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nightingaelic · 3 years ago

Note

Reactions to a vampire courier? Companions plus Benny, Ulysses, Graham, House, Caesar, and Yes Man. (sorry if that's too many :x)

TW: Blood (maybe obviously)

Also I don't normally feel some type of way about AUs but the idea of Joshua Graham encountering a vampire courier is giving me shivers

The courier was a little... strange. Not in any way that stood out to the average wastelander just by looking at them, everyone in the Mojave had their quirks and the courier was no exception. Hell, you get shot in the head and come back, you're bound to have a screw or two loose. They were unquestionably a night owl, but so were half the people on the Strip, who only started to wake up after the sun had gone down and the slot machines were singing their loudest. They usually had bags under their bloodshot eyes, but every caravan driver from here to the Hub was short on sleep.

On the other hand, the courier had some habits that were a little beyond surface-level eccentricities. For one, no one had ever seen them eating, not once. Even when the King laid out a spread of pre-war snacks and liquor or when the buffet at the Tops was refreshed, they politely declined and took a swig from the canteen that they never offered to anyone else. They were also rather odd about bathrooms, insisting that anyone accompanying them remain outside on watch and let no one else through the door until they were finished. But the undeniable moment of oddity came one night in October, when their companion rounded a corner in Freeside after a trip to the Atomic Wrangler and discovered the courier behind a rusted dumpster, holding a man against a brick wall with their teeth buried in his neck.

The courier drew back at the interruption, blood smeared across their face. "I'm not- it's not what- he- oh, fuck."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stared open-mouthed for a moment, before snapping violently back into the present. "Is he dead?"

"Umm..." The courier glanced at the man they were holding, whose head was lolling against the bricks. "Yes? Mostly."

With no patient to resuscitate, Arcade rounded on them. "Six, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

The courier tried to wipe away the blood that was dribbling from their chin, but they only succeeded in spreading it up their jawline. "Well, I, um, I was trying to..."

Whatever excuse they were searching for eluded them, so they dropped the pretense. "I was feeding, Arcade."

"Feeding? What, like some kind of-" Arcade's eyes widened and he cut his sentence off early in realization. "No. No way. That's not- vampires aren't real!"

That earned him a look of intense skepticism. "Arcade, we've fought off plant monsters and rattlesnake-coyote hybrids together. I have a gun in my pack that lets me teleport."

"Oh, okay, so you have some kind of iron deficiency and you're delusional." Arcade laughed, the sound high and harsh in the quiet alley. "Great. Fuck."

Craig Boone: Rather than engage in an abandoned alley, Boone immediately backtracked to a busier street. He was unsurprised when the courier didn't follow him: Even in Freeside, someone covered in blood was sure to be noticed and questioned.

Boone left town that night and made for Novac. He was pretty sure the courier would follow him, but he didn't know where else to go. At least he knew they were coming. A few people in Novac asked about where he'd been, what the courier was up to, but eventually they stopped asking.

A couple of weeks went by. Boone was on the night shift again when the door into the dinosaur swung open to reveal the courier. He'd heard someone coming, their feet on the stairs, and he already had his gun pointed in their face. "We will never work together again," he said, before they could open their mouth.

"Boone, can you just-"

"I don't want an explanation." Boone shook his head. "I don't need one. I already did you a favor, leaving New Vegas without putting you back in your grave. This is over."

The courier took a deep breath. "71."

"What?"

"71. I've killed 71 Legion soldiers and left their bodies empty under the Mojave sky." They looked down and shuffled their feet. "I've tasted their fear. They're more scared of me than the Burned Man, now."

Boone studied them. Ever so slowly, he lowered his gun.

Lily Bowen: "Put him down, dearie," Lily chastised them. "You're playing too roughly with that man. And watch your language around your grandma!"

The courier looked down at their victim, at their torn throat and limp limbs. "He tried to mug me, Lily. It wasn't pretty."

"He looks like he's had enough," Lily insisted. "Set him down. Gently."

With a sigh, the courier obliged and lowered the man to the ground. "I'm sorry, Lily. I should have told you earlier. I don't mean to be rude when I turn down your cooking, I just... I can't seem to..."

"Hush, now." Lily produced her enormous handkerchief and gathered the courier up in her arms, dabbing at the blood on their face with a corner of the cloth. "You've gotten it all over yourself, haven't you? We can clean that right up, but it looks like Grandma's going to have to do a load of laundry. You made the mess, so you get to help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul swallowed nervously, something he'd noticed he was increasingly doing around the courier. "You know, we get murciélagos down in Arizona that do the same thing. They won't leave the brahmin alone."

The courier took in his anxious stance and sighed. "Raul, I'm not going to hurt you. Prometo. It's okay."

"Sure boss, but I don't think the hair on the back of my neck is going down anytime soon." Raul smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "Or it wouldn't, if I still had any. Como..?"

"No clue." The courier shrugged and held their hands up, letting the corpse they'd been holding slide to the ground. "I think it had something to do with me surviving Benny's best attempts to do me in, but a bullet is a bullet and I don't remember if I was like this before, or..."

"Or only after." Raul chuckled. "Jesucristo, and here I am thinking I'll outlive you like most everyone else I've known."

"Yep."

"Should I start calling you el chupacabra?"

The courier grinned, a bloody smile with sharp teeth.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Fuck," Cass echoed, scrambling to pull her shotgun from its holster. "Knew I had too much, can't even- who are you and what've you done with the courier? Some kind of cannibal, wearing their skin? Alien? Shapeshifter? I'll blow a hole in your liver to match mine!"

"Whoa, Cass, it's me, it's me!" The courier dropped the man they were holding and held their blood-stained hands up. "Same old Six, just... maybe I wasn't straight with you about why I don't order anything at bars."

"Goddamn right you weren't straight with me!" Cass gestured at the body on the ground with the barrel of her gun. "Who's the fucker on the floor and why are you two pints in on him?"

"Just trying to get my drink on," the courier muttered.

Cass repaid this facetiousness with a jab of her shotgun, and they raised their hands higher. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! You tell me, how do you tactfully tell someone that you're a creature of the night and you need to drink blood to survive?"

"Creature of the night? You're fucking loopy." Cass' eyes narrowed. "There's plenty of critters in the Mojave that only come out when it's dark, but most of them don't tear into..."

She trailed off into curses when she realized she was wrong. The courier smiled hesitantly and lowered their hands an inch. "Hey. Let me chuck this failed mugger in the dumpster and we can talk about it like a pair of civilized folks?"

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica squeaked and fell back a few steps, banging her elbow against the edge of the dumpster. A jolt of confused pain shot up her arm, and the Scribe couldn't help giggling harshly at the sudden assault on her funny bone.

"Not- laughing... at murder," she managed to get out between hisses of pain. "Oh, for the love of... right, you're not getting out of explaining what you are, exactly, just because I'm indis-indisposed!"

The courier couldn't help laughing at the squirming Scribe, but they did their best to stifle it. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I um... I guess I don't really know... what I am?"

"There's books!" Veronica burst out, pointing at the courier and their victim wildly. "I've seen them, in old libraries. Creatures that feed on blood, only come out at night, don't show up in... in mirrors, of course, no wonder you're weird about bathrooms, I should test... Dracula! That's it, you're a Dracula!"

"A Dracula?" The courier held their hands up, as if seeing them anew. "Never heard of them. Are they... bad?"

"Well, traditionally, yes." Veronica made a face and rubbed her elbow. "Black cloaks, sleeping in coffins, seducing and manipulating everyone around them... and people don't like it when you take their blood, in my experience."

"Whose blood have you taken?"

"This isn't about me, Six!"

ED-E: The eyebot bobbed wildly and made noises of concern, blips and blats and a flat burst of trumpets from some old jazz tune.

"I was hungry," the courier protested. "And this asshole pulled a knife on me and wanted all of my caps. Probably more than that, if we're being honest. He wasn't doing the world any good, but he did me some, for sure."

ED-E flipped between old clips of a Silver Shroud radio show. "Well, isn't this a deep, dark <static> secret? <static> In a situation such as this, the best anyone can do is <static> try to control it!" The robot added some more concerned beeps for good measure.

"I'm trying," the courier said with a sigh, looking down at the dead man they were holding. "You know I wouldn't hurt some random person, ED-E. Not if I could help it. The Mojave's full of bad people, enough to keep me going if I'm careful."

Rex: The hair on Rex's spine stood up, and he let out a long, low growl. The courier froze for a moment, before realizing that he was growling not at them but at the man they were holding.

"He's dead, Rex," they reassured the cyberdog, lowering the corpse to the floor for inspection.

Rex sniffed the body over, taking in the copper scent of his blood and the Freeside stink on his clothes. He sniffed the courier too, each of their hands they held out to him and the thick headiness of adrenaline. He whined and wagged his tail twice.

"Good boy," the courier said, straightening up. "It's about time I turned in, anyway. Let's dump this guy and split."

Benny Gecko: Benny crossed his arms. "You know, Six, if you're dead set on getting your kicks in Freeside every now and then, you might want to ease up on the passions with the next greaser you snag. This one's torn all to pieces."

"I wasn't- what kind of-" The courier dropped the man they were holding and sputtered. "Christ, only you could make a midnight murder awkward, Benny."

"Murder?" Benny raised his eyebrows and looked from side to side theatrically. "Who said anything about a murder? All I saw was some dreamboat and the best apple butterer of New Vegas playing back alley bingo, officer."

The courier's eyes narrowed. "Not gonna rat me out? Tell the King or somebody that I'm..."

"What, taking a page out of the White Glove Society's book?" Benny held his hands up. "None of my business. Well, if you ever come for me with that look in your eyes, though, that'll be a different story."

"Not much you'd be able to do," the courier pointed out. "You already tried and failed to kill me once."

Ulysses: Rather than react like any normal wastelander might've upon encountering someone attacking a man with their teeth, Ulysses just stood there, taking the scene in. "Heard tales of a tribe like you. East, farther east than even I've walked... a coven hiding in tunnels, emerging only when their hungers grow too strong to ignore, strong enough to pull blood from the veins of the world around them."

"Well, I don't hide in tunnels." The courier grimaced and heaved their victim up over their shoulder, depositing them unceremoniously in the dumpster. "Unless some disgruntled Frumentarius sends me out to hunt mutants under Hopeville."

"Perhaps you have more in common with those predators than I assumed," Ulysses admitted. "But then, your path has always run red. Blood of the Old World, blood of the new, blood of the Bull and the Bear..."

The courier rolled their eyes as they peeled off their red-stained coat and tossed it in the dumpster as well. "Don't talk to me about blood. I know you've seen just as much as me, but it doesn't mean the same thing when I look at it."

Ulysses cracked a hint of a smile. "You see life where I see death. Two sides, courier."

"Yeah, yeah. If you're not going to try to kill me, come on. You can wax poetic and lecture me about which road I'm walking while I take a shower."

Joshua Graham: "A creature far from God," Graham said in his most reproachful tone. "Forever damned for the souls of the innocent they've taken from the earth. Aren't we a pair, courier."

"You can fuck right off with that attitude." The courier dropped the man they were holding and wiped their hands on their coat. "He tried to kill me first. For some caps."

"The crimes of others do not absolve you of your own sins, courier," Graham continued, leisurely retrieving his gun from its holster. He held it up in the muted neon light that filtered through the alley, turning the weapon this way and that. "Though I confess I am also looking for absolution in this way."

"Are you going to kill me?" the courier asked, eyeing the gun as well.

"I've no doubt it would leave this world better than when you walked it," Graham replied. "But my own opinions are not enough to seal your fate. Perhaps we should find this man's family and hear their feelings on the matter."

The courier took a step forward, then another, until their chest was right up against the pistol's muzzle, pressed against the fabric of their shirt. "Go ahead. Try."

And though Joshua Graham was sorely tempted to pull the trigger, though the courier made no move to stop him, something in their eyes... some faraway pain, older than the desert itself, fresh as the blood on the ground, stayed his hand.

He lowered the gun, chastised, and the courier walked away.

Robert House: The Securitron that bore Robert House's face on its screen leveled a minigun at the courier. "Whoa!" the courier protested, dropping their victim and putting their hands out. "Can't we talk about this?"

"And what have we to discuss?" House sounded absolutely disgusted. "I believe you're familiar with my contract with the White Glove Society. If they wish to continue their current prosperity in New Vegas, cannibalism is strictly forbidden. You are subject to the same terms and conditions, as one of my employees."

"Terms and condi- hold on, hold on, you never asked me whether I was a cannibal," the courier replied. "Are you talking about that document you had me sign, way back when I agreed to help you fight the NCR and the Legion?"

"The very same."

"How is that fair? That thing was over 200 pages long, I didn't grow up in the 21st century, I don't have a degree in... okay, okay." The courier waved their hands. "Cannibalism is a no-go. This isn't cannibalism, this is vampirism."

"Which falls under the definition of cannibalism," House replied, his annoyed tone still detectable over the sound of the minigun spinning up. "Section 3.65, subsection F. Next time, read the fine print."

Caesar: The Legion's great leader pivoted in an instant from surprise to quiet anger. "Clean yourself up, courier. I expect to see you in my quarters within the hour."

He turned and left the alley swiftly, letting his powerful stride and swinging cloak cover his shaken confidence. The people of Freeside cowered as he passed, shrinking into the shadows as he made his way back to the Strip, but the fear in their eyes was not enough to erase the image of the courier bent over in bloodlust, holding their victim in total subjugation.

The courier found him on the top floor of the Lucky 38, gazing out over the city he had conquered and named his Rome. "Leave us," Caesar bid his Praetorian Guard. They bowed and departed the room without question.

"You asked to see me," the courier said nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot. They had changed clothes, and no trace of blood remained on them.

