrudgingly, he steps inside the house, ready to focus on his boys and only his boys. Eddie is in for the shock of his life though, when Brittany flounces up to him and presses a kiss to his lips. When was the last time that happened?

“Hi, honey,” Brittany says in a sickeningly sweet voice. The smile on her face is a mask, Eddie knows. She’s been lying to him for long enough that he’s able to tell.

“Um, hi,” Eddie says, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What are you doing home so early?”

“Thought I’d start the weekend a little early with my boys.” She takes the keys from Eddie’s hand and puts them on the table in the hall next to hers before slipping her hand into his. Eddie’s becoming more and more confused by the second. “Why don’t you get washed up and we all go out for dinner?”

“Uh, I’m kind of tired,” Eddie says, which isn’t a lie. But mostly he just doesn’t want to go out with her. “Do you mind if we just stay in? We can order takeout?”

“Whatever my husband wants,” Brittany says, a fake smile plastered on her face as she tugs Eddie along behind her. “Now, you go get cleaned up and I’ll finish up helping the boys with their homework.” Indeed, as Eddie walks past the kitchen to get to his bedroom, the boys are both at the table, pencils scratching away on paper.

Luke and Ryan tell their parents about their days while the family sits around the table, devouring Chinese food. It’s what Eddie’s always wanted–family dinners, sharing stories–except something still doesn’t feel right.

“And then Tyler kicked the ball, and it hit Jimmy right in the stomach!” Ryan exclaims, eyes wide as he relays the events of recess. “Jimmy almost threw up his lunch, and we had macaroni and cheese today, so that would’ve been nasty.”

“Super nasty,” Luke echoes, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“That’s nice, honey,” Brittany responds absently, spearing a piece of sesame chicken with a plastic fork. “Glad you had fun at school.”

Eddie catches the confused look on his eldest son’s face. “I think Mommy means that the whole thing sounded exciting.” He’s not entirely sure why he’s trying to cover for his wife, but it seems to placate the situation for now.

After everyone is full, Brittany cleans up while Eddie gets the boys ready for bed. After their usual routine, including an extra two bedtime stories, they finally fall asleep. Eddie kisses each of their foreheads, silent apologies for their mother’s behavior at dinner.

All he wants to do is go to bed, get a good night’s sleep–maybe dream about you–but Brittany’s waiting in their room in a black lace teddy. It’s been a long time since they’ve had sex, so he’s understandably caught off-guard.

“Hi, baby,” she coos, dragging a painted fingernail down his chest. “Wanna have a little fun tonight?” She presses her body against him, and Eddie could kick himself for involuntarily starting to get hard. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She brings her lips to his neck, smearing her lipstick on his collarbones.

“N-Not now,” Eddie stammers out, frozen in place.

“C’mon,” she protests, grabbing his erection and making him hiss at the sensation. “I know you want another baby. Why don’t we get started tonight?” She nibbles at his earlobe, whispering, “want you to get me pregnant, Eddie.”

Eddie pulls back before she can fully draw him in. She’s so familiar; it would be too easy to fall into bed with her and pretend like nothing’s wrong. Just the average married couple making love on a Friday night. But he can’t do it anymore. “No, Britt. I…I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Brittany’s sensual expression quickly turns to anger. “Seriously?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “You’ll fuck the babysitter, but not your wife?”

“Can you stop calling her the babysitter?” Eddie retorts. “She has a name.”

“Yeah, I know; I heard you moaning it in the shower last night,” Brittany scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I can’t believe you. You’re willing to throw away the life we’ve built together, forcing your kids to have a broken home, all so you can live out some twisted fantasy with a girl who’ll dump you once she finds a younger model?”

He’s stunned into silence. He knows all too well what a broken home looks like; he remembers the utter chaos of his parents’ rage before he went to live with Wayne. The nights where his mom would scream at his dad until her voice was hoarse and scratchy or until he drove off to God-knows-where. He’d never wanted that for his own children.

“You know what?” Brittany’s shrill voice punctures his rambling thoughts. “Fuck whoever you want. I don’t care anymore.” She stomps towards the bathroom and slams the door shut behind her, making Eddie grimace. He waits for one of the kids to wake up from all the clamor, but no one comes in the room.

It’s not until after he’s gone to bed that his worst nightmare occurs to him: they’re already used to it.

You’ve barely slept since Brittany caught you and Eddie about to kiss; your brain is overwhelmed with anxiety. You feel like some kind of slut, messing around with a married man, regardless of how awful his wife is. And it’s pathetic how easily you’ll do whatever he asks, desperate to keep him, when he’s never fully belonged to you in the first place.

You’re being selfish, wanting him all to yourself. He has a whole family, and you’re just a way for him to get what Brittany isn’t giving him.

You have to talk to him. You have to know where he stands. He cares about you, that much is obvious. But is it enough?

Since he told you he was going to be home on Saturday to wait for the plumber, you know this is a good time for you to go over. The kids will most likely be there, but hopefully you can somehow squeeze in some alone time to talk to Eddie. The whole ride there your stomach is in a nervous knot. This is what you wanted, your brain tells you. You wanted him to kiss you and care for you and sleep with you. But maybe it was worse to have a taste if you could never really have the whole meal.

Hand shaking as you raise your fist to knock, you try to steel yourself. It’s still Eddie you’re talking to. The same caring and loving man that you’ve been dreaming about forever.

When he answers the door, you can tell he was expecting you to be the plumber. But his face switches from polite smile to full out glee in a fraction of a second. It knocks the breath out of you because you know you’re the only one lucky enough to have that smile aimed your way.

“Hey! This is a nice surprise,” Eddie says. He grabs your hand and tugs you inside. One arm wraps around your waist while the other closes the door behind you. The kids must not be nearby because he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. “You know, you’re pretty hot for a plumber. Here to check my pipe?” The smirk on his face is so endearing and playful that you almost want to abandon the conversation you need to have with him. Deep down you know that you can’t, though.

“Mm, maybe later,” you say, resting your hands on his chest. “Where are the boys?”

“In Ryan’s room. Either they’re playing quietly, or they’ve killed each other,” he jokes, but he becomes solemn when he sees that you’re not laughing along. “I-I’m kidding; they’re both very much still alive.”

“I need to talk to you about something, Eddie.”

His mind spins all over the place in a matter of moments, trying to read on your face what could be wrong. His eyes scan up and down your body, assessing if you’re hurt anywhere. But as his eyes move back up to your face, a thought flickers to life in his mind as he gazes at your stomach. Unable to tamper down the joy that comes at the mere thought, a smile graces his lips.

“Are you..?” He trails off, eyes darting back towards your stomach.

“What?” you ask, before catching his meaning. “No! Oh no, Eddie, I’m not pregnant.” The way the smile melts off his face makes your heart lurch in your chest. He really wants to have a baby with you? He got that excited after only being “together” for two weeks?

“Oh,” he says, disappointment clear in his voice. “Well, what’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you grip his hand in yours and lead him over to the couch. His eyebrows are furrowed as he sits down next to you, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. The concern in his eyes feels the opposite of butterflies in your stomach. It feels like moths were drawn to the light only to be killed by a bug zapper. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Shit, you really should’ve figured out how you were going to start this conversation.

“I, um, I need to tell you how I’ve been feeling,” you say. “And I want to know how you’ve been feeling, too.”

“Okay,” Eddie drags out the word, a frown creasing his forehead. “Are you all right?”

You’re not sure what the honest answer to that question is. “I’m feeling guilty, Eddie. B-Because you’re still married. And I know you care about me, but you have a family here. Am I just…” you break off and take a deep breath. “Is this thing between you and me only because you want the attention and affection that you’re not getting from Brittany?”

“What?” Eddie’s baffled by the question. He shakes his head, trying to make things make sense in his mind. “You think I only want you for what my wife isn’t giving me? What, you think I just want to sleep with you?”

“That’s not exactly…” Again, you trail off, not sure what the right words are. “It’s just that you haven’t really made any steps towards leaving her. I’m not saying to pack up your stuff and leave. But…I just want to see you doing something, I guess.” You fidget with your thumbs. “I can be with you, or I can be your kids’ babysitter. But I…I can’t be both anymore.”

Eddie massages the bridge of his nose as he contemplates his options. “I want you,” he states plainly, “but it’s not that simple.” He thinks of what Brittany said last night, about breaking up his family. His boys having to split their time between Mom and Dad.

His hesitation gives you all of the answers you need. “I’m not asking you to choose,” you tell him. “I…I’m telling you that I can’t do this anymore. I’m not going to force something that isn’t meant to happen. I just have to take care of myself.”

Eddie’s beautiful brown eyes mist over. “No,” he mumbles, gnawing on his lower lip anxiously. “I want to take care of you. I want to take care of my girl.”

“Stop calling me that,” you choke out, tears burning behind your eyes. You try to blink them away before he can see.

Eddie’s thick eyebrows pinch together. “I thought you liked it,” he says. Concern is written all over his face.

“Look, I get it. You and Brittany are married, have kids together—you can’t just pick up and go.” There’s no use trying to hide your emotions, and you heave out a sob. “I was the Other Woman, and that’s just something I have to accept, I guess. But you have to stop calling me your girl. Because I’m not.” Your eyes dart to the coffee table, where a frame holds a photo of Eddie and Brittany on their wedding day. They look so in love, and it’s a punch to the gut to realize you’ll never have that with him. “She is.”

“No.” Eddie shakes his head, curls bouncing. His heart breaks, knowing he’s caused you to feel this way. “No, she’s not. Not anymore. It’s you, baby. Only you.” He starts to reach out to wipe away your tears, but you jerk back.

“If we were just having fun, that’s fine. But I need to hear you say it.” You muster up all of the courage you can. “And you need to stop calling me your girl, or baby, or whatever other cute nicknames you come up with.”

Eddie lets his hands drop to his side. He stares at you forlornly. “I don’t…I can’t…”

“Me either.” You can’t meet his gaze as your trembling hand turns the doorknob. “Goodbye, Eddie.” You pull the door closed behind you, vision blurred as you hurry to your car. You leave behind a stunned Eddie Munson, stuck in place as he watches his world crumble.

“Fuck!” he yells, slamming his fist into the wall so hard that it dents. He hisses as the pain sets in.

“Dad?” A small voice calls from behind him. Eddie looks to find Ryan peering out worriedly from the kitchen. He hadn’t heard him leave his room. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie tries to reassure him, but his voice catches. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, buddy; I’m okay.”

“Did she leave?” Eddie didn’t even realize that the kids knew you were here.

Eddie glances out the window to see that your car is no longer in front of the house. “Yeah,” he says sadly. “She’s gone.”

Brittany comes home after the plumber’s been gone for hours. After Eddie fed and bathed the kids, all on his own. After he tucked them in and kissed them goodnight. Eddie wonders if she was spending time with more than one of her boyfriends today. It doesn’t matter, though. It hasn’t mattered to him for months. There’s no pain whatsoever associated with being cheated on or lied to. That nerve went dead a long time ago.

The pain he feels right now doesn’t really have to do with Brittany at all. It all falls on him, in his own mind. He was the dumbass who finally had the girl he had been pining over for the longest time. Found out she returned the feelings, even when Eddie thought no one would ever love or want him again. The woman who made him feel cared for and important. Who had made him truly happy for the first time in God knows how long.

Apparently, the pain is clear on his face as he stares at the television, eyes not really absorbing whatever is playing on the screen. Brittany hangs up her coat and strolls over towards him.

“What’s the matter?” she asks. “Did your little girlfriend have to be home before curfew? She wouldn’t want to get grounded, would she?”

“Fuck off, Brittany,” Eddie says, glazed over eyes not even bothering to look in her direction. She doesn’t, of course. She takes a few steps closer, the heels of her shoes thumping against the carpet. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie sees her cross her arms over her chest. Her hip juts out to the side and he knows this isn’t going to end well.

“So, have you learned your lesson?” she asks. That makes him finally look over at her, face scrunching up.

“What?” he asks.

“She already found someone better, didn’t she? Probably just wanted you because she couldn’t have you. Or that’s what she thought, anyway. But you caved because she still has that new baby smell about her, right?”

Eddie pushes himself off the couch, jaw clenching as he stares her down. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Just because your God damned harem of men think it’s hot to be fucking someone who’s married—if you even told them—doesn’t mean that everyone is like that.”

“A harem is made up of women, you idiot,” she scoffs.

“That’s what you fucking took away from what I just said?” Eddie’s hands come up to grab at his hair, his fury and heartbreak reaching a boiling point. “You’re incredible. You know, I’ve known about your affairs for years. Fucking years, Brittany. Years. I was terrified Luke wasn’t even mine but thank God the kid looks just like me. And you know, I accepted it after a while. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I was beyond pissed and hurt. But you, with your psychotic ways, made me think that no one else would ever care about me. Would ever want me. And that’s why you’re so mad now, isn’t it? Because I don’t feel so fucking worthless anymore. Because someone made me feel important after all your years of you trying to do the opposite.”

He takes a few deep breaths, his pulse raging and his breathing labored from behind so worked up. Brittany is looking at him with fire in her eyes, but Eddie doesn’t care. This explosion was long overdue and she was going to stand there and take it. “And yeah, maybe she’s young. Too young for me? Probably. But that’s not fucking up to you. That’s between me and her. But don’t you dare insinuate that I only want her because she’s young and beautiful. She is everything this world needs more of. Kind, caring, compassionate. Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot that you don’t know what those words even mean. I’d love her even if she was seventy-five and had more wrinkles than my shirts do after you attempt to do the laundry.”

It’s not until Brittany’s eyes widen that Eddie realizes what he just said. He loves you. It just came out with the litany of other words that spewed from his mouth, but he finds these to be truest of everything he said. God, I’m a fucking idiot, he thinks to himself.

Brittany stalks forward, a lioness about to devour her prey. If there was fire in her eyes before, now there’s an inferno. She grabs Eddie’s hand in one of hers, holding it palm up to the sky. With the other hand, she pulls something out of her purse and slaps it in his hand.

“Here,” she seethes. Eddie looks down and sees the pair of green lace panties you had lost in Brittany’s car. His fingers curl up around the material. He takes his hand that’s clutching the lace and holds it against his chest.

“You’re pathetic,” Brittany sneers. “We both know you won’t actually leave me. That would require you to grow a pair.” She walks into the kitchen and grabs a cupcake from the fridge; Eddie recognizes it as one that you brought over for the boys. “Have your fun, Eddie. I’ll be waiting for you to come crawling back with your tail between your legs once you realize you’ll never have anyone as good as me.”

He wants to yell back at her, call her all the names in the book, blame her for cheating first. But she’s right–he’s a coward, too afraid to make waves. Instead of committing to the woman he wants to be with, he stays with the one he feels obligated to be with. He grabs his pillow from the bedroom, trudging to the couch for the night. He can’t bear to share a bed with someone who isn’t you.

Eddie can’t sleep, of course. Too many things are going through his head. I don’t want my kids to come from a broken family. But do I want them to grow up like this? Hearing their parents scream at each other at the top of their lungs? It’s not an example of a healthy relationship either, Eddie knows. And even at five and seven-years-old they already know their mom isn’t there for them. She doesn’t listen to them, show them affection, or even take care of them, really. Sometimes it feels like Eddie is a single parent. Although, that might be easier than this, he thinks.

But then he thinks about how you are with the boys. Always taking care to make sure they know you’re listening to them, that you hear them. Being firm but never mean when they act up. Buying them things with your own money just because you thought they’d like it. How excited they get when they see you, running over and smothering you in hugs and hellos. How much happier they are around you than they are Brittany. He’s seen the way they’ve physically cringed away from their own mother before. But with you, they never get enough. They always want one more hug, one more game, one more song. Yet, you never get annoyed by it. Most of the time, you agree to it. If Eddie is sure of one thing in life, it’s that you’re meant to be a mother. But did he miss the chance to share in that with you?

A tear snakes down the side of Eddie’s face and the heel of his hand comes up to rub at his eye. He sighs and turns on his side on the couch, adjusting the blanket on top of him. Something soft presses into Eddie’s hip, pressed between his body and the couch. He lifts his body enough to slip his hand into the pocket of his pajama pants. When he looks at the offending item, it’s your panties that Brittany had handed him before. A sniffle comes from Eddie as he balls up the lace in his hand. After holding it for a few minutes, Eddie slips the material back into his pocket.

Crying over a pair of panties, Munson? he thinks, that’s a new one. He flicks on the TV, desperate for a distraction. A rerun of that old crime show, Vega$, is playing. Eddie watches as Robert Urich struts across the street past a flashing neon sign advertising “Girls Girls Girls!!”

Eddie sits up so quickly that the blood rushes to his head. As soon as the dots clear from his vision, he’s grabbing the phone book.

At Eddie’s bachelor party, Steve had drunkenly married a stripper. He’d woken up the next morning and immediately got a lawyer, and it was like the whole thing never happened. Eddie knows his case won’t be so straightforward—he’s been married way longer than 24 hours, for one thing—but the lawyer who’d handled Steve’s divorce made it as painless as possible.

He finds the guy’s name and number and tears out the page, tucking it under his pillow. He’ll call first thing in the morning. And then he’s going to win back the love of his life.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #ayw #AYWS

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[part sixteen] to build a home - gojo satoru

word count: 8.8k warnings: !!manga spoilers!! swearing, jjk-verse style fighting series summary: when (y/n) (y/l/n) catches wind that the notorious sorcerer killer, toji fushiguro, has children, she makes it her personal mission to find them. the catch being she couldn't tell a soul about them- the risk of the zen'in clan learning about them was too great. keeping the secret isn't the hard part, it's lying to her friends, shoko ieiri, geto suguru, and of course gojo satoru, that she struggles with. especially when satoru has suddenly become so keen on keeping an eye on her lately.

series masterlist

[part sixteen] : "The True End"

___

Today was cloudy.

(y/n) didn’t like to believe in silly superstitions, especially weather related ones, but she couldn’t deny that the gray skies and chilly breeze unsettled her.

“So they’re my family?”

