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lxkeee · 3 months

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END GAME

PART ONE

pairing: lucifer x fallen angel! fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fluff

warnings: no warnings yet.

notes: very feral for this man and this is multishot fic and would be writing a smut for this. Reader is close to his age (probably a hundred years younger but meh)

additional notes: this is a long one.

Part two |

[y/n] stood in the podium, her hands bound by golden chains. She looked at the higher angels who sat on the high chairs of the courtroom, her [e/c] eyes stared at them with boredom. She never liked being in heaven, so many rules to the point she couldn't breathe. She was created a few years after the infamous Lucifer fell from grace, she admired him. She has heard his cause and mentally agreed to his beliefs—she couldn't say it out loud as the higher beings would punish her. She was a good angel, always a rule follower and a good role model, then she suffered from burnt out, repeating the same thing everyday—waking up, praying, doing good, following the rules.

She started questioning their ways and now, the time has come for it to bite her back as she finally faces a trial. [Y/n] what happened the majority of her trial, she remembers doing a couple of nods in agreement and occasionally rolling her eyes whenever Adam said something stupid. She couldn't take whatever bullshit Sera was yapping about and decided to cut her off, “Enough about all these rules, just admit that us angels are egomaniacs, always hungry for control. Heck, Lucifer was right with his intentions but you guys saw it as an act of disobedience. You didn't like what he was doing since it didn't follow what you guys wanted him to do.” She said coldly, her tone making the whole room tense and cold, “he thought it was unfair to the humans to follow whatever heaven's command is without question and hesitation. But Lucifer gave them freedom,” [y/n] pauses, glaring at the higher beings, eyebrows furrowed and her eyes staring at their very soul, “Heaven is fake, you put on a show for everyone, pretending that everything is fine and this is a fun place filled with peace and we all know you guys want them to blindly follow your rules.”

“Do not ever speak his name or do you want to follow where he is?” Sera asked loudly, her voice commanding and echoing off the walls of the court but her message just made the angel in trial smirk, “Oh...? Frankly speaking, I think hell seems to be a better and more fun place than heaven. I could do whatever the fuck I want.” [y/n] says with a smirk, heart thumping loudly for the first curse word she had said. This made Sera more angry, “Then, so be it.” Sera sneers.

Falling... So this is what Icarus felt when he flew too close to the sun. Lucifer was lucky as heaven wasn't this harsh before, [y/n] closes her eyes as she felt the stinging pain of the wind caressing her back, golden ichor flowing from where her wings should be, but despite the pain, a grin was plastered on her face as she embraced the imminent pain she'll receive once she hits the burning ground of hell. Despite the extreme pain she felt on her back, the missing part of her that heaven decided to take—she felt free, shimmering tears cascades down her cheeks as she cried for her acquired freedom while simultaneously mourning for the loss of her wings. Her weak body passing by many, many clouds, passing by the crust of the earth and soon she could see the fiery red skies of hell, she can only wait for the impact.

She could hear the sound of something breaking and cracking, the loud ringing on her ears before her world turned dark. Falling from grace isn't enough to kill her.

Lucifer's usual schedule usually consists of him wallowing in self pity inside his room, making rubber ducks, or having an existential crisis in his balcony. Lucifer just so happens to be on his balcony that day, talking to his newly created rubber duck that looks like his daughter when his eyes noticed the dark red clouds of hell parting and a figure falling at extreme speeds, at first he thought it was another soul who ended up in hell but his eyes widened to see occasional gold shimmering on the figure. “What...” Lucifer murmurs in confusion, his eyes following the figure and what the...? It's about to land in his front yard.

Only his eyes widened in fear as the figure crashed and golden ichor splattered everywhere. The realization damned upon him that another angel has fallen from grace.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Lucifer never cursed so much as he jumped off the balcony, three pairs of wings springing out of his back as he quickly flew next to the crash site. “I swear to me if this person died,” this wouldn't be the first time someone died in his front yard but it would be the first time an angel would, but can an angel even die from this impact?

He quickly checked the fallen angel, identified that it's a female. She looked like such a mess, golden ichor splattered everywhere, messy hair from falling, eye bags, and passed out but despite all that, he found her to be very beautiful, “I swear to me, this isn't the time Lucifer.” he muttered to himself as he began to work and make sure this woman is treated properly. What made the king of hell freeze was when he used his power to lift her up gently, he noticed that so much blood was gushing out of her back where the bone that should connect to her wings. He just realized why this angel crashed, she couldn't fly. She doesn't have her wings anymore and that realization filled his heart with anger.

He stared at her broken form lying on the bed of the spare guest room of the castle, he couldn't fully heal her. There's a limit to how much his angelic powers could do, it can't reverse the damage heaven themselves have done to her. Thankfully, he managed to fix all broken bones and close the wounds she had received but he can't fix the trauma she'll receive from this. Believe him, he tried (with himself).

His hand caressed away the hair that was falling on her face, finally taking a good look on her. She looked more beautiful without those wounds, she looked better without the stress—a contrast to the first time he's seen her. Warmth flooding his cheeks, he doesn't even realize that the red of his cheeks has become significantly darker.

“Ah, Lucifer stop. You don't even know this woman,” Lucifer mutters in annoyance as he squeezes his own cheeks to stop the warmth before eventually leaving the guest room to continue his usual routine.

He's starting to get worried, the fallen angel that currently resides in his guest room still hasn't woken up. It's been eight days. He spent the entire week checking up on her and continuing to treat her, he admits that this unknown angel's presence did good to his mental health as he was busy worrying for her that he forgets to listen to his intrusive thoughts. “What am I going to do with you?” Lucifer mutters softly as he places his hands above her, hovering over her body as golden hue begins to glow. Slowly and surely healing her.

Aching pain in her muscles is what she felt, slowly regaining consciousness. [Y/n] woke up in an unfamiliar room, oddly reminds her of the rooms that only royalty have. She tried to move her muscles but she could feel it cracking from not moving for a long time. “What happened...?” she asked herself softly, trying to remember what happened. The trial, Sera's anger, Adam being annoying, falling, her wings, then crashing. “Where am I?” she asked herself again, her voice croaking slightly, she slowly moved her body so she could sit on the bed, her eyes wandering everywhere, taking in her surroundings. She noticed that the symbol apple and snake was present on the designs of the tinted windows. The door opens.

Another week has passed, still no sign of her waking up. Lucifer was walking towards the guest room, preparing himself to try to heal her again. He opens the door and he froze to see the fallen angel who's usually lying limp on the bed is now sitting and staring on the window. “You're awake.” he says softly and she turned to look at him, her eyes, it's so beautiful. “Who are you?” she asked him softly and he smiled, “The name's Lucifer Morningstar, welcome to hell.”

#Spotify #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer #PLEASEE THIS WAS ORIGINALLY A SMUT BUT I DECIDED TO DO A BACKGROUND WRITING ON THEM FIRST FOR THEIR RELATIONSHIP TO BLOOM #“END GAME” — LUCIFER X READER

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hopepetal · 5 months

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MAJOR SECRET LIFE SPOILERS BELOW

Short fic I wrote after watching the end of secret life!

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“How did the guy with no friends win?” A soft, numb chuckle escaped from his lips. He thinks he might've stumbled, or was pushed. Pain turned to exhaustion, turned to delirium, turned to laughter, until he couldn't stop. “I didn't– I didn't think that–”

He came to his senses as he was escaping... something. What was happening? It didn't matter. His feet knew where to lead him, toward the looming monument at the very center of the server. The Secret Keeper.

After all, he won. It would be a shame if the reward for succeeding such a tremendous task went unclaimed.

Scar pushed the button.

“You know,” a ghostly voice whispered in his ear, her cold presence weaving around him like the winter wind, “you're not the only one who won without a friend in the world.”

Scar shuddered as static electricity ran up his spine, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. The sparks traveled down to his fingertips, turning them into miniature firecrackers for a moment before receding as well. “None of us had friends in the end, if you think about it. We all had to kill to get to where we did. It's just a part of the games.”

The flowers tucked behind Scar's ear brushed against his skin, moving without any wind to guide them. “Well, you would say that. I killed to avenge my friends. I was honorable for my entire season.”

The cold wind was back, making the flowers droop as it wrapped around the petals. “Shame that didn't carry over to the other seasons.”

Disoriented, Scar took several steps back from the Secret Keeper, trying to escape the darkness that pressed down from above. He shook his head, blinking rapidly as he looked for the source of the voices, falling to his knees as they grew louder. The cold wind grew more biting, the sparks became more painful, and the flowers grew thorns that pierced into his skin.

And then there was warmth. Sunshine weaving around Scar, pushing back the colder spirits and gathering them all together, and Scar realized he remembered those spirits.

He remembered the cold winter wind that howled with loneliness and grief. He remembered the lightning that struck a time-hungry winner. He remembered the flower that grew thorns.

And he remembered the desert.

And then there was Grian, phantasmal and resplendent with his shining crown of sunlight. He stood in front of the other winners, who were all wearing crowns of their own. He stood with a hand outstretched, a smile soft on his lips.

“Grian,” Scar breathed, gazing up at the man who was the sun to his Icarus.

Grian laughed softly. “Hey, Scar. Can we still be friends?”

Scar took Grian's hand, and stood up as a spirit. “Of course.”

#secret life spoilers #life series spoilers #secret life #goodtimeswithscar #pearlescentmoon #grian #martyn inthelittlewood #scott smajor #secret life fanfic #my writing

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myhandisfatemywordislaw · 4 months

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After a while all the Mechanisms forget who they were before. For many of them, all they have left are their songs, and none of them can remember how much is truth and how much is simply a story.

Tim only has the vaguest hints of memories of what it felt like to spend time with Bertie, a gentle hand brushing his hair from his face, a flutter inside his chest, but he can't even remember what Bertie looked like anymore.

Jonny can't remember what his father was like any more, though he is certain he killed him. While he remembers pulling the trigger in a flash of devastated rage, he can't remember where the bullet ended up. Did Jack ever exist? Or was he a representation of multiple people, or was the killing of Jack simply an expression of the themes of the story? Or maybe he can't face the truth of what really happened. Jonny claims One Eyed Jacks tells us how he got his mechanical heart but it doesn't, not really. Maybe there never was anyone else in the room with him and he shot himself, right through the heart, in a fit of maddened guilt and grief.

Brian will never ever forget the endless black and the terrible cold seeping deep into his bones, though he has long since forgotten what his own face used to look like.

Ashes knows their song must be dramatised since the song claims that their skin burned, but only their lungs were mechanised, so they must have died simply of smoke inhalation. They can also no longer remember if they really were a level-headed detective as they were in the song, or if they simply died in an arson attack gone wrong, and destroyed their whole world, along with everyone they ever cared about, over a mistake.

Raphaella has no song to hang onto, no story to tell, and her past is long since forgotten. Though the stench of the city feels far too familiar, and she flinches when the name Icarus is spoken, though she could not tell you why.

#fanfiction #sort of. headcanon #that last one was very much based on an icarus is raph's deadname thing I saw from one of the raphaella blogs #and I think Ive seen something to that effect said about tim #the rest is all mine I think. though all my headcanons are slowly built up incorporating suggestions from others so I couldnt say for sure #the mechanisms #jonny d’ville #gunpowder tim #raphaella la cognizi #ashes o'reilly #drumbot brian #my fanfiction #dragon.txt

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hellfirenacht · 5 months

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Wing Man Part 6

Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie. (1 2 3 4 5)

A/N: How are we feeling in a post-"Flight of Icarus" world, y'all? I knew from the beginning that I'd want to add some of the lore in and let me tell you, I LOVE Ronnie Ecker. For those of you who did not read the book, or haven't had a chance to, Ronnie is Eddie's best friend who ended up with a full scholarship to NYU. They're siblings, your honor.

Also if anyone can show me on this map where the plot is going, I'd really appreciate it.