"I did." Caesar beckoned them to the window next to him. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the lights wink below.

"I'm a well-read man, courier," Caesar said finally. "I know the legends of the Old World, and I recognize the marks of one of their nightmares in you. I order you to tell me the truth: Do you fit the full definition of the creature they called 'vampire,' or do you simply mimic the things to add to your fearsome affect?"

The courier didn't answer right away. When they did, their voice was soft. "I pretend to be nothing. I am what I am."

"And everything that comes with it?" Caesar pressed. "Darkness, the blood of the innocent, eternity?"

"Yes."

Caesar turned to face them fully. "Then I, Almighty Caesar, command you to make me as you are."

Yes Man: "Now that's a twist I didn't see coming!" Yes Man said, his happy tone only slightly tempered with uncertainty. "Boy, am I glad I don't have a circulatory system right now!"

The courier shushed the Securitron and looked around the alley surreptitiously. "Yes Man, I swear to god, if you blow my cover I'm disassembling you."

"As I've told you before, I can't technically die!" Yes Man reassured them. "And I certainly wouldn't want to endanger you and your hobbies, but my volume mixer is tied to my enthusiasm simulator and I can't adjust it! You'll just have to hope any passersby aren't interested in following my friendly voice into an alley!"

"Then go back to the Lucky 38 and we'll talk later," the courier insisted, through gritted teeth.

"I technically never left! But if you mean this Securitron, sure thing!" Yes Man zoomed away on his single wheel, whistling the whole way back to the casino where the rest of his consciousness was housed. He kept whistling as he ran probability algorithms, only pausing when the courier returned after a few hours and crossed their arms in front of his main screen.

"Hi there!" he said joyfully. "I've just been cross-checking Mr. House's records on noteworthy disappearances in the Strip, and I've flagged eight of them as potentially being connected to you! I don't want to assume your intentions, but if you don't want to be found out, I've developed a plan for choosing your next victims that will help you remain undetected in New Vegas for 184 years! Give or take a few!"

The courier put their head in their hand and sighed.

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jean-kayak · 4 years ago

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As a Greek mythology nerd, can I request hc’s of Dabi, Mirio, Kirishima, and Todoroki reacting to their black crush having a Gorgon quirk? She has locs that can turn into snakes, her quirk works when she glares at someone to turn em to stone but if she glares too long; she temporarily blinds herself so her snakes help with her senses, and she has slit eyes and a snake tongue that she jokingly hisses with at times. Sis is a bit self conscious of her quirk since people fear/discriminate mutant quirk types so she’s worried about being an embarrassment to her partner

A/N: Here you go anon, I hope you like it! Also, I made Todoroki's so long lmfao

🔵He doesn't even care about how you look

🔵And I mean like, your appearance literally doesn't bother him at all

🔵When you first met, it was late at night, and he scared you

🔵Your back was to him, so your first instinct was to activate your quirk, the snakes looking his way as you froze

🔵"Holy shit, that's pretty cool."

🔵"Who are you?" you ask defensively, keeping your back towards him

🔵"Someone who's not gonna hurt you."

🔵You scoff. "Yeah, right. One look at you and I can turn you to stone," you declare, your threat responded with a chuckle

🔵"No shit." You debate in your head if you should turn around, but if you run it could be worse for you

🔵But from his words and his demeanor, it doesn't really seem like his goal is to cause you harm

🔵You slowly turn around, your snakes turning back into hair, your eyes finally landing on him. "What do you want?"

🔵"For starters? Your number."

🔵And that's how your relationship started, mostly Dabi convincing you that there's nothing wrong with your quirk

🔵And there's nothing wrong with you, and that he will be the last person to ever judge anything about you

🔵His crush on you is pretty obvious considering the fact that he keeps popping out of nowhere, asking you different questions about your quirk and what you can do

🔵One day, he makes a joke wondering if you could make only his dick turn to stone

🔵And you give him a crazy look as you shake your head before you hiss at him softly

🔵"Did you just hiss at me?" You didn't even realize it, quickly recoiling into yourself, and he scoffs at you fondly, grabbing your hand loosely to turn your attention back towards him

🔵"Babe, I told you. I don't care, and it doesn't bother me. I like you, okay? And your quirk is awesome. I mean that."

☀️He was on patrol one day when he first met you, seeing you surrounded by a group of people cornering you towards the wall

☀️"What's going on over here?"

☀️Everyone freezes, all of them slowly turning around, and his eyebrows raise when he sees someone standing in the middle

☀️Your back is against the wall, your head down. "Well?"

☀️They don't say anything, and within the next few seconds they're quickly walking away

☀️The whole interaction confuses him, but he's more focused on you, turning his attention towards you

☀️"Are you okay?" he asks gently, and you nod quickly, glancing up at him for a split second

☀️"Yes, yeah, I am. Thanks," you tell him, finally looking up at him

☀️He freezes for a second when your eyes finally meet his, and he's captivated immediately

☀️You blink at him, and it jumps him out of his temporary trance, realizing he was just staring at you and wasn't saying anything

☀️And he clears his throat. "Um, do you need me to walk you anywhere?"

☀️You give him a soft smile as you shake your head, pointing towards your left. "No, it's okay. The building I need to get to is right there. Thank you though."

☀️He's nodding his head, telling you to have a good day before you echo him and walk away

☀️For about the next few days, he purposefully patrols the area where he met you, hoping he can run into you again

☀️When he does spot you miraculously one day, he's quickly making his way over to you, calling out before he reaches you to not scare you

☀️A small smile forms on your face as he gets to you. "I just wanted to check--oh." Your face drops when he suddenly stops, and he cringes internally when he realizes he said that out loud

☀️"I'm sorry, it's just your eyes...are different." They don't look the same as when he first ran into you, and they look like average eyes

☀️You instantly curl into yourself as you huff softly. "They're contacts. My eyes kinda freaking people out cause they're weird-"

☀️"Unique." He cuts you off instantly, and you meet his gaze again. "I really like your eyes. They're beautiful."

☀️You can't help but smile as you feel your face grow warm. "And I would really like to take you out on a date if that's okay."

🔴Thinks your quirk is the coolest thing in the world

🔴He always saw that you would shy away slightly, and he asked you why

🔴Your response was that most people think you're a freak, explaining that you've been called worse names that you wouldn't like to repeat

🔴He's taken aback, anger stirring slightly in his chest at the thought of people being mean to you, and he makes it his mission to never make you feel that way again

🔴He's always asking you questions about your quirk, nearly gushing about what you can do and how awesome it is

🔴To the point where he doesn't even realize that he's got a massive crush on you

🔴He realizes when he compliments for probably the hundredth time that day, and you give him a fond look, your eyes making his heart flutter in his chest

🔴He suddenly starts to get really nervous around you and becomes very cautious about what questions he asked because he doesn't want to weird you out

🔴You notice this like immediately because you're so used to him throwing questions at you

🔴When you ask him about it, he chuckles softly as he rubs the back of his neck

🔴"Can, uh," he trails off, his face going warm, feeling dumb now, but he's already started so he might as well finish. "I touch your hair?"

🔴You raise your eyebrows in surprise, and he starts talking before you can answer

🔴"I know it's weird, and I probably just made you really uncomfortable. But I just think it's cool that you can just make it come alive, and now it's really awkward--"

🔴You cut off his rambling with a chuckle as you step closer to him. "It's okay, Eijirou."

🔴You hold out one of your locs, and he carefully runs his fingers over it, and he jumps slightly when it slowly turns into a snake, coming to life in front of his eyes

🔴"God, you are so amazing," he breathes in awe not even realizing what he said

🔴"It's crazy how much I like you." Now that is what makes both of you freeze, and his eyes widen his mouth falling open slightly as he wishes a hole would come in and swallow him

🔴"You what?" you chuckle slightly, turning your head to face him, the snake turning back into your hair

🔴His face is crazy red, but then he thinks, what does he have to lose? "I really, really like you."

🔴And he's practically through the roof when you confess the same thing, and when you agree to go on a date with him

❄You were a barista at the cafe he always went to before he went to work, and he was immediately drawn to your eyes, and he always caught himself staring for just a beat too long whenever you would hand him his drink

❄One day he happens to catch you sitting at one of the tables, so he decided to take a chance and sit with you, starting up a conversation, and he had checked the time on his phone, realizing he was going to be late for work, but for whatever reason, he couldn't find himself to care

❄The only reason why he left was because you had to get to work, but he started making it a priority to get there early so that he could talk to you for as long as he could, and Sero actually calls him out on it, tired of having to cover for him, and that's when Todoroki tells him about you

❄He nearly rambles on for thirty minutes, telling him about how cute it was whenever you would accidentally hiss when you talked really fast or if you were talking about something that was exciting to you

❄They're halfway through patrol when Sero cuts off his list with a chuckle, making Todoroki look at him in confusion. "What's so funny?" he genuinely asks, and Sero raises an eyebrow at him

❄"Because you have a crush, Shouto. It's like clear as day." He stops for a second before noticing that he was basically a broken dam the moment Sero asked him why he had been late for the past couple of weeks

❄He feels his ears go hot as he asks, "Well, what should I do?"

❄"Other than the obvious answer, which is ask her out?" Sero tells him, and he throws out multiple questions, still overwhelmed by the conclusion as he thinks about all of the things that he likes about you

❄Sero laughs softly before giving him some advice to help boost his confidence, and Shouto finds himself outside of the cafe right at closed, knowing that you're the one who closes

❄"Oh, Todoroki. What're you doing here?" He rubs his hands on his pants as before he answers

❄"I was just wondering if I could walk you home? If that's okay with you?"

❄You smile softly as you nod, locking the door before walking down the sidewalk. The walk isn't as awkward as he thought, the conversation flowing between the two of you easily before he notices something

❄"If you don't mind me asking, why're you wearing a sweatshirt?" Even though the sun is starting to set, the humid air is still lingering, and you have to be hot

❄The question immediately changes your demeanor, and he stops walking at your reaction. "Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry if--"

❄"It's my quirk," you start. "It scares people so I cover my hair to prevent that," you admit, feeling at ease with telling him

❄You start to take off the hood, and you stop his protests, telling him that it's okay. He watches as you take a deep breath and close your eyes, and he's in a trance when he watches your locs transform into snakes right in front of his eyes

❄He doesn't respond, and you start to get worried, but then he blurts out, "Can I touch them?"

❄You almost open your eyes in surprise before you chuckle softly as you raise your hand

❄You take his hand and bring it up to the snakes, and he scoffs in amazement as one of them darts its tongue across his finger

❄"This doesn't scare you?" you ask hesitantly

❄"I wanted to ask you out," he responds bluntly, and you deactivate your quirk, opening your eyes to look at him in surprise

❄"Really?" And a soft smile appears on his face as he nods

❄"Yes," he states firmly.

❄And you smile widely. "I'd love to."

#dabi headcanons #mirio togata headcanons #kirishima eijiro headcanons #todoroki shouto headcanons #dabi x black!reader #mirio togata x black reader #kirishima eijirou x black reader #todoroki shouto x black reader #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha x black reader #bnha x black!reader

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silhouetteofacedar · 3 years ago

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Pearl, Ch. 4: Sea Legs on 7th

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

It’s only a ten minute walk from the bureau to the courthouse, but Mulder is starting to regret not insisting they drive.

Scully’s having a rough day, if her sallow face and pursed lips are any indication. She’s uncomfortably quiet.

“You alright?” Mulder asks, hovering over her as they walk.

“M’fine,” she answers, because that’s all she ever says. “Just queasy today.”

“Let me know if you need to sit down for a minute,” he says, and she bristles.

“We have an appointment to make, Mulder,” she reminds him. “We’re almost there anyway.”

Mulder’s stomach is unsteady too; not from chemotherapy, but from nerves. They’re applying for their marriage license today.

It’s happening, it’s all happening, and all he can do is shorten his steps to match Scully’s pace as they walk. She senses this and starts walking faster in response. Scully has an incredible talent for pushing Mulder away in the smallest ways possible, telegraphing with her body that she doesn’t need his help or his pity or his accommodation.

And yet they’re heading to the DC Marriage Bureau. Funny, that.

Scully’s face is clammy by the time they enter the Moultrie Courthouse.

“Hey,” Mulder says softly, drawing her aside, “Scully, you don’t look too good.”

“Thanks,” she says stiffly, digging around in her purse and pressing a tissue to her lips.

“I mean… I-I think you should go home. We can do this another time.”

She shakes her head carefully, taking a deep breath. “We’d have to walk back to the office either way, Mulder. I’ll be fine. Do you have any gum or a mint, by the way? Something I can suck on. It… it helps with the nausea sometimes.”

Mulder rummages through his jacket pocket. “Just sunflower seeds,” he admits, “And… a nickel.”

Scully holds out a hand, and he places a few seeds into her palm.

“Thank you,” she says tightly, placing the seeds in her mouth.

In sickness and in health, Mulder thinks, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Her body feels rigid beneath his hand.

They file their license request without incident or fanfare, and Scully’s stride is clipped as they head back to the office.

Halfway up 7th Street, she stops walking abruptly and steadies herself with a hand against the rough brick of a building.

“Don’t ask me if I’m fine,” she whispers before he can say anything. “Just give me a moment.”

She takes a few slow, deep breaths. “Okay,” she says huskily.

“Shall we walk? If you need to lean on me, you can,” Mulder says gently.

“Despite how I feel right now, the world isn’t actually tilting sideways,” she replies. “I can walk on my own.”

He feels like a kicked puppy trailing after her, but dammit, she’s sick and being stubborn and his heart is turning to pulp beneath her low-heeled pumps and their names are next to each other on a piece of paper a quarter mile behind.

And Dana Scully, doctor and scientist and meticulous planner, manages make it all the way into the little basement bathroom before being sick.