She didn’t look down at Megumi, didn’t slow her pace, or show any sign of even hearing him at all. Every question he and his sister had asked in the last ten minutes of their walk had made it to her ears and nestled inside of her paranoid mind, but (y/n) had barely spoken in that time.

In fact, since she’d picked them up and told them exactly where they were going today, she’d barely spoken since. She tried to tell herself that it wasn’t because of fear, that she was simply trying to find the right truths to tell the children. But the leather belt under her shirt that was starting to rub her skin raw felt heavy today, even though it only held a single knife, and she was used to carrying two swords.

“Not really. They’re Dad’s family” Tsumiki corrected her younger brother.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have the blade on her, after all she’d told Satoru that she wouldn’t do anything reckless. But she wasn’t about to show up at the Zen’in Clan’s compound empty handed and without a means to defend herself. That would be the reckless thing, right?

“And they want me to go live with them because of my dogs?”

“It’s ‘cause you’re a sorcerer” Tsumiki corrected again.

Megumi’s brows furrowed in annoyance at his sister, before he looked up at (y/n) again, hoping she would ease his confusion. He was growing impatient with her silence.

“Well, can’t we just tell them I don’t wanna live with a bunch of strangers?” He asks with a huff.

Finally, (y/n) tilts her head down, bestowing him with her attention. Admittedly, she only gives in because they’d finally reached the meeting place in town that she’d been taking them to, but she realizes she’s been ignoring him for too long, and it wasn’t fair.

The three of them stopped right there on the sidewalk, standing just outside of a shop that didn’t seem too busy, so they wouldn’t be in the way. (y/n) crouches before them so she would be at eye level before explaining the plan, again. “I know this is a lot to take in,” She begins. “And I’m happy to answer all of your questions, if I can, that is. But I need you both to listen very carefully, okay?”

Megumi and Tsumiki give rapid nods of their heads.

“Your father is from the Zen’in Clan, do you remember me talking to you about them, Megumi?”

The boy nods again. “So you remember that they’re a very wealthy family, with a lot of control in the jujutsu society?”

Another nod.

“They think that you’re theirs,” (y/n) says carefully. “They’re old fashioned, and think they deserve to keep you all to themselves. They would pull you out of school, away from Tsumiki, and teach you and raise you themselves. They know that you’re strong, and that you’ll grow up to be one of the finest sorcerers that this world has ever seen. But Megumi…”

She trails off, unsure of how to communicate to him that they weren’t safe. If this plan failed and the Zen’ins claimed him, she didn’t want him to be afraid.

“I don’t want to go with them” Megumi says before (y/n) could finish, and she gives him a small smile.

“Then you won’t,” She says decidedly, standing up and placing a hand on both of their heads. “All that matters is what you want, okay?”

“I want to stay with Tsumiki,” Megumi decides, and (y/n) retracts her hands as he shuffles closer to his sister, who beams brightly. “And you” He adds in a smaller voice.

“Alright,” (y/n) hums with an affirmative nod. “We’re going to make that happen. I have a friend who’s agreed to help too”

“Another sorcerer?” Tsumiki asks.

“He is,” (y/n) says, glancing around the area. “He should be here soon, actually. I’d like you both to meet him before we-”

“Oi!”

Startled by the holler, (y/n) jumps as she whips her head in the opposite direction, although she shouldn’t be surprised as Satoru comes rushing towards them with a bag in his hands that is undoubtedly sweets. Speaking of the devil…

Her brows furrow.

If this idiot made a pitstop for snacks before meeting us here…

Megumi’s expression is just as sour as he watches the stranger approach them with a pair of sunglasses and a wide grin on his face. If this was (y/n’s) friend, and he assumed it was, he already wasn’t a fan.

(y/n) made a motion to the Fushiguro kids, silently telling them to stay put, before she walked towards Satoru with her hands on her hips, ready to scold him.

“You did not go get snacks,” She said in a low voice, just to be sure Megumi and Tsumiki wouldn’t overhear. “You’re late, you know”

“I’m not that late,” Satoru waved his hand dismissively. “Besides, I figured the mood would be a downer,” He peeks over her shoulder at the two children that were watching them like hawks.

The one, the girl, had wide eyes and a curious look about her face as she glanced between him and (y/n), as though she were mentally trying to fill in the gaps of their relation to one another. It wasn’t necessarily an eerie look, in fact she wore a sweet smile, but the investigative eyes did have his skin crawl with that feeling of being watched. The other, the boy, was a whole other story. His eyes were pointed in a clear glare, unmoving, unblinking, focused solely on Satoru. There’s a shadow of a much older man on the young child’s features, something dark and mysterious- too mysterious for a kid that (y/n) had told him was only eight years old. And yet, despite the heavy evil eye, he almost seems unbothered, unimpressed, already irritated.

This was the brat that had inherited Ten Shadows?

“And I was right. Sheesh,” Satoru quickly brought his attention back to her. “What’s wrong with the little one? You feeding him too many vegetables?”

(y/n) narrowed her eyes as she frowned.

“Well, good thing I brought dessert!” He’s beaming again as he lifts the paper bag in his hand. “Every kid can be bought with dessert”

“That’s not…ugh,” (y/n) huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’re literally trying to stop a kid from being bought today, Satoru,” She mutters. “And could you just… could you tone it down? You’re gonna freak ‘em out”

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m great with kids” Satoru said with a smile that told her he’d never been around kids in his life.

“Oh god” She mumbled to herself.

“Watch this” He winked at her before sidestepping and heading towards the Fushiguro kids- who had watched their whole interaction, and were very curious as to who this stranger was.

“I don’t think (y/n) likes him,” Megumi whispered to his sister. “I don’t like him either”

“You haven’t even met him,” Tsumiki whispered back quickly before the approaching man could overhear. “Just try to be nice” She hisses with a small kick to his foot.

Satoru kneels before them both, a grin twisting so far up his lips it took up most of his face. He glances between them quickly before speaking.

“Hi! I’m Gojo Satoru!” He greets, too loudly, but he doesn’t seem to be embarrassed about it.

(y/n) stands behind him, giving both kids a kind look that said just be friendly. Megumi’s disinterested face turns into a slight pout, and Tsumiki’s smile is forced and awkward. Good enough, (y/n) thinks.

“So your Dad… I ki-”

Before Satoru could finish, (y/n’s) foot is colliding with his ankle, and he’s hissing in pain and making a face up at her like he had no idea what he’d done wrong.

“He knew your Dad, too,” (y/n) speaks for him, stepping in front of him as a silent way to tell him he was done introducing himself. “Anyways, we should get going now. You can talk more on the way, if you want”

“You can ask me anything!” Satoru tells them happily. “I’m the strongest sorcerer in the world!”

“Really?” Tsumiki asks with round eyes, and Satoru nods proudly.

Megumi rolls his eyes and scampers over to (y/n’s) other side, so he wouldn’t have to walk next to the weirdo with the white hair. He didn’t understand why they needed his help, because he seemed too annoying to actually provide them a service, but he kept his thoughts to himself. (y/n) wouldn’t have brought him along if he wasn’t important somehow, and he didn’t want to make (y/n) feel bad. And also, the sun wasn’t even out, what were the sunglasses for? To look cool? It wasn’t working.

However, Megumi is an eight year old that doesn’t know how to hold a poker face, so (y/n) was well aware of the boy’s irritation with Satoru. When he made a point to walk next to her and away from where Satoru and Tsumiki were engaged in a conversation about anime, she gave him a fond smile.

He blinks back at her, before furrowing his brows, not knowing why she was making that face.

“He’ll grow on you” She whispers to him, before giving him a discreet wink.

Megumi frowns, dropping his head to face forward as they walk. He doesn’t know how that could be true, especially when he’d just watched her interact with him and she seemed as equally frustrated as he was.

“I hope not” He mutters, and (y/n) laughs.

The rest of their trip is mostly light hearted. Tsumiki has an endless amount of questions, and Megumi warms up in the slightest when Gojo hands out the donuts he’d brought- although he still doesn’t leave (y/n’s) side.

In fact, when they finally reach the Zen’ins’ compound, he becomes glued to her. As soon as they cross the threshold and stand at the grand double-door gated entrance to their home, Megumi slides closer to (y/n) until he’s almost hugging her leg, although he keeps his hands firmly placed in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

“This’ll be easy peasy,” Satoru scoffs, and waves a dismissive hand. Both kids peek over at him unsurely, not sure what to believe about their fate. “I’ll go in and talk to ‘em. You guys can wait out here”

“I think I should go in, too,” (y/n) says softly, taking a step closer to him so that the kids didn’t have to hear her grave tone. “They’re going to have questions for me”

She didn’t feel the need to mention that if things went south and this was some sort of ambush, a cowardly ploy on behalf of the Zen’ins to make her pay for her alleged crimes against them, that she very much was prepared to challenge them. The sheath resting at the dip of her spine wasn’t concealing a blade without reason. It may not have been her beloved swords, but it was something that she wasn’t afraid to use. Promises to play nice and not act recklessly be damned.

“And if they’re decent then I’ll come get you,” Satoru drops his happy-go-lucky facade as he talks under his breath. “But for now I think you should stay with them,”

He nods his head down, and (y/n) glances down to see that like a shadow, Megumi had followed her every movement, and was still trapped at her side. Today, he seemed more like a kid than any other. Megumi always had a knack for walking and talking like he was older than he was. Now that the life he’d grown so accustomed to was at stake, he seemed to retreat into himself. (y/n) gives him a warm smile, before turning her attention back to Satoru. She looks unsure, undecided on what the right thing to do was.

“It’ll be fine,” He tells her with a nod of his head.

She barely nods back at him, chewing on the inside of her cheek to try and calm her nerves. If she appeared as nervous as she felt, then she would only make the kids uneasy, and they were already worried sick. Then again, so was she.

“I’ll try and be quick, alright?” Satoru tells her with as much certainty as he could manage.

“Alright,” She whispers back, and grabs onto his hand before she speaks again. She’s standing close enough that the sunglasses don’t hide his eyes as well, and she can see his seriousness behind them. “Thank you, Satoru”

His hand squeezes hers, his hold lingering a few moments longer than it should have, before he lets her go, and heads towards the house.

(y/n) bites too hard on her cheek, the awfully familiar metallic taste of blood pooling at her tongue. She winces as she watches Satoru enter the house, the doors shutting behind him.

Tsumiki and Megumi don’t say a word, but when their eyes meet they don’t have to speak to know they’ve both witnessed the same interaction that was much different than the one they’d seen before.

The blood in her mouth feels like poison as she looks down at them, and can see how hard they’re both trying to be brave. They’re holding back their tears, and their faces hold a hard expression. Still, if she watches for long enough, she can see the way the corner of Megumi’s mouth quivers with emotion.

All three of them stood frozen for a few minutes, their breaths baited, and any kind of words to be spoken between them were stuck in their throat, or lost. No one knew the right thing to say or do. There was no right thing to say or do. All they could do was wait.

The touch of small, cold fingers against (y/n’s) hand makes her shoot her eyes downwards, just as Megumi slips his hand against her palm. He gives her a small smile, and she hopes her eyes won’t start watering as she smiles back.

That’s when she feels a similar sensation on her other side, where she finds Tsumiki also holding her hand, squeezing it gently.

(y/n) holds both of their hands securely, communicating everything she couldn’t say in words to them at that moment. This is why Satoru had her stay behind, now she understood. They needed her, and this very well could be their last moments spent together. ___

It feels like hours when the doors finally open again, even though it’s barely been forty five minutes.

(y/n) feels every muscle in her body tense and go rigid as she waits for a figure to appear, her eyes unblinking as she tracks any kind of movement that could come from the inside of the house.

Her heart leaps into her throat, pounding so hard and choking her with her own breath, she thinks she might vomit, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the door.

Before she could try to be optimistic, she assumed the worst. That their plan failed. That despite his god-like stature within the jujutsu society, Gojo Satoru wasn’t enough to convince the Zen’ins to drop their pursuit of Fushiguro Megumi. Perhaps they were offended that he’d even approached them. Perhaps it was still a silly pissing contest of respect they were after, and it was never even about the kid or his manifestation of Ten Shadows.

Her hand slid around her hip before landing on the ridge under her shirt where her weapon sat, waiting. She didn’t make a move to unsheath it, but she kept her fingers firmly pressed against it, in the case that her last resort has now become Plan A, and she’d have to make a snap decision to brandish it.

Just as she’s ready to draw up a plan of attack, Satoru steps into view, and her breath finally escapes her in a shaky sigh. She doesn’t know yet if she should feel relieved, or if the weight on her shoulders would only grow heavier.

Behind Satoru follows another figure, one who (y/n) had only seen once before, but didn’t need a re-introduction to remember who he was. That mustache was unmistakable.

She looks down to the Fushiguro kids, grabbing their hands again and squeezing them gently.

“I don’t want to go” Megumi whispers out, fast, like he’s afraid of even admitting it. His eyes are wide and filling with tears faster by the second, and his small hand grips hers so tightly that he’s trembling.

He knows he’s not strong enough to keep her put, and he knows that she’s about to leave him. “You’re not going anywhere,” (y/n) whispers back, “I won’t let that happen,”

Her words are certain, too certain for not knowing what would come next, but she grants them one last lie to appease their troubled minds.

“Stay right here”

She gives them both a look to make sure they could see she was gravely serious. Then she lets them go, and moves with a quick step towards Satoru and the head of the Zen’in Clan.

Megumi takes a step as though to follow right behind her, but Tsumiki grabs his hand to stop him. When he looks at her, she shakes her head in a small motion, and moves her hand to grab onto his.

It wasn’t like Megumi to hold hands so much, but he squeezed his sister’s palm as he followed her silent command and stayed by her side.

His free hand raises to his chest, resting over the bump under his tee shirt. Small fingers wrap around the pendant of the cursed tool (y/n) had given him, clutching onto it just tightly enough that it wouldn’t burst. If he focused enough, he could almost feel it buzzing softly in his palm, warm vibrations bursting through the rock and into his skin. Was this cursed energy?

As she walks, (y/n) can feel every movement of her concealed harness against her skin. Every step she took it would ride up her waist, and then slide back down to her hip. It was a small movement, but the leather on her skin seemed to irritate her more the closer she grew. Irritation quickly grew into rage, and a desire of bloodlust once Zen’in Naobito was in closer view. That stupid mustache had her aching to draw her weapon.

But she’d made a promise that she wouldn’t draw first blood, and she’d grown tired of the liar she’d become in the past few months.

“So you’re the (y/l/n) (y/n) that I’ve had to hear so much about…”

Naobito’s voice piqued with interest, but his dull eyes held nothing but disdain as he looked at her. (y/n) remained silent, her eyes fleeting to Satoru for a brief moment before falling on the head of the Zen’in Clan again. She tried to keep her expression neutral, but she knew that like him, she couldn’t keep her emotions out of her eyes.

“You sure like to stir up a lot of trouble, don’t you? And over nothing but a kid… it’s almost pitiful, Miss (y/l/n)” Naobito continues. He arches a brow at her, as though giving her permission to speak.

Or perhaps he was instigating, hoping to make her slip up so that his retaliation was unquestionably justified. (y/n) makes a mental note of this, and keeps her hands firmly at her sides so there could be no confusion in her stance. She was here respectfully, and had no malicious intention.

She can’t help the way her lip curls into a snarl, but she keeps her voice steady. Almost eerily so.

“I found the kids that Sorcerer Killer Fushiguro Toji abandoned,” She states, reminding him of the title one of their own had notoriously earned.

This seems to make Naobito tick, as his eyes narrow in the slightest. Beside him, Satoru smirks. She takes this as a sign that she hadn’t crossed a boundary that she couldn’t still come back from.

“Kids, by the way,” She repeated herself. “He had two. Not just one”

Naobito hums in response. He turns to give Satoru a look, as though unamused by her behavior. Satoru’s smirk widens into a small grin as he looks down at him. “I told you, geezer, tch,” Satoru shrugs a shoulder as he tucks his hands into his pockets. Being the strongest, there was no boundary he couldn’t cross, so he disrespected Naobito with casual ease. He was practically invincible. “You’re the one that wanted to talk to her”

(y/n) watched their brief interaction with careful eyes, wishing she’d been in on the loop of what happened inside. It was starting to drive her mad, not knowing, but she kept up her relaxed, uncaring exterior.

“Yes, well, I suppose I had my curiosities…” Naobito muttered as he turned back to (y/n). He chuckles with amusement before he speaks again. “But, did you really think you could come to my home with a blade that small and overpower me?”

How did he..? (y/n’s) eyes widen, and she tries to read his body language to figure out if he was planning to strike. His mustache twitches as he smirks, and she realizes he was just trying to show off a little power.

Typical.

“You’re lucky she didn’t bring more, old man,” Satoru scoffs, his hand clapping onto the older man’s shoulder as he bends his knees to enter his personal space, in order to grin right in his face. “You’re welcome, by the way,” He says.

It’s the first time Naobito’s exterior cracks, his eyes widening as the Six Eyes user stays far too close for his liking, but when it comes to Gojo Satoru, he’s stripped of all power. He’s defenseless, vulnerable. (y/n) revels in the sight of such an egotistical man, so proud of what little power he had, being put in his place and shown what real power looked like. And Satoru had no problem showing off a little. It didn’t take much to remind a man like Zen’in Naobito who had the upper hand.

“Because I almost let her kill you,” Satoru speaks through his grin, but his voice is low and threatening. He lingers there for a moment longer before leaning back and letting out a bark of a laugh. “But no worries!” He cheers, his phony happy charade back on. “I figured you weren’t worth all the trouble. And it turns out ya aren’t, are ya, Zen’in?”

(y/n’s) eyes blink wide at the first hint of how their conversation had gone. Was Satoru successful? Heat coursed through her body as her heart began pumping faster with impatience. Was it resolved? Were the Fushiguro kids safe?

Naobito scoffs, crossing his arms and turning his head away from Satoru. This action had (y/n’s) optimism skyrocketing, and her hope overcame her.