This late at night, the only sounds in the trailer park came from the occasional dog barking and the echoes of Eddie’s tapes blasting as he pulled up to Wayne’s trailer. His uncle was working tonight as usual, which would normally allow Eddie time to hog the tv before passing out for a few precious hours before he had to get up for school.

Tonight however, his mind was buzzing with what had just happened less than an hour ago. He liked you, he wasn’t sure how much yet but he did. You were sharp and knew your stuff about metal. It helped that you were cute. Really cute.

He liked seeing you in the passenger seat of his car, matching wits with his friends and ranting about Ozzy. He liked seeing you laughing and the way you watched him play. He really liked the way you had fiddled with the pick he’d thrown at you at the end of the set.

Eddie had never done that before. He’d wanted to, but never had anyone’s attention like that before- no. That wasn’t true. There had been one other person who’d listened to him play like that, two years ago.

Was he always gonna fold to the site of a pretty girl actually paying attention to his music?

“Of course you are.” Ronnie’s voice echoed on the phone. “And I’m gonna laugh every time you do.”

Eddie groaned, holding the receiver to his ear as his forehead pressed against the front of the fridge. He hadn’t planned on running to her with this, but he was nowhere near able to wind down. He hadn’t even expected Ronnie to pick up the phone this late at night with the time zone difference and the fact that it was a school night. He’d have to push his stash a bit harder to pay Wayne back for the long distance call.

The past two years had been a slow crawl of building back trust up with Veronica Ecker. The two had gone almost a whole summer without talking before Eddie had basically groveled for forgiveness outside of Granny Ecker’s trailer before Ronnie left for New York. She had forgiven him enough to let him give her a ride to the airport.

“Last time?” He’d asked.

“Last time.” She’d repeated.

“So why didn’t you shack up with her tonight?” Ronnie asked. “You got her into your van, and you dropped her off like a gentleman.”

“I don’t know, I panicked.” Eddie sighed, bonking his head against the fridge a few times. “She was right there, and she was leaning in and all I saw was Paige leaning in-”

“You know not every girl who shares your taste in music is Paige, right?” Eddie could practically see Ronnie rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.

“Any girl that shares my taste in music ends up fucking off to the opposite end of the country.”

This made Ronnie laugh. “You’re an idiot. Paige fucked off back to her job and I fucked off to college.”

“Fucking off is fucking off.”

“Maybe you need to fuck off.”

“I tried, remember?”

She remembered. Both of them remembered.

“Look, stop being a dipshit.” Ronnie said after a moment of awkward silence. “You’re graduating this year, right?”

“Uhhh...”

“Eddie.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m working on it. I just need those last stupid two classes and then I’m home free.” Eddie confirmed.

“You can’t stay in high school forever.” Ronnie said. “And you’re gonna realize that there’s life outside of Hawkins. Have you even talked to Paige since then?”

He hadn’t, and they both knew it. Eddie gave up two months after she’d bailed him out of jail. Two months of dead air silence. He got the hint.

“No.”

“Then stop worrying about one girl from over two years ago!” Eddie could feel the phantom pain of Ronnie punching him in the arm like she always used to. “Get laid and graduate, Munson. You earned it.”

Eddie snorted, sliding down the fridge to sit on the cool floor. “Is that the only advice you got for me, Ecker?”

“It’s the only advice you need. Did you pass that test last week?” Ronnie asked.

“By the skin of my teeth.” Eddie sighed, leaning his head back against the fridge.

“Your new girl graduated, maybe she can help you study.”

“She’s not my girl. She’s a girl that I’ve met a handful of times-”

“That’s turning your brain to mush.”

“She doesn’t even know who I am, Ronnie.” He fiddled with the chord in his hand, watching the spiral wind and unwind around his fingers. It was already stretched out pretty bad, with a few spirals already tangled beyond repair like his old slinky from when he was a kid.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ronnie asked. “She doesn’t know you, that means she doesn’t feed into the bullshit of the rumor mill.”

Ronnie had a point and he hated it, but that’s why he called her to begin with. Ronnie was the only person who could cut through his Munson bullshit and give it to him straight. He missed it. As much as he enjoyed the power he had to protect his little lost sheepies, they were all too intimidated to actually stand up to him and call him out the way that Ronnie would.

“Yeah, you’re right. As usual.” Eddie could hear her snort and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “So why the hell are you even awake right now? Up til 2 am on a school night, Ecker?”

“It’s barely past midnight, the time zone isn’t that off. I was studying for a test, but hearing you complain about your love life is a far more productive use of my time.”

“You’re using me to slack off, aren’t you?”

“If I have to look at my flashcards one more time tonight my eyes are gonna go square. How’s Granny doing?”

“She’s an empty nester and is determined to turn me into her replacement grandson until you visit again.” Eddie shook his head. “She threatened to give me a haircut the last time she dropped off a plate for Wayne.”

Ronnie had come back to visit a grand total of five times since she’d left, returning for holidays and summers to visit Granny Ecker and by extension Eddie. Each time she’d come back with stories of law school and how different New York is.

It seemed impossible, everything that Ronnie had told him about going to college and about life outside their small town. She was playing Dungeons and Dragons still, having found a group that would play with her. According to her, being a rules lawyer for the game at a law school hit way different than it had their small Hellfire group in high school. No one even cared that they played outside of a few students who had better things to do than enact violence against a few nerds.

Then again, in law school everyone was some sort of nerd. Eddie wondered if even a freak would be accepted there. Well, socially at least. He wasn’t delusional enough to think he’d be able to be accepted into law school with his grades. Ronnie had invited him up to visit a few times, but there was never time or money to do it.

The two continued talking for another hour, catching up until Ronnie was scolding him for staying up so late on a school night.

“Yeah? And what’s your excuse?” Eddie said. “It’s almost 4:20 am there.”

“Ha. Ha. Again, ha.” Ronnie said. “Still not how timezones work. And my first class doesn’t start until noon.”

Right. In college you didn’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn every day.

“Night, Ecker.”

“Night, Munson. Graduate and get laid.”

“Does it matter the order?”

“Good night, Eddie.”

Talking to Ronnie had eased his nerves, but there was still something inside that wouldn’t let him lay down and go to sleep. It was late now, way later than he intended to stay up tonight. The night he played at the Hideout always had him up late, and his teacher already considered him more useless than usual on Wednesdays. It’s not like anyone would care if he slept in class, unless they were in a particularly foul mood.

He made his way to a stack of books in his room rummaging through a pile or two until he found what he was looking for. Eddie’s copy of Lord of the RIngs was well loved at best, and completely trashed at worst. The cover of the paperback was nearly torn off, taped back together haphazardly over the years. Pages were dogeared, the spine was cracked, notes were scribbled in the margins, and his name was scribbled in messy cursive on the front page declaring that this book belonged to Eddie Munson and that he was in third grade.

Eddie stripped out of most of his clothes, tossing his jewelry on his nightstand, and hopped into bed. He turned on a small lamp and opened the book. He could probably recite the first chapter from memory if he tried, the words on the page a comfortable lullabye for his wound up mind. But tonight he flipped to a page near the end where his bookmark was. The flower made out of blue construction paper wasn’t nearly as old as the book, and only in better shape because it never left the safe pages of Tolkein’s writing.

His eyes glanced at his arm again, your phone number a temporary tattoo on his skin until it washed off. Shit, it was going to wash off eventually. Eddie grabbed a pen from under his bed and added another scribble to the inside of the book before copying your number carefully onto the paper flower. At least this way he’d always know where it was.

With that aside, Eddie didn’t make it through three pages of his book before he passed out with the light still on.

Fall Semester, 1984

The PrinciPAL’s office was just as interesting and inviting as it always was, which is to say not at all. Eddie was slumped back on a chair, watching as Janice sorted through paperwork, pretending to look busy so that she could avoid any small talk with ‘that Munson boy’. He had been waiting for Higgin’s to show up for almost fifteen minutes now, because why shouldn’t he waste Eddie’s time at this point? The worst that was going to happen today is that they’d do their little song and dance, Eddie would plead his case that the flyers were absolutely serious and that Chris Morrison had every intent to run for student council, and that it was all of the club that had made the posters, Higgins would shake his head and not believe Eddie for a second (which to be fair, this would be the first time that Eddie would admit privately that it was his fault), they’d go back and forth until Eddie got some form of detention or Saturday school.

Honestly, the worst part would be rescheduling Hellfire if he wound up in detention.

Eddie had counted out 13 paper clips that Janice had used in her papershifting before the door to the front office opened up again. He looked up, expecting to see Higgins walk in, ignore him for another five minutes, before Janice would let Eddie go in.

He didn’t expect to see you, pale and shaken, clutching a teacher’s note in your hand. Eddie watched as you handed the note over to Janice who read it, shook her head, and pointed at the chair next to himself. Your eyes never left the floor as you sat next to him, staring at the cheap carpet as if you could somehow burn a hole in it and disappear.

Trouble was no stranger to Eddie, and Eddie was no stranger to trouble. In Hawkins the name ‘Munson’ might as well be in the thesaurus next to the word. This wasn’t his first rodeo, and it would be far from his last as long as Higgins stayed the princiPAL. He’d walk away with a lecture and a sigh and then it would be business as normal.

The look on your face though, that was far from the mild annoyance he felt. You look downright traumatized at the idea of having been sent here. Eddie glanced up at Janice who deigned to make eye contact with him now. Her eyes flicked between the two of you, a disapproving look behind her purple frames as if this was somehow Eddie’s fault that you had ended up here as well. But then, as far as any of the faculty from the office was concerned, even him being enrolled at this school was a death sentence to the rest of the poor student body. Eddie was a disease that they would try to contain until they had the cure to remove him.

The shaking of your knee made your chair (and his chair by proxy) rattle slightly. The quiet of the office and the mundane shuffling of Janice’s papers only added to the tension that was radiating off you.

“Janice, is Higgin’s gonna be long?” Eddie finally asked, and your bouncing knee stopped for just a moment before going back to its nervous movement.

“He’s in a very important meeting.” Came the reply over a stack of papers, still not looking at Eddie.

He sighed again and looked over at you, trying to place where he knew your face. Your eyes were a bit red, and you looked like you were on the verge of crying. Shit, he needed to do something before he had to ask Janice for the tissue box.

“First time?” Eddie asked, and when you didn’t respond he nudged your knee with his.

You jumped slightly, head snapping up. It was a wonder you didn’t give yourself whiplash and it would have been almost funny to Eddie had you not looked like a deer in the headlights looking at him.

“I... Huh?” your voice cracked slightly.

“What are ya in for?” Eddie did his best to give you a smile which he was sure made him look more like a serial killer than a comfort. It was rare he wished that he had his dad’s smile, but in cases like this he’d make an exception.

You looked at the paper in your hand and swallowed. “Uh... skipped.”

“Skipped school or just class?” Eddie prompted, trying to get you to talk more. If you were talking, then you weren’t crying. That’s what he hoped at least.

“Class.” He didn’t think you’d say anymore but you surprised him. “US History.” Eddie caught the way your eyes darted to Janice again as if to make sure she wasn’t listening in, but Janice had better things to do than to eavesdrop on two delinquents. “I wasn’t... I had a bad day. I'm having a bad day. I felt like I was going to explode and I went to the library.”

Eddie nodded, wondering what had happened today that made you need to duck out. It wasn’t his business, and frankly Higgin’s was going to grill you enough as it was.

“Rookie mistake.” He said instead.

“Rookie...?”

Eddie kept his voice low and leaned in closer to you as if telling you a secret. “If you’re gonna skip, you can’t go to the library. You might as well have walked into the teacher’s lounge and announced that you were cutting class.”

You let out a sharp breath that he swore counted for a laugh. “Thanks for the heads up, can you tell me that a few hours ago?”

There was color returning to your face now and Eddie kept going. His brown eyes scanned your face, trying to place where he knew you from. Hawkins was a small town, and there was nothing about you that screamed ‘I’m new!’.