Sometimes Mulder waits outside the restroom for her, to hand her a cup of water and make sure she’s alright; but today she’s spiky and tense and radiating that she doesn’t want him near. So he waits in their office, loitering by the filing cabinet, flicking through folders and pretending not to worry about her.

She walks into the room a few minutes later, and Mulder takes one look at her face before dropping the act.

“Scully,” he sighs. “Please. Go home.”

She looks up at him with watery eyes. “It’s just the chemo,” she rasps.

“Dana,” Mulder says, crossing the room and clasping her shoulders. “You need to rest. I can manage alone for the afternoon, I promise. You finished your report, our license application is in, things are stable.” He changes tack, infusing his words with forced levity. “Go sleep it off, have some tea, watch shitty TV. Play hooky for me, okay?”

She’s silent, then he feels her deflate under his palms. “Fine, I’ll go,” she says hoarsely. She clears her throat. “But I’m going make arrangements with an officiant when I get home, because-”

She abandons her sentence, and Mulder drops his hands to his sides. Because time is ticking, he thinks. He can read it on her wan, pinched face.

“I’ll stop in at a jewelry store on my way home, get us some rings,” he offers, wandering behind his desk and nudging his chair awkwardly with a knee.

Scully ducks her chin in an abridged nod. “I doubt we’ll have much need to wear them outside the ceremony, so they don’t have to be anything special. Plain bands are fine.”

Mulder nods. “I’m on it. What’s, uh, what's your ring size?”

She looks up at him, blinking. “I- I don’t know,” she admits. “I’ve never had occasion to find out.”

Mulder purses his lips in thought before leaning down and opening one of his desk draws. He digs through a clutter of office supplies before finding a ball of string. “C’mere,” he says, beckoning her over. “Give me your hand.”

She holds her left hand out, and he loops the end of the string around her ring finger, pinching the cord where it overlaps.

“Do me a favor and cut it right there,” he says.

She grabs a pair of scissors out of the pencil cup on the desk and snips the string, leaving him with a short piece the circumference of her finger.

“Good enough?” he asks.

“It’ll have to do,” she replies.

Mulder hadn’t put ‘shopping for wedding bands’ on his bingo card for 1997, and he’s admittedly out of his depth. The guy behind the counter at the little jewelry store on Prince Street in Alexandria isn’t helping his confidence.

“You want a wedding band?” he says, sizing Mulder up with a once-over. His eyes pause on Mulder’s tie for an uncomfortable two seconds too long, and his nostril flare with what could be disgust.

“Yeah, uh, one for me and one for my partner- fiancé,” Mulder stumbles, correcting himself unnecessarily. “Nothing flashy.”

Picking out his own ring is as easy as pointing at a plain gold band and slipping it on his finger. It fits well enough, and the jeweler packs it away into a tiny box.

Mulder feels somewhat ridiculous handing a jeweler a tiny piece of string and saying ‘this is how big my fiancé’s finger is’. The look the man gives him doesn’t ease the feeling.

“I can’t guarantee correct sizing with this,” the jeweler cautions, gingerly holding the string between two pinched fingers as though it’s a live, writhing worm.

Mulder shrugs. “I’m, uh, sorry, but that’s all I have to go on.”

The jeweler huffily wraps the string around a ring-sizing mandrel, and Mulder thinks he catches the man rolling his eyes. What a dick.

“Alright, so according to this highly sophisticated piece of string, she’s a size six,” the jeweler says flatly. “That’s the average size we carry for women. We can resize most ring styles for you later if it’s the wrong fit.”

“Right, thanks,” Mulder mumbles, scanning the glass case for a suitable ring.

His eyes wander over to slightly higher-end territory, and he immediately sees It.

It’s a simple ring, a thin gold band with a single pearl bracketed by a trio of tiny diamonds on each side.

He has a sudden vision of Scully tucking her hair behind one ear, wearing those delicate pearl stud earrings he secretly loves, and he feels a slosh behind his kneecaps at the image.

Fuck it. She deserves something pretty.

“I’d like that one,” Mulder says, pointing to the pearl ring in the case.

“That’s a promise ring,” the jeweler informs him. “A bit subdued for an engagement.”

“We’re a subdued couple,” Mulder replies, pulling out his wallet.

We.

Scully gave him no budget; and besides, this was his gift for her. That’s how tradition goes, right? Man buys woman ring. And from the sour look on the jeweler’s face, this ring isn’t even that expensive.

The man snaps the little velvet ring box shut and puts it into a crisp bag with the other box. “Will that be all?” he drones.

Mulder holds out his debit card. “I’ve done enough damage for one day.”

#my fic #pearl #msr #txf fic #xfiles #cancer arc #secret marriage #marriage of convenience #in which scully gets sick and mulder buys rings #tw nausea #check out my twitter if you wanna see The Ring #or maybe i'll post it here too

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melliflovs · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter Two - Yuji x Reader

Word Count: 2,301

Warnings: Sukuna being Sukuna

Summary: A movie night with Megumi gets interrupted and training the next day with Yuji.

Series Masterlist Pinned!

You burst into Megumi's dorm room without knocking, throwing Nanami's freshly dry cleaned suit over the back of a chair. "You'll never guess why I was summoned earlier." You said, walking over to your friend who sat on his bed. His eyes lifting from his phone, the black haired boy's thumb only pausing the repetitive scrolling for a moment.

"What?" He deadpanned before resuming whatever he was doing on his phone. "Well," You said sighing loudly. "I am now partners with the one and only Yuji Itadori, effective immediately."

Megumi looked up at you in confusion, eyebrows knitted together. "Why would Gojo want that?" You sat down beside him on the small bed.

"Beats me." You shrugged. "But," You began, a shit eating grin lighting up your face. "A certain King of Curses thinks I'm hot."

Megumi's arm shot out towards you shoving you lightly, "That not funny, don't joke about that."

You scoffed at him "What, do you think I'm not pretty enough for Sukuna or something? Besides I wasn't joking." You got up from beside him, admittedly slightly annoyed at his reaction. The dorms were small but each one had a cupboard for a small amount of food storage. You walked over to it and grabbed a bag of unpopped popcorn.

"So you're telling me that Sukuna - the baddest of the bad has his eyes on you now?" He said in disbelief, following you around the small room.

"Does it really matter? He's not the one in control anyways." You said reaching down to pull out the microwave you hid in the closet. Something you could only hope would never be found by a teacher. Potential fire hazard and all. You plugged the microwave into the wall before putting the popcorn in. You turned back to Megumi as the soft popping sound began.

"Yes it matters, he's dangerous. Itadori doesn't know what he's doing yet-" He was cut off by a loud thud a shout sounding from the room next to you.

"What was that." You asked, the room going silent aside from the microwave in the background. Together the two of you listened carefully, ears practically pressed up against the wall. A few seconds passed and you'd heard nothing. "That was weird-"

"Ow!" The two of you stilled, looking at each other with wide eyes.

"Whos next door?" You whispered.

Megumi straightened out as a lightbulb when off in his head. "Yuji is."

The two of your ripped out of the dorm room, running the short way to his door as the pained cries continued. "Should I," You gestured to yourself, "Do the thing?" He finished for you "No of course not I'll just break down the door."

"What?! That's so unnecessary I can just unlock it, you idiot." You continued to bicker back and forth for a moment, not realizing that the sounds had stopped. The two of you froze as the door in front of you began to open. Yuji stepped out, a confused look on his face and a sleeping cursed doll in his hand.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, looking between you and Megumi.

"Uh, yeah. We just heard some strange sounds and got worried-" You watched in shock as the corpse in his hands woke up, immediately turning towards the boy holding it and punching him.

"Fuck!" He yelled, holding the doll as far away from his body as possible - a small red bump rising by his temple.

Megumi burst out laughing, his arms clutching his sides. You stared wide eyed at your friend, possibly more shocked by his reaction than by the abusive toy. "Gojo's making me practice control." Yuji began to explain, "I'm watching some movies if you guys want to join."

"No, it's okay. Just wanted to make sure you were safe." You responded, sending a soft smile his way as you watched the puppet's chest rise and fall with every breath while it slept.

"Are you sure?" A deeper voice asked, a mouth popping out of the back of Yuji's hand, "I'm sure you'd have a good time." It tempted. Megumi stiffened beside you, stepping forward to get in between you and the cursed boy. Itadori was still very much in control but Sukuna's words irked Megumi.

"What's wrong, Spikes." He toyed, pulling at Megumi's patience. "Am I flirting with your girl? I bet she'd enjoy herself more with us."

Yuji frowned, still holding the animated puppet away from his body. He knew that fighting with Sukuna would only encourage him in the long run, even if it upset his fellow students. At least they didn't have to hear everything he said, constantly speaking in his head.

"I dunno, Sukuna." You said, "Megumi sure knows how to make the bed rock."

Flabbergasted your friend looked down trying to hide his blush. It wasn't true, none of it was. But you figured that if you were going to have to deal with the unwelcomed spirit's chatter then you would at least have fun with it.

"Oh?" Sukuna asked, "You two don't make a very cute couple. Why do the hottest girls always pick the ugliest guys." He mused.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you watched Megumi's hands raise, subtly beginning to summon his shikagami. Your own hands shot out, grabbing him and stopping his actions. "Ya know what, it was really great catching up with you Sukuna but I have a bag of popcorn just calling my name." You smiled, trying to cover up what almost could've happened. The mouth pouted momentarily before disappearing. Satisfied you nodded goodbye to a clearly humiliated Yuji and walked back to Megumi's door, pulling him along with you.

You waited before the two of you were securely behind the wooden door before turning back to your friend. "What were you thinking out there?!" You tried to keep your voice down but quickly found yourself failing. "You could've been badly hurt or, or even killed, Megumi."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you." He rebutted, "Sukuna isn't safe, Itadori isn't safe. You shouldn't be working with him."

"You're not getting the point. Sukuna doesn't seem to care about anything that's happening right now. He's content with his vessel. What would've pissed him off is getting your dogs to attack Yuji, why would you even try that to begin with."

Megumi exhaled loudly, his anger disappearing as his shoulders deflated. "I didn't like how he was speaking to you." You shook your head at him, your own anger fleeting.

"I can handle myself. You know that."

"Yeah," He nodded, "I do know that. He should treat you better though." You walked up to him, leaning forward and resting your head on his chest. You let out a soft sigh.

"The most powerful curse known to man is living inside the body of one of our new classmates. He can say whatever he wants to me as long as it keeps everyone safe, including you." You lifted your head to look at Megumi. "So please," You stressed, "Don't do anything to upset him."

"I won't."

In truth, you didn't really believe him. Megumi was stubborn and above all would do anything to protect you. But you were a big girl now, you could hold your own. Regardless you smiled at him and put it aside, "Thank you."

Pushing yourself off his chest you turned back to the microwave, your slightly cold popcorn waiting patiently for you to eat it. "Now, what movie are we watching tonight?"

He shrugged, "Up to you."

"Maybe I should go ask Yuji for some movie recommendations." You teased, wiggling your eyebrows at Megumi. "I bet Gojo gave him a great selection."

"Yeah," He scoffed, "If you like Jennifer Lawrence."

"What are you talking about?" Sure you liked her as much as the average person but his comment caught you off guard.

"Ah, it's a guy thing." He said nonchalantly, "You wouldn't get it."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your popcorn and striding over to his bed. "Well, are we watching a movie or not."

Megumi finally joined you as the smell of butter invaded his senses, sitting beside you and pulling out his laptop. It'd take time but eventually, you'd be able to agree on something to watch. Even if it took all night.

---

You woke up the next morning to your phone buzzing on the bedside table beside you. Without looking you answered it, worried the sound would wake the boy sleeping on the floor next to you. "Hello?" Your voice was groggy as you let out a small yawn still tired from the movie marathon the night before.

"You're late."

The sound of Nanami's voice on the end of the line made your eyes widen. You were so screwed. "Sorry, Sensei. I-" You heard a soft beep as he hung up the call. Quickly you threw the covers off yourself, careful not to wake Megumi as you grabbed your things and tugged a sweatshirt on over your pajamas.

Making your exit you quietly closed the door. Megumi was many things but he was most definitely not a morning person and the last thing you needed to deal with was the wrath of two men so early in the morning. Sprinting through the dorm hallways you made your way down the staircase and towards the gym. When you finally made it to your destination you stood outside for a moment, taking a deep breath. The last time you were late he'd made you run a lap for every second you'd missed. You were five minutes late.

Three hundred laps.

But Nanami never used the same punishment twice, which now led to an internal panic. It could be anything his brain could think of.

Trying your best to now calm yourself you were at least ten minutes late. The latest you'd ever been, but hopefully you wouldn't get hurt too bad when it was all said and done. Fearfully you pushed past the gym doors quickly spotting your mentor and Itadori.

How could you have forgotten the events of the day before? In the rush to wake up and get to training in time it'd completely slipped your mind that it wasn't just you and Nanami anymore. The sound of the door closing made both of the men turn towards you. Yuji's eyes quickly meeting yours as you walked towards them, slipping your shoes off.

Suddenly you felt oddly aware of the boy's attention, beginning to regret your wardrobe choice of leggings and a wrinkled hoodie. You bailed so fast from Megumi's room that you hadn't even stopped to look in front of a mirror, let alone wash your face or brush your teeth. Grimacing internally you attempted to brush it off - to ignore it. Being a sorcerer wasn't about your appearance or presentation it was about skill and techniques.

At least if Yuji did notice how bad you looked he was nice enough not to mention it, turning back towards his new mentor as you went to stand beside him.

"Finally." Nanami huffed, "You've decided to grace us with your presence."