“So you’ll leave us alone?” (y/n) asks, her eyes practically on fire as she stares down the head of the clan. “You’ll leave them alone?”

Naobito scowls back at her without a word.

“He sure will,” Satoru grins, walking away from the man and towards her now.

Her expression was frozen with surprise, but her heart was doing somersaults of joy in her chest.

“All these old geezers can just be bought,” Satoru smirks, before turning towards Naobito again. “Ain’t that right, old man?”

Naobito makes a noise of irritation before waving a dismissive hand, and completely turning around. (y/n) almost laughs. Some power he had, and now here he was, reduced to acting like a child that didn’t get his way.

“You got what you want, Gojo,” He spits out Satoru’s family name with more poison than anyone else would dare. “Now get off my property before I change my mind”

(y/n) blinks, her jaw dropping open as she stared at the Zen’in in shock, but Satoru’s slinging an arm around her shoulder and nearly making her trip over her feet as he pulls her back to where Megumi and Tsumiki are waiting.

“So- so they’re-” She stutters, her wide eyes staring up at him, awaiting his explanation on everything that transpired.

“We can talk about all the specifics later,” Satoru says with a small smile. “It’s all settled. The kids will be left alone”

Slowly, as if the words needed to process one by one in her mind, a smile began to creep across her lips.

“Really?” (y/n) gasped.

Satoru looked down at her, and despite the negotiation he’d worked out in his favor just minutes ago, he finally felt relief wash over him as he looked at her.

She was so happy, her smile was all teeth, her eyes were gleaming with joy, and he doesn’t even care about what this means for them or their future as sorcerers because she looks like that and she’s looking at him.

“Really” He murmurs back in quiet affirmation.

She just about launches herself into his arms, but just as she’s about to throw caution to the wind, two small figures are running towards her, closing the distance between them quickly. Too impatient to wait, they begin to holler.

“Well!?” Megumi’s eyes are wide as he pulls his sister along with him.

“Does he have to go!?” Tsumiki yells over him.

(y/n) glances back to Satoru, about to apologize for being interrupted, but he drops his arm from around her shoulder and nods his head towards the pair of brats who are still yelling their questions and concerns. She gives him a small smile, before turning away and running towards them both.

This makes both Megumi and Tsumiki stop in their tracks, their eyes blowing wide as they freeze up like deer in headlights. They don’t have a chance to brace themselves before (y/n’s) sliding onto the ground, the grass inevitably staining the pants of her uniform as she does so, but she doesn’t care.

Her arms are thrown around both of them, and they’re quick to return the gesture, hugging her, and each other, in an embrace that was tighter than they’ve ever experienced before.

(y/n) doesn’t give them the news they’d been waiting for, but she doesn’t have to. Not with words, anyways.

She’s laughing, boisterously so, her whole body vibrating with her joy. And soon, without reason beyond her own happiness seeping into them, Megumi and Tsumiki are laughing too.

Small hands clutch tightly at her arms and on the back of her shirt as all three of them giggle together, and maybe a few tears fall from their eyes as they do, but no one cares.

Everything was okay.

They were all safe.

When they part from one another, they remain seated on the ground for a few minutes longer. (y/n) doesn’t mind her own tears of joy falling down her cheeks as she reaches out to wipe their tears away.

Satoru watches as both kids smile wider at her than he’s ever seen in his life. He didn’t even think the boy was capable of smiling, but here he was, smiling and crying over this girl. He stands back a ways, enough to give them their moment of celebration, but he can see clearly that they’re equally relieved to not be taken from one another.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” (y/n) coos as she continues to wipe away their tears. “It’s alright, everything’s alright, no one is going anywhere”

She’s stammering out her words a bit, and Satoru almost chuckles at how her delight overcomes her. It looks good on her, her happiness.

“You’re crying” Tsumiki says, mirroring (y/n’s) action and bringing her small hands to her face, hastily clearing away the wetness.

“It wouldn’t be the first time you shitheads made me cry,” (y/n) teases, but the mirth in her eyes tells them that she doesn’t regret a thing. Megumi and Tsumiki laugh, easily humored by her foul language. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here, yeah?”

They nod back at her excitedly, and when she gets up, they stand at either side of her so they can both hold her hand.

(y/n) looks back at Satoru, her eyes still misty but her smile rivaling the sun’s brightness. He smiles back at her as he walks over to join them again.

“This means we get to go home, right?” Megumi asks hopefully.

Satoru sucks in a sharp breath before his lips curl into a small smirk. All three looked at him, puzzled at what the hesitation was.

“Well, about that…” ___

(y/n) stares up at the building that Satoru had brought them to, her eyes wide and her mouth dropped open. She’d been frozen like that for a minute now, while Satoru grins madly, and the Fushiguro kids wait for further explanation about where they are right now.

“When the fuck did you-”

“Woah! Language!” Satoru scolds her. “And you know me. I pull strings”

“What is this?” Megumi asked, waiting for (y/n’s) response, but she was still gaping at the building.

“Come on,” Satoru nods for the group to follow him inside. “I’ll show you!”

The lobby is nice without being so fancy it was overwhelming and awkward. It’s clean with sharp black tiling, and a few pieces of furniture for lounging against the wall. The clerk at the desk welcomed Satoru by name, and (y/n’s) shocked expression followed the whole interaction.

The Fushiguro kids followed close by her side as they gathered in an elevator. Satoru pushed the number four, and the doors slid shut. He takes a moment to give (y/n) a shit eating grin. She only furrowed her brows and tilted her head at him, at a loss for words.

Did he really..?

With a soft ding The elevator doors slid back open, and Satoru beckoned them to follow as he led them down a hallway, pausing shortly.

“Here we are,” He dug through his pocket, before displaying a key to them. His grin only worsened as he unlocked the door and gestured for everyone to enter.

Megumi and Tsumiki looked up at (y/n), as though awaiting her permission. She chuckled and nodded her head for them to go on in. That was all the more they needed before they were racing inside, gasping and aweing at the perfectly clean and new apartment. In seconds they were out of sight, exploring the new space.

“After you” Satoru said to (y/n), who was still stuck in the doorway. She looked over to him, her lips parted and her eyes round as it was confirmed before her.

“When did you..?” The rest of her question fails her, and she shakes her head at him in an attempt to communicate her total state of confusion.

They’d stayed up through most of the night together, planning for their meeting with the Zen’ins. There couldn’t have possibly been time for Satoru to go through the trouble of renting an apartment. On such short notice? With the hassle of paperwork and a down payment and everything? The process would normally take days, maybe even weeks, but somehow, overnight, he’d managed to secure an empty apartment that was closer to Jujutsu Tech than the Fushiguro house? (y/n) wouldn’t believe it if she wasn’t standing in front of it right now.

“Don’t you want to go inside?” Satoru asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.

She couldn’t even find it in herself to answer before she was nodding her head at him, and stepping inside.

Her eyes trace every inch of the living room, the first room you walk into when you enter. The first thing she notices is that it’s a large apartment, and the second thing is that the living room is filled with all new furniture. A wrap-around couch, a recliner, a woven rug with a coffee table on top of it to smooth out it’s roll. It all looked brand new and expensive. No doubt Satoru’s touch.

Her eyes blink rapidly as she takes it all in, before turning back to Satoru who was waiting at the closed door, enjoying himself while watching her react to it all.

“I- I don’t even know what to say-”

“It’s awesome!” A delighted squeal rings out, followed by racing footsteps, and out of a hallway comes Tsumiki, who runs straight through the living room and into the kitchen.

“Is this our new house!?” Megumi comes running after her, and (y/n) realizes quickly that they’re playing tag.

“It is!” Satoru chirps, only furthering the noisy children’s antics as they sprint back down the hallway they’d just come from.

“Careful!” (y/n) hollers after them, almost as a second thought, as she was preoccupied by processing all of this.

Once the kids were distracted by their game again, she went right back to Satoru, staring at him incredulously, still not believing he’d done all of this. Before she can spew out all of her questions, he begins answering them.

“It has four bedrooms,” He says, as if that was going to be her first line of questioning. “It’s way closer to campus. It's in a safer neighborhood and still in their school district. We can worry about moving their things tomorrow” He continued. “Rent is paid for the next…” He pretends to think about it, running a hand through his hair. “Ten? Twelve years? I can’t remember exactly”

(y/n) blinks owlishly, and Satoru almost doesn’t notice the way she’s staring at him as he continues on with his introduction of the place.

“Got it set up with the landlord last night after you fell asleep on the floor,” He chuckles at the image from the night before. “And I was actually late today because I wanted to pick up the keys”

He stops when his eyes fall back to hers, unsure of what to make of her expression. She wore little to no emotion, besides her wide eyes and parted lips. When he stopped speaking, she found her voice.

“Why did you do all of this?”

It comes out in a whisper, but he’s close enough to her that he hears just fine.

“Why? Well we’re graduating soon, you’ll need somewhere to stay with them, and it cannot be in that terrible neighborhood. No wonder you were gone all the time that place was-”

This time he cuts himself off as she steps closer to him, almost toe to toe. She’s so close that she has to tilt her head back to look up at him properly, and for once Satoru freezes up.

“I didn’t get to say it earlier but I guess you’re even more deserving now,” She says with a bashful smile. “But… thank you”

He nods back at her, the motion shaky as his eyes don’t leave hers. Even hidden behind his sunglasses they’re blown wide from how close she is.

“Yeah- yeah of course,” He replies. “One condition though?”

She hums curiously in response, her eyes flickering over his features.

“No more secrets, alright?” He asks, and she laughs quietly, nodding her head in agreement.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Gojo Satoru” She says, reaching her hand out to shake on it.

Satoru scoffs, grabbing her hand and pulling her into him, wrapping his arms around her waist with ease. She’d fight him off playfully normally, but today she throws her arms around his neck and hugs him back just as enthusiastically.

Just when she thinks she should step away, she holds on a little tighter. Maybe it’s the smell of warm sugar and pine infecting her senses, or maybe it was the peculiar feeling of her heart skipping a beat, but she held onto him just a little longer than she should have. She thinks she’s needed this for a while, a long while, even.

He doesn’t seem to mind anyways, as he ducks his head down to the crook of her neck and doesn’t loosen his hold on her in the slightest.

“I didn’t deserve this,” She mumbles against the collar of his shirt, closing her eyes as she tries to hold on to the last few seconds of this moment. “You should be upset with me, but… you fixed all of it, for me”

Reluctantly, Satoru pulls away, giving her a signature smile before chuckling.

“Well, ‘course I did, sweetheart” He says through his laugh.

(y/n) doesn’t say anything, but as she looks at him, she hopes he tells her more. Or at least tell her why he’d do all of this, because he hadn’t owed her a thing, and here he was practically giving her the world. Her eyes flicker between his, trying to find some sort of explanation, even hidden behind his shades.

“Satoru…”

She doesn’t get the chance to finish her thought, as two pairs of feet are running towards her again.

Despite the racket they’d been making all this time, she’d almost tuned it out, she realized as she turned to see Megumi and Tsumiki giggling as they made grabby hands at her.

“(y/n)! Come on! We picked out our rooms!” Tsumiki says, grabbing her wrist and forcefully yanking her away from Satoru.

A strangled laugh escapes her as she stumbles over her feet to follow behind her, but she still manages to cast a glance back towards Satoru, who was amused by the sight and waved her off to go spend time with them. ___

After a few hours of detailed guided tours and playing, Megumi and Tsumiki had finally settled down in the new bed that was in the room Megumi claimed for himself. Tsumiki had a new bed in her new room too, but the siblings had decided to have a sleepover, so they were gathered up under fresh covers together while (y/n) bid them goodnight.

“Can we stay here forever?” Tsumiki asked softly, pulling her fluffy purple blanket to her chin.

Perched on the side of the bed as she tucked them in, (y/n) smiled and nodded.

“As long as you wish,” She hums. “You can paint your rooms whatever color you want, and we’ll get your things tomorrow” She tells them.

“And you’re staying here too?” Megumi asks, pulling his own blanket up to his nose to hide his warm face. (y/n) laughed and nodded again.

“I sure am, so you’re gonna have to be on your best behavior all the time,” She teases, poking his nose before pulling his blanket away from his face. “I’m your legal guardian now, which means I can punish you” She sing-songs playfully as she tickles him, much to his dismay. “But tonight I need to go back to my school. I’ll put up a curtain of protection like I always do, and soon I’ll be staying here every night”

“And Gojo will be staying too?” Tsumiki asks.

(y/n) makes a funny face as she chuckles at that, her lips pulled into an awkward half-smile while her brows furrowed.

“Uh- I don’t know about that,” She chuckles. “What makes you think that?”

“There’s an extra room”

“The other room”

Megumi and Tsumiki speak over each other, and (y/n) blinks in surprise, since both of them assumed the same.

“I don’t think so,” She chuckles, shaking her head. “It’s just an extra room” She tries to dismiss it, but neither of them look convinced.

“You guys were standing really close earlier” Megumi mutters, and before (y/n) could be shocked by his observation, Tsumiki is voicing her own opinion.

“He’s very handsome! And he stares at you a lot!”

(y/n’s) jaw is on the floor as she looks between the two children that were far too observant for their age. Since when were they so nosey?

Well, she could recall a few times now that they’d accused her of having a boyfriend, but this was on another level!

“You’re seeing things that aren’t there,” She says, trying to laugh it off, but her face is hot suddenly and she can’t think of a better excuse to give them. “Time for bed”

“So you’re not going to get married and be our parents?” Megumi asks before letting out a big yawn.

“Time for bed” (y/n) repeats, firmly tucking the blanket around his shoulders.

Tsumiki is giggling and Megumi is pouting when she finally leaves them be, flicking off their lights and shutting the door behind her. Once it’s clicked shut, she leans against it and lets out a deep sigh.

“They’ve got active imaginations”

Yelping in surprise, her first instinct is to smack Satoru on his arm, and he’s lucky it wasn’t his face. He seems unbothered by this reaction. In fact, he laughs.

“When are you going to stop sneaking up on me?” She hisses, not wanting to draw the Fushiguro kids’ attention to the hallway.

Satoru follows her as she hastily makes her way to the living room. It’s late enough now that the sun no longer brightens the room, leaving it dimly lit by the light in the hallway.

“You know, if you did ask me to move in, I’d say yes” Satoru’s the first to speak, and (y/n) is spun around by her heel as soon as he does.

His tone is genuine, but he’s still grinning like he’s trying to tease her, so she’s not sure what to make of the comment. Of course, he technically owned the place, so it wouldn’t feel right to argue that he couldn't stay, but then there was the matter of what the kids would think and-

Oh, that cheeky bastard.

“Eavesdropping again?” (y/n) crosses her arms as she tilts her head at him, and Satoru only purses his lips, not even bothering to defend himself. “And here I thought you learned your lesson”

“Me?” He laughs loudly, enough that she makes a face before throwing her arm in a gesture to the hallway.

“It’s late, could you keep it down?” She scolds him again.

“You’re a strict mom, sheesh,” Satoru mutters, and she rolls her eyes at him, but she can’t hide the small smile of pride that creeps up on her lips. “So, you like it all, then?”

Her smile softens as she nods her head back at him.

“It’s wonderful,” She tells him honestly. “I think they’re going to be very happy here”

“Good, good…”

He almost looks awkward, standing before her in the dark room. He’s fiddling with his sunglasses in his hands, the wisps of his hair tickling his eyelashes, and he’s nervous to look at her for too long, but he does anyway.

“And you?” He asks.

The question hangs in the air between them for a moment, as (y/n) assumes it’s obvious that she’s elated with how everything turned out, with how he seemed to snap his fingers and fix it all overnight. He must know that she owes him a debt which she’ll never be able to repay, right? He must know exactly how she feels, because she hasn’t done a thing to conceal it.

But he’s waiting for an answer, she can see it in the way he stops playing with the frames of his sunglasses, how his eyes are focused on her and he doesn’t say a thing until she responds.

Something about the way he seems to nervously await her response makes her soften for him. For the first time in a long time it’s as though her whole body completely relaxes, like she’s able to turn on autopilot again, and let her guard down properly. Her heart beats a little irregularly which is strange but the way it makes her cheeks buzz with the tingling warmth of a blush feels good.

With quick, quiet steps on the tips of her toes she crosses the room to where he’s standing. She’s close enough to him now that the lighting behind him catches on her eyes, seemingly making them glimmer with her fondness.

She stays on the tips of her toes as she leans into him, filling his senses with the sweet smell of her shampoo and something else that he couldn’t name, but was completely unique to her. Just as he’s getting lost in the scent, her lips are planted on his cheek, soft, and much too fleeting.

There’s a shy smile and a flush of color on her face when she drops back to the pads of her feet.

“Honestly, I think this is the happiest I’ve felt in a long time,” She admits quietly, and Satoru has to put effort into focusing on her while she speaks, because his head is in the clouds and he thinks he might float off into them. “I mean… with everything that’s happened these last few months I just… leaving it all behind as long as they were safe didn’t seem so bad. I’d lost enough friends and I…” Her fingers catch on one another as she nervously fiddles. “It doesn’t matter now. But, I hope you know how much this all means to me. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to pay you back”

His face is still stunned from the feeling of her lips on his cheek, but he manages the smallest of smiles at her honesty.

“I don’t need you to pay me back,” He says with a shake of his head. “I just…”

He loses his train of thought as he stares at her, which was an effect she’d always had on him, although tonight it seemed far more potent. Perhaps it was the low orange lighting, softening her pretty features. Or it was how she’d so blatantly kissed him and didn’t think it was out of character to do so. These were probably both true, but he could probably admit now that the shortness of his breath and the swell of his heart were caused by a distinct, paralyzing feeling that he’d always held for her, and only seemed to grow stronger.

In a small movement of curiosity, her head tilts to the side, awaiting the rest of his thought. Admittedly, his staring was starting to make her feel self conscious, but she doesn’t shy away. Instead she keeps her patience and wonders what it is that’s stuck on his tongue.