He liked your sarcasm though, and his ‘comforting’ grin shifted into a genuine smile. “If you’re gonna ditch, you need to go to the bathroom or go outside.” He said. “Especially for last period. Go hide outside in the woods and you can slip into the parking lot seamlessly without anyone noticing. By the end of the day the teachers are barely taking attendance anyway.”

“Have you been in the girls rooms here?” you asked, shaking your head. “I think I’d rather take my chances here than stay in there longer than I’d have to.” Eddie wasn’t sure if you were trying to make a joke or if you were serious.

“Would you rather hide in the boys room?” he asked. “I swear it only smells like piss almost all of the time and you’d end up in the splash zone even if you were in a stall.”

That got a laugh out of you, a genuine one. Your shoulders were relaxing and you looked down at the paper again and took a deep breath that you exhaled with a sigh.

“I’ve never been in trouble before.” you said, your hands starting to bend and fold the paper on your lap absently. “I’m not good at being in trouble.”

“Well, lucky for you I’m here.” Eddie nudged your knee again with his. “Being in trouble is kind of my job here at Hawkin’s High. I’m a professional, you know. If I wasn’t here taking up all of Principal Higgin’s time he might have to actually do his job.”

That last part was louder, as he directed it to Janice who refused to take the bait and only reached for her lilac stapler instead.

A small smack on his arm drew his attention back to you, you were smiling at him looking astonished. “You’re gonna get us in trouble!” you whispered at him.

“We’re already in trouble.” Eddie reminded you, his smile never fading. “Look, you’ve never been in trouble before, right? You’re gonna be fine. Just give him a good sob story about being overwhelmed with school, or about a sick pet. If you can squeeze out some tears that’s even better. The worst that he’s gonna do is give you a slap on the wrist and maybe detention if he’s in a shit mood”

You take in his words, listening to him carefully and taking in every word he was saying as if this was life or death. Eddie admittedly, had purposefully slipped into his Dungeon Master voice. It was a skill that normally only worked on his little sheepies in his club, and that was after semesters of training his players to listen and pay attention to his words or else it would be life or death for their characters.

Having someone else listen to him like that? It felt really good.

Your mouth started to open to say something but then the office door opened again and Higgin’s stepped in, nodding to Janice and then looking at the two of you. There was an accusatory look in his eyes as he made eye contact with Eddie again, and it was clear what that look said. Leave her alone, don’t make things worse for her than they already are.

“Munson.” Higgins said and it took everything in him to stay still and not flinch at his last name. He was used to the weight that came with his name, but he hadn’t wanted you to know who he was. Not after he just remembered where he knew you from, glancing down at the note that you had folded into a flower in a fit of nerves.

“I heard you missed me, Sir.” Eddie forced his eyes to meet Higgin’s. “You really should just start saying hi in the hallways instead of inviting me to these little chats every week. You’re taking away valuable learning time from me, you know.”

If the two of them had been alone, Higgins would have snapped back at Eddie about being a smartass. But you were there, and the color had drained from your face again, and there was a shine to your eyes that was threatening to spill over your waterline. Higgins looked at you and motioned for you to follow him into his office.

Eddie wished that you would turn and look at him before disappearing into the PrincePAL’s office. He could imagine you turning to look at him for comfort, he’d give you a smile that would put you at ease and a thumbs up. You’d give him another smile and walk in feeling brave.

Instead it was like you forgot he was there as your figure disappeared behind the heavy wood door that shut with a heavy click.

Of course Higgins had you come in first, even though Eddie had already been sitting here since the beginning of the period when he’d been called in.

He was tempted to go over to the door and press his ear up against it to listen in on what he was saying to you but even Janice would scold him for that. So there Eddie sat for another ten minutes as he waited for you to step out again.

Higgin’s was the one to open the door and let you out of the office, as if he were some gentleman instead of Eddie’s own personal warden five days a week. You walked out and to Eddie’s surprise you gave him a nod and mouthed thank you as you slipped back out the door and into the hallway.

Eddie’s eyes followed you until he couldn’t see you anymore and it took Higgin’s standing in front of him with folded arms and saying his full government name for Eddie to snap back to reality.

“Munson. A word about your little flyers?”

“Well, I’d say a picture is worth a thousand words-”

“In my office.”

Eddie didn’t remember much else about that talk, only remembering the white paper flower that had been carelessly tossed into the trash next to Higgin’s desk.

“He still hasn’t called you?” Steve asked as you, him, and Robin continued your closing routine. The day had been busy, with almost everyone in Hawkins coming to rent a movie for the weekend. Robin was stocking the candy while you wiped down the sticky counter where children had been touching all day. Who’s idea was it to leave out free suckers on the counter anyway?

Oh right, that was your idea because you loved Halloween.

“Nope.” you said, your voice a little tense. It had been almost two weeks since that night at the Hideout. You hadn’t returned to the dive bar, hoping that Eddie would call you and make the next move. Each passing day you had stayed as close to the phone as possible when you were home and you’d checked your voicemail every day when you got home for any sign that he’d attempted to reach out.

Nothing.

You shouldn’t feel this rejected but you did. It was far too early to tell if you had any feelings beyond initial attraction to the guy, but... you’d felt something. An enjoyment of bantering with him and an ease that came as naturally as your friendship with Robin and Steve.

Plus, you had to admit it, he was really fucking hot. Seeing him play guitar two weeks ago had haunted your dreams and slipped into a few of your fantasies when you were alone.

You kept that part to yourself though, that was the last thing that Steve or Robin needed to hear. Besides, that was Steve’s job to go far too into detail about his sex life. Steve had tried ribbing you about going home with Eddie but you’d told him that you were a complete gentleman with him.

That night had left you feeling electrified, almost high as you danced around your room as you got ready for bed. Even as his odd parting rattled around your brain, you couldn’t help but to feel excited at the idea of seeing him again.

Then a few days went by. Then a week. And now two weeks later you hadn’t heard from him. The kids hadn’t stopped by either so you couldn’t hassle them about Eddie either. Even if they had, you weren’t sure if you could ask about him, you didn’t want to come across as desperate.

“Did you ever figure out what he meant by ‘five times?’” Robin asked, opening up a squished package of Reese's Cups. “Like, didn’t you say you didn’t know him?”

You threw your hands up before tossing the paper towels you were using to clean in the trash can.

“I have no idea.” you said. “Either I’m bad at math, he’s bad at math, or maybe we’re both stupid.”

“He did get held back a few times.” Steve muttered to himself.

“There’s a chance that you two have met before though.” said Robin, “I mean think about it, you’re both weirdos who went to the same school. Shouldn’t you both have bumped into each other before?”

“You’d think so, but my group kind of kept to ourselves.” you said with a sigh. “We were private weirdos. When I DID try and make other friends-”

“Yeah, yeah, Chris Morrison shot you down.” Steve said, waving his hand.

“Oh, you heard that story?” you laughed. “I didn’t think I mentioned it to you before.”

Steve gave you a blank stare that only made you laugh more. “I swear you keep talking about that guy more than Eddie. Maybe I should track him down and set you up on a blind date with him instead.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Hey, that could be fun!” Robin added. “We’ll dress you up super hot, set you up with Chris, and then you can turn him down instead!”

“Excuse you, Robin. I am always super hot.” you declared, straightening out your unflattering Family Video vest. “Who wouldn’t want a piece of this?”

You hadn’t done laundry in a week, and your hair had seen better days. The green polyester vest was wrinkled and if Keith saw you looking sloppy he’d probably have words about it. Not big words or even intimidating words, but words nonetheless. It was night and day compared to how you’d looked at the Hideout and the arcade earlier in the month. But it wasn’t like you had anyone to impress while you were at work anyway.

“Hey, nerdy chicks can be hot.” Steve said. “I mean, Nancy’s an academic nerd and I was crazy about her.”

You hummed thoughtfully and turned to Robin. “How about we get married instead?” you asked. “You, me, a fuck ton of cats, and a tax break. What do you say?”

Robin laughed and shook her head. “You aren’t my type.” Her eyes darted nervously to Steve for a split second and you sighed dramatically.

“Guess it’s just me and the cats I’ll eventually adopt.” you said. “Not even a tax break.”

“You know, Keith thinks you’re cute-”

“I am going to pretend that you did not just say that, Harrington.” you said firmly. “Nope, not happening. Uh-uh. Absolutely not.”

“He’s not... that bad?” Robin said, but you could hear the pain in her voice through the laughter. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“The lady is trying not to think actually.” you laugh. “We’re closed, I’m actually done thinking. I just wanna finish cleaning up and go home. What’s left?”

“Rewinding the returns,-”

“Ugh.”

“Cleaning up the kids movies,-”

“Ugh.”

“And cleaning the bathroom.”

“UGHHHHHH.”

“Would you rather clean up the porn room?” asked Robin.

“Yes actually, I would.” You said. “Whatever they think about doing in that room is what they do end up doing in the bathroom.”

“Gross.”

Steve sighed “Okay, I’ll be the hero and save you ladies from cleaning the bathroom. Robin, you fix the kids section, and you can rewind the tapes.”

“I thought I was in charge here.” You crossed your arms.

“Okay, did you have a better way to divide and conquer?”

“...No.”

“Then let’s hurry up and-”

Ding!

“Who didn’t lock the door?!” you asked.

“It was Steve’s job to-” Robin started.

“Oh, shit. Hi.” Steve was staring at the person who had just walked in. You turned around and your heart jumped in your chest and your stomach dropped.

“Cursing in front of customers, Harrington?” Eddie said. “Now that’s not very professional of you.”

Robin’s eyes were darting so fast between you and Eddie that you were surprised she wasn’t giving herself vertigo. You tried to give her a pointed glare but your friend either didn’t get the hint or refused to.

“Well, we’re closed. You can’t be a customer if you can’t pay.” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips.

Eddie looked away from Steve and made eye contact with you. It had been two weeks since you’d seen him, and you glazed at his arm for a second, trying to see if the faded remains of your phone number were still stamped on his arm. Unfortunately for you he was wearing a heavy leather jacket and you had not yet developed x ray vision. Perhaps in another genre.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie asked and you, ignoring Steve who looked mildly offended.

You stood there in shock for a second before Robin nudged you in the rib.

“I- uh. I have to finish closing.” you said, snapping out of it.

“Steve and I can handle the rest of closing!” Robin grabbed Steve and shook his shoulder.

“Guys, I’m literally in charge of you both. I can’t leave before you.” You said, already reaching for your bag under the counter.

“We can handle it!” Steve said.

“And I can handle Steve!” Robin added. “We close without you and Keith all the time, remember?”

You could trust Robin, and as long as Steve didn’t knock down any displays then it wouldn’t take them more than another ten minutes to finish up. You were so tempted to turn them down, make Eddie wait as you had waited for him for the past two weeks.

But you were already stepping behind the counter towards Eddie and tossing the keys to lock up to Robin. Keith would murder you and write you up (in that order) if he knew what you were doing but looking up at the roundest pair of brown eyes you’d ever seen had you in the mood to make questionable choices.

You shrugged off your vest and tossed it at Steve, in an attempt to make yourself look like you hadn’t spent the whole day dealing with unruly customers and screaming kids. Part of you almost wished that you had agreed to bathroom duty, if only to give you an excuse to look in a mirror and straighten yourself out.

“Thanks, guys.” you gave them a quick nod, catching sight of Robin’s knowing smirk and Steve shaking his head before walking out the door that Eddie was holding open for you.

The last thing you heard was the scrambling of the entrance to Family Video being locked.