"Did ya miss me 'Nami. It's only been a few hours, couldn't stand to live without me, huh?" He sent a glare your way, if looks could kill you'd be six feet under. Yuji snickered quietly beside you, trying not to get on his new teachers bad side.

"Today we're practicing teamwork. Something that you aren't great at, (y/n)." Now it was your turn to send a glare his way. "I'm fantastic at it. I don't know what you could be talking about."

"Where should I begin? Maybe the time you shoved Megumi into a room of curses as a prank? Or the time that you got Nobara so annoyed that she almost struck you with her nails? I think she still has that locket of your hair, maybe I should call her up-"

"Hey, hey, we get the picture I'm not as funny as I think I am." You grumbled, shifting on your feet. In your defense, it was a room of fly heads and Nobara was just easy to piss off. You weren't exactly expecting her to try to kill you though. It was all water under the bridge.

"Now," Your mentor continued, "I've been told there's a grade two curse at a nearby school. Tomorrow we will go and exorcise it, but today you need to get to know each other." You and Yuji turned towards each other, eyeing one another apprehensively. "But, you may under no circumstances share your cursed techniques. That will be discovered in time.

"Shucks, how will he ever know how special I am." Another glare from Nanami was enough to shut you up, maybe you should stop pushing it for now.

"I'll see you guys later."

"What?" Yuji asked, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the blonde man. "You're just leaving us like that?"

"Yes. Is there a problem?" Nanami questioned, pulling his glasses down slightly to look directly at Itadori.

"Can't say I have a problem with being alone with (y/n)"

You let out a soft groan when you heard the deeper voice. You didn't even need to look to know that Sukuna was now talking. Your sensei, now clearly annoyed just walked away leaving the two of you - technically three of you alone in the gym.

"So.... Jennifer Lawrence?" You said, attempting to break the somewhat awkward silence.

Sukuna started laughing from Yuji's hand as his cheeks turned red, "Who told you that?"

"I never reveal my secrets." You teased at the obviously embarrassed boy. "Well if we just have to get to know each other wanna go get something to eat? I never got a chance to eat breakfast."

"Yeah." Yuji grinned, "Let's go."

#jjk itadori #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kaisen #yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori #jujutsu kaisen x reader #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen yuji #yuji smut #yuji itadori smut

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static-fanatic-1 · 4 years ago

Text

Yandere!All For One x Fem!Reader

Warning: Non-con, Fingering, Kidnapping, Mentioning of stalking, Spooky gift giving, Reader has a powerful healing quirk activated by bodily fluids (it’s important).

Word count: 7.3k

~~~~~

You nervously bit your lip, twiddling your hands and fingers to relive the anxiety creeping up your spine. Recovery Girl, the healing hero that decided to take you under her wing, decided it would be good idea for you to meet a colleague of hers to get some physical training. It was an important thing that you needed to learn despite your quirk.

The slender yet short woman took a weary glance at you. "Calm down (y/n), you have no reason to be nervous."

You jumped at the sound of her voice. "I-I know, what if they don't think I'm worth training though?" You've always been self councious of your quirk. Though it was insanely powerful, mainly for other people, it turned you into a physically sickly person. To simply put it, what you thought was not worth training.

A disappointed sigh left her lips. Recovery girl, still not looking her age as of yet, was a short woman with dark black hair, peppered with more white streaks than her natural color, dressed in a bun with her usual hero look going on. "Gran Torino won't push you too hard, besides he's training Toshinori! You know him right? The third year who's really strong?"

A slight blush tinted your cheeks. "Uh, y-yes ma'am!" God you hated it when you became a stuttering mess, especially when that specific third year was mentioned. Ever since you bumped into him in the halls you couldn't shake away your growing crush. It was totally embarrassing. Even your classmate, Enji Todoroki, lightly made fun of you for it.

Ms. Shuzenji lightly chuckled at your reddened expression. "Gran Torino said he would meet us in one of the gyms after school hours. Since you're a first year and you don't have your provisional license yet, we aren't supposed to train you off of school grounds." She further explained.

"When I get my license will it be alright for me to train off campus? Or could he just take me in for hero studies?"

"Technically you already are under hero studies because I'm training you, and because I'm a teacher I can't allow you to train off school grounds." The two of you turned a corner, now face to face with the large door separating you two from the racket going on on the other side. Both of you exchanged a confused look before opening the doors.

From what you were witnessing, you probably shouldn't have agreed to working with Gran Torino.

The yellow blur flew from floor to ceiling, and wall to wall just to slam his feet into the poor boy's body. Each attack seemed more painful than the last as he desperately tried to keep up with his sensei.

Toshinori paused, as did Gran Torino, and excitedly straightened his stance. With a finger pointing in your general direction his face lit up. "Your that first year I bumped into! Gran Torino you should have told me who-!"

His spat was quickly cut off by a pair of feet slamming against his ribs. The blond flew across the gym and into the concrete walls, dust fuming around his now hunched over form. "Don't get distracted, Toshinori." Torino scolded.

The average height hero turned, now facing the two female across the room. "So this is (l/n)? Nice to meet you." He said with a slight wave.

Recovery girl tapped your shoulder and motioned to the suffering boy, telling you to heal him without using her words. "Pl-pleasure to meet you too, sir." Quickly nodding in both of the hero's directions, you scurried over to the third year you unfortunately developed a crush over.

"Um, Toshinori Senpai, are you hurt?" 'What am I saying? Of course he's hurt!' Your flustered mumbling almost went unnoticed.

"Yeah, yeah, probably broke a rib... again." His blond hair framed his smiling face, the overly joyous expression only bringing you more concern.

"Again?! Here, let me help." You wrapped your arms around his form and lifted him into a seating position, doing your best to keep him upright. "Alright so this might be weird, but, are you okay with kissing me?" You twisted your face in a sad excuse for guilt.

Toshinori found it funny, but unexpected none the less. "K-kiss you?!" His face burst into a deep red blush while his words came out as coughs.

"Y-Yeah! I mean or lick you, whatever floats your boat I don't judge."

Gran Torino wondered over to the youthful hero. "So she's the healer? The one you wanted me to train alongside Toshinori right?"

She nodded and turned to look at her addresser. "Her healing is stronger than mine, and there are no repercussions on the person she uses it with. If the two of them get to know each other they could be an amazing team."

"Healing stronger than yours huh? How does it work?"

"Bodily fluids like blood and saliva." Shuzenji paused, letting the information sink in before continuing. "Her quirk has been used in ways it shouldn't have been used."

Gran Torino furrowed his brows and looked at the two students. Toshinori already looked much better than before. His skin seemed healthier, pained expression replaced with a bright red face, and the blood smeared on his mouth being wiped away like a memory. Still, he soaked in the new information as he watched the students embarrass themselves.

"Does she know about one for all?"

"No, but she's trustworthy enough to tell, eventually at least."

"Alright, alright, I'll train her."

~~~

After a few months of training under Gran Torino and Toshinori, you had grown a little bit stronger. At least as strong as you were able to get. Toshinori on the other hand made a lot more progress, his training also getting far more intense than you will ever be able to handle.

Enji tapped your shoulder, bringing you back to reality. He gave you a disappointed yet concerned look. "You need to focus, I don't want to help you with History again."

"Ah, sorry, sorry." He scoffed and grabbed his stuff to leave the classroom. "Wait for me!" You yelped, quickly stuffing your things in your bag to chasing after him. "Your legs are too long!"

The two of you wondered into the cafeteria and settled in your seats. You shuffled things around in your bag as Enji started to eat, you could feel him watching and judging you. "What?"

He slurped up his hot soba, taking his time before he decided it would be okay to explain his judgement. "You have been training with that third year huh? Yagi, isn't it?"

"O-oh! Um, yeah. Toshinori, he's been helping me get stronger despite my quirk's draw back." You shifted in your seat under his intense glare.

"And?" He pressed on.

"Oh you know, he's helping me learn how to fight and get physically stronger. Nothing too special. Why do you ask?"

A certain blond revealed himself, his bright smile almost blinding as he smacked his tray on the table next to you. "Hey (y/n), Todorok-kun!"

You jumped and covered your reddening face with your hands. "Ah! Hello Toshi-senpai!"

Enji glanced between the two of you, both of you have been rather close lately and the redhead was developing theories that have been plaguing his mind. "That's why I ask." He pointed to your bright red face.

Toshinori almost spat out his water when he glanced at your red face. "Woah! Todoroki-kun, it's nothing like that! Haha!"

"Y-Yeah! We're just training!" You spat out.

Enji just gave you a look, but overall decided against pressing further. Instead he sighed and glared at the third year.

You couldn't blame him though, Toshi was easily considered as strong as the pros, and Enji wanted to be on top of them all. He most likely saw him as competition.

You lightly laughed and tapped Enji's shoulder. "Don't over think it. Besides let's be honest, I need a lot more help than you do." You have the redhead a delicate smile, still he kept his condescending look.

"Don't you have to do chemistry homework you skipped?"

"Oh shit! That's next period!" You yelped and began the homework you skipped last night.

"Geez, I remember chemistry, I really struggled with that one." Toshi exclaimed, leaning back with his cheeks stuffed with pork cutlet and rice. "I can't help you with that one, (y/n)-chan."

"Don't worry, I'm surprisingly good at math and science. It's the other subjects I struggle with." You stuffed your face with your food as you quickly solved the problems on the sheet. "Enji actually helps me with the other ones, I help him with chemistry and maths."

"I don't need your help." Todoroki snapped back.

"Sure." Came out your muffled sarcasm. "Do you want me to check your homework?"

There was a slight pause, Toshinori placing his hand over his mouth to stop his growing laughter.

"Yes."

~~~

That was the beginning of the three of you. Toshi quickly climbed up the ranks as the number one hero. He left for America for a while, but kept in touch with you as you finished school and tried to make a name for yourself.

Enji quickly surpassed you, but he still stayed your dear friend. He found an organization and followed behind Toshi, climbing up the ranks and making a name at the early age of twenty.

They were strong, powerful, and you were everything else. Weak. The only thing you had going for you was your quirk, and even then it was taxing on your body.

You joined a smaller hero agency and continued developing your quirk. With your skill in chemistry you learned you can convert your bodily fluids into pill form. Though they don't work as well, it allows you to give people a full heal without loosing yourself.

Though you never seemed to be as lucky as you hoped. The hero you had come to know and trust abused your kindness, his other sidekicks finding it funny to stuff you full of their cocks and use you as a toy.

You never felt so humiliated and destroyed in your entire life. What started as a simple conversation drastically changed into the hero's using your quirk as an excuse to do as they pleased. They even threatened to ruin your career as a hero if you told anyone... but you just couldn't keep quiet.

That night you drove away, tears streaming down your reddened cheeks as the horrid feeling and taste lingered. You drove all the way to the current number nine's house and knocked on his door at 2:48 am. He lived alone, still focusing on climbing up the ranks to be number one.

Despite not seeing him in months and thinking you were only a distraction, he let you in.

Enji held you close as you sobbed and told him what happened, your words chocking on your cries. He let you clean up and stay for the night, as you didn't feel safe alone anymore. You slept on the couch that night, unbeknownst to you Enji called up Toshinori.

The three of you met up the next day to expose the so called heroes that defiled you. Without Enji and Toshinori, you wouldn't have been able to tell anyone, that or you would never be the hero you've always wanted to be.

You constantly look back on that day. You couldn't help but appreciate what your two friends did for you, especially when you are reminded of them. You would give anything to help them. Anything.

You joined All Might in his quest for heroism, becoming his sidekick and healing people he saved. He loved working with you, and you loved working with him. The spark between the two of you was obvious from the beginning, and as the two of you worked together the spark only grew.

You left for a while though, a well-known hero asking for your help in America. You bought a small apartment and began your own.

~~~

"Wait... what? He-he's...." You voice cracked, hand lightly tracing the bow on the flat triangular box on your bed. Smooth wrapping providing false comfort over the situation over the phone. Gran Torino's gruff, pained voice echoed in your ears and in your brain.

"Toshinori needs your healing, that or I'm afraid it will be the end of the Symbol of Peace." You shivered at his words, turning your back to your bed to sit down. Your hands rubbed your face and eyes from stress, not just from Toshi's conditions but the strange gifts you keep finding in your house. "Recovery girl already stabilized him, but your healing should finish the job."

"I understand, uh, I'll book a ticket-"

"Don't, we already bought a private plane ticket, we don't want the media to get involved." Gran Torino finished, sighing behind the screen. He must be feeling the same things you were feeling; stress and anxiety. Despite the stress he continued, giving the details of the flight he bought.

"Alright, alright. I'll get some pills ready and pack. Take care." He lightly chuckled, probably nodding behind the screen, before ending the call.

You dropped you phone on your bed and sighed. The hand that was tracing the wrapped gift paused over the red satin bow. A sense of dread crawled up your spine making you shiver.

You wanted to throw the thing away and let it rot in your dark closet, but after finally deciding to open the other ones up you decided that wasn't a good idea. Whoever has been sending you the few gifts wanted something you were too afraid to give.

Yesterday you opened the first gift, one with a purple bow and silver wrapping paper, and found a beautiful sun dress with a letter. At first you thought it was a fan, after all it wasn't too strange for you to find fans who gave you gifts like this, so you ignored the red flag of finding it on your temporary apartment door step.

But when you glanced at the letter, your blood froze. Written in fancy cursive, penmanship you could easily call perfect, was an alarming letter about compliments you could dismiss as a little strange. That was the second red flag.

The next few gifts had letters as well, each one more descriptive and alarming than the last. One described how entertaining it was for you to be so close to the number one hero All Might, and how the sender would enjoy taking you from him.

So when you found another gift, this time wrapped in a red bow with dark grey wrapping, you wanted to puke. You debated opening it up to save yourself some sanity and stress, but you were more afraid of the repercussions of not seeing what's inside.