Satoru’s eyes flicker between hers in a moment of indecisiveness. He knew what he wanted to tell her, because it had been on his mind for months now, maybe even years, and now here she was, standing there, looking like that, and giving him her full attention.

Gojo Satoru chokes.

“I just want you to be happy”

He finally speaks, and (y/n) noticeably brightens before him. Her wide smile makes the corners of her eyes crinkle, and a breathless laugh escapes her lungs.

They linger for a quiet moment, and despite the silence, they’re perfectly comfortable. ___

After locking up and drawing a curtain, Satoru takes her hand and warps them both back to Jujutsu Tech. Together, they sit down with Shoko and explain everything. She’s understandably upset for not being told sooner, but more than anything was happy to know that (y/n) was safe now, and the hiding and lying was over. The three sit on the floor of the common room, Satoru and (y/n) answering all of Shoko’s questions while the girls share a cigarette, and even though it was so late that it was almost morning, none of them grew tired the later their night stretches.

They were too wrapped up in their moment they finally deserved. With friendly but teasing banter, jokes, laughter, reminiscing, and of course a smoke or two. It was just like it used to be, domestic, relaxed. They hadn’t realized this feeling had gradually disappeared from their lives until this moment, hadn’t known they’d been longing for it to return like this.

When Shoko declares she has to go to bed for at least an hour of sleep before a shift at the morgue, (y/n) stands to hug her goodnight, and they stay wrapped in each other’s embrace for some time.

“If you ever lie to me again, I’ll kill you” Shoko mumbles, before pressing her face into the crook between (y/n’s) neck and shoulder.

In return, (y/n) squeezes her even tighter.

With Shoko’s retreat to bed, (y/n) claims that she too needed to get some sleep, and Satoru makes a half-assed joke about how she clearly needs it. The pair walk together back to their dorms, growing more comfortable in their silence the more they find themselves in it. Their steps are slow, and only seem to drag slower the closer they get, but neither of them comment on it.

Instead, when they finally do reach (y/n’s) dorm, just as the sun starts to peek over the horizon and sneak through the windows of the corridor, they still linger in front of her door.

Even after the hours of talking, of going over everything and catching up with one another, there still seemed to be so much unsaid. Still, with the opportunity presented to her, (y/n) remained silent, her hands latched together behind her back as she hoped that Satoru would say it first.

“Try to catch up on some sleep,” He is the first to speak, but it does nothing to ease the growing weight of an indescribable tension in her chest. “We can go tomorrow afternoon to move whatever Tsumiki and Megumi want into the apartment”

“You don’t have to help with that,” She tells him with a shrug. “It won’t be much, and I don’t mind. Not like it’s your responsibility”

He laughs, his smile stretching across his face as he does.

“You don’t get it at all, do you?”

The question is cryptic, but (y/n) bites back a smile as she reads right through the lines. She tilts her chin up challengingly as her hidden smile begins to tug at the corners of her lips. It was rare that she felt like she was one step ahead of him, and she just had to enjoy this opportunity for as long as she could.

“What don’t I get?” She asks, feigning confusion as she stares up at him.

Satoru’s eyes flicker between hers a few times, trying to get a proper read on her, but it’s hard when she’s smiling at him like that, with her undivided attention.

“Have dinner with me tomorrow,” He says, and for a moment, her playful little smile falters, replaced with surprise at the sudden request. “Once we’re done with all the moving stuff”

She blinks at him, a ghost of a smile still on her lips.

“I mean, I was probably going to make dinner for-”

“We’ll get them McDonalds” Satoru shrugs.

(y/n) raises a brow at his quick response, and her heart leaps in her chest at his sudden change in attitude. Was he asking her out? She wasn’t sure if he really was or if he was just being a flirt and this was just like all the other times they’d spent time together one on one.

“Well…” She licks her lips before speaking slowly. “Why wouldn’t we just get McDonalds with them?”

She crosses her arms loosely, an attempt to keep her hands occupied so she doesn’t start nervously fidgeting, but it’s also a defense mechanism.

“I’m not taking you to McDonalds,” Satoru shakes his head, his expression unwavering in its seriousness. “I’m taking you somewhere better than that”

“Better?” (y/n) muses curiously.

“Yeah,” He shrugs one of his shoulders. “Somewhere nice” He says decidedly.

“Nice?”

The corner of her lip betrays her as it begins to curl into a smile, and he notices how she tries to fight it. His confidence skyrockets as he grins, and nods his head back at her.

“Yep,” He answers, popping his lips dramatically. “So it’s a date”

(y/n’s) relaxed facade crumbles in an instant, her eyes rounding and her jaw dropping before she could pull herself together and keep up with the smooth act.

“A date?”

“Are you going to keep copying me?” Satoru chuckles, but he drops the subject too quickly for her liking. “It’ll be fun. We both deserve to have some fun, right?” He asks her, and she can only manage to awkwardly nod her head from side to side in agreement. “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow then”

“Okay” Is all the more (y/n’s) able to come up with, and Satoru smiles to himself, proud of his own work.

“Goodnight sweetheart” He gives a small wave as he spins on his heel to head to his own dorm.

“Goodnight” She calls to him.

Although the sun’s rays are peeking through her curtains, when (y/n’s) head hits her pillow, she drifts right off into a peaceful sleep. It’s the best night of sleep she’s had in a long while. Her dreams are filled with peaceful, colorful images. She wakes feeling well rested, and ready for whatever her coming days will have in store for her.

Soon she would graduate, along with her two best friends, and the world would be all theirs to navigate and experience. She wasn’t sure how difficult it would be to raise Tsumiki and Megumi full time, but she was eager to learn. Similarly, she wasn’t sure where this odd, warm feeling with Satoru would take her, but she was equally curious to explore it.

Despite all the heartache that this year had brought her, she felt content with where she was now. Her view on what was to come is optimistic. Her heart is full. And the people she loved were safe.

___

fin.

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 9 months

Text

darilaros (princess) │ Chapter 3: Pyre

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

GIF by @hotdcentral

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: As the second daughter of King Viserys, you experience firsthand what it means to belong to the House of the Dragon. You struggle with the passing of your mother.

Hello! My apologies for the wait. My laptop broke, so I had to go get a new one. It took me a bit to set it all up how I like, and then I had a busy time of it at work + a bit of writer's block. I hope the chapter makes up for it! Keep in mind there are some untranslated bits of HV in here, but I'll make a post + link transcribing all that for those who want. Thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for giving this the go-ahead!

TRIGGERS: character death, exploration of child grief, dysfunctional family dynamics.

It is very quiet now that Mama has died.

Brella is quiet. Septa is quiet. Ana and Peony, the maids who come to make your bed neat again and pick up all the dresses you’ve worn, are quiet. Ser Harrold is quiet—but then, he usually is. None of Papa’s guards seem to want to make a sound now. Neither do Papa’s Councilmen, like Lord Corlys or Lord Lyman, who you sometimes see walking down the halls with very sad looks upon their faces.

You wonder if, when Mama died, she took a part of all these people with her.

She has taken a part of Papa, and of ’Nyra, too. Suppertime is so very quiet that you are afraid to breathe in case everyone can hear it. They both just stare at their plates, eyes puffy and red like yours are when you cry, which means they have been crying, too. They eat their food like someone else is moving their mouths, and when they swallow, it looks like the most painful thing in the whole world.

Papa and ’Nyra haven’t spoken to you since the day of the tourney. You try not to be sad about it, but it’s hard. Now that Mama has gone away, they are your family, and it hurts that your family won’t look at you or say anything to you. It’s almost like they have forgotten all about you.

“They’re grieving,” Alicent tells you, taking your hand in hers as you walk towards the Sept. The stairs are very hard to climb, so she had to help you up, and it was nearly like having Mama again when she pulled you into her arms and held you tight. “Their sorrow has made them blind to all else.”

You don’t really understand what she means. “To me, too?”

“Hm?”

“Their sorrow. It’s made them not see me?”

Alicent stops. Something very soft and sad makes her face droop, and she bends down so that she can look you right in the eyes. “Oh, Princess. They see you. And they love you. But your mother”—she takes a breath that sounds shaky—“she was very important to them. They miss her very much.”

“I miss her, too.” You wonder when Mama will return. How long is ‘never’? No one has ever explained it to you. Hopefully it is soon.

“I know you do.” Alicent stands and grabs onto your hand again, leading you toward the table where so so many candles are.

The room is very hot, all the little fires making you sleepy even though it is only morning time. There are two stools right before the table, and Alicent kneels on one. You try to do the same on the other, but it means you cannot see the candles anymore.

“How about you stand on it instead, Princess?” Alicent asks. She lets you hold onto her shoulder so that you can get up on the stool like she said, which makes it much easier to see. Then, she folds her hands together in front of her chin and bends her head, so you do the same.

It isn’t very interesting to stare at your fingers at first, but after a while, it’s nice. You count all the little folds in your skin—there are a lot—and trace the edges of your thumbnails with your mind over and over. Time goes funny, and you cannot remember why you were ever sad before you came here.

It might be minutes or hours or days before Alicent speaks. “Would you like to light a candle? For your mother?”

“Why?” you ask, frowning. Is candle-lighting how to get Mama to come back? Will she see the light and know it’s me and return with baby Baelon? Is that why so many people pray in the Sept?

Alicent picks up a candle that hasn’t been lit. “To remember her. You light the candle and… she’ll see it.”

“From where?”

“From one of the Seven heavens.”

“Where’s that?”

“I… do not know.” She stares at the candle like she is trying to light it without moving. “Somewhere far away. My mother is there, too.”

“Oh.” She sounds very sad, so you reach out to grab hold of another unlit candle. “Can I light this one? For Mama?”

That makes her smile just a little. “Of course, Princess.”

Alicent takes one of the lit candles and tilts it into yours, making sure not to spill any of the hot wax on you. You hold very still, because fire is dangerous which means you can get hurt, even though you touched it once and it didn’t feel like anything but warm. The little string at the top catches fire, burning orange and gold and swaying gently.

She lights her own, too. “Now, you place it on the altar, like so.” She carefully sets both candles down and closes her eyes for a moment, and you think she must be thinking of her own mama.

You nudge your candle back to where you took it, watching the flame dance about. I lit a candle for you, Mama, so you can see it. Do you? Do you see me?

Where are you, Mama? When are you coming back?

The candle doesn’t answer. It just sits there, the little fire bobbing about and then finally falling still. All you can hear is the sound of your own breathing. When you are done, Alicent helps you step off the stool, and you leave the Sept with the candles still lit behind you.

Just outside, you find Uncle Daemon waiting for you.

While ’Nyra and Papa are grieving and Papa’s Council are planning and everyone else is doing whatever it is they do away from you, Uncle has been making sure that you are ‘well’ by telling you stories and teaching you more High Valyrian and sitting at the table to watch while you and Brella play with your dolls together. He never stays for a long-long time, but it is still very nice.

“Farewell, Princess.” Alicent lets go of your hand and turns to curtsey to Uncle, who bows his head but says nothing, just stares with a not-exactly-kind look on his face. Then, she leaves, her footsteps fading away and then dropping as she goes down the stairs. You listen until the noise disappears entirely.

Uncle’s brow raises. “What were you doing in the Sept with only Hightower’s daughter for company? Where’s your sister?”

He never calls her by her name. You wonder why, sometimes.

“She took me because ’Nyra is napping again from crying so much, and I was by myself. So, we went to the Sept so I could light a candle for Mama,” you say quietly. “So that she’ll see it and come back.”

At that, he softens. He crouches down so you can see his face more clearly. “She’s not coming back, sweetling. You know that, don’t you?”

“Why not?”

“She…” He grunts. “Do you remember the stories about Aegon the Conqueror, and his sister-wives Visenya and Rhaenys?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Right.” He rises, gripping you below your arms and lifting you high so that he can carry you away from the Sept. It makes him uncomfortable, though you don’t know why. “Tell me what happened to Rhaenys.”

“She tried to—to get Dorne to say that Aegon was their King, so she rode Meraxes to them.” Uncle hums approvingly, so you keep going. Your voice wobbles with each step he takes. “But they were angry at her for burning the grass and the trees and the buildings and the people and the sheep and the horses and th—”

“Yes, yes, she lit Dorne aflame.” Uncle rolls his eyes. He bounces you extra hard in his arms so that it feels like you’re about to fall, and you squeal and wrap your arms tight-tight around his neck so that you don’t. “Leave the boring bits out. Tell me the rest.”

“She—Dorne took a big, big arrow and hit Meraxes in the eye, and Rhaenys and Meraxes fell all the way to the ground from up high and died.”

His lips twist at the way you say the last word. “You’ve been paying attention. Good girl.” You’re out in the courtyard now, away from the Sept. It isn’t any louder out here, which is strange, because it is usually always loud and full of people. “Did Rhaenys ever return to Aegon and Visenya?” he asks, moving towards the doors that lead to Maegor’s Holdfast where your rooms are.

“No…” you say, unsure. You don’t think she did. “Why didn’t she go back?”

Uncle sighs, slowing down so he can look at you properly. “That’s what it means to die, sweetling. Rhaenys didn’t go away. When she hit the ground, her body ceased to function. She stopped seeing, feeling, thinking, moving, breathing. She became… nothing.” Your belly twists. You don’t like what he’s telling you, not one bit. Whatever your face is doing, it makes Uncle keep talking. “It’s like your dolls—you can touch them and see them, can’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“But when you speak to them, do they speak back?”

“No.”

“Do they have beating hearts?”

“No.”

“Do they eat or piss or shit?”

You gasp. “That—that’s naughty, kepus!”

He rolls his eyes again. “No, they don’t. They’re things, not people. And your mother… she’s no longer a person. She’s a body; one we must put to rest today.”

The funeral is soon. Uncle has been reminding you lots and lots, and when you asked, he said a funeral is what people go to so they can say goodbye to the person who has died and put their body back where it is meant to go. And because Mama is a Targaryen like you and Uncle and Papa and ’Nyra, her body has to be put on fire so that she can go back to the wind.

She’s not a person anymore. She’s a nothing. It scares you.

You sniffle. “But… I don’t want her to be gone like Rhaenys did. I want her back.”

“I know.” Uncle hugs you then, pulling you so close that your nose gets stuck in all his hair. When you breathe in, all those hairs go up inside your nostrils and make them itch. You hope he never lets go. “I know.”

Put on the dress, then sit in the carriage, then walk up the Hill, then stand quiet. Put on the dress, then sit in the carriage, then walk up the Hill, then stand quiet. Put on the dress, then sit in the carriage, then walk up the Hill, then stand quiet.

You keep saying it over and over in your head, just like Uncle had said. He is the only one who would tell you what is going to happen at the funeral, because he knows that you like to know things even when you’re afraid of them. It makes you feel better, makes you feel a little less scared.

Uncle never told you how many people would be here, though.

Everyone comes to watch you and ’Nyra and Papa and Uncle walk through the Keep to the carriage—the maesters, the maids, the pageboys, the lords and ladies that like to stay in the city—but they stay silent as you pass. You wonder if pressing yourself against the wall and thinking really hard about being made of stone will turn you invisible, which is when you can’t be seen. You wish you could. There are too many gazes on you, and it makes all the hairs on your arms and legs and neck stand up. Uncle has to press you forward when you slow down to look for an escape.

You sit in the carriage beside ’Nyra while Papa and Uncle sit at the front, because Papa is the King and Uncle is his heir. She is very pale, almost blending with her hair except for her red eyes. You slip your hand into hers and she squeezes hard, but you try not to show her that it hurts. She looks less sad holding onto you, so you don’t mind at all that her fingers pinch.

It is the first time in a long time that you have been able to see any of the people outside the walls of the Keep. Before Mama died—before Mama’s belly got too big and she had to stay in bed—she used to take you just beyond the gates to where the really poor commonfolk would line up every sennight on the day of rest to get their alms, which Mama says is an important part of being good. She would say that you have to give coin and food and whatever else the people might need so that they are well and happy, because that means they will support the King’s reign and be peaceful. You don’t know what that means, but Mama is always right.

You miss it—giving people things, letting them pat your cheeks or your hair and calling you the People’s Princess. Because Mama is Queen and giving alms is what the Queen is meant to do, no one else could take you when she stopped going out of her chambers. And, when you went with her, the people were always very loud and cheerful and smiling, and they thanked you with tears in their eyes when Mama let you give them the pouches of coin yourself.

As the carriage takes you through the city today, the commonfolk are quiet.

None of them are smiling, or happy. They watch on as the horses take you through the streets, and some of them even cry when they see the long box that the cart ahead of you is carrying. It is the biggest, nicest box you’ve ever seen, made with dark wood and borders that look like real gold, glinting in the sun. Uncle told you that the box has the bodies inside it, the ones of Mama and baby Baelon.

You think that the people miss Mama very much. Maybe they miss her almost as much as you do—but not the same amount. You think you miss Mama most of all, even more than Papa or ’Nyra, because at least they have Lord Otto or Lord Lyman or Lord Corlys or Alicent or Betha Strong or Ser Harrold to keep them company. All you have is Mama and sometimes Uncle, and now Mama is gone.

After a while, the carriage starts to take you up and up, which means that you are almost at the point where you will need to stop and get out and walk the rest of the way. This is because the horses cannot pull so much weight up Visenya’s Hill. Uncle said it would be hard for you to walk, being so small when the hill is so large, but that you have to so that everyone can see how brave you are. “Targaryens don’t show weakness,” he says.

He is right—the walk is hard. At first, when you get out and take ’Nyra’s hand and start to follow Papa up the hill, it isn’t so bad. But then, it gets steeper and steeper, almost so steep that you feel like you need to use your hands to climb the rest of the way. Your legs burn so much that you want to cry, but you don’t. Uncle said you cannot be carried, either, so you don’t ask ’Nyra to pick you up. You must be brave. You must be brave.

By the time you reach the top, the men who were made to carry the box have opened it up and taken out the things inside. There are two funny-shaped objects covered in brown cloth lying in the middle of the pyre that has been built for the funeral—one is big, bigger than you, while the other is very small. They are the bodies of Mama and Baelon, and you have to hold on tight to the memory of Uncle’s words to keep from running over and trying to shake them awake.