Please comment and reblog <3

Part 7

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3

#nacht fic #wing man #eddie munson x reader

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apollos-boyfriend · 2 years

Text

funny thing about my current blorbos. i cannot for the life of me remember when i started hyperfixating on them. there wasn’t a slow progression from “oh i like them :)” to “they are all i can think about” nor did i like them since the very beginning. it is not an exaggeration when i say i woke up one day and they had suddenly invaded my brain only to act like they’d been there all along

#icarus speaks #like. okay. i was a semi casual purpled viewer #i’d seen all his vods #but never to like. blorbo levels. he was just kind of a cool little guy #but i DISTINCTLY remember losing my shit when he got summoned by the eggpire #like that’s my boy!!! that’s my blorbo!!!#where the FUCK did that come from.#same for hannah and michael. i cannot explain it because i literally don’t know what happened #i got fucking possessed by them i swear

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diorcities · 1 year

Text

icarus

pairing: jeno x fem reader.

genre: smut, angst

content: mention of inexperience reader, mention of virginity, face riding (female), slight bondage (collarbone), female masturbation, fingering, anal fingering, multiple orgasms, riding, oral sex (male).

wc: 2.5 k

an: stop bc this look so ridiculous i don't even care. am i projecting? yes. do i want my yn moment? also yes. i love daydreams, and i love being delusional, anyway, enjoy <3

masterlist

oh, icarus! for all you have fallen, still you flew! and for a moment, the sun knew of you, too.

“yn, you're here?” your friend snaps her fingers in front of you, making you blink twice. “i'm having a collapse,” you confess, grabbing your head. “oh, no, i think i'm having a panic attack.” your eyes widening as the realization hit you in the stomach. “yeah... can you have it later? we're in the middle of something.” you laugh, tense. “i mean, what's going on? we've been here before,” she wanders around, as the lineup moves. “like, past year, you forgot?” you shake your head, a glimpse of a smile slowly dancing on your lips.

of course you remember.

last summer was the best summer of your life. after you have studied all year for your final exams at university, you and your friend went on a summer trip full of concerts and traveling around the globe. it was a rewarding experience for passing all your exams with good grades and saving money on your part-time job. it didn't matter what concerts you were attending. imagine dragons, coldplay, taylor swift... after a whole year of working hard, it was kind of a present from you to yourself. forgetting completely about college, both of you had a great time last year.

one night you two bumped into a concert having a place in your city. your friend immediately wanted to go, and consequently, dragged you with her. since your motto was <enjoy the summer as if it was your last> you didn't waste time and started to feel the vibe of the moment. letting yourself go.

a guy caught your attention that night. spending all evening looking at him in awe. amazed. later that night, you were sure his gaze was fixed on you. stealing glances from time to time, your heart beating so fast in your chest from the arousal. when the concert was over, he invited you to come with him.

his voice was low and raspy, like a shot of rum. and later that night, you knew his breathing was sharp and heavy. arms covered in veins, body sculpture, and chiseled by some divine god. eyes so dark you are scared to drown in the void of his pupils. nose long and manly that still makes you wet your underwear. you let him have you that night. a couple times.

“oh, god, i lost you again.” your friend rolls her eyes. “what's the deal with you?”.

“sorry, i got lost in my thoughts,” you reply, advancing with the line. your friend gives you a look. “you sound flustered,” she notices, smiling. “stop that,” you cut her off, hearing his laugh. “i mean, i'm a human, i'm nosy,” she defends herself. “what if i wanna know what happened?” “nothing happened,” you answer. she huffs. “lies.”

once inside, you and your friend go to the right side of the scenario. “you never told me about that guy you met last year,” she comments. “you know... your first time.” she adds. “oh, what if he's here tonight?” her eyes wides. “could be,” you say, distracted. “that's why you've been smiling so hard, i just know it.” she laughs. “i kinda wanna meet this sex god that has you smiling like an idiot.” you join her and laugh. your smile dies in your lips as the bitterness hit you. chest starting to hurt. what if he doesn't remember you? what if he doesn't want to see you? your fingers start to fidget the moment the lights go out.

and there he is again. the warmth expanding in your chest when your eyes manage to find him. he looks the same as always. ethereal. unreachable. magical. your eyes opening, trying to grasp everything. frame it in your head. tattoo it. he doesn't look at you. his eyes sweep the whole place with parsimony, but his eyes don't find yours. and the flame in your chest spreads. wanting. wishing. your muscles move on their own as you stand up, without worrying about how ridiculous you are trying right now. but your attempt worked. and now his eyes lock with yours. and you feel like you're holding your breath, yearning.

is this how icarus felt when he approached the sun? this burnt feeling through the limbs, only to find out he was burning inside out? suddenly falling (in love) with joy because, for a moment, he was close to the sun?.

his eyes weigh down when he looks at you. charged with a deep feeling, an unknown emotion. licking his lips as he sinks into his thoughts, imagining. his hectic breathing makes him look attractive. his skin glowing with sweat. flexed arms looking bigger; the memory of them holding you tightly as he penetrated you with care. you bite your lip instinctively, and you see him spasm where he stands.

both of you don't think you can hold it anymore.

the hours pass slowly. a torture for you, already waiting for him. your fiery pussy wet by your violent desires. lips part open as you breathe fast and superficial. he disappears behind backstage and doubt freeze you right where you are. wondering if you imagined it all. until a message.

j: you free?

“no. fucking. way.” you shush her watching her open her mouth, in disbelief. “you're texting jeno!?” she whispers, and you nod. “wait, what? hold on.” her eyes sparkle. “so this mysterious guy is the one and only jeno lee?” you roll your eyes. “jeez, you'll let everyone know.” she glances at your phone. “well, you better go, right?” she says. “wait, you're not coming with me?” you ask, worried. “i mean, i don't see any threesome word anywhere, so yes, i'm leaving,” she says, “you better show off. tell me all about it tomorrow,” she demands, walking away. “eh, can i have an autograph, perhaps?” she jokes, before winking. you watch her leave before responding to the message.

you: always.

even up close, your eyesight doesn't do justice to his beauty. he had a shower before you arrived. water pearls forming in his jet-black hair. his hands guide you to a wall before attacking your lips fervently. with sharp and hungry movements, he devours your mouth with desperation. leaving you breathless. the kiss breaks enough to take a breath of air, a thread of saliva connected to your lips due to arousal. feeling his tongue make its way through your mouth, flicking and moving, causing your arousal released in your core. “i want you,” you whisper in his mouth, feeling his hands running over you. “how much?” he breathes. your hands guide one of his hands under your skirt. his palm rests in your pussy. wetness going through the fabric. a filthy groan leaves his mouth. “take it off for me, angel.”

you do as you're told. lowering your underwear to your ankles and picking it up from the floor. you hand it to him, watching him bring your underwear to his face, sniffing your scent. “cute,” he says, before he kisses you. hands finding the buttons of your shirt, undressing you. leaving quick pecks on your lips, he guides you to his hotel bed. you drop yourself on the surface, staring intently at him standing in front of the bed. “show me how much you want me.” his glossy eyes darken at the sight of you spreading in the bed as you do what he wants. your black skirt lifted up, showing your wet pussy. your fingers slide between your folds, before inserting two in your cunt, remembering the times you touched yourself thinking it was him.

your head pulls back, eyes shut, feeling a sweet warmth in your intimate area. your mouth opening to let out little gasps, while your fingers move rhythmically and quickly in and out of your pussy, hitting hardly your spot. “jen-o,” you pant with a whine. the only mention of his name on your glossy lips makes his dick twitch inside his pants. he sits in the bed, eyes glued on your fingers stroking your cunt. your back arch as you feel the flames spreading inside you, his hands stopping you from reaching your climax. a wave of spasms shakes your body, as you bite your lips, opening your eyes, before he uses the same hand that pulled out your fingers from your pussy to insert his own. “let me.”

his movements are by far more precise and agile than yours. his long fingers going in and out, as you stirred and hissed and twitched your face in pleasure under the blackhair's gaze. his free hand goes to your collarbone, restraining you from moving under his touch. the wet sounds filling the room with your whimpers and moans, feeling his fingers increase intensity and speed, driving you insane, making a mess of babbling and incoherent words. your eyesight going black when he hit your sweet spot repeatedly, limbs going numb, before the fire pools and spread in your core, to the rest of your body. legs pressing together as he keeps flicking his fingers inside, your walls contracting and pulsing in his digits.

he lets you go to lick your arousal from his fingers, humming in an instance. “so sweet.” he states. “fuck, let me taste a little more.” you feel his breath in your pussy, before his tongue wipes out your sensitive core. your hands go to his hair, feeling him licking and sucking you. your legs spread open, as he dives into your pussy with heavy breath.

he detaches from your pussy and sits up on the bed. his hands seek yours and climb you on his lap without difficulty due to your muscles still stiff, body feeling lightweight. he kisses your neck and lips. hands disappearing under your skirt sensing his fingers testing your ass, sliding his index finger along the length, until finding your hole, inserting his digit with a quick move. your body stutter as the warm feeling embraces you, starting to wiggle while his finger fucks you. it's a new feeling for you, arching your back due to the strange pleasure that hits you. starting to grind against his lap. his free hand goes to your back, unfastening your bra. his thumb rubs circles in your nipple while his mouth wraps the other one, sucking gently.

he stops his fingers while lifting you with one arm enough to pull down his pants. “are you gonna be a good girl and ride this dick? mmm.” you nod effusively. he releases his length and it hit your leg, twitching. your hands go to your skirt, but he stops you, “leave it on, you look cute.” glancing at his bulge you think that it must hurt him. so you don't waste time after he puts a condom in, taking it on your hands and plunging it inside, already craving it. a sweet burn embraces your pussy due to his thickness. stretching you out. adjusting and wriggling on his length. jeno lets out a rasping grunt before he makes you bounce on his lap. pounding into his dick, your vision fades to black, sensing the waves of pleasure washing you. your breathy moans and soft whines mixing with his guttural sounds. kissing his lips, grinding against him. awakening all your nerve endings.

you contract your walls feeling his dick twitch, before pushing it deeper, the dizziness clouding your senses as you go up and down, constantly hitting your core, almost seeing stars. “fuck, i'm gonna cum.” his raspy voice warns. you go faster and harder, riding him to his climax. feeling his dick, pulsating against your walls, you grind him, rocking your hips back and forth, feeling his cock still hard. your moves becoming sloppy the more you approach your orgasm, finally exploding and throbbing around his length.

you pant, exhausted. feeling mind blurry and body buzzing on top of him.

“sit on my face,” he hisses, lifting you up with ease. his body rests on the mattress as you climb to his chest, hands holding you for support before you sit down on his face. nose rubbing your clit.

you let out a little moan before you start moving. his hands holding your thighs tightly while you rock your hips into his face. tongue licking along your folds, nose stroking your clit, grinding against him, mixing your juices with his saliva. his warm breath hitting your core sweetly while he mumbles “taste so good.” speeding your moves as the knot in your stomach tightens. quivering and crying out because his tongue feels so good, before releasing your extasis in his mouth. your orgasm washes you over, dissolving in shockwaves.

you stroke his hair while he force you to rock your hips along his mouth. feeling so satisfied it hurts. “s-too much...” you cry, trying to stop him from moving you, but he's stronger, so it doesn't happen. “go on, darling, a little more.” he mutters into your core, sending shivers through your body due to the sensation. you swallow, deeply. “let me... i want to taste you too, ” you confess, fluttering your eyes because of how sensitive you were.

you hop off his body and drop your knees in front of him.

holding his cock in your hands, starting to move them up and down. he's already hard. you strike your tongue along his length, hearing his throaty breathing. “put it in your mouth, yeah?” he urges you. your warm mouth receives his cock with pleasure. sucking gently and watching him stare at you while you do it. tongue going to the underside of his shaft before returning to the tip, swollen and red. inserting it with ease until it hits the back of your throat. “you're taking it so well,” he says, breathy. you hum with his cock still in your mouth, causing him to swear. watching him so needy and agitated for you. oh, you wish you were the only one who could see him like that. his cock feeling so good, his tip resting on your tongue as you stroke him. feeling his flavourful seed spilling in your mouth before you swallow it.

you get up from the ground wiping the corner of your lips, staring at him, seeking his approval. “have i done it right?” you wonder. his hand caressed your cheek before sliding into your mouth. “mmm,” he grants. he taste himself on your lips.