With shaky breaths and an even shakier hand you unveiled the mystery box. You never felt so much dread in your life until you saw what was under the letter.

A gorgeous, obviously expressive set of black lingerie brought bile into your throat. Clasping your hand over your mouth you tried to swollen the nasty mixture as you continued your investigation. The set was lacey in a sultry way, seductive like it was meant for a lover to wear on their honeymoon.

You hated it, you feared it.

Especially the letters, you still didn't know who sent them but that only made you more afraid. So you read it, maybe you would know who was sending you these things, maybe you could get them arrested and save yourself the stress while you go heal Toshi.

'Dear (y/n) (l/n),

I consider myself a patient man, one that will wait until the time is right. I wish for you to wear the gift I have given you, it would greatly please me to see you in it when I come for you. So save yourself the pain-'

You stopped and gagged, crumpling up the carefully written letter and throwing it across the room. Anxious tears streamed down your face as you violently shook.

Their going to come for you? Why? When? Where? Here? No no no, not here. You'll be off back home in Japan, away from this sad apartment and away from the creepy stalker.

You glanced over at the lingerie, should you wear it? What would they do if you didn't wear it? Are they watching you now?

Once more you shivered, this time taking the lingerie and holding it close. You were terrified of the consequences so you decided to wear it. All you had to do now was get some pills ready and pack for the plane ride. So stop stressing.

~~~

You held your bags close, the satchel with your quirk infused pills even closer. Your anxiety was spiking, more so than it has ever before. You wore half of your hero costume, having on the white lab coat, jaw guard, and belts with sleeping syringes you created yourself. Usually you have heels with a dress shirt and pencil skirt, but instead you decided to wear something more comfortable. So you wore grey sweat pants and a black tank top under your white coat.

Grey and white mountains littered the horizon while vibrant greenery and large trees rose high into the sky. You exited the small plane and wondered over to Gran Torino. A solemn expression decorated your features as you met up with the group.

Gran Torino, Sir Nighteye, and Tsukauchi waited for you, Tsu being the only one to smile back. "Hey, Witch Doctor are you ready to head out?" Tsu wore a white dress shirt and black slacks with his favorite brown trench coat over his shoulders.

Gran Torino and Sir Nighteye wore their full hero costumes despite the long ride ahead.

Your smile widened ever so slightly as you nodded. "Please, call me (y/n). And yes, I have the pills if he wants to go that route, it should be more than enough to heal him all the way." You lifted up the satchel and waved it around.

They knew how your quirk worked, bodily fluids. So they understood how people in the past took advantage of that, so they were a little surprised when you mentioned giving All Might a choice. They didn't mention it though. "Could-can you... tell me about Toshi?"

Gran Torino grunted before waking to a few cars nearby. "His stomach was pretty much gutted, he's hanging on a thread thanks to Recovery Girl. He would've died otherwise."

Nighteye looked away with an uncomfortable expression. "If he-he didn't hold on for so long...." He mumbled away without wanting to finish his sentence.

"He'll be fine," Finished Tsukauchi. "He is fine, he just needs some help getting better."

You listened to the policeman, his enthusiasm seemingly forced and full of anxiety. "What happened to him?" You asked again, this time with more force.

They all stayed silent as they continued walking to the cars, so you stopped. "L-listen, I know why it might be hard to talk about, but-but I would like to know. There-there has been some crazy shit happening lately, and you said he was injured a few days ago? It just-just seems too... too coincidental? I guess?"

Tsukauchi turned to you with a worried expression. "Like what? Why haven't you told any of us?"

"I was-it is just-just a stalker but... I'm scared, you know? It started four-five days ago and it just seems too coincidental." You lightly laughed at yourself, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try and calm your riled up nerves. "Never mind, I'm-I'm just stressing out. Maybe...."

Nighteye adjusted his glasses and peered into your soul. "Why would it be coincidental? What else happened?"

"There-there were letters. Letters with information only a few people should know about." Your body curled in on itself. "Some things about Nana, and you guys, and Toshi. Just a bunch of mumbo jumbo that has me scared."

Tsukauchi placed a hand on your shoulder. "Let's talk about this in the car." His delicate smile helped put you at ease, so you nodded and continued. "And if you really are worried maybe Nighteye can look into your future?"

The tall, suit wearing man scoffed as he entered the passengers seat. "I'm not exactly okay with something like that."

"It would help." You meekly said, getting into the car. The men took a nice long look at you, how you shivered and stared with a furrowed brow. It was like you were playing out scenarios of all the bad things that could happen to you. "But I understand-!"

"You look pathetic like that." Nighteye shifted in his seat as Gran Torino started the car. "I'll do for you, but you can't change what will happen. I've tried."

You shyly smiled at him and nodded your head. "That's fine with me, I just want to mentally prepare myself, ya' know?"

"That's a good idea, Witch Doct-I mean (y/n)." Tsu corrected himself and shifted next to you.

"Right, thanks guys." You and Sir looked into each others eyes, a small shiver running up your spine as his left eye turned into a purple-black storm.

All four of you waited as the car sped through the Japanese wilderness. The large green trees provided shade and small rays of sunlight peeking through. The road was long and curved on the side of the mountain you were descending. It was peaceful, calm... too calm.

The thick air was interrupted by a gasp, Nighteye's calculating eyes shifting to the sunroof of the small car. His body was rigid, his face twisted in growing fear. "Stop the car!"

Gran Torino smashed the breaks causing the car to screech and dangerously swerve to a stop. "Whats-?!"

He couldn't finish his sentence before a large, swirling purple mass emerged from nothing before the group. A large hand emerged, a rocky face following behind.

"Get our of the car!" Sir Nighteye screeched, grabbing Gran Torino and pulling him out with him. Tsukauchi dashed out and joined the others against the cliff side.

You unbuckled and reached for the door handle, but you were too late.

The large figure fully emerged and smacked his hand against the car, knocking it off the steep cliff side and into the mass of trees below. You screamed and held your body as close as possible, the car shoving you every which way. Glass shattered, metal crushed against itself, you hit your head so much you could taste the blood in your mouth.

A loud crash echoed through the forest floor, bird and animals fleeing to a far away safety. You coughed, trying to drag your body out the broken window next to you.

Your arm shrieked in pain, it must be broken, you thought. Still you refused to be a sitting duck. You clawed your way out of the car, praying all of your things are in one piece.

Gran Torino appeared in front of you and helped you out before hopping away. The giant from before jumped down beside the car, the ground around him crumbling under his feet. "Everything I do is for my master." The giant chanted his mantra, his eyes glueing to your form with heart stopping ferocity.

Nighteye fell from above and slammed his feet against the giant's head, knocking him off his rhythm.

He grunted and stumbled into a tree, trampling the plant in the process. He took the broken tree and rips it from the ground just to chuck it back at Sir Nighteye.

"Watch out!" You swallowed your blood and spit to heal yourself just enough to get into the fight. You shoved your support mask over the lower half of your face, letting it pierce through your skin so you can drink your blood. "Torino! Make sure Tsukauchi is okay, I'll go for Sir!"

"Get in and get out!" Quickly you two split up.

You dashed over to Sir Nighteye and pulled him from the colliding tree. You drank your blood and building saliva to slowly heal your wounds, your broken arm mending itself enough for you to use it.

The tree burst into splinters. Sir found his footing and pulled you behind another tree. "Are you okay?" He asked, holding you close while looking at the giant behind him.

"Yeah, yeah. What did you see in your vision? We'll get out right?"

Sir Nighteye bit his bottom lip. He didn't know what he should do, tell her and give up or try and fight fate. "That's not important right now." He commented calmly, but internally he was at war.

He saw your future, one where you were taken after everyone else was too hurt to fight back. Gran Torino would jump in to try and save you, Tsukauchi begging for you be set free from the cliff side. Gran Torino would be caught and killed when he tries to save you, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Sir Nighteye almost debated letting you get caught just so the rest of them could get away unharmed.

You glanced at him before pulling the two of you were crushed by the giant. "Focus Sir! We need to group up with Torino and Tsu. This guy is really strong."

"We can't take him on." He blurted out.

"What do mean?" Your voice came out shaky, the giant already on his way to fight you two again. He trudged over and loomed above you and Sir, growling as he swiped Sir Nighteye away. The giant had a hint of a smile of his face when he gripped your form in his iron like grip.

You jolted in his hold and fumbled with your hero costume to pull out the syringes, all of them. Quickly you stabbed the giant's neck and pumped his system with five of your homemade concoctions.

Gran Torino grabbed Nighteye before he slammed against a tree, carefully putting the fading man on the ground. Torino stared up at your thrashing form, but before he could rush up to help you a hand tightly gripped his forearm. "Don't, if you go you'll die!"

Nighteye's grip tightened once he heard Tsukauchi scream from above.

"We can't let them take her, she's the only one that can heal Toshinori!" Gran Torino argued, thrashing away and dashing to save you.

The giant wobbled from the potent amount of drugs in is system, but it didn't stop him. A new purple portal formed in front of the two of you, and a newfound vigor was found in the giant. "Gran Torino!" Your voice echoed with unadulterated terror.

You could see him coming to help you, but you could also feel the giant prepare an attack against your friend. If you were taken Toshi wouldn't get the drugs, Gran Torino would get seriously injured if he got too close. You didn't want to see that happen, so you grabbed the satchel and threw it as hard as possible at Torino, smacking him against the face and knocking him to the ground.

The giant trudged into the portal with you over his shoulder, leaving your hero buddies in the ruined forest. He kneeled down and swayed from the drugs, letting you fall to the ground below him.

A man of purple mist and a dress vest walked over, his misty hands clamped over his front. "Witch Doctor," he addresses," I would appreciate it if you followed me."

You bit your lip, still being looked over by the giant man behind your hunched form. You wanted to ask a question, to yell and scream and thrash until they were too annoyed to keep you alive... but you were too afraid to even try.

Was this the man sending you the letters? Was this the legendary All For One Toshi warned you about? "Who-who are you?" Your voice betrayed you and cracked under your fear.

Yellow eyes evaluated your own (e/c) ones. The mist man in front of you seemed to be figuring out what happened to the woozy giant behind you, but you couldn't tell in those yellow voids of his. "My name is Kurogiri, now, follow me." His tone shifted into a more violent one.

You shivered under his gaze, a figure showing up beside him. A judgmental figure at that, short with large goggles and a mustache. Though this new addition discarded you with a quiet mutter under his breath.

Kurogiri finally had enough waiting and grabbed you by your wounded forearm, making you cringe as he pulled you through the dull halls of the facility. The environment was filled with dark greys, bright blues and a metallic shine. "Where are we going?"

"You are going to heal my master."

You didn't need to hear anymore before understanding what was going to happen. You pulled your injured arm from his grip, wincing at the pain, and ran as fast as you could.

Sadly you didn't get as far as you would have wanted. A purple portal swept you off your feet, making you fall into a new room entirely. Your body slammed against the hard floor without mercy.

Kurogiri sighed and stepped through a portal he made for himself, once again dragging you to your feet. The room was dark, but clean and barren none the less. The sounds that echoed through the room was that of a breathing machine and medical equipment.

"You may leave, Kurogiri. I'll take it from here."

A haunting voice shook you to your core, it was deep and threatening, yet mocking and intrigued. The man of mist turned on his heels and left, closing the portal behind him. Your heat beat loudly in your chest, suffocating and causing you to hyperventilate.

The voice boomed with laughter, a strained sound complimenting the 'wrrr's of the machines. "You have no reason to be afraid, (y/n)." The hands gripping the floor violently shook, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. "Now come here."

His mammoth sized hand stalked out of the darkness covering his body, tempting you to take it. You could see the underlying of his mouth, bright white teeth gleaming in mockery. "I suggest you don't keep me waiting, I've been patient enough." He added.

Your feet acted on their own volition, moving you closer to the shadowed figure. He could probably hear your uneven breathing from the bed he sat in. Once you stood beside the bed, tears streaming down your cheeks, he roughly grabbed your wrists and pulled you on top of him. Your legs straddled his hips as he sat up, a sigh escaping his barely visible lips.

"I must confess, (y/n), I've had my eyes on you for quite sometime." His mocking tone brought more tears to fall. "At first I was going to take you after I killed Nana, just to torture All Might some more. Then I learned of your quirk and wanted it for myself, but it wouldn't exactly be useful if I took it would it?"

His mammoth hands wrapped tightly around your wrists, forcing them to cup his cheeks around his sickening smile. "I asked a question." His voice shifted into a scolding tone, his hands slipping from your arms to your waist.

"N-no, it wouldn't."

All For One's smile widened at your scared tone. "Are you scared?" He mocked. "Where's that smile All Might preaches, huh?" You jolted in his lap as his cold hands touched the flesh of your hips. He snickered at your skittish reactions. "You are much cuter up close, you know that?"

Submit or fight back? You tried that a long time ago, fighting back, and it made everything so much worse. You were afraid, terrified of fighting back against this man. Were you afraid of death? No, you never thought yourself to be, but maybe you were wrong. The suffocating feeling of him staring you down like prey made you think he was death itself. And that made you fucking terrified.

His humming and hands sliding your shirt up brought you back to reality. "Wa-wait!"

He grumbled and stopped. "Go on."

"I can heal you another way! It'll hurt less but-but it'll take a little longer." You stutter to try and save your skin, but the never faltering smile he gave told you it was all for not.

His hands also proved that theory. They roamed up your tank top, tapping each finger against your skin for more insult to injury. "You're so sweet, worrying about me. I'm sure you already know who I am, don't you?"

You nodded and tried to shift away from the man's touches. He groaned at the friction down below. Time stopped when you heard that noise, a meek squeak emitting from your throat. He mockingly laughed at the sound. "I'll take that as a yes."

He started to take off your clothes, gently, slowly, layer by layer. Shivers and tears shocked your body, you hated it, but you were too afraid to even think about fighting back. Pieces were thrown to the stone floor, your hero costume being stripped from you.

All For One's grin widened more than you thought possible. "You wore the lingerie I bought for you. I'm flattered." His hands cupped your covered breasts, the thumbs tracing the lace. You held back a mewl when he undid the clasp and started kneading the mounds. Forefingers and thumbs tweaked your nipples, pulling and pinching the sensitive flesh.

Your hands stayed glued to his face, the tips of your fingers grazed mauled flesh but quickly pulled away. The man below you noticed, chuckled, and forced your hands onto his mauled face again. "This is what your precious All Might did to me, cruel isn't it?"

A shiver ran down your spine at the odd sensation he forced in your finger tips. Calloused hands dragged down your waist to your panty line, pulling the clothe to the side. His thick finger ran up your slit, collecting the small amount of fluid that had built up. He returned it to his lips and dragged his tongue to lap up the liquid pleasure.

All For One shuddered and groaned at the taste. the man could feel your quirk taking effect, the burning sensation already taking hold the more he tasted. Animalistic pleasure grabbed him by the throat, his lips crashing into your own. He wanted more of that sweet taste, the taste that would heal him back into completion over and over and over again.

He wanted you, all of you.

Saliva mixed in both of your mouths as his tongue slipped past your lips. He groaned and tightened his already iron grip on your hips, your bones creaking under the strain. You meekly shrieked when he bit down on your bottom lip, sucking and drinking the blood.

The wound quickly healed up so he kept his assault, biting and sucking and drinking the blood. Your hands slid to his clothed chest, trying to push off.

All For One wasn't having it though, he stripped himself of his suit jacket and dress shirt and pulled your form closer to him. His clothed groin strained in his pants, you could feel it prodding your nether regions. One hand snaked into your (h/l) (h/c) hair to keep your lips locked with his, the other hand cupping and rubbing your sex.

You accidentally moaned into the kiss, earning a amused groan from your captor. The man let go of your bruising lips to listen to your cute mewls. His hands sped up, using the base of his palm to rub your clit as one of his thick fingers entered the sex.

He mercilessly pumped the finger, curling and prodding at the spongy spot inside you. Your legs trembled around him, hands sliding up to his shoulder for something sturdy to hold. You hated how pleasurable this felt, you hated how it was him who made you feel like this.

"St-sto-ah-p! I-I-!" He chuckled at your meek attempts, his lips crashing into your neck and biting harshly. "Gah!" You could feel the blood drip down your collar bone before being lapped up. All For One added another finger and scissored around to stretch you out.

You could feel the rumbling of his throat, the tightening and tensing of his muscles, all from your bodily fluids. Your own wounds lightly healing, leaving black and blue bruises in its wake.

He added a third figure, stuffing you full. His palm roughly hit your clit with each intense thrust. Your toes curled, stomach tensing. You could feel your release emerging, and he could tell. "Go on," He moaned. "Don't hold back."

Your legs clamped around his hips as your pleasure reached its peek. Throwing your head back you loudly moaned into the abyss of the dark room. Your release hitting like a truck as you shivered.

All For One laughed as he licked his fingers clean, both groaning from the taste and the pain shooting through his healing body. It was strange how his head tingled and burned as it healed. Arms wrapped tightly around your form, glueing you to his chest as you came down from your high.

As you sunk lower in his lap, sweat face against his chest, you could hear the light echo of his belt buckle being undone. Your pleasure foggy mind didn't follow the sound, only wanting to soak in his warmth and go to sleep. You squirmed around his movements until something hard rubbed your clit.

Hands gripped your hips harshly, lifting you up suddenly just thrust you balls deep onto his hard cock. You screamed and clawed at his shoulders, drawing a small amount of blood.

You never felt so stuffed in your life, his cock pressing in all the right places without giving you any extra room. His head pressed against your crevix, prodding at your womb. Your slick helped ease the pain but his massive size kept you writhing under his grip.

All For One's rigid breath echoed like a dark mantra to your pained squeaks. He lifted you by your hips and slammed you back down.

You strangled out a moan with each deep thrust. The hard cock jabbed your insides to make you see stars, your body warming up to the abuse. You gasped every time his head pushed against your entrance of your womb.

Your breasts bounced, the liquid between your thighs drenching his dress pants, and the friction between your legs riding you closer to the edge of ecstasy. He thrust his hips to meet yours as he lifted you up and kept pushing you back down with feverish force. Each thrust bumped painfully your insides, pushing farther and deeper.

"You're not a virgin are you? Has All Might fucked you like this?" All For One's tone changed from the usual mocking to seething hatred. "Has he marked you like this? Ravaged your cunt until he had you screaming?" He lifted you all the way to his tip and slammed you down hard.

The head of his cock pushed through your crevix and into your womb from his force. You shrieked from the painful feeling, but the sadistic sensation pushed you over the edge.

Your walls clamped tightly around his length and gushed liquid pleasure on his lap. The man loudly groaned when your walls sucked him deeper. He kept going, thrusting and pushing deeper, faster, and stronger.

The liquid from your body twisting his flesh back to its original state. It hurt like hell, you could tell as his large hands crushed your hips like grapes. Fat tears streamed down your reddened cheeks, sobs echoing through the mostly empty room.

All For One's thrusts quickly became sloppy, obviously chasing his own release. "He's been replaced, I'll fill you up and mark you as my own! He'll never see you again, I'll make sure of it!"

Hot ropes of white spilled into your womb effectively making you see stars. Both of you tensed and shook at the force of the orgasm. Your third climax tore into the last of your energy, making you pass out from sheer exhaustion.

All For One released his tight hold on your hips, eyeing your form with a deranged smile. Bruises lined your neck, collarbone, and hips. Your quirk would heal them a bit, but you would need time to allow them to fully heal.

The dangerous man, on the other hand, was healed to the point where he wouldn't need the breathing machine to live. He wasn't healed all the way, that would only happen after a few more sessions, but it was a start.

His gaze fell on your soft features, no longer perturbed by his actions and instead twisted into a delicate serenity. You looked peaceful blissfully unaware of what he had in store for you, not that he minded.