“What remains of them will be set upon the pyre, yes—but remember, they’re not people. They’re just skin and bone and meat now. You must let them burn as all Targaryens burn.”

’Nyra’s hand feels like ice around yours as a man in a strange dress with a hood comes forward, past all the lords and ladies and past Uncle and Papa to stand right in front of the pyre. Two other men wearing dresses that look almost the same go with him, but stay one step behind.

“Tubī Arryno Lentro Dārie Aemme se Targārio Lentro Dārilaros Baelon perzyrty mōrqittot…” he says. You don’t know all the words, but you think he must be talking about the way Mama is a queen and baby Baelon is a prince, which seems silly to mention now that they’re not real anymore. “Sȳndor zijosy rēbarose, Dāria Aemma eglio ilvot trēso Dārilaros Baelon zȳhos gūros se tegot…”

Syrax is standing on the very top of the hill above everyone else. Because it would be very rude to look around at the others—Papa’s Councilmen and Alicent and the men who live on Dragonstone, your family’s special home, and Princess Rhaenys too, who is very scary, as well as so so many people you don’t know at all—you keep your eyes fixed on the dragon, admiring how pretty she looks in the sun. Usually, she makes lots of noise and is very mischievous, which is another word for naughty, but today she is quiet like all the rest. You wonder how she knows about funerals when she cannot speak in Valyrian or the Common Tongue or any other words that people can understand.

“Targārio ānogro rȳ ōrbrar ojāris, sētenondi hen ībī iemnȳ nȳmas,” the man says. His dress has what looks like an eye sewn on the chest, which seems an odd thing to want to wear. No one else in the Keep wears eyes.

The two men behind him step up with jugs in their hands, and they walk around the pyre pouring what is in the jugs over the cloth. It turns the brown even darker brown. After they bow, they move back, and no one speaks for a while.

Finally, the man with the eye on his chest says one last thing. “Hen perzȳ sīdas. Va perzȳ āmāzissi. Hen prānot istas, vapār drējī mōrī iksis.”

Something about fire, you think. Maybe he is saying your House words in High Valyrian. Fire and blood.

It is silent then, nothing but the sound of the wind whistling filling your ears. Everyone is still, from the lady with the kind eyes that remind you of your own on the other side of the pyre to the funny men to the side. No one speaks. You wonder what is supposed to happen now.

Uncle puts his hand on your shoulder, leaning in to whisper in ’Nyra’s ear. “They’re waiting for you.”

At first, you think she hasn’t heard him—she doesn’t move or do anything at all, just keeps staring where Mama and baby Baelon are. You nearly jump when her fingers tighten on yours. “Ñurho valonqro paghyro jēdunna, lo tolijī kepa ñuha kirimvī rhēdos pendan.”

My brother lived, father found happy. It makes no sense, but Mama told you once that it is rude to listen to other people’s conversations, so you try not to listen too hard.

Uncle speaks too low for you to hear him, to which ’Nyra replies with something you do understand. “Trēsy dōrī kesan.” I will never be a son.

She sounds very, very sad. Poor ’Nyra, you think. I will never be a son, either. I’m just a daughter, a girl, like you. Maybe Papa would be happier if ’Nyra or you had died instead of Baelon, if your body was wrapped in the brown cloth on the pyre and you weren’t real anymore.

’Nyra lets go of you. She looks to Papa, but all he is doing is staring at the pyre where Mama and Baelon lie. Her face is very red, which means she has been crying. When she steps forward, Uncle takes your hand and pulls you back to stop you following her. He is warm, so you try to hug onto his leg in a way that doesn’t make you weak like he told you not to be.

Syrax makes her chirping noise, all of a sudden paying attention to what her rider is doing. ’Nyra tries to speak, but it doesn’t come out. “Dr…”

She looks at Papa again, so you do too. He still hasn’t looked away from the pyre. You wonder if he knows you and ’Nyra and Uncle are even here, because he hasn’t so much as glanced at you since the night he came to your rooms and told you that Mama and Baelon had died. Not once.

“Drakarys.”

Syrax rumbles, and then begins to climb down toward all the people. For a moment, you’re worried she might try to eat someone, but the Dragonkeepers are here with their spears to stop anything bad happening. She opens her mouth, and fire comes bursting out.

The pyre lights up, and Mama and Baelon disappear in bright-white-orange.

“Mama?” you whisper, eyes stinging and throat feeling strange, like you want to be sick but not. “Mama?”

The only thing that you can hear is the sound of burning.

Papa bends his head, and ’Nyra looks away. You think that you may be the only one who keeps watching the fire as it takes your Mama away from you forever.

(When you are grown, you will not remember this day. You will not remember the ache in your bones or the wind in your hair. You will not remember the faces of the commonfolk you passed along the way, or the sorrow in Rhaenyra’s voice when she called down dragonfire upon the hill. You will not remember the cold that leached into your blood as you stood beside what was left of your family, a slow freezing that will take its toll over the days and moons and years of your existence.

Even so, the sight of the bodies on the pyre and the smell of burning flesh will remain etched into the very fabric of your person forevermore.

At night, you will sometimes feel as though ash clings to your tongue, the taste of rot lingering in your mouth. In dreams, you will see brown cloth and a faceless babe wiggling beneath wrappings as it burns to nothing. You will wake in a panic, near to choking on the air you cannot seem to make yourself breathe, looking about wildly in search of the horrors that had plagued your slumbering thoughts. Melancholy will follow you, lurking just beyond reach, haunting, nameless.

But you will not remember this day.)

After the funeral, Uncle Daemon leaves.

You don’t know why, because he didn’t say goodbye and no one will tell you anything. When you ask ’Nyra, she tells you she doesn’t “want to talk about him” and walks away with Alicent. You ask Brella, but she just says, “Not right now, Princess.”

You don’t ask Papa, because he is still grieving for Mama and baby Baelon. For you, that means he doesn’t want to tell you about anything at all. But whenever someone says Uncle’s name in front of him, he gets very, very angry and storms off with his boots making a lot of noise on the ground, so Uncle must have done something very naughty.

A big ceremony is happening today, though, which makes it harder to be sad that Uncle isn’t here. ’Nyra told you that Papa has decided to make her the heir, even though Uncle is supposed to be. Maybe that is why he left. It has been very busy in the Keep because everyone came for Mama and Baelon’s funeral, but they are being made to stay for the ceremony so that they can swear fealty to Papa and ’Nyra. And, for the first time ever, you have a special role, too.

“… promise to be—to be faith–faithful to King Viserys and his named heir, the Princess Rhae-nyra. I pledge fealty to them and shall def—defend them against all e-ne-mies in good faith and without de-ceit. I sw–swear this by the Old Gods and the New.”

Alicent claps, smiling. “Well done, Princess! Much better!”

’Nyra comes out from behind her screen wearing a pretty red dress, like the colour of the dragon with three heads on your House sigil. “Just try not to stutter so much, little sister.”

“Trying,” you say grumpily—the words are hard—but ’Nyra isn’t paying attention. Instead, she is looking into the mirror as Alicent helps her with the laces at the back, staring at herself in a way that doesn’t look very happy.

Alicent stops and hugs her. “You will be fine. This is what you were born for.”

“I wasn’t, though,” ’Nyra says, frowning. “Was I?”

They both go quiet, so you say, “You look very nice today.”

That makes ’Nyra smile, finally. “Thank you.”

It doesn’t take long for Alicent to finish lacing up her dress and helping her with her gold cape and jewels. When she is done, ’Nyra leaves the room and Alicent moves toward you so she can take your hand. “Come, Princess,” she says. “Let us walk to the Great Hall together.”

When you get there, the room is full of people. You wonder if every single lord and lady in the whole of Papa’s kingdom is here, all together in this one place. It is only because you are a princess that you don’t have to stand with all of them, and Alicent leads you over to Ser Harrold so that you can stay next to him by the Iron Throne. There is even a little chair just for you there, in case your legs get tired.

“Princess,” Ser Harrold says. His voice is funny, like a growl, and it makes you giggle every time you hear it. And, every time you giggle, he smiles, which makes all the wrinkles on his face deeper, which is even funnier. He does it again now.

A big bang at the door has everyone go very quiet.

“Presenting—Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen!”

No one speaks when ’Nyra comes through the doors all by herself, chin lifted straight up and walking down the middle of the two groups of people. Everyone stares at her, even Papa, and you think that it’s only right that they do because she looks so so pretty today. She curtseys to Papa at the bottom of the Throne, and then turns to face the people.

Without a word, Lord Corlys comes forward and kneels. “I, Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark, promise to be faithful to King Viserys and his named…”

You decide to sit in the chair while you wait. All the lords here have to say the same words you do when they pledge fealty, but you are going last because you’re the most important person to say it, which is what Alicent told you.

Lots of men and some ladies come up to the front to kneel and say the words to ’Nyra while Papa watches. It takes a long time, so you spend it looking around at all the different faces and dresses and coats that you can see. There are all sorts of things sewn onto the chests of people’s robes—you see a black stag on a yellow coat, a yellow lion on a red one, a grey wolf on a white one, a flower, a bird, even some boring ones like plain stripes or dots. Some of the ladies are wearing dresses that look very strange—the neck comes far far down so you can almost see some parts that are not proper for a lady to show. When those ones say the words, most of them are actually saying them while looking at Papa instead of ’Nyra, which is very rude because today is all about ’Nyra and not Papa. No one tries to make them stop, though, so maybe only you notice it.

When it is your turn, Ser Harrold taps you on the shoulder. All of a sudden, you feel very scared. So many people are looking at you now, and it makes you feel small and weak like you’re going to be smacked if you do anything.

But you must be brave. If Uncle were here, you’d want him to be proud of you.

You kneel in front of ’Nyra a little closer than everyone else did, but you think that no one will mind very much because you are her sister. Besides, your legs are feeling very shaky, and you might fall over if you have to go any further.

For a moment, the words won’t come out and you panic, but ’Nyra smiles. It is the only smile she has shown the whole time, and it’s just for you.

You find the words.

“I promise to be faith-ful to King Viserys and his named heir, the Princess Rhaenyra. I pledge fealty to them and shall defend them against all e-ne-mies in good faith and without… deceit. I swear this by the Old Gods and the New.”

You rise up, feeling like water is rushing in your ears, almost like it does whenever you have to take a bath. A sound like a heartbeat is all you can hear as you walk back to your spot, but you don’t sit down. ’Nyra said that you have to stay standing for the final part, the words that Papa has to say.

Your sister turns around to face the Iron Throne and bends her head to Papa. He says nothing.

Then, Papa stands, his sword Blackfyre in his hand and pointing down into the ground. “I, Viserys Targaryen, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm”—so many titles go after his name, you think, glad that you only have ‘the People’s Princess’ after yours—“do hereby name Rhaenyra Targaryen Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne.”

Everyone bows their heads, so you do, too. When ’Nyra turns around, all the lords and ladies and knights and guards clap.

Beyond the noise in the hall, you think you can hear a dragon roar.

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noose-lion · 2 months

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#im severely sleep deprived #lmao #ninjago #lego monkie kid #lego #lego chima #lego friends #lego bionicle #lego elves #poll #jesters privilege #lego shows #the freemaker adventures

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alexanderlightweight · 11 months

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Hi! I’m a long time reader for both you and saeth and joined tumblr so I could read more of your works. I’m hoping this is the correct way to submit a prompt and if not please ignore!

I would love to see more scheming Alec. Maybe he sees magnus come to the institute to update the wards as a kid and he knew that this is his One Love (which is rare for nephilim hence political marriages). so Alec plots to meet Magnus and/or convince magnus to keep him

Thank you for all your lovely works!

thats really sweet! and this was fine, you did great and actually this is the kick off to a new verse because i have another 3-5 asks abouts manipulative/scheming alec as well. it's called the craft of adoration

i hope you enjoy!

lumine

“Are you alright?” Jace asks and Alec nods, ignoring Jace in a way he rarely does before shooing him along.

“I’m fine, just paperwork.” Alec says and he gives the grimace he always tries to hide when Maryse is giving him extra work. Jace relaxes at the normal byplay and Alec watches him leave carefully and then he turns, breathless.

Alec knew that his parents wanted them out of the Institute because the High Warlock of Brooklyn was coming over, but while he was fine if not a little annoyed at their instructions before, he’s now livid.

Alec could have missed seeing and realizing the most perfect being in the universe already existed.

Magnus Bane is everything Alec’s never let himself desire or dream of and standing there, standing up to Alec’s mom, he’s the only person Alec can ever imagine wanting.

Maryse is biting out vitriol and Magnus Bane is matching her barb for barb, a dark, pointed smirk on his face as he lays Alec’s mother bare to the world with only his words.

Unlike Maryse, his tone remains even and cool and even when he raises it, it never becomes the yell that Robert's voice does.

Alec carefully remembers his words and where he wounds Maryse, and he holds his breathe and leaves. He refuses to let Magnus meet him like this. Alec is fifteen, he’s practically a child compared to a High Warlock and he has nothing impressive to his name.

It’s with renewed passion that Alec returns to his studies and the next time Izzy and Jace try to goad him into letting them get away with anything, he thinks of brown eyes that flash gold and shakes his head.

It’s not difficult to manipulate Robert, now that Alec knows what to look for. It’s almost worse, realizing that Robert is expecting Alec to help him hide his affair, not that Alec is going to blackmail him.

“I don’t want the Lightwood name.” Alec says again, for the third time since he’s sat down with Robert. “I’ll be the Trueblood heir, but I won’t be the Lightwood heir.” Alec smirks, “you can have Jace or Izzy be your heir, you don’t need me.”

The Lightwood name is more heavily tarnished than Alec realized at first and while Alec won’t hide who his parents are, he’ll change his last name if it means ensuring Magnus at least looks twice at him.

The separation is quiet and Maryse is contemplative in the months that follow but Alec doesn’t worry about it, too focused on forging connections with other young and political nephilim. He’s back and forth between New York and Idris a ridiculous amount, but it’s worth it.

Alec is known and knows all the heirs of the next families and the Institutes. Perhaps he doesn’t have friends, but he doesn’t need those just yet, not when he might have to get rid of them if they interfered.

Alec is impatient and he knows he is. He only saw Magnus back then for a few minutes but Alec knows his heart and it’s may not love at first sight, but Magnus is the only one Alec’s heart will ever beat for.

Alec uses that impatience to build his reputation and his skills and as a reason to gently let Jace down when his brother hopes to become parabatai. Alec won’t take any chances with Magnus not being interested.

Alec gets tall and he gets strong and he focuses on knowing as much as he can because whatever Magnus needs or wants, Alec is going to ensure he achieves it.

There is not room for failure on his list and it’s not an accident that during Alec’s evaluation, Camille Belcourt is caught breaking the accords. The new leader is Raphael Santiago and Alec introduces himself casually, with a politeness that he doesn’t even give the clave. It’s easy enough when Alec remembers that this will be important to Magnus. That Camille is no longer a threat and that someday, Alec can offer her eternally preserved heart that rests in a chest in Alec’s room. A present for whenever he finally sees Magnus again.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #the craft of adoration #malec #shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood

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perseephoneee · 25 days

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𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓘𝓥

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

↳ fic masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

a/n: guys the joy i felt writing this one is insane. i hope you like it.

The recent weeks had consisted of following Loki’s lead, which you loathed to do. Mainly because he was bossy, and you fought the urge to snap at him in public. You entertained tea with Thor as well as another dance. One day, you even brought Ivy to the promenade with you as you met up with Thor and Loki. Unfortunately, you and Loki spent more time correcting each other’s literary analysis than you did bonding with Thor. Fortunately, your sister has always been charming, and the opportunity wasn’t lost.

As you waited for Loki to make his next move, you busied yourself with everything except the courting season. Word of Thor’s interest in you got out, and you had several gentlemen callers throughout the days. Most of them were fine but boring. They had no interest in the books you read, and most of their questions came back to family and the ‘role of women’ within the house. Your Grandmother would protest, but you would rather stab yourself with your fork than entertain a conversation about child rearing with a man you barely knew.

It was on one afternoon that you felt yourself growing impatient waiting for Loki. You felt like you were waiting on a cliff for someone to push you off, and you disliked the lack of control that came with playing to Loki’s whims. With a well-placed bribe to a nosy coachman, you were able to learn that Thor and Loki were currently at Angelo’s School of Arms, an institution where men could practice their combat skills through the art of fencing. You were well versed in its corridors, having spent plenty of time reading in its halls while you waited for your brother to finish practice.

Taking the carriage to Angelo’s now left a lump in your throat as you recounted your brother's fate. You preferred not to think about it. Tragedy informed character, but you didn’t want it dominating your day-to-day.

Pulling up to the school, you jumped out of the carriage before the footman could assist you and gave as charming of a smile as you could. Women were scarce around the institution, but you were never one to follow societal rules that well. The front doors were as grand as you remember, and the floors were perfectly polished. The sound of clanging metal filled the hallways like bell tolls filled churches. You hiked up your skirt, taking a right and left to the central atrium where you knew the princes would be sparring. You found them engaged in combat right as you entered. Loki managed to knock Thor down, but Thor had already noticed you and paid no mind to the defeat.

“Lady Chilton,” he exclaimed, a genuine smile as he took off his helmet. “I wouldn’t expect to find you here.”

“What can I say,” you chuckled, clasping your hands together. “I like going where I’m not allowed.” Thor let out a deep chuckle at that. “And perhaps I just wanted to see what you were up to.”

He looked down bashfully at that, and for once, you saw the boy instead of the prince. It was refreshing in a way you didn’t expect. Loki rolled his eyes behind you, and you stuck your tongue out at him when Thor wasn’t looking. You didn’t need to pretend to be a lady in front of the raven-haired prince; he didn’t care anyway.

“I’m afraid we’d probably bore you, m’lady,” Thor gestured to the rest of the room, where several other gentlemen had paused to observe the conversation. Instead of shying away, you held your head up high, acting like you belonged there even if the beating of your heart proved otherwise.