“now, all fours on the bed. i'd like to destroy you a few times more.” strocking his length.

you feel him settle behind you, and you don't have time to get ready when his cock buries inside with a hard move. body propelled forward. his hands hold you in place before he starts to smack his hips against yours, pounding at a slow and hard pace, making you feel demolished. gasping with each thrust, your body collapses between the sheets, before he uses his strength to make you arch your back. mumbling and babbling like a fool, brainwashed by the way he's fucking you. your whole body shivering due to the overwhelming feeling of his cock sliding in and out of your abused pussy. “fu-uck.” biting your lips and rolling your eyes to the back of your head, spinning. your pulsing walls wrapping him tight while he curses a lot.

a few more thrusts are done before you release yourself around him. your limbs numbing with a white feeling. mouth part open letting out incoherent words, mind going blank. you feel his grip on your legs, turning you around, now facing him. “want to stop?” he asks, hovering over you and leaving kisses on your neck and chest. his eyes meeting your eyes, watching you smile languidly shaking your head. he smiles before he pulls in. “good girl.”

#nct smut #nct dream smut #lee jeno smut #jeno smut #♡jeno #jeno drabbles

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d1sc0-1nfern0 · 22 days

Text

Wild theory just hang on with me for a minute :

Fable already killed Ven once.

Think about it :

1. Ven is the same age as he was when he conveniently dropped off the face of the earth and STILL has no memories of the time between the war and his sudden appearance in s2.

2. Wolf at least has an explanation why he's younger than he should be (was dog). And everyone else clearly aged normally during the resets (Athena aged normally for their species and the World sisters don't age). So what happened to Ven?

3. The last correspondence we have from Ven clearly states that his life is in danger, that Fable is going to kill them very very soon.

4. Fable has revived Icarus many, many times using "As It Is."

Theory: Fable killed Ven a long time ago, and revived him like he did Icarus. Thanks to Ven's memory issues, they wouldn't remember their death and would thus still be loyal and incredibly helpful for when Fable got out (which he intended to do that reset.)

I think he'd have zero qualms about doing it again, too, if he wasn't already desperate for allies. Maybe he still will if he's enough of an idiot (he is).

#fable smp #fsmp #fsmpblr #c!ven fable #fable theory #brain went brr on Sunday and I just remembered it now

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dancingbabya-notes · 1 year

Text

Your scars are beautiful

<-•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•->

Everyone gains scars; it's a part of life, no one is immune to that. From small ones that are barely noticeable to ones that signify or are a reminder of a very strong memory. A badge of honor, a reminder of a mistake, luck that no one else was harmed, or a bad memory. (PS the only reason I wrote this is because the most recent chapters I've read are rotting my brain and I sometimes think a little too hard about my own scars)

Characters: Todoroki, Mirio, Midoriya, Amajiki, Bakugo, Kirishima, Kaminari, Shinso, Shoji

Spoiler warning: there are spoilers for the bnha/MHA manga in Shoji’s part so if you don’t want that please don’t bother reading.

Tw: trauma, mention of falling from extreme heights, mentions of child abuse, mentions of abuse, mention of self harm,

<-•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•->

Todoroki

Sometimes you would walk into your shared room with Shoto, he looks at his face so intently in the mirror. But trying to imagine him without the burn scar on his face was difficult. That was your only image of him since school. Today he seemed to be intently picking at the skin around the old scar.

Walking up behind him you put his hands down so they sat in his lap as you hug him tightly. “Sho, Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He states, his low voice not expressing much emotion but for some reason you just knew.

“Do you wanna touch my scar?” You ask, he blinked.

You were very protective of your own scars, it wasn’t because it was an old scar. It wasn’t because of anything sad, it was because you went too far. Like Icarus you flew too close to the sun and lost your wings. When it happened you remember him reaching for you and the pain in his eyes.

“Are you sure, my love?” He looks at you in the mirror.

“Of course, you always tell me you find comfort when I touch your scar,” you smile.

“No,” he shakes his head, his hand sitting comfortably in yours. “Just sitting with me right now is fine.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“It’s an old story.”

“That doesn’t mean it can stir new feelings,” you offer, giving him a slight squeeze.

Shoto thinks for a moment, mouth opening and closing a few times as time seemed to stretch before he found the right words. “I know now…why my mother felt the way she did. But I can’t… help but feel I had been too hasty in forgiving her. Or… that I’m wrong for not forgiving… my father.”

You try to think of a good thing to say but you weren’t sure if your words would bring him solace or pester the pain more. “I think you need to talk to them again. While it may open old bleeding wounds I feel telling them how you’re feeling might help. If you want I can sit with you when you do?”

“No, I feel it will only cause me unnecessary pain,” he sighs.

“But emotional pain can come up later,” you mumble then to realize. “Sho, are you worried that we will be bad parents to our children?”

“Yes,” he pulls on your hand a bit, stretching it a bit beyond to position that was slowly making pins and needles prick at your skin.

“No one’s perfect, but all we can do is try our best and make up for the mistakes we make. If you want when we start a family we can go to counseling,” you suggest. “That way we can get a second option, you might also get some closure with the pain you feel regarding your parents.”

Shoto pulls you around to face him, kind of sitting his lap but with his arms around you instead of you’re around him. You smile as he buries his face into your hoodie.

“You always seem to know what to say my love.”

Kirishima

“Babe?”

Flinching you quickly roll your pant leg back down. It was moments like these where you wish the mirror didn’t make you feel so small.

“There you are,” Eijiro smiles as he pulls you into a hug. “I thought you were asleep or something.”

“I was just antsy,” you mumble. “Sorry I should have said I was in here.”

He looks at you and he can tell. “Your scars are making you anxious, aren’t they?”

You nod.

He starts peppering your face in kisses. “It’s not your fault, it wasn’t something we could help. Nurse didn’t know.”

Nurse. Without her you didn’t want to know what would have happened to you. Your hero career would have ended that day. Even the short month to recuperate wasn’t enough time, you still had nightmares, waking up screaming, and the phantom pains. The reminder was the scars. Why couldn’t you move past this?

“I know.”

Eijiro picks you up and sits on the bed with you in his arms. He kissed your face, but you could tell where he was kissing. He had a purpose. Your body was littered with scars, the proof of your life and the things you’ve dealt with. The thin one just above your eye was from when your brother spent a day drawing portals through the house and you had fallen through one out into the tree. The smooth one by your ear from a surgery that had been found to be unnecessary: the hospital had mixed up your chart with another child patient, your mom was not enthused.

The one under your eye from when you accidentally cut your face, having thought you put the exact blade down, you were lucky you didn’t get your eye. He brings your hands up and he kisses your fingers, the paper thin cuts you’d gotten from learning how to cook and other craft related accidents. A small giggle escapes as he looks you in the eye for a moment.

“You don’t have to do this,” you smile.

“But I want to.”

With each kiss you were reminded of the origin of the scar. Your left hand: a wet rock from the river by the summer house. Your right wrist: the bracelet you wore during a spontaneous rescue during second year. Your shoulders: the burns from an old mission. Your stomach: an inconsolable attacker. Every memory was fine until he kissed your legs. The perfect lined scars that cut straight accords your knees.

Your breath shook a bit as the tears started. You were so scared. Plenty of other times you’d been scared but when you couldn’t feel your feet or toes, or even just the pain, were the most terrifying two minutes of your life.

His hands touched the scar and you flinched. “I know that I’m lucky. So many people pity me now.”

“Who cares what they feel about your scars,” your boyfriend pulls you back into his lap, peppering the top of your head and your forehead with kisses. “What matters is you are here, you are safe, and the pain you feel will disappear. It will fade into a bad memory.”

“I know. But what if-

“Y/n, if anything had happened we would have figured it out. Okay?”

You nod. “Thank you Eiji.”

Midoriya

When you see Midoriya’s scars, the ones on his hands, his arms, anywhere you wonder, would it have been better if you realized and accepted your second quirk sooner. You had grown used to using the regenerative ability given to you by the monster that forced your creation. Body torn to shreds over and over again, everyone always talked about how lucky you were. But were you?

You could lose a finger and if you consume enough toxins you could grow it back without worry. Your body showed no signs of scarring, well not visible at first glance. You had one scar. It was small and you just knew it was a part of you now.

“Cookie? Is there something on me? Don’t tell me there’s another water-

“No, you’re fine.” You shake your head and you smile looking at your boyfriend. “Have I ever mentioned that you’re beautiful?”

Midoriya didn’t seem to know what to say, his jaw hung open as he quickly covered his mouth and turned away. You chuckle slowly breaking into a laugh as he blushes so hard you could see it on his back from his shoulders.

“Cookie,” he whines and you slowly try to catch your breath.

Standing up you smile before taking his hand and kissing the first scar you’d ever seen on him. “It’s true. I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

You weren’t sure what it was but he pulled you close to him before kissing the top of your left ear. Which made you embarrassed, the only imperfection you had. A slight notch in the top of your ear. Like someone had cut a slice of it out. At the time you must have been no older than three or four, the faint memory of pain and then it ending.

“I think you are far more beautiful than I am,” he smiles before you push him away.

“Put on a fucking shirt,” you scold.

Mirio

“Sunshine, are you okay you’re shaking?”

Putting the pot down you think. “I’m fine though. Huh?”

Turning your. Hands over and over you did notice a slight shake, but that was normal right? Frowning it was odd when old memories would be triggered.

“Ah, I know what’s wrong.” You chuckle nervously. “I remembered when my mom had a hard time moving the pot to the table because she didn’t want us to burn our hands on the plates.”

Mirio was a bit confused. “Why did you think about that?”

You flex your wings and shift the feathers to the side a bit to show the one spot where only short feathers grew, it didn’t impair your flying and you were surprised you could even fly at this age. “She dropped the pot, my dad was so angry he hit her and got me in the crossfire.”

Though you had a light hearted smile on your face Mirio frowns. “I’m sorry to hear that Sunshine.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “If I hadn’t witnessed that I’m sure you and I would have never met. Don’t apologize, it made me think that I hope my mom is in a better place, and I will be very very careful who I marry if I ever do.”

Mirio had thought much about how you’d grown up, it was partially because you never talked about it. He didn’t want to pry usually but he did want to know as much as you were comfortable sharing.

“How do you feel about scars anyway?” You ask.

“They’re proof we live,” he smiles before brushing his hand against your feathers.

You shriek, pulling away quickly and stumbling forward. Groaning you clutch your side, having effectively slammed your entire weight into the corner of the counter.

“A warning,” you gasp. “Please, my feathers are sensitive.”

“R-right.”

Shaking your head you start laughing only to be paused from the pain shooting up your body.

Amajiki

Your partner watches intently as you work. He always did this, because he said it made him feel better. Watching you work when he had nothing to do. Somewhere along the way of learning you had been given the task to create new things for uniform fabrics. He remembered how when you both met and you made him something only for him to learn how your quirk actually worked.

Your blood infused with fabrics could change them drastically. A fabric that couldn’t be cut with most known blades unless you bled on it. A super stretchy fabric that didn’t wear easily if at all, water resistant fabric, changing a fabric to be flame retardant. Your quirk was virtually limitless if you had drawn enough blood.

“Tamaki? You’re staring pretty hard right now, did I mess up the pattern somewhere?” You pause a bit confused as you look over the piece.

Chuckling a big he shakes his head. “I just thought you looked beautiful.”

Okay now you messed up, quickly switching off the machine you felt yourself gradually melt to the floor. “What did I do to deserve someone as kind as you?”

“N-no I’m the lucky one,” he argues.

“I’m not beautiful and you know that, all these scars from trying to figure out how to use my quirk.” You laugh jokingly.

But Tamaki grabs your hands tightly. “You are beautiful, scars and all.”

You couldn’t help but smile, it was a stupid smile that one only makes when they’re drunk on love. “You’re beautiful too Tamaki. As beautiful as the moon.”

His face quickly reddens, but he did have enough sense to pick you up off the floor. Your work space was a workplace hazard in more ways than one.