~~~

You shift in your sleep, scrunching your nose at some unknown pain down below. A plush pillow rest below your head, and almost acted like a chain keeping you down. Despite the comfort, you forced yourself to get up. Groaning, you threw off your covers and stretched out like a cat. Wincing from the pain and sitting up in the overly warm and soft bed.

You took the opportunity to soak in your surroundings. The colors were warm, a dresser parallel with a door on the opposite side of the room. Everything looked meticulously placed and expensive. The room was large and had a door off to the side, probably the bathroom, with a pair of sliding doors, most likely a closet, and an archway leading to another room.

You stumbled out of the bed and limped around the room. A mirror on the wall revealed what you looked like. Hickies littered your neck and collarbone, your once broken arm wrapped in bandages to help it heal. A lavender colored nightgown draped just above your still shaky thighs. You winced and lifted it up, more bandages around your bruised hips.

He was rough, that was something you could remember. You probably didn't heal him all the way either, that must be why he kept you alive.

You jumped and turned in the direction of some new noises. Heavy footsteps echoed through the room next over so you peeked behind the archway to see who decided to show up.

All For One slipped off his large dress shoes with his back to you. You could kill him, couldn't you? The man's back was facing you, all you needed was a blade or blunt object. You glanced around the room but found nothing, then again you had the feeling he already knew where and what you were doing.

"How did you sleep, (y/n)?" You swallowed the lump of spit in your throat as you gripped the archway. "Hm?" He peered over his shoulder, the sickening smile that haunted your nightmares stretching across his thin lips. His head was still mangled, but it was now healed into a large, clean scar.

"Why am I here?" You asked.

He turned to fully face you and stepped nearer, his bulky form looming over your frail body like a veil. His hand moved to your cheek, caressing the flesh in an all too intimate act of affection. "I think you already know the answer to that." He mused, dipping to let his lips graze the shell of your ear.

You shivered.

"You're mine."

#yandere mha #yandere bnha #Yandere all for one #Yandere all for one x Reader #Yandere bnha x reader #Yandere mha x reader #toshinori x reader #Yandere shigaraki #Yandere shigaraki x reader #yander afo #Yandere afo x reader #yandere smut #mha #bnha

557 notes · View notes

inkbyajm · 4 years ago

Text

Something Brewing

pairing: C.H. x fem!reader

category: fluff

warnings: anxiety attack

word count: 1.5k

notes: felt like angst, felt like sobbing uncontrollably, but my body wouldn’t cooperate, so imagining it will do for now. this was supposed to be a one-shot, but i didn’t realise how much i had written. now i’m splitting it into two parts. next part will definitely be more angst than fluff, so stay tuned for the terrifying sight that is angry corpse :) (p.s. don’t mind the occasional use of british english, it’s my default lmao)

next >

A peculiar thing it was, the concept of love. It was very personal and feelings about it varied from person to person. For some, it had existed since the beginning of time, when Adam and Eve first walked the Earth, when the Almighty willed his beloved humans to lead their own lives with him in their hearts. For others, it is a feeling to long for, to crave, a feeling they found themselves daydreaming about often. And for the rest, love is a tool of ruin, potentially driving people who cared for one another away from each other, instilling at least a smidge of repulsion in each one of them. However, humans are social creatures after all, and sometimes, attraction was unavoidable no matter how much one tried. And try he did.

━

Living in California could get hard and stressful at times, but at least Corpse didn’t live at the heart of the city of anxiety-inducing social interactions and constant chaos that was Los Angeles. Sure, it meant that he didn’t live close to his friends, but he wasn’t far away from her, and that was enough for him.

A few soft grunts and sounds of slippers landing on the hardwood floor echoed from the kitchen of (Y/N)’s apartment. He got up from the couch in her living room and decided to investigate the source of the noise. Coming into the room, he saw her jumping to reach the highest shelf in one of the cupboards. Looking at it, he noticed her favourite mug sitting at the edge of said shelf and, afraid she would knock it over whilst attempting to grab it, he effortlessly got it for her. “Thank you. God, I was about to grow a foot taller trying to reach for this thing.” she sighed, eliciting a deep chuckle from him, “See, this is exactly why you’re my favourite friend.” Friend? Well, yes, of course a friend, what else would he be? Corpse felt an uncomfortable tug at his heart, and he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why he was feeling that way, so he brushed it aside. “Why was it that high up if you can’t even reach it?” (Y/N) wasn’t a short person, she was perfectly average, and he himself wasn’t that tall of a guy either. But when it came to situations of this kind, he couldn’t help but feel good about his being taller. “It usually isn’t, but I let (F/N) use it once the other day because she refused to drink out of any of the other mugs, that stubborn bitch.” she replied, pouring her homemade Italian hot chocolate into the acquired cup. (F/N) was also taller than (Y/N), so it was only natural for her to be putting things in higher places. It was done out of habit.

(Y/N) and Corpse walked back to the living room to once again settle into the couch. He glanced at her as she sat with her legs crossed, concentrated on blowing on her moderately hot beverage, while the light from the moon peeked through the curtains of the balcony door, illuminating her face ever so slightly. Since when did he start noticing these things? Looking away to set his eyes on the TV in front of them, he sensed his heart beating at an usual rhythm, palpitating, and along with it came slight lightheadedness. Was he having a heart attack? Were these signs of atrial fibrillation? Or was this simply the start of an anxiety attack? Surely any of these would be more...recognisable, to say the least. The only situation he could think of with similar reactions was when one would develop a crush. A fucking crush? At his age? How old was he, ten? “Earth to Corpse? Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who sleep with their eyes open, that’s fucking creepy.” Her finger snaps pulled him out of whatever trance he was in. “Sorry, were you saying something?” “I asked you if you had watched Bly Manor like three times. You were very far away.” she answered, emitting a few giggles. “Sorry, I uh- I was thinking of something, but it’s stupid. And no, I haven’t, I’ve been meaning to, though.” And just like that, they settled on the show they were going to watch for the next couple of weeks.

━

“NOOOOOOO,” (Y/N) yelled, voicing her defeat “WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF LUCK IS THIS.” Corpse lay on the floor, slamming his palm down onto it out of hysterical laughter. They had been playing Unmatched for the past hour, this being their third round, and after many cards and a level of tension that could only be cut through with a saw, his Robin Hood had finally defeated her Alice. It was Corpse’s first time playing, so to say that his winning of all three games was a crushing moment for her was an understatement. “This is not normal, you lied saying you’ve never played before!” she pouted, putting everything back into the box, “I’m usually really good at this game.”

He wiped the tears from his eyes, struggling to keep a good composure. “I’m sorry, I guess I’ve found my talent,” he joked, but he did feel bad for stealing her thunder, “Would it make you feel better if I said that my Robin Hood is, like, extremely hurt right now? You have a fucking gigantic knife as a weapon, I only have, like, a bow and arrow. That’s kind of unfair.” (Y/N) bit her lip in hesitation, then picked up her figurine and lightly tapped it along the table to approach his. Putting Alice at a slight angle, she made a kissing sound as to imitate her character smooching his. “There, a kiss to make it better. I promise not to hurt you too much if you let me win next time.”

The same strange feeling he had experienced for the first time two months ago, when they were sitting on the couch of her living room, and many more times after that, had come back. He would’ve blamed it on heartburn, except it was nothing like it. It wasn’t anything he was used to. “Hey, you alright?” (Y/N) furrowed her brows in concern “You’ve been doing that a lot lately, rubbing your chest like that.” Fuck. He had never noticed the habit he had developed. “I’m fine, just me and my heart problems, nothing unusual.” Filthy liar. Brows still furrowed, she moved closer to him and, with her legs tucked under her, she put her hand above his heart to check. “Jesus, Corpse, your heart is going a million miles per hour! Are you sure you’re okay?”