“I like observing a good duel,” you responded. “For your blade, do you prefer a foil or a rapier? I always found the epee to be much more exciting– less rules.”

Both Thor and Loki blinked in surprise. Thor was more shocked, while Loki was amused– the hint of a smile on his lips. You just raised your eyebrows expectedly.

“The epee, as you said,” Loki answered instead, stepping closer to your group.

“Would you like me to show you how to fence?” Thor inquired, earning a few side glances from the other gentlemen in the room. Women weren’t really allowed to fence, but you don’t think Thor cared about that. And frankly, you didn’t either.

“Gladly,” you bowed your head, taking the handle of the outstretched epee. You twisted it in your palm, figuring out how the weight counteracted your balance. You let Thor position you, wrapping his hand around yours to show you the proper grip. He demonstrated a parry and thrust, and you carefully watched his positioning and stance.

“I’ll spar you, m’lady,” Loki chimed, hands clasped behind his back as he observed you watching Thor with rapt attention. You flipped your hair over your shoulder and narrowed your eyes at him. “I promise I’ll go easy.”

“I’m sure,” you smirked, biting back a smile as you took your position. At this point, every man was paying attention to the commotion. You felt your heart hammer with all their gazes on you, but you refused to be seen as weak in front of these gentlemen. You took a deep breath, bowing to Loki to begin your duel.

The best thing you could have in battle is the element of surprise. Whether physically or intellectually, knowing more than your opponent thinks you know can tip the odds in your favor. It’s something that Thor or Loki should’ve asked before agreeing to let you spar. Then, they would’ve learned that you would beg your brother after his fencing classes to teach you. He eventually relented, and in the middle of the night, when your parents were asleep and couldn’t reprimand you, he taught you everything. During this period, you were pretty interested in pirates, a topic your Grandmother was not thrilled about. You fancied yourself one of the pirates in your books when you fenced in the dark night.

That knowledge led you to serve a quick offense to Loki. You saw his eyes widen slightly as you parried his thrust, immediately counterattacking. In one swift movement, you had not only knocked his rapier out of his hand but also caused him to fall flat on the ground—the tip of your epee at his throat.

Loki looked at you with an indecipherable look—a hint of amusement with something darker. You felt a heat crawl up your neck with his stare, but you were ultimately distracted by all the commotion from the audience. The other gentlemen were clapping or laughing, giving you appreciative glances. You extended a hand to help Loki, pulling him up with the bit of strength you had. You gave a small teasing bow, a grin on your lips.

“Beginners luck,” you said coyly, twirling your epee.

“Evidently,” Loki rolled his eyes, a knowing look as if he could see right through you.

“Any lady who can defeat my brother in a duel has all my respect,” Thor laughed fullheartedly, inspiring a smile in everyone else. You’ll have to teach me some time.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” you smiled. “I should be on my way any longer, and I’ll smell like the lot of you,” you pointed at all the surrounding men in the room, earning more laughs. Thor offered you his arm, which you gladly took as you left the room. Your cheeks were still heated, and you hoped that you would cool down before you arrived home. Thor strolled beside you. One thing you did appreciate about him was his ability to appreciate silence.

“You continuously impress me,” Thor murmured, his voice quiet. You glanced at him as you continued down the hall, finding solace in the patterns on the floor.

“I don’t try to.”

“You’re well-read, shockingly adept at fencing, and unafraid,” Thor stated. “I greatly admire you.”

You paused at that, stopping in the hallway and turning to look at him in full. He stood much taller than you and was very well built, as if he exercised often. His blond hair was tied back, and there was a constant sense of movement with him. It’s as if he could never fully pause long enough to polish himself up unlike Loki, who always had a cold sense of control.

“My sister was always the friendly, outgoing one,” you sighed, fiddling with your skirt. “I’m only well-read because I’m shy.”

“Introspective? Yes. Shy? I doubt that,” Thor grinned. “It takes a lot to keep up with you.”

“That’s also what my sister says,” you laughed. You bid farewell to Thor at the foyer, letting yourself walk down the steps to one of the available carriages. You found that meeting to be a success, and by any chance, Thor appeared to like you. Still, you felt nothing but appreciation when you were with him. You’re a fool to expect a love match, but it doesn’t mean you can’t yearn for one. You expected to have a quiet carriage ride by yourself, but as you’re about to depart, the door opens, and Loki slides in across from you. You glared at him.

“Did I invite you–”

“Lovely work today,” Loki cut you off, adjusting his jacket. “My brother seems to like you. Surprisingly.”

“Do you find me that unlikable?” you inquired, biting the inside of your cheek from frustration. Loki seemed to ignore your irritation at him, almost relishing in it.

“I think your wit is going to get you in trouble,” he responded cooly. You didn’t answer; you just turned to stare out the carriage window instead.

“Where did you learn to fence?” Loki asked. For once, his tone was not mocking. It was genuine; he was just curious about something he didn’t know about you. You turned away from the window, looking at the prince before you.

“My brother,” you uttered. You could see Loki trying to remember a potential brother you would’ve had but coming up with nothing. “He died.”

“How did it happen?” Loki asked. You appreciated him not giving condolences. Your whole life had been of condolences; you didn’t care to have more.

“He went overseas with my parents. There was a storm,” you felt the clench around your heart, but you ignored it. You had lots of practice ignoring your grief. Ivy might be older, but you were always the responsible one, the sensible one. You never had time to grieve. “No matter, it was a long time ago.”

“I had an older sister; she passed as well,” Loki said solemnly. Your eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t seem that upset—more…at peace. You softened in understanding. This was his way of connecting. Of telling you that he got it. The loss and the hole you felt whenever you saw something that reminded you of them. Except, he would never say the words ‘I understand’ or ‘that’s horrible’ because that wasn’t in his nature. This was better, though. The two of you, in grief but surviving. It was much better than any condolence he could’ve offered.

“Why me?” you murmured, your voice soft in comparison to the horses' hoofbeats or the wind's sound. You weren’t entirely sure what you were asking, but Loki seemed to understand.

“Why not you?” he quirked an eyebrow at that, the hint of a smirk on his lips, for once, you could see how he could be charming instead of mischievous. Thor might be all thunder, but Loki was the calm before the storm.

“For all your misgivings, you can be quite agreeable,” you smiled coyly, enjoying the huff of laughter from your companion.

“Oh darling,” Loki huffed. “I am anything but agreeable.”

The carriage pulled up to your home before you could say anything more, and you accepted his help descending from the carriage. You smoothed down your skirt when you hit the ground and turned one last time to see Loki looking at you just like he was during your sparring match.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he winked, allowing the carriage to pull him off before you could find a response. Instead, you pulled yourself inside, your mind elsewhere as your body went through the motions of eating supper and getting ready for bed. You answered your grandmother’s dutiful questions, ignored Ivy’s questioning looks, and eventually found solace in your bedroom. As you blew out the candle by your bedside, allowing yourself to nestle more profound into your comforter, you prayed for a quick and dreamless sleep that was inherently unremarkable. Instead, you found yourself out at sea, the waves wrapping around your body as if in a hug, and eyes too green to be anything but his staring back at you.

taglist:: @gruftiela @eleniblue @iwrite-things @youneedanap @huntress-artemiss @linaax @pisces-celeste @marygoddessofmischief @saay-karani @choki.laufeyson @foxherder

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #of vices and men #marvel #marvel fics #mcu #my writing

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thesherrinfordfacility · 8 months

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I mean Neil said once that the sequel involved Jesus arriving in America on a plane with secret service agents, and the S2 opening sequence shows a plane, so I'm... fairly confident that he's an adult? Jesus died when he was like 33 right

afternoon anon!!!✨ see i recall this (ask on neil's page?) and remember the response but cannot for the life of me find it anywhere (and im pretty good at Finding Stuff), do you - or anyone else reading for that matter - have a link to this? just so i can save it for future reference.

now, i hope you don't mind if i do this, but i would like to use this opportunity to parse out a more coherent rationale on the second coming, if that's okay? yeah? cool.

(previous incarnation of this theory).

thing is that the premise of the baby swap in s1 is based on the omen, right? takes at least a huge chunk of inspiration from that as the origin of how the antichrist came into the story. but it goes wrong, obviously, and there's a third baby thrown in the mix. makes a cursory wave to the omen, but isn't a carbon copy of it.

now i can't help but feel that narratively it would make sense to bookend this and have the second coming be a bit bollocksed up too. seems to be a theme in GO. and actually, when i thought about it (with extreme bias, granted, because im chomping at the bit on this theory), the second coming was potentially already fucked up anyway.

now, disclaimer time -

i completely get that people will look to the bible in reference to parsing out the second coming (or indeed any other theory). obviously i do too, for references to certain verses etc. in order to draw the relevant parallels. but there are multiple instances in GO where it is based on the bible or other texts, but doesn't follow it exactly; how GO portrayed the book of job, for example. it takes these texts, and distorts or reimagines them slightly or completely.

the way i see it, we are reading/watching GO as if this is in fact the true telling of those texts, as if (and not trying to be diminutive here) the bible is an inaccurate telling of GO, not the other way around - because, of course, we're seeing GO from the angel and demon that were 'actually there', so to speak.

im not saying that this - or any - of my theories are indisputably correct, far from it. but to me, with the information i have from the narrative as first source, and then looking at the referenced texts that inspired it, what i come up with, and write, is what makes sense to me. and it might make sense because it would be poetically apt, is in-keeping with how i interpret the characters, and/or is just plain funny or ironic (GO is after all, a comedy).

so whilst i fully anticipate people to duly correct me on how it all goes down in the bible (as they should, i love being educated!!!), please know that im not trying to deliberately misinterpret anything, but more trying to think outside the box, from the viewpoint of the GO story itself, and what direction would make the most sense in which it will reimagine these texts.

- exit disclaimer.

anyway! theory time!

so we have the imagery from the s2 sequence of the "thy kingdom come" plane, and this is obviously a reference to the resurrection as you've said, anon: that jesus arrives by plane. i truly love this imagery because if we take matthew 24:36 (KJV): "But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of heaven, but my Father only.", the concept that in the great plan the date and time might finally be revealed in the form of a flight number, airport, and ETA is frankly hilarious to me. furthermore, "cometh with clouds" (revelation, 1:7 KJV) being reimagined as a literal plane landing again sets up the comedic backdrop so well.

now wherever the plane lands, whether from the US or to the US (again, don't have the original neil answer to refer to, but going based on your ask, anon, it's the latter), it regardless involves americans. this is where i feel it would be a perfect narrative symmetry opportunity to refer back to s1/the book, and reintroduce the dowlings.

and you might be wondering, "well no because GO set up the dowlings to be involved only insomuch that they were meant to be custodians of the antichrist - why would they also be involved in the second coming?" well, i wondered this too. the only conclusion i can come to, frankly, is GO!god having a very warped, twisted and ineffable sense of humour. they saw what satan had planned for the dowlings in inadvertently raising the antichrist, possibly did a bit of shifting around in the mystical threads, and decided that actually - just to throw in the wildcard of chaos - they should instead be the bearers of the second coming. this degree of mind-boggling ineffability, to me, would be comedically on-brand.

regardless; whilst just a theory, the whole thing makes sense to me - that in any case, the dowlings are going to make a reappearance. and with them, or on his own (if we follow the biblical telling that jesus was resurrected as he was from the crucifixion, at age 33yo, and therefore would suggest a timeskip from s2, but this isn't necessarily guaranteed - ie: might not be how GO chooses to portray it!), comes warlock. now we know that warlock was meant to be the antichrist, before crowley and the nuns managed to bugger it all up.

but heaven wouldn't necessarily know that its the dowlings arriving, right? presumably they'd just all gather on the tarmac awaiting the arrival, and lmao SIKE, it's bloody warlock. heaven hasn't met warlock, and therefore still think he's in fact jesus resurrected... but aziraphale has met him. he helped bloody raise him. and he knows now that he is essentially a normal kid/adult (albeit a very stuck-up one) and definitely not the second coming.

well then, if jesus was meant to be on that plane, according to the great plan, a plane being used by the dowlings... then why isn't it warlock? well, because the dowlings' actual baby isn't warlock. lets go back to the baby swap in the book/s1:

*apols, editing to correct this somewhat because it isn't quite right and lateral thinking is not my strong suit*

ANTICHRIST was meant to go to: the DOWLINGS. instead, went to: the YOUNGS. this is Adam.

YOUNG BABY was meant to go to: stay with the YOUNGS, but got mixed up. instead, went to: the DOWLINGS. this is Warlock.

DOWLING BABY was meant to go to: adoption/something nefarious instead, and indeed did. this is... Greasy Johnson.

and i love this for all sorts of reasons. now im lifting this next bit, essentially, from another ask of mine, but to keep things all in one place:

"greasy is posed as the antithesis of adam/antichrist, has a gang surrounding him that you could infer are loyal disciples, and is a mirror to adam in that adam on the whole seems to be a well-adjusted and morally-upstanding young boy.

i further think the fact that adam is the antichrist put against greasy being the second coming is a well positioned reflection on the nature vs nurture argument. ultimately adam grew up in a largely loving and supportive environment, and as the literal son of satan, you'd expect his nature, the circumstances of his birth, to rule out every other influence.

ultimately it does for a short time, but adams narrative iirc is that it is reflective of his desire to save the world... he wanted to get rid of things that were Wrong, and naively (he is still an 11-year old boy after all) thought that destroying the world and restarting it would do just that. his friends however reinforce in him that destruction and reparation are not the same thing, and so his upbringing, the nurture, wins.

greasy? we don't know a lot about him, only that he is a bully and represents the opposite of adam and the them... [and there exists] the whole [sic] analogy that greasy and the johnsonites vs adam and the them are meant to represent the hell vs heaven war..."

and then we have this small, relatively innocuous detail from the book:

as i said, possibly something of nothing. but the deliberate wording of 'breeding the fish', which is left out of s1, is - i like to think - a bit of a clue.

and before anyone comes for me on this, i am aware that this is based practically on fuck all of jack shit; im painfully aware of that. im aware that it deliberately misinterprets certain passages (not going to do the soapbox speech again, promise), but i just like to have fun. i honestly do not care if this is wrong; whatever happens in s3 should and will be better than anything i can come up with. yes, it's fun to get a prediction or speculation correct, of course it is, but it's not the endgame here. i get that others will have conflicting schools of thought, see things differently, or just plain think it's crap - that's okay! but, if that's the case, just move on from this post with a shake of your head. im not here to do anything other than have a good time, lads (gn)✨💓

edit 21/08: additional reading because now i feel vindicated: here from amuseoffyre, and my tags on this post too.

#im sorry i get a bit ranty in this anon none of that is directed at you at all im sorry it ended up on your ask #but we just need to let everyone have the space to come up with whatever batshit theories they like and have fun with it #this is such a lovely warm fandom and id love to see it remain that way!!!#good omens #not a shitpost but its good omens babyyyy #ask #also i havent proof read this so if there are any errors just pretend you didnt see them #s3 narrative spec #second coming/last judgement theory

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sincerely-sofie · 1 month

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First of all so excited to Read through as much of the future is a gift as I can on a plane today. I've been a huge fan of your drawings for a while so I'm excited to see your writing.

Second, my drawing idea is that Dusknoir states a fact that is actually wrong and twig corrects him, gloating about how they knew something he doesn't... Before partner (I can't remember his name for the life of me) interrupts and informs them they are, in fact, both wrong.

I hope you have a wonderful day!

Absolute SOBBING, I’m so overwhelmed by how sweet this ask is! Have a lovely flight! Also:

Buddy I referred to TPiaG as “The Past is a Gift” an immeasurable number of times in my notes as I was planning it. I relate to the struggle with names so much ;w; Here’s a comic of the prompt you gave!

(Frankenstein: The Modern Prometheus doesn’t exist in the PMD-verse, at least not in a way that pokemon would be familiar with it, but I couldn’t get this conversation idea out of my head.)

#sofie answers asks #stuff by sofie #the present is a gift au #pokémon mystery dungeon #pmd sky #pmd explorers #pmd #pmd eos #pmd2 #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd dusknoir #pmd2 partner

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hirayaea · 2 months

Text

記憶の中で生きられるように目を瞑ったって何も見えなくて暗闇を彷徨うだろう

Like living inside a memory, My eyes are closed and I can’t see anything I would wander in the dark

星が降った日に思い出したきっと底知れないこんな感情の渦に呑まれるだけそうやって身を任せていよう

I remember the day the stars fell I entrust myself to these unfathomable vortex of emotions that overwhelm me

いつか君と見た夏の降る星に願う顔を思い出して今もそうやっている気がして

To that one summer day we watched the stars fall I feel like, until now, I'm still remembering your wishing face

星が降った日に思い出した君が遠くでも笑えるように泣き腫らした目で未来をちゃんと見て道は続いてるんだと

I remember the day the stars fell Even if you’re far away, I hope that you can smile With eyes swollen with tears, look at the future The road continues on

星が降った日に思い出した全てが呆気ないあんな最愛の日々は胸の奥に大切にしまっておくから

I remember the day the stars fell All those beloved days that ended too soon I'll keep them close to my heart

眠れない夜は星を眺めて広すぎる空に君を想ってる

On sleepless nights, I gaze at the stars Under the wide sky, I think of you

song: 短夜の星 mijikayo no hoshi / the short summer night star by shallm (spotify link attached) translation by: me

notes: a disclaimer -- jp is not my first language, tho i did study formally and i currently live in japan! translating songs is a bit tough cause translating line per line can make it sound kinda wonky so sometimes i just kinda go for the general impression of the entire verse! mistakes are definitely possible and i'd be happy to be corrected!

this song has been on repeat for me because jp twitter seiya stans have been using this to make video edits and its just HEARTBREAKING how xavier-coded this song is

tagging @skynapple because they made a xavier playlist recently which i am grateful for!!!

one of the videos that uses this song is this (it’s in jp but the voice lines are just so perfectly chosen ughhh)

#breathes in and belts in karaoke #this song has been stuck in my head for days #some videos that used this song made me cry a bit #SEIYAAA #my guiding star #our little planet #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #xavier #aya translates jp

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skaldish · 1 year

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hey, I recently had to interact with an evangelical family member on thanksgiving (as in, I calmly listened and explained "my views and values differ from yours, but I appreciate you sharing your world view with me" while I was aggressively proselytized at for well over an hour; even by evangelical standards, this family member is aggressive about pushing his beliefs onto others).