“Don’t ever say your scars aren’t beautiful, without your abilities some many more people would be in danger,” he huffs, his ears burning from his embarrassment from your earlier comment.

“Mm, I’ll try.”

Bakugo

Katsuki hardly cared about his scars. He took care of his body and as long as he could do his job as a hero who cared what he looked like. But usually he’d skim over his scars when getting changed and a recent exchange made him angry seeing his scars.

You were working like usual, heroes were still plentiful but the job was safe. Your hero costume featured a mask to shield your face from others. Only he and a few trusted people ever saw your face without the mask. So during the recent publicity event when someone chastised and scolded you for your scar Katsuki had to be held back.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” you had said, but you still cried yourself to sleep in his arms.

It was a scar that left you permanently inhibited, taking one eye with it. After all the healing you’d gone through and everything one person’s comment could still bring you down.

“Tsuki? Are you okay?” You ask, crossing your arms.

He scoffs. “I’m fine.”

“Tomorrow is the gala right?”

“Mm.”

“Would you be mad if I said I’d rather stay home?”

Why? He didn’t want to go, you didn’t, might as well.

“Then we don’t have to go.” He shakes the wrinkles out of his shirt before folding it.

You pause. “What?”

“I didn’t stutter.”

“I never said you did, are you sure we can just-

Katsuki stops folding the clothes and faces you. “I’m tired, so are you. Plus, you need a break from your mask. Whose fucking idea was it for it to be so tight to your face? Can’t even fucking breathe properly in that damn thing.”

You blink. “Wait, do you think I’m upset about what that person said?”

He narrows his eyes.

“Katsuki, seriously? I’ve had this scar since I was like five. Sure as shit ain’t pretty, but someone who doesn’t matter to me isn’t gonna make me upset.” You laugh. “If this hadn’t happened to me I would have never learned how to feel around for water and sense things with it.”

He smirks, pulling you into a hug. “Damn right. But we’re still not going to the gala.”

“Don’t wanna wear a tie?”

He didn’t answer you.

Kaminari

When you got married to Denki the first thing he did was make you cry. Because for some reason that was shut what he did. At your wedding in front of all your friends. Were you drunk? No. Had it been a long day? Yes. But somehow it was even more memorable.

Instead of a traditional or western “wedding” you both decided a small get together for family and friends would be so much better, on the condition your parents even showed up. As you looked at the scar that you both shared across your arms you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What are you looking at bumblebee?” He asked and his voice seemed to fall. “Oh.”

For Kaminari it held a different meaning. You were always so careful, it came with the territory of being a support item creator especially with a quirk like yours. Telekinesis could be powerful and used in many different ways but you used it both as a crutch and a tool to protect yourself. So when he saw that his mistake blemished your skin he thought “I just vowed to protect her and got her hurt.”

“I feel like it’s beautiful. Luckily Yoko could heal it up,” you smile brushing your fingers on your own scar.

“I’m sorry.”

You frown. “I like this scar. It’s not the first one I’ve ever gotten but it’s ours.”

“I didn’t know that knives could split like that if the wrong pressure is placed on it.” He mumbles.

“It’ll be a good teaching moment for when this one gets older.” You coo brushing the hair from the child’s eye. “I’m sure Teru will think it’s funny how his parents share a scar. Though I think the story of how we met will top that.”

“I guess you’re right. But I’m still sorry,” Kaminari pouts.

“You have more than made up for it, my overpowered pikachu.” You grab him by the face and squeeze it a bit before kissing him.

“Do you think Teru will get scars?”

“As he gets older yeah,” you nod, looking at the baby again.

“You’re happy with me right y/n?” Denki squeezes your scarred hand with his own.

“Of course I am. Accidental exploding knife and all. I think that made our wedding more memorable for me,” you chuckle. “I feel like it was my fault.”

“No, you can’t do anything wrong.”

Shinso

You smile as you finish giving the kitten a bath. Fostering the stray cats so they could be taken care of or at least fixed was probably one of the few things you were glad your house could accommodate. Which made you think about the first time things like this happened. Trying to help a stray dog which resulted in a nasty bite as a child. But regardless you got the dog to safety. Your mom wasn’t all that happy about the bite.

“Hey puddin,” you smile as the older cat rubs against your face. “You know where to leave your gifts. Hitoshi will be coming over tonight.”

You giggle thinking about the first time you met him. Helping out at your parents' rescue center Shinso Hitoshi came in with his arms and face bleeding as the cat tried to free itself of his hold. You damn near panicked because of it. Even laughing with him as you patched him up.

“Look we match.” He joked showing his own bite mark wound.

As he walked in you held the now dry kitten, purring snatched the kitten from you and started taking care of it herself.

“Okay mama, looks like my job is done.” You roll your eyes about to wash your hands.

“Was there any trouble?” Hitoshi asks puttting the groceries down.

“No, I just thought about how I met you.” You hum.

Hitoshi thinks for a moment and nods. “Oh, well I’m glad we match. Doing stuff like this would be hard otherwise.”

You look at the scars you both bear, if not for these you might never have met your best friend.

Shoji

When you met Shoji you had never expected it to be through your quirk. The ability to walk through people’s dreams and exist in that separate space. He’s much taller than you so even if your eyes weren’t glued to the floor you wouldn’t have usually made eye contact with him. Once you spent more time with him you had wondered about the mask why he wore it, but in fear of prying you kept your questions to yourself.

You’d always lived in the city you read about the way heteromorphs were treated in rural areas so seeing it first hand through a nightmare of his. Made you hurt. People who thought they were better than others hurt innocent people, it made you angry. But as he lays in your lap sleeping after a long day of hero work you keep your tears at bay.

“Why is this coming to mind now?” You mumble.

Shoji stirs in his sleep, and you bring your hand to his hair, rubbing his head much like how he did for you when you apologized for your inability to control your own quirk. His scars weren’t what made him, and you were glad at least he could come to terms with it. But the people who cared for him— like you. Will probably always feel pain. Leaning down, you kiss him and he chuckles.

“Are you crying again?”

You sniffle trying to make your voice normal. “No.”

“It’s in the past, things are slow to go but there’s been change since we were in school.” Shoji yawns a bit before sitting up. “Aside from thinking about the past, what are you thinking?”

“How beautiful you are,” you hum, stretching up a bit you cradle his face in your free hand. “Because it takes a lot to be this beautiful.”

He kisses the inside of your hand. “Only you say things like this.”

“And you know that I mean them. Just hold me back after counting to three if anyone dares say anything.” You clock your tongue.

“Hmm, I’ll give you five seconds.”

“Truly kind indeed to couple with your beauty,” you giggle, bowing your head a bit. “I am not worthy.”

But he didn’t laugh this time, instead he pulled you into his lap and just held you there. He does take your cup away from you.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be drinking coffee after five, stardust?” He frowns at the liquid and you avert your gaze.

“It’s decaf.” You lie.

He smells the cup and puts it on the coffee table before locking you in his hold. “I believe that’s enough ‘not coffee’ for one evening.”

Leaning back on his chest and looking up at him you still smile. “While your scars come from a bad memory I hope since they’ve healed you have a million more to make the bad seem insignificant. Plus I meant it when I said you’re beautiful.”

It was his turn to hold your face in one of his hands. “I know stardust. I know.”

628 notes · View notes

kaiapaia · 8 months

Text

the choice of hercules

Pairing: Mainly Gojo/Reader, hints of Geto/Reader

WC: 6,361 (I have no explanation for myself)

Content Warnings: This does contain NSFT smut. There are no pronouns for the reader, but they are described to have breasts and a vagina during the smut. The reader is also hinted at losing their virginity during the smut. There are also themes of yandere behavior from both Geto and Gojo, but it gets pretty overt towards the end.

This is a part 2 of my piece The Fall of Icarus, that I wrote for @strawberrystepmom 's It Takes a Galaxy collab. You can find part 1 here. I do recommend reading it, as there will be lore and references in this that won't make sense if you haven't read part 1.

Speaking of lore, I really do play fast and loose with the canon for both Star Wars and JJK in this one, so I would not recommend reading this if you're looking for accuracy from either series.

Once again, thank you to the marvellous Miss Kendall for hosting such a fun collab, and encouraging me to take this from an outline to an actual finished piece. It really is an honor to participate in a collab with and hosted by such amazing and talented authors.

Minors and ageless blogs, DNI. If you don’t have an age in your bio or pinned I will block you.

In the darkest hours of the night, during the increasingly frequent evenings when sleep eludes you, you find yourself silently wishing that you had the strength to walk away. You can picture it; the weight of your saber leaving your hand as you surrender it to the masters, and the weight that would leave your shoulders as you walk away from the Temple for the last time.

Those thoughts fade like frost in the warmth of the morning light. You take your time getting dressed, making sure that every layer sits perfectly. When you look in the mirror, you wonder who you would be without the armor of your robes and the title of Knight. You are willing to concede that the Order is not perfect, but for all its flaws it is your home and the only family you have ever known. The thought is a comfort in the wake of the despair of the night, and you know in your heart that no matter how deep the despair gets you will not walk away.

Perhaps this is the attachment you have been warned about since you were a small child- the feeling of craving a home and the security that comes with it that you would do anything to keep it. You wonder if it makes you loyal, or just greedy. You reflexively reach for your comlink, preoccupied with the question you want to ask Geto.

Then you remember Geto left, and you let your arm fall limply to your side.

You reach up to the phantom space where your pendant used to rest, the memories of your last meeting with Geto playing in your mind. Part of you wonders what would have happened, if you had taken the offer he had laid so temptingly before you.

The details of Geto’s fall have become a closely guarded secret. Those files have a high enough security clearance that even you can’t access them. Gojo, who will normally tell you anything, just smiled when you asked and ruffled your hair, telling you not to worry your pretty little head. All you were told is that Geto was responsible for the death of an entire village, and you only have the confusing images left by your Force premonition to go on.

You know something happened. Your premonition confirmed that much, and was further strengthened by the state Geto had been in when you saw him in that alley. The dark side leaves a mark on those who come into contact with it. You are still haunted by the sight of his eyes, glowing gold in the dark shadows of the alley.

The only information that you’ve been able to glean in the months since is that Geto has been sighted with two young girls, and you’ve heard rumors that he’s started some sort of cult somewhere in the Outer Rim. For a moment you entertain the thought of getting in your ship and setting out to find him, but you are pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a knock at the door. You glance at the clock on your desk and realize that you’ve missed breakfast; someone must have come looking for you. You know it’s not Gojo, he would have just let himself in. You take a moment to recenter yourself, soothing your roiling emotions with the Force, then go to open the door.

A young man with dark hair and white robes stands on the other side. You recognize him as Gojo’s new Padawan, and a new recruit to the Jedi. He had been discovered only a few months ago, and the overwhelming strength of his power made him dangerous to leave alone. Gojo had volunteered to take the young man under his wing and train him, much to the chagrin of the Council, but that was to be expected from Gojo.

Yuuta pulls his hand back from where he had been about to knock again. “Ah, good morning! You weren’t at breakfast, so Master Gojo wanted to check on you- he would have come himself, but he was summoned to the Council, so he sent me instead,” he says, smiling and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Good morning to you too, Yuuta. I’m sorry you had to come all this way. I merely lost track of time thinking about a case,” You pat him gently on the shoulder and move to step past him into the hallway. “Since I lost track of time, I’m afraid I’m late for my duties. Excuse me.”

Before you can move past him, he grabs your wrist to stop you. “Master Gojo told me you’d say that. He also gave me specific instructions to make sure you went to the kitchens first and got something to eat before you go to the archives.”

“Ah, that does sound like him,” you smile ruefully and gently pull your wrist out of Yuuta’s hold. “Well Yuuta, would you like to accompany me? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about our upcoming trip, and this is as good a time as any. I’m sure you must have questions.”

He brightens and falls into step alongside you. “I do have some that I’ve been hoping to ask before we leave. What is Dantooine like?”