Looking up at him, she noticed how red he had suddenly become, and this worried her even more. “Bubs, you’re literally changing colours.” How did she expect him not to when she was doing this? (Y/N) further inspected his condition and put the back of her hand on his forehead, then his cheeks, to check his temperature. Expectedly, he was getting warmer. She stopped for a second and listened intently, only to hear his shallow breathing fill the silence. She then glanced down at his left hand resting on his thigh, and surely enough, found it trembling. “Alright, Corpse? Hey, can you hear me?”

His breathing only picked up its pace as the seconds went by. On the spur of the moment, (Y/N) placed herself in front of him, her legs on either side, and gently cradled his head. “Corpse, darling, I’m gonna need you to look at me, okay? Focus on me, focus on my breathing, mm?” He forced himself to tear his gaze away from the ground and did as he was told, eyes darting around, analysing her expression. He’s never found himself having an attack in her presence, it was surprising how well she was handling it.

Wait- darling? Bubs? “Now, can you name four things that you see? Can you do that for me?” He briefly scanned the room for answers, his mind still cluttered. “The fridge, the couch, the light and-” Did she mean to call him that? It was probably nothing, she could be using it with any of her friends for all he knew. He wasn’t special. “and the game, the board game. On the table.” “Good, now can you name three things you hear?” This one took a lot of concentration, there weren’t many obvious sounds for him to point out. “The motorcycle outside, your hands rubbing against my skin, uh-” What the fuck else? Was he losing his mind? The task was simple enough, why was he having so much trouble with it? “I’m sorry, I- I don’t hear anything else.” “No, it’s okay. You’re doing splendid, see? Your breathing is much more stable.” she reassured him, squeezing his upper arms.

“Lastly, can you give me two things you can smell?” Nodding, he closed his eyes. “The coffee you drank earlier.” It took him a moment to come up with something else, and just as she was about to get off of his lap, figuring he had done a good enough job, she heard him mumble “your perfume”. Scared he’d get another attack, Corpse avoided looking into her eyes, which he could feel the gaze of. He only picked up on the scent from her shifting closer in the last second. “That’s funny, I had forgotten to put perfume on this morning.”

#corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse x you #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #corpse husband fic

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whump-town · 3 years ago

Note

Do you take asks for prompts? If you need another way to hurt Hotch how about him hurting his knee while taking down an unsub and trying his best to hide it from his team and going home to Jack. So maybe he doesn't come to work the next day so they check up on him?

Sure you can!

-------------

Hotch doesn’t say anything about it because he’s been an ass all week and the very last thing that he wants is to ruin what little fun they’ve managed to find. The pain really isn’t that bad, it’s just that the hotel they’re posted up in has this long winding set of stairs and they’re on the fourth floor. Wistfully, he glances over his shoulder one more time, double checks that they’re all distracted by the pool before setting his shoulders and starting up the stairs. Besides, it’s his fault that he busted up his knee. He’s not going to interrupt the first sounds of their laughter he’s heard in a month.

They’re taking Emily’s death hard, barely managing to keep their heads above the water. It also means their numbers are odd again and realizing that he’d sent them off with each other (Rossi with JJ, Reid with Morgan) and had gone around the side of the house by himself. They’d ended up chasing the Unsub out to him where he’d taken him down by himself (or rather they’d ran right into one another). They’d heard him fall, the harsh crash of two bodies colliding had drawn in some noise, but he was already on his feet when they got to him. Was already shaking off the ache in his right leg, brushed it off as a skinned knee. Wouldn’t be first and he doubted it would be his last.

He did skin his knee.

Judging by the purplish bruise color around his knee, the skin swollen and sore to the touch, and it’s general refusal to move within the joint he did more than just skin it.

He hasn’t really been an ass, though. That’s just his excuse.

He’s been an ass all week and they’re struggling to cope with Emily’s death and he just wants one second without Morgan comparing their grief or Rossi trying to pry or Reid looking at him like the sky’s falling in and he’s screaming himself hoarse looking for an Atlas to remind him where it’s rightful place is.

He’s been withdrawn and he got a little snippy at Rossi but, in general, nothing worth hating him over. Nothing that any of them so much as took a second glance at. So calling him an ass is really stretching it but he’s just looking for an excuse to not have to tell them. Besides, he can do this on his own. Just needs some ice… and to get up the stairs.

He doesn’t get ice.

He doesn’t even take a shower.

Getting up that many stairs with a leg that tries to buck out from underneath him after the first floor is hard enough without trying to figure out how to wrangle himself into the shower. That’s excluding the problem of getting out of the shower.

That’s about half a lie anyways. He steps into his room, the A.C. blasting on it’s highest setting where he left it, and drags himself to the bed. The sweat across his body is cold and as nice as it would be to stand there at the machine and let it blow the cold into his face he can’t. He’s not slept since they landed, not in this bed and only naps he’d slipped into while coffee brewed. With the room nearly freezing and his knee keeping pace with his heart he sags into bed.

Doesn’t even bother to get under the covers or take off his shoes.

He saves that for their trip back.

They wake him up, Reid shouting at Morgan. They’re sopping wet and Morgan thinks it’s funny watching Reid squirm because he forgot his towel.

His exhaustion has weighed him down, pulled him under the pain. He hears Reid yell and after the initial fight leaves as he realizes Reid’s not in pain or being murdered (Morgan’s deep laughter clears that up) his knee comes back with vengeance. There’s no way he’s making it to the ice machine down the hall and he’s sure as hell not getting in the shower.

Taking his pants off is miserable.

Getting his left shoe off is fine, that knee is bendable. The other is just out of reach and he curses under his breath, loses his temper and throws his shoe down on the ground. Tears gather in his eyes as the pain gets unbearable but this isn’t worse than being stabbed. It’s not so he manages. Holds his breath until his face is pulsing with the heat of his pain and when he finally manages to get the shoelace untied he’s light-headed, dizzy.

The pants are not easier.

It gets the better of him, his belt smacks his knee and he cries out. He hears the other’s, knows that Morgan hears him make the sound and calls out for everyone to be quiet. Hotch holds his breath again, waits out their footsteps until the doors shut and they’re gone.

He lays starfished out on the bed. Stripped down to his boxers and his white undershirt. It’d be nice to get under the covers but even thinking about moving is an excruciating idea. He doesn’t even look at his knee, doesn’t need to sit up to see it. Doesn’t want to.

He sleeps.

Dead to the world for hours until his alarm clock goes off at six in the morning. He’s got hours of just dead, limp sleep in his body and he still can hardly muster the strength to move. But he hasn’t got the time to be hurt. The jet leaves the tarmac at ten and he still has places to be-- hands to shake and people to talk to. It takes fifteen minutes longer than normal to get ready and six long laps around his room until he can walk without a heavy, easy to spot limp. Each movement, if he focuses enough, can be smooth.

You can’t even tell.

“Walking like an old man.” Hotch stops, frowns and chooses not to say anything. He continues locking up his room, grunting in annoyance when Morgan steps around him and grabs his go-bag. “Figured you were just tired,” Morgan informs him, leaning on the wall of the door so he can see Hotch’s face. “That Unsub got you good, huh? What is it? Your back?”

Hotch glances at his go bag, still held easily in the palm of Morgan’s left hand. He’s not getting that back. With a frown he turns for the stairs, “I’m fine.” But he focuses far too hard on his gate and Morgan can see it.

“It’s your knee,” Morgan deduces. He can see it. The way Hotch has to lean on the rail when he extends his right leg out, knuckles white. “Haven’t iced it yet, have you?”

Hotch ignores him, keeps walking down the stairs.

“When we get on the jet let me wrap it up.” He’s not offering so much as warning Hotch of his plans for later. Morgan’s been an athlete his whole life, that’s lent years of practice in figuring out how to tape up and ice various injuries. “You’ll need to put ice on it, it’ll help.”

He doesn’t.

The jet ride home is distracted, buzzing with energy he hasn’t seen out of them in a while. The pain is worth it.

He goes home. Jack can sense his pain, he’s not entirely sure how but he’s gentle. Talking Hotch’s ear off about a book that Jessica bought him and that he intends to beg Hotch to read him tonight. They have their typical “Dad has a concussion” meal-- macaroni and cheese with cut up hotdogs. Jack loves it and it’s a treat to make up for Hotch’s physical status.

He always feels bad about being home but not being able to do dad things yet.

Not that Jack minds, he can always find something for them to do. He just likes having him home. Watching Jack fight sleep, trying to stay awake for a few more minutes of his father’s undivided attention, Hotch decides right then and there to call everyone out. Give them the day off.

“We can make cookies tomorrow,” he whispers into Jack’s hair. He doesn’t respond, which is odd, so Hotch lifts his head up. He shifts them both around until he can see him better, careful once he’s positive Jack’s asleep and not ignoring him. Jack whines at the movement, clutching Hotch’s shirt so that he can’t be pulled away. “Alright,” Hotch rubs his back, soothes him back to sleep.

It’s a fight, nearly impossible, but Hotch gets Jack back to his room. As he’s tucking his blankets in around Jack, double-checking his night light and making sure he’s comfortable, he knows there’s a good likelihood that Jack will still end up in his bed tonight. If so, he’s not fighting this battle. He’ll leave his bedroom door open and what happens, happens.

Jack does make his way into Hotch’s bedroom. Just as the sun’s coming up and Hotch is still half-asleep, having woken up just a little too much to send the other’s the “take the day off” text.

“Morning,” Hotch whispers, hearing Jack’s feet on the carpet but not opening his eyes.

Jack comes to the empty side of the bed but still climbs over Hotch’s shoulder, slipping down over his side until he’s precariously being kept onto the bed by a little bit of bed and Hotch holding him. “Daddy,” he whispers back. He wiggles himself around, stretches his arms up to put a hand on Hotch’s cheek. “Daddy?”

Hotch knows he’s not going back to sleep. “What is it, buddy?”

Jack rubs at the facial hair growing along Hotch’s cheek, short coarse hair that feels funny against his hands. “I want to make, ugh…” Jack taps Hotch’s cheek as he thinks. “To make, uhm, I want pancakes!”

Hotch opens his eyes, smiles, and squeezes Jack. “Alright,” he responds. “We can make some pancakes.”

Despite the text message that Hotch sends out, Morgan and JJ still have to head into the office for paperwork, to at least take it home to work on it. Over the last year, Hotch is better about work. He leaves earlier and spends a lot less time at the office, still averaging more than them but undeniably on the mend. Still, Morgan walks into the BAU and is surprised, he’s cut short in his mission, when he sees Hotch’s empty office.

Morgan assumes the worst.

The knock at the door is surprising, Hotch doesn't exactly get visitors. Jessica doesn’t bother knocking, she just opens the door and shouts for them. Other than that, Rossi calls and Emily used to drop by to find something to do but… “Jack!” Jack’s five, he loves answering the door. He just never gets to do it.

“Look!” Jack cries.

Hotch pushes the pancakes he’s butchering off the stove, limping quickly to get to Jack. “What’re you doing here?”

Morgan frowns, lifts Jack up into his arms with a swoop and a happy squeal from Jack. “I came to make sure you were okay, knucklehead.” He looks at Jack, shaking his head with a look of pure ‘can you believe this guy?’. “Glad I got here,” Morgan shifts Jack over to his hip. “You’re burning the shit out of these pancakes.”

Jack giggles, glancing at Hotch to see his reaction.

Hotch moves to follow Morgan, going to attempt a poor argument on behalf of his pancakes but he’s cut-off. “Sit,” Morgan orders, pointing at one of the kitchen tables. “Jack, can you get me some ice?” Hotch watches as his kitchen is taken over. Morgan grimaces at the pancake currently in the pan but is quick to smile again when Jack calls for him by the freezer. He can't reach the tray.