I was raised atheist and don't usually have an issue with this; I don't believe in hell or divine punishment, but things he said keep popping into my head (like being called "the definition of being lost" for saying im agnostic— which is a half truth but he wouldn't be receptive to a full explanation). I'm tacking this down to a combination of evangelical thought poison and my anxiety disorder related habit of ruminating (which thankfully I'm working with a therapist on now).

I know you're passionate about the subject of cult thought and the likes and just wanted to know if you had any advice or thoughts re: getting cult thinking that doesn't align with your views or values to kindly edit your headspace.

hope you're well 💚

Apologetics. It's something every Evangelical learns, and it's a form of mind-control. They engage nonbelievers in religious debate and use it to covertly indoctrinate them.

Evangelicals spend years learning how to counter every argument, direct conversations towards specific points, compromise our mental reasoning through various means, and inject their logic into the vulnerable mind, which then festers on its own.

Apologetics is a masterstroke of manipulation, and one of the very few things I consider evil.

My best friend is ex-Evangelical and well-versed in Apologetics. A while back, they gave me an example of how it works (with my consent of course).

Now, I'm extremely good at entertaining ideas without adopting them. It's a skill I deliberately and constantly wield, almost subconsciously at this point.

There's no way I could do it. The more you think it over, the deeper it digs into your brain. All an Evangelical has to do is feed you enough information and your own thoughts will do the work from there.

My friend wasn't even simulating an actual instance of proselytizing; they framed things within the context of, "This is what they'd say." And yet I could literally feel my mind tunnel at the logic, burrowing its way deeper every time I thought, "But what if...?"

I did throw it, though. The way I shook it off was Occam's Razor: "Simpler explanations are more likely to be correct."

Evangelical philosophy is too complex to be statistically probable compared to other frameworks. It even compensates for this by portraying itself as the only safe bet in a high-stakes game. But the reason we find it so compelling is because it makes us fear for our survival. It's the same fear we get when we hear rustling in the bushes when there's a predator around...only this time the tiger is something we can't know. Regardless, our lizard-brains will always take a false positive over a false negative in those situations, and will try to do so if it succumbs to the existential dread. This evil, perfect storm is what drives people to convert.

I've seen many forms of mental manipulation, but Apologetics is a weapon unlike any other.

So here's my advice to you and everyone else:

When it comes to the Evangelical debate game, the only winning move is not to play.

Do everything you can do avoid the topic of religion in conversation, and make a concentrated effort to give it as little breathing room as possible. Bring up a different topic. Say "no thanks" and move on. Ask questions about secular things. Ignore the religious content peppered within statements. Be cordial, but never ever let up on that boundary.

I don't know your relative, but I do know Evangelicals never respond well when denied a platform. They may try to persuade, provoke, trick, or guilt you into giving it to them, so be prepared to hold your ground if you have to interact with them. If all else fails, excuse yourself from the conversation.

Remember: It's not rude to hold a boundary. Don't let anyone convince you that it is.

#answered #tw religious trauma #description of how apologetics works

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cosmiethe · 9 months

Text

#6J2823W ❞ HOLOGRAPHIC SUIT.

── ౨ৎ ‧˚ ft. miguel o'hara/spider person!reader

synopsis: you find out that miguel's suit isn't exactly a suit.

・⸝⸝ oneshot, crack, swearing, pre-gwen arrival, mentions of nudity, spider suits (spandex gang), wedgies, google translate: spanish (feel free to correct me), gender neutral, no use of y/n

navigation | spider-verse masterlist

"Don't any of you guys wonder why Miguel has a permanent spandex wedgie between his ass cheeks?" You thought out loud causing a nearby Spider-Man to choke on their Miguel-themed burger. Maybe you should think before speaking in the cafeteria.

Pavitr gave a weird look, "no? I thought we all had that problem."

"Not me," Peter B spoke up from beside you, mouth stuffed full of fries. "I have those silicone things from Mj's yoga pants and put them in my onesie."

Pavitr looks to Peter astonished as if amazed by the idea then doubting the next, "wait a minute, if you don't get that problem, does that mean you're not wearing any underwear underneath all that?" He eyes Peter suspiciously.

You snicker.

"I- well, what about you Pav? Haven't seen you with one and I've been here a long time. Is it cuz' of the skirt thing?" Peter asks, attempting to direct Pavitr's attention elsewhere.

And it works.

"It's called a dhoti," Pavitr corrects, gesturing to the bottom part of his suit. "I wear it over my spandex. Doesn't prevent the wedgies, I still get them. But at the very least, no one can see them, right?"

As you continue chatting, your phone vibrates from the pocket of your right pant leg. You pull it out and a snort escapes you as your eyes dance over the bright bold letters on your screen. It was an alarm reminding you that it was time to feed Miguel.

As admirable Miguel was for dedicating a lot of his time to protecting the multiverse—he often forgets to take care of himself in the process.

Tucking your phone back in place, you then grab Peter by the collar of his robe dragging him to stand up with you.

"Moody scientist?" Peter turns to you using the code name you both had for Miguel.

"Moody scientist." You confirm, watching as he then webs a few empanadas in his direction, hauling 5 boxes in his arms.

"Think that's enough?" Peter asks you.

You pause for a moment as you weigh your options.

Aw, what the hell, another wouldn't hurt. You think as you sling another pastry into Peter’s mountain.

"C'mon Pav, you too."

Startled by your sudden appearance behind him, pulling at his arm—Pavitr squabbles to gather the rest of his lunch in his container. "My aunt Maya made me this–" he protested, "don't make me drop it!"

"So back to Miguel..." You start on your way to his office.

Peter frowns, "remind me again why we're talking about my best friend's ass?"

"Because Peter," you start, fiddling with the tupperware Pavitr made you carry. "If Mr. Arachno-Humanoid-Polymultiverse can create a multiverse-hopping watch–"

"You actually remembered all that?"

"–Then surely he has the brains to invent some sort of anti-wedgie suit." You finish, pointing your thumb to Miguel's office.

"Why couldn't he name it something simpler? Easier at least?" Peter exasperated as you all stop at Miguel's door.

"It's Miguel," you sigh. "And we're nerds. He's just an even bigger one."

Just as you were going to knock—a familiar voice calls out to you cheerily.

"Jess!" Peter greets her.

"Now what are you three up to?" Placing a hand on her hip she adds teasingly, "something good and not bad I'm hoping."

"Just here to feed the big guy." Pavitr assures, pointing to Peter's stack of tiny boxes filled with delicious pastry.

Jessica whistles, "that's– a lot. You sure he gon' be able to finish all that?"

You've watched Miguel scarf down an entire table of food once before. This is nothing. "Yeah, pretty sure." You answer, pushing the doors open.

"Miguel! Buddy!" Peter immediately steps in, the three of you following behind.

"I thought I told you to knock." Miguel's voice booms from his very—you think, unnecessarily high platform.

Peter shot you an accusing look.

"What? I- oops?" You shrugged. Miguel shakes his head, "why are you all here? I only remembered calling Jess here. Not you three. Especially you." He points to Peter.

Peter pouts. "That's a bit harsh, don't you think Miggy? We brought you lunch! They're your favourite," he sing-songs, launching himself on the platform, leaving you, Pavitr, and Jessica below.

You watch Peter pester at Miguel who in turn sighs at him turning his back, giving you a view of his–

"The more I look at it, the more it doesn't look like a wedgie." Whispering to Pavitr and Jessica, you continue. "It's like he spray painted it blue and decided he was good to go."

Jessica splutters, "excuse me?"

Ignoring her comment, Pavitr moved to stand next to you—tilting his head to get a better look. "No wait, I can see it too."

"I don't even wanna know." Is all she says, walking away from you two and your shenanigans.

"Hey, guys!" The little hologram appears, smiling at you both.

"Nice to see you too, LYLA." You smile back.

LYLA served as Miguel's assistant. An acronym of LYrate Lifeform Approximation. From what you hear, she was a gift to Miguel by his younger brother. Her AI was perfect and advanced. So advanced that she can form her own opinions and thoughts.

"So? What's the topic?" She sat on your shoulder, kicking her legs.

Of course, with it, came an attitude. LYLA loved to annoy Miguel—something she picked up from her creator. Like his brother, she constantly poked at his buttons. Miguel felt like instead of gaining an assistant, someone who is supposed to help and lessen his load, he gained a sister instead. A really annoying sister.

Pavitr answers her. "Miguel, not so surprisingly."

"Oh?" she hummed. "Did he make the interns cry again?"

You chuckled. "No, we were just curious about his suit."

Interested, LYLA pried further. "What about it?"

"It doesn't look like one." You state bluntly. "Yeah!" Pavitr pipes up, "it's like he had the whole thing printed onto his body!"

Hearing this, she grins mischievously. "Actually, you're not far off." Miguel had told her not to share any confidential information with any of the spiders unless he told her otherwise.

But never said anything about keeping his suit details confidential.

Oh, this was going to be so much fun. "It's a projection."

"Like you?" Pavitr peered at LYLA. "Like me," she replied.

You thought, and thought, until eventually...

"He's naked?"

Peter and Miguel had come down the platform at some point, in time to see the wide-eyed expression on your face.

Before either of them could get a word out to ask you what was wrong, you screeched. "YOU'RE NAKED!"

Pavitr gasps, "IT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE NOW!"

LYLA bursts out laughing, glitching over to Miguel, where he immediately demands what she told them. So, she responded.

"Nothing much, just told them your suit's just a projection. No big deal."

"Dios mío," Miguel groaned. "No big deal? I told you specifically not to–" [My god.]

"–To share confidential info, yes I know. Not a single canon event outta the bag. All I did was tell them about your suit," she dismissed him. "Did you know that Miguel can fly?"

Now it was Peter's turn to gasp, "YOU CAN FLY?"

"Todos ustedes son idiotas." [You are all idiots.]

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

"Boss, we got an anomaly," LYLA called. "Earth-65, Vulture variant."

Miguel grunted, "I'll handle it." Tinkering with the gizmo on his wrist—a portal opens seconds later. "Jess," he stressed. "You're in charge."

Amongst the chatter of Pavitr and Peter, Miguel manages to hear your comment. "If his suit's just pixels, I'm ninety-nine percent sure he's naked underneath that." LYLA, he can hear clearly—snorts. "He is."

Blushing furiously under his mask, he jumped. Miguel couldn’t tell what was worse. Peter and some teenager who was friends with Hobie, a Spider-Man he greatly disliked, discovering the odd mechanics of his suit—or that you, the Spider he’s harboring feelings for, did.

Credits: [divider/s] @/benkeibear, [editor/beta reader] @/nastygyal, [co-writer] @/y.0.me

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

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The year is 1986. Eddie is in danger of not graduating (again). Reader is his girlfriend, and she’s tired of him not taking his future seriously, so she breaks up with him. He finally decides to get his sh*t together and buckles down. But is it too late? Will he graduate? Will the love of his life take him back? Up to you, bb!

xoxoxoxo, @munson-blurbs 💚💚 PS ily

Anything for you, my love! I hope you enjoy the way I broke Eddie’s heart. It hurt me more than it did him. ily2💚

Words: 5.2k

“Eddie, we’ve got to study,” you say. He’s kneeling behind you on his bed, pressing soft kisses along the back of your neck as you try to focus on the textbook laying open in your lap.

“How am I supposed to concentrate, hmm? With you sitting on my bed, looking so beautiful,” Eddie says against your skin.

“Okay,” you say, letting your book thump onto his sheets. “I’m gonna quiz you on stuff that’ll be on our finals. For every right answer, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. For every wrong answer, it’s an extra fifteen minutes of study time.”

“Fire away, baby.” Eddie lounges back against his wall and tucks his hands behind his head, a sinful smirk on his lips.

“Let’s start with English,” you say as you shift on the bed to face him. “What two Shakespeare plays are written entirely in verse?”

Eddie purses his lips, eyes searching his bedroom ceiling as if the answers were written across it in big bold letters. “Hamlet and…McBeth?”

“King John and Richard II,” you say with a sigh. Eddie groans and lets his hands fall down to his lap.

“Ehh, shit,” Eddie says. “But just because it had two answers doesn’t mean that’s half an hour of study time! That was one question, so only one fifteen-minute addition.”

“Fine,” you say, silently knowing this is all in vain anyway. Eddie’s been caring less and less about school lately, to the point where you’re afraid he’s going to fail senior year for the third time. “We’ll move onto biology.”

“Take your clothes off and I’ll give you a biology lesson.”

“Eddie,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Fine, fine, sorry. Go on.”

“What part of the brain deals with balance and coordination?”

One of his dark brown eyes squeezes closed and he tilts his head from side to side as if he’s deliberating what he wants for dinner.

“The left part. No, wait, that’s a joke! I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Um…the frontal lobe?” Eddie winces, knowing that this was just a wild guess—it was the first part of the brain he could think of.

“The cerebellum,” you say.

“Okay,” Eddie says, nodding his head. “I’ll remember that. The cerebrum controls balance and coordination.”

“The cerebellum,” you correct.

Eddie groans, rolling the tension out of his neck before letting his head thump back against the wall.

“Come on, hit me again.”

“Last one,” you say as you adjust your legs tucked underneath you. “History this time. What city was the first capital of the United States?”

“I know it wasn’t DC,” Eddie says, pointing his finger at you. “Hmm, what other cities were important then? Boston, Philly…Philly! Philadelphia!”

At the shake of your head, Eddie slumps down on the bed.

“New York City,” you tell him.

“Ugh, fuck me.” Eddie rubs his hands over his face, and you give him a pat on the leg.

“Not tonight, hot shot. Grab your books.”

Spending your free period in the library, pouring over books, you’re jarred out of the world of microeconomics by the chair across the table from you screeching against the floor as it’s pulled out. A dark figure plops down in it, and you glance up to see the dark leather jacket and black Judas Priest t-shirt that you’d sat next to in last period English. Eddie runs a hand over his unruly curls and shoots you a smile.

“Hey, babe.”

“Eddie, what the hell are you doing here?” you get out through gritted teeth. You’re almost certain the pencil in your hand is going to snap in half. “You’re supposed to be in history.”

“Ugh, O’Donnell,” Eddie complains, dropping his head back. “I swear, she was there for half the shit she’s telling us about. God, I couldn’t take it anymore. She’s just droning on and on. Told her I had to take a leak and knew this is where I’d find my best girl.”

“Eddie!” You all but shout his name before remembering you’re in the library and you lower your voice. “Eddie, you’re already in danger of failing her class. Among others. Should you really be skipping class?”

“Babe, it’s been five minutes,” he says with a chuckle, his carefree attitude that you usually love grating on your nerves.

“Okay. So, go back and pay attention now.” Your tone is sharp and curt, but you’ve put up with this long enough.

“Trying to get rid of me?” Eddie asks, jutting out his lower lip in what is an admittedly adorable pout. He leans forward on the table, letting his hand slide over to rest on top of one of yours.

“Trying to get you to graduate,” you say, snatching your hand away. Your boyfriend watches you with wide eyes as you slam your book closed and shove it into your backpack. Slinging it over your shoulder, you stand up and nod your head towards the library door. “Let’s go.”

Eddie follows behind you like a lost puppy as you storm out of the library and stalk down the hall. Once you’ve turned down an empty hallway, you spin around to face him. The anger in your eyes takes him aback, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“You’re mad,” he says softly.

“Yes, I’m mad,” you snap. “My boyfriend doesn’t seem to give a shit if he graduates high school or not.”

“I care,” Eddie defends weakly.

“If you cared, you’d be in class right now. Or would study with me when I ask—or at all! Jesus, Eddie, I’ve been trying for months to get you to take your future seriously.”

“My future with you is what’s most important,” Eddie says, hand reaching out for you. Hurt flashes across his face when you pull away, and it hurts you too. This isn’t what you wanted. You’ve never wanted to be the reason Eddie’s in pain. But you also can’t just sit by and let him do this to himself.

“That’s part of the problem, Eddie. You’re so focused on me and not enough on you.”

“Because I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too, Eddie,” you reply, tears starting to fill your eyes. “That’s why I’m so concerned about you. About your future.”

“I’ll go back to class,” Eddie says, taking a step closer to you. “I-I’ll study with you. Baby, I promise.”

“You’ve said that before.” You squeeze your eyes closed, resolving yourself to what you know you have to do. As much as you don’t want it. As much as it’s going to break your heart. “It’s not enough, Eddie.”

“Then what?” Eddie rests his hands on your upper arms. “Tell me what to do.”

“It’s too late,” you say, shaking your head.

“W-What do you mean it’s too late?” But the dread in his eyes says he knows exactly what you mean.

“You’re not taking your future seriously. I’ve tried so hard to help you, but there’s only so much I can push you. At some point you have to do it for yourself. I’m so tired of waiting for you to do it, though. It hurts me to sit here and watch you not care about you as much as I do.”

“Sweetheart, please—.”

“Eddie, it’s over. We’re over.”

Tears flood his eyes as his jaw hangs open. Eddie’s hands slip from your arms, and he stumbles back a step. You know the pain on his face must be reflected in your own. And maybe it means you’re a coward, but you can’t look at his broken expression anymore. Tucking your thumbs into your backpack straps, you turn around and walk down the empty hallway, away from Eddie.

Eddie feels numb. He’s walking around school in a haze. Friends try to talk to him in the hallway, but they sound like they’re underwater and Eddie can’t understand them. Gareth waves his hand in front of Eddie’s face, but he doesn’t even blink. Jeff grabs his shoulder, but Eddie doesn’t even feel it, he just keeps walking. It’s not until Dustin grabs Eddie by the zipper of his leather jacket and pushes him up against the lockers that the twenty-year-old snaps back to reality.