“The planet is mostly grasslands, so the view from the enclave there is like looking out onto a moving sea of green. The window from my old room there faced the sunrise, so I used to wake up before dawn to watch the sun come up and turn the clouds pink and the grasses gold,” you smile wistfully. “You can also see the brith playing in the clouds, and if you’re quiet you can get close and watch the piket graze the tops of the trees.”

“Oh, one thing you should be wary of when we go,” you turn to Yuuta. “The kath hounds on Dantooine are dangerous, and easily provoked. If you run into one, do not underestimate it.”

He looks at you, puzzled. “I thought I was just going to study at the archives there?”

“You grew up in the underbelly here on Coruscant, didn’t you?” When he nods, looking confused, you explain. “It’s important for Jedi to explore many different types of environments, and Dantooine is about as different from Coruscant as you can get. The planet is peaceful, without the pollution and constant noise, but it can be just as dangerous. Part of your training while we’re there will be learning how to navigate an environment that is unfamiliar.”

When his pale face gets even paler, you reach out and reassure him, both physically and through the Force. “Don’t worry, Yuuta. You won’t be alone while you’re doing this. I’ll be there to help, every step of the way. Think of it as a part research trip, part camping trip.”

Some color returns to his cheeks, and you see him unclench one hand from the sleeve of his robe. “Ah, that’s good. Master Gojo likes to ‘let me figure things out for myself’, and I usually learn something, but I also usually end up seeing Master Shoko at the end of it.”

Yuuta’s comlink buzzes. “Oh stars, I’m late for sparring. Maki’s gonna kill me,” he mutters to himself, reading the message.

You shoo him off with a gesture. “Go, go. I’m sorry for keeping you. I’ll see you in a few days when we leave.”

“Thank you!” he gives you a quick bow and turns to run down the hallway.

“Good luck!” you call out after him. You watch him run for a moment, before turning back to your current mission of getting something to eat. The halls are quiet, with the comforting sounds of running water, murmuring voices from the classrooms, and the distant sounds of saber blades crashing providing a backdrop to your walk.

You are startled out of your reverie by a voice.

“It’s good to see you smiling again,” Gojo looms from the shadow of a nearby pillar, looking uncharacteristically serious.

“I smile all the time,” you cross your arms defensively, watching Gojo warily as he approaches. Slowly, he walks you backwards, until you hit the smooth stone of a pillar. He plants a big hand on the pillar next to your head, while the other comes up to cup your chin, one thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip.

“Those aren’t real,” he says dismissively. “I missed seeing your smile actually reach your eyes. What were you and my darling apprentice talking about that made you so happy, hmm?”

You know he probably heard you, but you decide to indulge him in whatever game he seems interested in playing today. “He asked me about Dantooine. You know, the trip you asked me to take him on in a few days?”

“Do you miss it that much? That just talking about it makes you glow like this?” he swipes a thumb over the ridge of your cheekbone. His eyes are covered by his blindfold right now, but you can still feel them on you, following every movement of your face.

“It was my first home, Gojo. Of course I miss it,” you uncross your arms and make a conscious effort to relax. “My duties have kept me away for a long time, so it’ll be nice to go back, even if it is only for a few days.”

Reaching out with the Force, you try to get a read on Gojo. He’s closed off at first, but when you make contact he opens himself up to you, just a bit. You get a taste of an anxiety so potent it makes your stomach churn, and the pieces click into place for you.

The last time one of his friends had left on a mission, they didn’t come back.

Sighing, you reach up and thread your fingers through his silky white hair. You scratch gently at the nape of his neck, in the way that makes him practically purr when he seeks you out and throws himself down into your lap, demanding your attention after he gets back from a long mission.

“I know where my duty is, Gojo. It’s just a few days, and then I’ll be back.”

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I promise. I’ll make sure your Padawan comes back in one piece too,” you try a joke, attempting to lift the mood a little, but Gojo ignores it. He folds himself down even further, wrapping his arms around you and tucking his head into the crook of your neck. You feel more than hear him whisper something as he tightens his arms around you.

You let him stay like that, his tall body folded down to wrap around your smaller one. It’s only when you hear the approaching voices of other Jedi that you begin to untangle yourself from him, pulling your fingers from his hair and pushing at him gently to try and persuade him to let go. He tightens his grip in response, and you swat at the back of his head.

“Gojo! What if they see us?” you hiss at him, pushing more insistently.

“Would that be so bad?” he pulls back a little, just far enough to see your face.

“This is crossing a line and you know it. It would risk both of our positions if someone saw.”

He finally pulls away from you, and the small window he’d opened for you in the Force shuts abruptly. He steps back, putting an appropriate amount of distance between you two, and reaches out to ruffle your hair. “Take care of yourself, starlight,” he says as he walks away, giving you a cheerful two fingered salute as the other Jedi come into view.

You watch him leave for a moment, waiting until he turns a corner before you continue on your way to the kitchens. Your mind is racing, replaying the interaction in your head. It’s not out of the ordinary for Gojo to do this, but it is strange for him to be so clingy out where you could get caught. Normally he seeks you out either early in the morning or late at night, finding you in either your quarters or your small office in the archives, where he occupies as much of your personal space as he can and demands your attention for however much time he can hide away from his responsibilities.

Your mind keeps circling back to the words he whispered into the crook of your neck: “If you don’t come back, I swear I’ll find you.” He’d left the door to his emotions open, but you didn’t need to look to know he’d been talking about you, and also Geto. His regret for not being able to save his best friend in time haunted his steps as closely as his own shadow.

You could feel your own regret begin to creep closer, and you shook yourself physically and mentally. You’d spent enough time thinking about loss and regret today. You grabbed a quick meal from the kitchens and made it to your office, throwing yourself into your work.

That seemed to set the pattern for the week. Yuuta started seeking you out on his own, asking questions about the history of the Jedi enclave on Dantooine, and about the history of the Order in general. It seemed Gojo had taken a very hands on and practical approach to Yuuta’s training; his lightsaber forms and piloting skills had progressed far beyond anyone’s expectations. However, his education was a bit lacking, and you were happy to fill in the gaps and provide the young Padawan with anything he desired, whether it was information, guidance on Force techniques, or simply a quiet place to meditate.

Gojo also began seeking you out more often, pulling you into dark corners just to hold you for a moment in between his meetings and assignments. He laughed off your questions, simply saying that he just wanted to spend time with you before you left. Even though he was demanding your attention in riskier and riskier places, and you knew he was hiding something, you found yourself unable to say no to him. Physical contact was rare amongst the Jedi, touch limited to a friendly hand on the shoulder or a brief touch in passing.

There were moments that you found yourself craving the warmth of Gojo’s touch, the way the world narrowed to just the space of his arms. The more he touched you, the hungrier you felt- you knew you were walking a dangerous line but couldn’t find it in yourself to stop. You reasoned with yourself that it would just be for this week, you’d both get it out of your systems, and then things would go back to normal after you returned from Dantooine. So you let yourself indulge, ignoring the specter of Geto’s words from the last time you’d seen him.

The night before you are set to leave for Dantooine, you wake up in a cold sweat. Your thoughts are a garbled mess, caught halfway between the waking world and dreaming. All you know is that Gojo needs you, right now. You’re still close enough to sleep that the world feels fuzzy at the edges, but you manage to throw a robe over your sleep tunic and make your way out into the dark and empty halls of the Temple. There’s no moon tonight, meaning that the halls are lit only by dim sconces, leaving you to fumble your way in the dark. You can feel Gojo’s presence drawing you in, like the crushing gravity of a black hole.

You make it to his door, tapping out a code that you know so well it’s muscle memory. The door slides open and you practically fall into the room, looking frantically for Gojo. He’s in his bed, locked in the throes of a nightmare that has him convulsing in the thin sheets of his bed. The dim lights of the hallway shine on his sweat-slicked skin, making it gleam like alabaster before the door slides shut again, leaving you in blackness. You let the pull draw you to him, catching yourself on the edge of his bed. You almost fall forward, planting a knee on the edge of the mattress and resting your hands on Gojo’s chest.

“Gojo, wake up,” you call, voice hushed but urgent. When he doesn’t respond, you push harder, shaking him as gently as you can. You open the Force connection between you two, and are rapidly overwhelmed by a deluge of images and sounds. You push through it, using your ability to try and calm the storm that is raging in Gojo’s mind. You catch some flashes of his dream before he wakes, coming to consciousness with a jerk. His eyes snap open, glowing electric blue in the darkness as he activates his powers in a self defense reflex. Your eyes meet for a second, his wide and wild as he begins to register where he is.

He reaches a shaking hand up to you, trembling fingertips tracing the curve of your jaw, the line of your neck, and the delicate wings of your collarbone left exposed by the skewed collar of your sleep tunic. “You’re here,” he breathes, the panicked fight bleeding out of his body. You don’t respond, letting him calm down and also trying to sort through the fragmented flashes of his nightmare you’d seen before he’d woken up.

Your attention is immediately drawn back to him when he sits up, a flash of movement and a blur of motion before you feel your back hit his mattress. His fingers are entwined with yours, pinning one of your hands to the pillow above your head. You can feel his other hand slip beneath your robe, the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of your sleep tunic as he runs his hand up and down your side. He leans down, and his hot breath on the sensitive skin of your neck sends a shiver down your spine.

Gojo nuzzles your neck, tracing the line of it with the tip of his nose. He’s babbling something, but his voice is low enough that even in the quiet of his room you can’t quite hear what he’s saying. He seems to realize this when you stay silent, and he drags his head from the crook of your neck. “Please, let me have you, starlight. I need to feel that you’re alive,” he begs, eyes blown so wide that the luminous blue of his eyes is pushed to a thin ring around the cavernous black of his pupils. A thought echoes in the back of your mind; this is the first time you’ve seen Gojo without his blindfold since Geto fell.

Whatever had pulled you to his room has worn off, leaving you slightly dazed but aware of where you are. You cannot blame it for the feelings welling up under your skin, threatening to burst with each brush of Gojo’s skin. You know that the Code dictates that you should push him off, go back to your room, and meditate to drive this attachment away. You move to do so, and your leg brushes up against him. He makes a punched out sound, caught somewhere in between a filthy moan and a sob. You freeze, hands on his chest.

“Don’t go,” he pleads, voice thick with an emotion you are afraid to put a name to. “Please, starlight, I need you. Let me take care of you.” He drops his head to yours and reaches for one of your hands, pressing it further against his chest. You can feel his heart pounding, racing like the engines of the speeders he loves to fly so much. “Please, stay.”

There are two thoughts at war in your mind. One is the Code, a creed you have had memorized for so long recalling the words is as easy as breathing. You know what the Code dictates, what it demands from you. From both of you. You also know what it has taken from you.

The other is the fact that you are getting a second chance at something you’ve wanted more than anything- a chance to be close to someone you love. That thought stuns you for a second. Geto was your first love, a secret that you buried deep after he fell and swore to never dig up. You’ve been scared to face your feelings for Gojo because of that. You know what your feelings are, but have hidden from them out of fear, fear that they will lead you astray from your duty, from the oath that you swore when you became a Knight.

In the face of Gojo’s desperation, you feel ready to voice those feelings. The closed door and the darkness around you makes you feel bold, finally ready to face a truth you’ve been hiding from for months now. Mind made up, you lean up, closing the scant few inches between the two of you to press your mouth to Gojo’s. He makes a broken sound, his hand moving to cradle your head as he presses closer to devour your mouth. He wastes no time pulling you as close as possible, tongue plundering your mouth.

He sinks his teeth into your bottom lip before pulling away, resting his forehead against yours. He nestles himself between your thighs, hips making small, jerky movements against you, as if he can’t control himself. “It’s been unbearable, starlight,” he moans. “To have you so close and not be able to do anything. If only you knew how often my last thoughts at night are of you. I see signs of you everywhere, and each one makes me crave you in a way I can’t endure.”

Gojo trails kisses from your lips down to your jaw, nipping at the corner of it and tugging at your earlobe with his teeth. His mouth keeps travelling down, biting and sucking at your neck. A soft moan stutters its way out of your mouth, and he shivers against you. “That’s it, starlight. Let me know how good I make you feel,” you feel his breath, cool now against the sheen of saliva on your skin. You feel him bite down, hard enough to leave a mark, just below where the collar of your robes sits against your throat. “There we go,” he murmurs, kissing the mark. “A secret for just us.”

He retreats just far enough to give you space to shed your robe and sleep tunic. He touches every inch of exposed skin, hands and mouth on you like he cannot bear to be separated from you for more than a moment. He moans low in his throat when your breasts are revealed, pushing you back down into the mattress to bury his face in the soft mounds. You moan again as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, the sound high and sweet in the quiet of his room. The vibrations against your nipple of his answering moan make you squirm against him, and you thread a hand in his hair, unsure if you’re trying to keep him close or push him away.

He releases your nipple with a pop, blowing teasingly against the spit slicked peak and laughing low in his throat when you squirm against him again. “You taste so good, starlight. I can’t think about anything else,” he moans against you. He slides a hand down, teasingly dragging his fingers down your skin to your folds, where he swipes a finger through the wetness that he finds at the apex of your thighs. He teases your clit with a finger, tracing nonsensical shapes over it until you’re panting breathlessly underneath him. He slides a finger in, and you cling to him at the sensation of him inside you. He adds a second finger, slowly working you open, moving his fingers and rubbing his thumb over your clit. You can feel something twisting in your gut, a molten heat that spreads from your center to the rest of your body.

“I wish I could do this for longer, but I need to be inside you, starlight,” he murmurs. He brings his hand, still slicked with your wetness, to his shaft. He strokes himself a few times, before lining himself up at your entrance. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes, Gojo, please,” you beg, dragging your nails gently down his back.

“Say my name,” he growls, pushing into you slowly. There’s a prick of pain as he enters you, but he reaches down to rub your clit and lets you slowly adjust. Once you open your eyes again, he grabs your hand and twines your fingers together, pressing into the pillow next to your head as he starts to move.

“S-satoru!” you cry out, arching your back at the sensation of him inside you.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, using his free hand to hike one of your legs further up on his back, opening you up to him. You can’t control the noises you’re making anymore, clinging onto him as he pounds into you. Gojo doesn’t seem to be faring much better, squeezing your hand and scattering mindless kisses wherever he can reach as he sinks into you. “Come on, cum for me starlight.” He bites at your neck, and with a twist of his thumb on your clit you find yourself coming apart at the seams. Your back arches and you clamp down on him, pulling a deep stuttering groan from his chest. You feel him twitch inside you, and as your body relaxes you feel a rush of warmth inside you. He finishes with a long moan, dropping his head to rest in the crook of your neck.

Gojo loops his arms around you and rolls over, letting you rest on his chest. You feel him press a kiss to your hair as he rubs a soothing hand up and down your spine. You move to get up, but his arms stay fixed around you. “Don’t leave,” he begs softly, his wide blue eyes staring up at you from his mussed sheets. You’ve gone this far, you decide. What’s a little further?

“Okay,” you whisper, nestling back down against his chest. He hums happily and pulls you closer, and between the gentle caress of his fingers, the warmth of his skin, and the beat of his heart you find yourself drifting back to sleep. This time, your rest is peaceful, unmarred by dreams of any kind.

You wake early, before the sun has risen. Gojo is still asleep, one arm loosely around your waist. You take in your state of undress, and spend a moment thinking about what to do next. There’s no future for the two of you together. You know this. For that to happen, you would both have to abandon your duty, and you know Gojo is as unlikely to waver in his duty as you are to walk away from yours. However, you can’t bring yourself to regret anything. Slowly, as to not disturb him, you climb out of bed and grab your clothes. You dress quietly and turn back to Gojo before you leave, coming over to stand next to his bed.

“Goodbye, Satoru,” you whisper, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Then, you walk away, shutting the door quietly behind you. You are quiet as you return to your room. There’s not much to do to prep for your trip, but you find what you can do to keep your hands and mind busy in the short time between now and your departure.

Yuuta greets you in the hangar, but seems to sense that you’re not up for conversation this morning. You finish your flight prep together, and take off a little before you’re scheduled to leave. As you leave the hangar, you see a flash of white hair on the ground. You know he’s down there, but you choose not to look, focusing on the sky above you and the stars beyond.

One hyperspace jump later, you and your temporary apprentice land in the Dantooine enclave. Once you step out of the ship, you are greeted by the familiar sights and smells of the first home you can remember. The enclave smells like sunlight on warm grass, and old parchment and ink. It feels like coming home.

You are greeted by Knights you remember from your days in the creche, and introduce Yuuta to them. They are instantly taken by the young boy’s earnest charm, and you leave them to exchange pleasantries for a moment as you walk, taking in the familiar sights. Your comlink buzzes, but you choose to ignore it.

The both of you settle into your new environment quickly. Yuuta blooms like a flower under the doting care of the older archivists who are overseeing your work for the week, and spends every moment he can outside. After the first day, you introduce him to the wonders of the sunburn ointment the archivists of the enclave make for people who spend as much time out in the sun as he has. Your comlink has been buzzing regularly since you arrived, and you’ve taken to leaving it in your quarters, trusting the enclave masters to let you know if any important messages come through for you while you’re in the archives.

Four days into your trip, the enclave gets a ping from a distress beacon deep into the plains. You volunteer to investigate, bringing Yuuta along to help him with his field experience goals. In the interest of urgency, the two of you share one of the enclave’s speeder bikes, and you track the beacon to a grove of blba trees far to the north of the enclave. You leave the speeder bike a safe distance away, and reach out with the Force to try and assess the situation. Strangely, nothing appears when you cast your net, which sends a cold feeling trickling down your spine. Making a sign to Yuuta to be quiet, you approach the grove.

The beacon is embedded in the ground, flashing and beeping in intervals. There are no bodies around it, and after further investigation, not even signs of conflict. Your feeling of dread intensifies; either this is a simple prank or a trap, and your instincts are telling you it’s the latter.

“Hello, little light,” comes a smooth, deep voice from behind you. You straighten, and turn. Geto stands behind you, dappled in light and shadow underneath one of the trees. His hair is longer, and he’s clad in unfamiliar robes. A strange saber hilt is strapped to his waist, though he makes no move to draw it. “I have been waiting for this reunion for a long time. But before we can be properly reacquainted, I must speak to your young friend here.”

Geto turns to Yuuta. “Greetings, young Padawan,” he calls from across the glade. “I am glad to finally meet you. The rumors I have heard about you are simply fascinating.”

You step in between them. “Stay back, Geto,” you warn, hand on your saber.

“I came simply to talk,” he raises his hands in a placating gesture. He looks over your shoulder, where Yuuta is watching warily. “My name is Suguru Geto, young one. My goal is to liberate those blessed by the Force in our wide universe. Those blessed with gifts like ours should have people at our beck and call, instead of being at someone else’s disposal, don’t you agree?”

“We have our gifts to defend the weak,” Yuuta recites, taking a step back.

Geto clicks his tongue. “So new to the Order, and already reciting their scripture. Think, young Padawan, how many more people would we be able to help, to save, if things were different? Don’t you wish Rika could have been saved?”

You hear Yuuta’s gasp, though he tries to hide it. “That’s enough, Geto.” You draw your saber, finger on the ignition. “Don’t make me fight you.”

Geto ignores you, continuing to look at Yuuta. “Will you join me, Yuuta Okkotsu? All I want is to make the galaxy a safer place, one where young ones like you don’t have to become soldiers, and one where girls like Rika simply get to live.”

You hear Yuuta waver. You refuse to sway his emotions- you know this is a choice he must make on his own. He takes a step forward and your heart drops for a moment, before you hear the sound of his saber leaving his belt.

“I’ve heard stories about you too, Suguru Geto,” Yuuta says, leveling his saber at the man. “I’m not sure that your vision for the galaxy is not one that Rika would have wanted to live in.”

“What a shame,” Geto shakes his head. “If you will not join me, then take a message back to your Masters. Either they bring you to Malachor within a month’s time, or I will unleash what I have learned in my time in the shadows on both this enclave and the Temple on Coruscant.”

Your blade ignites with a hiss. “That won’t happen,” you level your blade, the tip pointing steadily at Geto. “Yuuta,” you call the Padawan’s name without breaking eye contact with your former friend. “Take the bike back to the enclave. Tell the Knights there what happened.”

“I can’t leave-” Yuuta begins, but you cut him off.

“Go, Yuuta. It is my duty to protect you and the rest of the enclave. Tell them what happened, and return with reinforcements.” You feel the boy’s emotional conflict, and you use your abilities to bolster his resolve. He hesitates for another moment, before nodding and clipping his saber to his belt.

“I’ll be back for you!” he calls over his shoulder as he darts to the bike. The engine roars to life and you hear him take off over the plains.

The only sounds in the glade now is the wind rustling through the tall grass, and the hum of your lightsaber, still ignited and leveled at one whom you had once sworn never to raise a blade against.

“What a loyal dog,” Geto shakes his head. “This is not quite what I had in mind for our reunion. Though if you insist we come to blows, I will indulge you.” He unclips his strange looking saber from his belt, and the scarlet blade roars to life with a crackle. You set your feet in your stance, lifting your blade to meet his as Geto comes flying at you. There is a sizzle and crackle as the blades cross, sparks flying in your vision as you stop his swing.

You push back, using a blast of Force energy to break his guard and swing at his weak spot. He manages to leap out of the way of your blow, his robes fluttering on the wind. Your blades crash together, his scarlet saber crackling with a strange energy. It shoots off sparks that burn your hands and face, and you find yourself on your back foot, trying to guard against his powerful swings.

In an attempt to regain some ground, you take a risk and drop under one of his swings, the sparking blade flying just past the top of your head. As you stand up, you position your saber in the path of his momentum, hoping that you’ll at least be able to wound him.

Geto chuckles. In a flash, he’s caught your saber hand, twisting your sword arm off to the side as his momentum carries you both to the ground. “I taught you that move, little light. I appreciate your resolve, but I will not be felled by such a trick.”

You watch his gaze drift lower, to where the collar of your robes has loosened. “Oh, what’s this, little light?” his free hand nudges aside your collar, revealing the shadow of the mark Gojo had left on you several nights before. “Who could have left this on you, little light?”

Geto powers off the saber he has held to your throat so he has clear access to your neck. He leans down, delicately sniffing along the skin that still bears the marks from your night of passion. “It was our dear friend Satoru, wasn’t it? I can practically smell him on you,” Geto purrs. “I did tell you to indulge, I suppose. I wish you would have waited, I wanted to indulge in you first.”

“What’s your game, Geto?” you ask. You wiggle your fingers, trying to subtly get a grasp on the hilt of your saber.

He clucks his tongue at you. “Now now, none of that,” he grabs your saber and clips it to his own belt, out of your reach. “I told you my plan- I want the boy. I’ve given those fools at the Temple everything they need: a reason to doubt a boy they already fear, and now I have you. You think Satoru wouldn’t give up that little apprentice of his to get you back?” Geto strokes a hand down your neck, pressing his thumb into the healing bruise just under your collar.

“I suppose the question now is, would I give you back for one apprentice?” he muses, looking down at you. He slides his hand up, grasping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “There’s something about you that just makes me want to keep you, my plan be damned. I doubt you’d mind, you’d just be trading one pretty tower for another. Either way, you’re very important to what happens next, and I can’t have you trying anything that would only end up hurting you. So, sleep, little light. You’ll want the energy for what comes next.”

Geto’s smile is the last thing you see before your eyes close, the power of the Force command dragging you under. You feel him lifting you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin, and then the darkness takes you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #tw virginity loss #tw yandere #gojo smut #jjk smut #if you got this far mwah thank you ily #thank you for indulging my delulu #kaiawrites

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