“What?” Eddie asks, big brown eyes blinking as he tries to focus on the shorter man in front of him.

“Are you okay? What the hell is going on?” Dustin asks. Eddie’s eyes find the floor and he shakes off Dustin’s hands.

“She left me,” he mumbles.

“What?” Gareth asks, leaning in to hear him better.

“She fucking broke up with me, okay?” His friends flinch as Eddie pushes himself off the lockers and runs his hands over his hair. They back away, giving him room to pace the small area around him.

“Why?” Jeff asks, sounding half afraid to ask the question to his hot-tempered friend.

“She said I’m not taking my future seriously,” Eddie answers. “That I don’t seem to care that I’m failing classes. Again.” Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie can see his three friends share a look. He stops pacing and stares at them. “What?”

“I mean,” Jeff starts quietly, “she has a point.”

When Eddie just continues to stare, Dustin decides to speak up as well.

“She’s been trying real hard to help you, man. You haven’t seemed to care, though.”

“I…I care,” Eddie says.

“When’s the last time she tried to get you to study?” Dustin asks.

“The other night.” Eddie remembers, thinking about how he failed your quiz.

“And what did you do?” Dustin asks.

Eddie sighs and rubs a hand over his forehead. “Tried to have sex with her.”

“This is probably a good thing,” Gareth says, shrinking in on himself when Eddie glares at him. “For you. So you can focus on school.”

Eddie scoffs. “She really think I’m gonna be able to focus on school after she shatters my heart like this? Fuck, I love her so much.”

“I’m sorry, man,” Jeff says.

“Fuck this shit.” Eddie slams his fist against the lockers and strides down the hall, towards the exit.

When Eddie gets home, Wayne hasn’t left for work yet. He’s sitting on the couch, remote control in his hand as he points it at the small television and clicks through the channels. Eddie wrenches open the front door, dirty black boots stomping into the trailer before banging the door closed behind him. Wayne pauses his channel surfing to raise an eyebrow at his nephew.

“What’s the matter with you, boy?”

Ignoring the older man, Eddie strides down the hallway to his bedroom, footsteps so heavy they rattle the mugs hanging on the living room walls. Wayne was no stranger to Eddie temper tantrums—having raised him through puberty—but this is a level he hasn’t seen since the last time a letter from his father arrived. He gives it a few moments before deciding to see what’s going on with the brooding boy. Wayne hoists himself off the couch, groaning as his bones click and muscles tighten.

The bedroom door isn’t fully closed, so Wayne swings it open to see Eddie lying flat on his back, staring up at the water-stained ceiling. He hadn’t even bothered to shed himself of the leather jacket or boots before plopping down.

“I know I may not have taught you much in life, boy, but I know I taught you manners,” Wayne says.

Eddie stays silent, which is never the case. That worries Wayne more than anything.

“Eddie?”

“She dumped me.”

Wayne takes a moment to process what his nephew says. He places his hands on his hips and blows out a breath.

“What happened?”

Eddie rubs his hands over his face before responding. When he does speak, his tone is bitter. “She said that I don’t care about my future. That she’s tired of sitting around while I’m out here being a dumbass.”

“She wouldn’t say that,” Wayne says with a shake of his head.

“Maybe not with those exact words.” Eddie forces himself to sit up, shoulders slumped. “But the same messaging.”

Sighing, Wayne sits down next to him and pats his shoulder.

“I’m sorry to hear that. She’s a good kid.”

“I always told her that you like her more than you like me,” Eddie grumbles.

“Only sometimes,” Wayne jokes with a small smile. “Now, you’re allowed to wallow for one day—two at the most. Then you get your ass in gear and get your act together.”

With a low groan, Eddie flops back down on the bed. “Don’t wanna.”

“Well,” Wayne says, pushing himself off the bed. “The girl is either gonna be right about you or wrong. It’s up to you which one it is.”

Wayne makes his way out of the bedroom and Eddie rolls over so he’s face down on his bed. He squeezes his eyes shut as the first of the tears begin to burn his eyes. The way his throat begins to tighten has Eddie gripping his blanket in his fists. Wayne’s words repeat in his head. Would you end up being right? Is everything you said about him true? Of course it is, he thinks to himself. He’s about to fail senior year for the third time—and he didn’t even care. Until now, he decides. Pushing himself off the bed, Eddie yanks his leather jacket off. He tosses it in the general direction of his closet, not caring where it lands as he bends down to pick his biology textbook from the floor.

“Should be able to read this whole damn thing before finals.”

Eddie’s friends hardly recognize him at lunch the next day. Instead of arguing over Lucas missing another Hellfire meeting for a basketball game and munching on pretzels, he has his nose buried in a book.

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Gareth says, dropping his tray on the tabletop. His brows pinch together when Eddie doesn’t even lift his head.

“Is that Eddie Munson reading a book?” Jeff asks.

“And not just a book,” Dustin says as he slides into the seat next to his Dungeon Master. He picks the corner up to take a look at the cover to confirm his suspicions, but Eddie’s quick to slap his hand away so he can keep reading. “Eddie is reading Romeo and Juliet.”

“Look at this cultured man,” Gareth says. Still, Eddie doesn’t lift his head.

“How far do you think this will go?” Mike asks. “Think we could shit talk Metallica?”

“I’m reading, I’m not deaf,” Eddie says.

“Is this about—” Lucas starts but Dustin elbows him in the ribs.

Finally, Eddie raises his eyes from the book and sends a death glare to all of his friends. He slams the book closed and snatches it up before striding out of the cafeteria. Weren’t these the same assholes who had told him that you were right about him not taking his future seriously? But the moment they see him trying to improve himself, they decide to make snide jokes. Eddie grumbles as he makes his way to the library, banging the door open and ignoring the sneer from the librarian as he drops down at a table. With a sigh, he opens the book again and continues where he left off before he was rudely interrupted.

Two periods later, Eddie’s pretty sure Mrs. O’Donnell is going to have a heart attack after he raises his hand and answers a question correctly. The crone takes a moment before continuing her lecture and Eddie smirks in self-satisfaction.

Once Eddie gets used to his eyes being tired from reading so much, and his headaches from the information overloads start to abate, he manages to bring his grades up. It takes a couple of weeks for him to finally see the difference, but when he does, he feels something that he’s not sure if he’s ever felt before: pride. Being proud of himself is odd at first, and he smokes a bit more than usual to dull the sensation, but he soon comes to enjoy it and the pleasant buzz he feels has nothing to do with the weed.

A few weeks out from graduation, Eddie’s lounging on the wall in front of the school, stretched out as the late spring sun warms the afternoon, reading the assigned chapter in The Outsiders. A shadow falls across the pages of his book and Eddie squints as he looks up, finding you standing next to him, thumb hooked in the strap of your backpack, a strained smile on your face.

“Hey, stranger,” you say.

Eddie pushes himself into a sitting position, letting his long legs dangle over the side of the wall. He closes his book, keeping a ring clad finger between the pages that he’s currently on.

“Hey,” Eddie says. This is the first time you’ve talked to one another since that day in the hallway. Neither of you had even contacted one another to give back stuff that was at the others’ houses. Eddie knows there’s a handful of his t-shirts at your place and he’s not sure if it comforts him or causes him pain to wonder if you still wear them to sleep. And he knows exactly where the David Bowie tapes that you left in his room are—one is in his stereo right now. He’s managed to either hide or push down the pain from the breakup, but he still spends most nights falling asleep to Space Oddity or Ziggy Stardust. It even got to the point where Wayne had come into his room and said, “As glad as I am that I don’t have to listen to your screaming music, you’ve gotta stop wallowing in pity. Or at least listen to Elvis or somethin’ while ya do.”

“I saw you in the library last week. And I’ve heard that you’ve been working really hard,” you tell him. “I’m glad, Eddie. That’s amazing.”

“Uh, thanks,” he says, nodding his head. Under the guise of avoiding the bright sun, he ducks his head down and looks at his white sneakers. But really, he’s not sure if he can look you in the eye for more than a second at a time. The sadness had given way to anger, which gave away to an empty, aching pain in the pit of his stomach. “I, um, started because I didn’t want you to be right. Apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought I needed to get my shit together. But, uh, now I’m doing it for me. Trying to put me first.”

“Good,” you say. Eddie looks up to see you giving him a genuine smile. The one not many other people got to see. You’re not attempting to give him a pep talk or play some kind of game with him. Eddie can tell that you’re being authentic and really are pleased to see him succeeding. “You deserve it, Eddie. I’m proud of you.”

The words affect him more than he would’ve thought. His throat feels tighter and suddenly the spring day feels like it’s a blisteringly hot August afternoon. “Thanks,” he manages to get out.

“And I—um, I’m sorry. I really hope you know that I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.” And he does. Now. He’d had moments of thinking you had done it as a way of calling him stupid or pathetic. But once the haziness of the initial heartbreak wore off, he realized you would never think that, let alone be cruel enough to insinuate it.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Eddie,” you say, offering him a small wave. He nods his head in acknowledgment and tries to get back to his book. But too much of you fills his head for him to be able to focus on what Ponyboy is talking about.

Finals come and they go. Eddie waits with bated breath for the results, feeling more on edge, even with kicking up the pot smoking again. When Eddie sees that he’s passed every single exam, the high he feels is better than he could’ve imagined. Not quite as good as some drug highs and definitely nowhere as near the high you gave him, but it’s still good. For the first time in his life, Eddie is excited to come home and wave a school paper in Wayne’s face. In the past, it’d been a detention slip, a letter of reprimand from the principal, or a failed report card that he needed to have signed and returned. But this is something good. Better than good, Wayne tells him.

“Looks like you’ve got to get yourself a cap and gown, boy.”

So, he does. When he puts them on the morning of graduation though, he groans at how the shade of green looks on him. Black was his best color, according to him, so something this bright just wasn’t him.

He strolls over to his stereo near the window and firmly presses the play button. Heroes by David Bowie fills the small bedroom as Eddie takes another look at himself in the mirror. No one would look good in this color, he thinks. Well, he muses, that’s not true. You would look good in this color because it’s impossible for you to ever look anything less than breathtaking.

I, I will be king

And you, you will be queen

Eddie sighs and turns away from the mirror. Grabbing his keys off of his bedside table, Eddie clicks the pause button on his stereo before heading down the hallway.

“See ya at the ceremony, old man,” Eddie says to his uncle before he’s out the trailer door.

Only the graduates and school faculty get there this early, so the parking lot is relatively empty when Eddie pulls in. He hops out of his van and sees Jeff getting out of his car a few spaces over.

“Glad to see you look as awful as I do in this shit,” Eddie says as he makes his way over to his fellow Hellfire member.

“Black robes would’ve been brutal under this sun though, dude,” Jeff replies.

Eddie shrugs because he knows his friend is right. Together they walk towards the football field, a place Eddie actively tried to avoid all the years he spent here. It looks like most of the students are here already. Not long after Eddie spots Jason Carver straightening his tie, even though it’s under the gown, all the students are herded into the gymnasium to wait for the ceremony to begin. The gym smells even worse than normal with the whole senior class shoved inside. Eddie spies you off towards a corner, laughing about something with Nancy. It wouldn’t surprise him if you’re trying to make her laugh to take her mind off of the valedictorian speech she’s about to give. Eyes taking in how you look in the green cap and gown, Eddie knows he was right before; you are the only one who looks drop dead gorgeous in the graduation garment. He knows his eyes have been on you for too long, but he can’t bring himself to tear them away.

“So, what’s going on there?” Jeff asks, seeing where his friend’s gaze lies. “You did what she wanted, right? Are you going to try and get back together with her?”

Eddie sighs and finally breaks his gaze away from you. Instead, he looks up into the rafters of the gym, squinting as the bright lights shine down.

“I don’t really think this was a ‘if you fix this, we’ll get back together’ type of situation,” Eddie says. “Besides, it’s been months. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been on dates with a bunch of different guys by now.”

“You still love her, though.” It’s not a question from Jeff, it’s a statement. A fact that was as obvious as the scuff marks on the floor of the gym.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, not adding anything further.

“Shouldn’t you at least try then?” Jeff asks. “You did all that hard work.”

“But I didn’t do it for her,” Eddie answers with a shake of his head. “I did it for me.”

“But you still did it,” Jeff points out. “It won’t be in vain either way, man, because you’re here right now. About to graduate. I’m just saying you should talk to her. See where things stand.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says with a sigh.

Mrs. O’Donnell bustles into the room—well, as fast as she can at her age. Taking stock of the children around the gym, she claps her hands together to get their attention.

“Okay, okay, everyone. Time to line up. We’ll be starting soon.”

Jeff and Eddie let themselves be herded with the rest of their class and listen half-heartedly at instructions shouted at them as they make their way back outside.

Once the ceremony starts, it’s long and boring. Nancy’s speech isn’t as bad as Eddie expected, though. But Principal Higgins has to talk, then just about every other school official that Eddie swears he’s never seen in the front office even after all the time he’s spent in there. Then the never ending list of names begins. Of course all the names are familiar to Eddie, but that doesn’t mean he cares enough to watch each of them walk across the stage, shake hands, and get their diploma. There are only a select few people that Eddie actually pays attention for.

“Nancy Wheeler.”

“Robin Buckley.”

“Jason Carver.” Eddie pretends to gag.

“Chrissy Cunningham.”

“Jeff Donaldson.”

Then it’s your turn. Eddie can’t take his eyes off of you or the big grin on your face as you hop up on the stage and go through the long line of people none of you had ever heard of to shake their hands. Your eyes light up as your diploma is handed to you. Eddie doesn’t even realize he’s smiling along with you until his cheeks begin to ache. That settles it, he thinks. I have to talk to her.

“Eddie Munson.”

Hearing his own name called over the loudspeaker jars him out of his thoughts. He’s distantly aware of people cheering for him as he makes his way to the stage, but it feels too weird to be real. People didn’t even cheer for him at Corroded Coffin shows. Eddie takes the steps up to the stage two at a time and forces a pleasant smile to his lips as he shakes Principal Higgins’ hand. The rest of the faces become a blur as he moves from person to person until he finally gets his diploma. He grins at the simple rolled up paper in his hands. It’s just a blank piece of paper until his real diploma comes in, he knows, but it means so much more. It’s proof that he did it. That he graduated at long last. The now-familiar pride swells up in him as he heads back to his seat among the students in the green sea of their robes.

When the ceremony finally comes to an end, there’s hugging and crying and squealing coming from all around the football field. Eddie makes his way out into the parking lot where families are taking photos with their graduates, all smiles and congratulations. Wayne’s truck is hard to miss in the parking lot; by far the oldest vehicle there. Eddie heads in that direction and is greeted by a beaming uncle.

“M’so proud of you, boy.” Wayne pulls Eddie into a hug, which wasn’t a usual occurrence in the Munson household. “You put your mind to something and ya did it.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, smiling sheepishly.

“Congratulations.”

The familiar voice coming from behind him has Eddie spinning around so fast he hears his neck crack.

“Uh, thanks,” he says. “You too.”

“C’mon, let me get a picture of the two of you,” Wayne says, pulling a camera that looks older than Eddie out of his pocket.

Eddie is about to protest, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or feel obligated, but you’re looping your arm through his before he can even open his mouth. You tilt your head, close to Eddie’s shoulder but not quite touching, and smile prettily for the camera. Eddie musters his best look for the picture as well, but on the inside, he’s cringing as he imagines what that picture must look like.

“Perfect,” Wayne says. He unlocks his truck and tosses the camera inside. “I’ll see you later, Eddie?”

“Okay,” Eddie says.

Wayne pulls Eddie in for another hug before enveloping you in one as well.

“I’m real proud of both of you,” he says.

“Thanks, Wayne,” you reply.

Wayne climbs into his truck and gives the two of you one last wave before heading out of the parking lot.

“So, uh,” Eddie starts at the same time you say, “So, listen.”

Eddie chuckles and nods his head at you. “You first.”

“Oh, I, um, was just going to ask if you were going to the party tonight. At Cat’s place.”

“I hadn’t really planned on it,” Eddie says as he unzips the graduation robe. “Why?”

“Well, uh, I—I was wondering if maybe you’d want to? I mean, I-I’ll be there. But if you don’t wanna, I totally understand.”

“You want me to?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows at you as he slips his hands into the pockets of his black jeans.

“I do,” you say, a shy look that Eddie is unaccustomed to on your face. “Like I said, I get it if you don’t want to. But I had to at least ask.”

“I guess it wouldn’t kill me to go for a little while. Might be able to sell.”

“You don’t want to celebrate?” you ask. “Dance and drink?”

“Of all people, you should know better than anyone that I don’t dance,” Eddie says with a small smile.

“But you drink,” you point out.

“Why do you want to spend time with me?” Eddie asks, tilting his head to the side, like a puppy wondering what it’s human just said. Better to ask bluntly and get a clear answer then try to piece one together in his mind.

“I need a reason?”

“Kind of. After you dumped me? Yeah, you do.”

“I miss you,” you admit, so quietly that Eddie almost misses it. “I’ve missed you from the moment I left you standing there in that hallway. So many times I almost caved and begged you to take me back. But then I’d see you studying, and it would remind me that you need to focus on you. And you did. Look what you accomplished. I’m really, really proud of you, Eddie.”

“Not bad for the school freak, huh?” Eddie asks, the beginnings of a smirk curling his pink lips.

“I think you need a new nickname,” you muse. “We’re not in school anymore.”

“Maybe we can come up with one at the party tonight,” Eddie says, causing your face to light up in excitement.

“Really? You’ll go with me?” you ask, eyes widening in hope.

“I’d be pretty dumb not to.”

“You’ve always been far from dumb, sweetheart,” you tell him. Hesitantly, you reach out and lace your fingers with his. “I think I came up with a new nickname for you, too.”

“Do tell,” Eddie says.

“No more Eddie the Freak or Eddie the Banished,” you say, imitating Eddie’s Dungeon Master voice. “You are now Eddie the graduate.”

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