Jack’s eager to please, right under Morgan’s feet, but constantly looking back at Hotch. Morgan’s pancakes are better and with some ice, Hotch’s knee becomes a bendable appendage once again.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jack hotchner

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softluci · 4 years ago

Text

atla hcs

i’ve been thinking about this for a minute, and i wanna do a set of headcanons for how i think the brothers (and eventually the undateables) would feel about certain avatar: the last airbender characters, or something along those lines. i actually just wanted to talk about lucifer and azula, so everything else here is a bonus. this doesn’t matter, but for what it’s worth: wherever the mc pops up, they will be gn, enjoy!

also: this kinda goes without saying, but there are most definitely spoilers in here. for which seasons? i don’t remember, i watched this show when i was nine, but proceed with caution if you have yet to watch it.

lucifer

if it’s one thing you are not gonna play with him about, it is princess azula. this man is an azula supremacist, and while he might not say those words exactly, anyone would be able to tell that’s the case if they talked to him about the show for longer than two minutes. he actually wasn’t even interested in the show until azula showed up, and he will readily admit this to anyone who inquires about it. what makes it funny is the fact that her first appearance is literally, like, ten seconds, so that means he saw her and immediately knew she was the best, which, like—real recognize real. is he projecting? am i projecting? yes, no. in that order. shut up.

he actually almost couldn’t hide how proud he was when azula almost killed aang, this man is deranged. the same way he takes her wins personally, he takes every loss of hers personally as well, so when she lost that agni kai? 🚶‍♂️

the average azula enjoyer believes azula should get a redemption arc, lucifer believes azula should simply get whatever she wants, and the difference between those two things is striking.

average azula enjoyer: i believe azula deserves to heal and redeem herself. it isn’t fair that she was left with her tyrannical, abusive father during formative years of her childhood, with no one to help her or show her what it means to be good. she cannot be blamed for the way she turned out. it especially isn’t fair that she gets no redemption for evil things she did at age fourteen, for a year, while the entire show is iroh’s redemption arc, and he was doing evil for decades—he is literally called “the dragon of the west” because of it. additionally—

lucifer morningstar, resident azula supremacist: everything azula did, she was right to do, because i would’ve done the same. there was never a point at which she was wrong, it’s just unfortunate that nobody could keep up with her, her father included. the only reason why she ended up losing, ultimately, is because this is a children’s show, and good is supposed to win out. it was plot armor. if this were realistic, she would’ve beaten everyone—at the very least, she would’ve beaten zuko in the final agni kai, it’s just that he broke the rules and brought backup. at the time of the agni kai, she was literally the strongest firebender in the show. that’s actually the only part of this lucifer is right about, but you can’t tell him that.

if you ask him what his favorite quote in the show is, he’ll immediately say, “i can see your whole history in your eyes. you were born with nothing, so you’ve had to struggle, and connive, and claw your way to power. but true power? the divine right to rule? is something you’re born with.” and he will do it so well that it’ll give you the chills.

in actuality, his favorite quote is, “i’d really rather our family physician look after little zuzu, if you don’t mind.” it’s just that it doesn’t have the same chilling effect as the first one.

does he like any other characters? does he even care about any other characters? he has a deep fondness for sokka because he reminds him of mammon. yes, and they are katara and suki, with honorable mention to avatar kyoshi.

does he hate any characters? no, but if you mention avatar kuruk or uncle iroh to him, he might get annoyed. is mildly frustrated by aang, but has the sense to cut him some slack for being twelve and the last of his kind. never speak of ozai.

mammon

toph supremacist. frequent user of the phrase, “toph is just fucking class.” knows for a fact that toph is the best and strongest bender in the entire show, and no one has ever managed to convince him otherwise. mainly because nobody really disagrees. like, have you ever even seen toph slander?

just like lucifer with azula, he wasn’t invested in the show until toph showed up, which, once again, is funny, because technically her very first appearance is only a few seconds long, so that means he saw her for a literal second and just knew. you can’t even be mad at that, real recognize real.

no one will ever see him more proud than when he’s talking about one toph beifong. he can’t get over her raw, unbridled talent, and he really never should. if you let him (so, if you’re levi), he will spend so much time analyzing her character and every single one of her strengths, from the fact that she’s the only one who knows when azula is lying, all the way down to the fact that even though she projects a tough persona, she can still be vulnerable, AND—

not only is she strong, but her personality is simply untouchable. this girl grows on literally everyone; like, even lucifer likes her, even though he’ll die before saying it out loud.

he gets so smug whenever someone asks him who his favorite is and it’s because he knows his taste is top tier, and what makes it worse is that no one can even disagree because toph is just that good.

will never admit it, but he was shaking and crying during the scene where it looked like toph and sokka were literally gonna die. was also gonna cry when toph almost drowned. basically: he is eternally grateful to suki.

his favorite line in the entire show is, “i am the greatest earthbender in the world! don’t you two dunderheads ever forget it.” it’s just fucking class.

does he like any other characters? he sees himself in sokka, he’ll tell you that much. he also knows that satan and lucifer like sokka because of him, and he found out because he heard them talking about it. to their joint dismay, they turned to see him standing behind them, grinning like an idiot, and they couldn’t even scare him into leaving them alone when he hugged both of them at the same time because, one, they didn’t really want to, and two, they couldn’t turn off their fondness for him fast enough ^_^. did they reciprocate his hug? did they stay like that for a little bit? did lucifer kiss the tops of their heads? maybe so🤨

does he hate any characters? not really, but he doesn’t particularly like azula because she scares him and makes him sad, like lucifer and doesn’t see her appeal. once tried to make a case for why she shouldn’t have a redemption arc and felt painfully human from the way he almost died. do not mention toph’s parents to him. the name ozai should also never be on your tongue.

levi

resident sokka enjoyer and suki appreciator. do not ever call sokka dumb in front of this man unless you want a proper lecture. unlike a few of his brothers, he doesn’t like sokka just because of his similarities to mammon. he also likes sokka because he relates to him on a personal level.

levi absolutely knows what it’s like to feel inadequate and outshined by people younger than you. he absolutely knows what it’s like to feel like your competence is overlooked. while he might be unfamiliar with how it feels to strategize for a war and lose a battle, but it is one of his biggest fears and it absolutely crushed him to see sokka go through that.

on a lighter note, levi has a deep appreciation for sokka’s comedic value, despite the fact that it can overshadow his intelligence. levi would actually venture to say that he likes sokka’s funnier side because it overshadows his intelligence to the point that it throws the opposition for a loop. this is the aspect of sokka that reminds him of mammon.

it also seriously warmed his heart to see how everyone missed sokka while he was away for sword training; he especially liked that episode because it was just an affirmation of the fact that sokka is an integral part of team avatar, which he really needed to see.

you know who else is an integral part of team avatar who needs to be recognized as such more often? suki. do you know how much pain levi is in every time he thinks about the lack of suki screentime . it’s a lot . suki is just too good for the amount of screentime she has, he’s sorry, but it’s true. this is evidenced by the scene of her literally running across prisoners’ heads to apprehend the warden of boiling rock. that scene speaks for itself—she and the other kyoshi warriors end up as zuko’s body guards for a reason.

he will never let anyone forget that if it weren’t for suki, sokka would still be a misogynist. she was an essential element to sokka’s growth as a character and everyone had better remember it or so help him. also , he is a firm believer in the fact that suki was the best love interest for sokka, with zuko as a close second. don’t ask questions. rip yue but argue with the wall.

his favorite line in the series?

“zuko’s gone crazy! i made a sand sculpture of suki, and he destroyed it! oh, and he’s attacking aang.”

it’s not profound or cool or anything like that, but it makes him smile and giggle every time he thinks of it ^_^.

does he like any other characters? he has a lot of love for toph and azula for the sole fact that the series improved exponentially after both of their introductions; he thinks both of them are in leagues of their own and seeing them in action just puts a smile on his face. he’s also inexplicably fond of king bumi.

does he hate any characters? not particularly, actually! he pretty much respects and appreciates everyone, except the guy who mutilated his thirteen year old son for speaking out of turn.

satan

just pick a girl. any girl. and from the way he talks about them, you’ll think they’re his favorite. he can and will go on about the girls of atla for the rest of eternity.

but since we’re being specific:

katara appreciator. azula enjoyer. basically, between him and lucifer, no tongue raised against azula shall prosper. he has a deep respect for each of their wraths. he also really must have a thing for angst because both of these characters just break his heart.

if you let him (in other words, if you’re levi), he will go on about how it’s not fair that people call katara annoying when, in reality, she just hasn’t healed from the trauma of seeing her mother’s corpse at age eight, followed by having to take care of her village, meaning she got literally no time to grieve properly, and—

call katara annoying in front of him and you might actually have to meet god for your shallow views of such a deep, complex character.

he will also go on and on about how katara would be the best bender in the show, if it weren’t for toph, who is untouchable. instead, he’ll talk about how katara almost killed pakku for being misogynistic and how she single handedly beat azula during sozin’s comet. you will frequently hear this man say, “katara aang’s master for a reason,” and he’s right.

similar to if you call katara annoying, if you call azula scary in front of satan, he’s bullying you. he’s sorry, but it has to happen. no way you’re scared of a traumatized fourteen year old, what are you, eight? or do you have no understanding of azula’s depth? both are unacceptable.

satan is the average azula enjoyer, times about seven. you simply won’t get away with speaking poorly of azula in front of this man, so if you’re like mammon and don’t like her, you better tread very carefully.

one time mammon tried to be like, “azula is too far gone to deserve redemption anyways,” and satan literally reverted to his demon form as he said: “if i were abandoned with my terrible father as a child, with literally no one to help me, and then my friends betrayed me, and then, as i was about to be crowned ruler of my country, my dumb fucking idiot brother showed up with his dumb peasant friend for backup, which isn’t even allowed, i might be mad forever too, actually—” and then he threw the nearest chair at mammon for his criminally bad take.

another reason why satan loves azula so much is because he’s convinced she’s a lesbian and satan is the most “let’s go lesbians!!!” person you will ever meet. you actually can’t convince him that she isn’t a lesbian. forget chan. nobody gives a fuck about chan.

what’s his favorite line in the entire series?

“trust me, zuko—it’s not going to be much of a match.”

like, come on. katara is just too good.

does he like any other characters (other than the girls of atla)? he’ll never admit it, but he has a lot of respect for sokka and a soft spot for him because he reminds him of mammon. he also has a lot of respect for aang because he reminds him of beel of how well he handled literally everything despite being twelve.

does he hate any—yes. never speak of avatar roku. or iroh. or ozai. for good measure, don’t mention general zhao either.

asmo

what lucifer is to azula, asmo is to ty lee. like do i even have to say anything else. but for what it’s worth, he also love, love, loves azula because she reminds him of lucifer, from her strength and class, all the way down to her descent into madness. and even though she breaks his heart just as much as she does satan’s. he may or may not have cried over azula in satan’s room while they were talking about her. unlike lucifer and satan, he can respect it if you don’t like her, but it’ll make him so sad.

but enough about azula. ty lee is where it’s at for him. her subtle strength and unwavering love is something to die for, and he will defend it against anyone, up to and including lucifer, and he’ll win too. asmo is not to be trifled with and neither is ty lee; he can make a strong argument as to why ty lee is the strongest character in the show, and you will have a very hard time trying to refute his points. (the main point being: it’ll be really hard to win a fight against someone who can paralyze you in a few seconds, bender or not.)

the fact that ty lee ran away from home because she was tired of the fact that nobody ever saw her as her own person is just something that tugs at asmo’s heartstrings. he thinks ty lee’s bravery is just something that can be so personal.

also—he has a massive appreciation for the fact that, even though there’s a war going on and ty lee is in near-constant danger, she still has the sense to maintain her appearance and worry about the skincare of not just herself, but also people she’s close to. that is a detail he will never let anyone forget.

never mentions it in front of lucifer but one of his favorite scenes is when she paralyzes azula to save mai. once again: ty lee’s bravery is just something that can be so personal.

he doesn’t have a favorite line in the series, but his favorite exchange of dialogue is between ty lee and azula, wherein ty lee is trying to teach azula how to flirt. he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

does he like any other characters? of course! he likes everyone ^_^ . you’d actually be hard pressed to find someone he hates. ozai. it’s ozai. he has a real soft spot for mai because she reminds him of belphie. something about their shared aversion to affection is just so cute to him!

beel

aang supremacist, will hold steadfast to the fact that aang is the best character in the show and you will struggle to figure out how to convince him otherwise.

if you ask him why aang is his favorite, the first thing he will do is gesture to a picture of him and say, “look at the material,” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, before diving into a ten minute in depth character analysis for this boy.

come on. he shouldn’t even have to explain himself. not only is aang one of the strongest, most competent avatars to exist, ever, he also mastered all four elements in a year, when he was twelve—he’s literally a different breed. and he managed to beat ozai in his own way, without killing him, as a means of staying true to a culture that could have literally died with him at any point in the show. aang is just fucking class.

he also admires aang for his near unwavering kindness and lighthearted nature. and for never going berserk and killing everyone he sees, especially after finding out his people were killed while he was in ice.

you have no idea how much pain beel was in when he found out that the air nomads were just gone. seeing a child find out that not only their family is gone, but also the entirety of their people and culture, just absolutely broke his heart. and that guilt aang was feeling? hit way too close to home for him.

he also thinks it’s really nice that aang was so quick to forgive zuko after everything, and the two of them ended up being really good friends. it just puts a smile on his face.

after some reflection with levi, he would’ve liked to see the full scope of an airbender’s power in the series; as in, he would’ve liked to see someone suffocated, but it’s okay, because aang wasn’t like that. and he heard it happens in the next series over.

anyway, beel’s favorite quote in the show...well, it isn’t really a quote, as much as it’s a dialogue between two characters. it’s the scene where toph asks, “do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?” and aang says, “i don’t see why not.” it could bring a tears to his eyes just thinking about it; and in the next series over when it’s proven to be true, he absolutely cried.

does he like any other characters? he’s actually really fond of zuko and mai because they both remind him of belphie. he also likes sokka for the same reason lucifer and satan like sokka. he has a deep appreciation for katara because aang would literally be dead without if it weren’t for her.

does he hate any characters? well, he doesn’t really like azula. he feels bad for her, but he doesn’t like her. but as for who he hates? take a wild guess.

belphie

zuko makes him sob is his number one. yes zuko is his favorite because of his redemption arc, yes he sees himself in zuko, no he will not explain any further than that, what’s your point🤨

in actuality, he will never be able to properly articulate how important it is for him to see that redemption is, indeed, attainable, if you put the work in. in a similar vein, he will also never be able to give words to how important it is for him to see that forgiveness is also attainable. it means the world to him. that is why it makes him cry. the feeling is overwhelming. i’m gonna cry if i think about it for too long.

he will cling to the fact that zuko is the best character in the show, and he will cling to it even when zuko embarrasses him by saying stupid shit like, “no lightning today?” and even when zuko is so awkward it causes him physical pain. that’s his number one and he’s not changing on it!

firm zukka supporter. will not argue. that’s all.

what’s his favorite line in the entire series? it’s one of the two you’re thinking of. make that decision for yourself.

does he like any other characters? he positively adores aang and will readily admit that it’s because he reminds him of beel. bonus points for aang because he also loves the dynamic between him and zuko. toph is a distant third, mainly because he just really likes her attitude. he looks at her and thinks, now this is someone who would not hesitate to kick lucifer’s ass.

does he hate any characters? you better believe it. he hates iroh because he reminds him of dia. he can’t really bring himself to like azula because she makes him a different kind of sad. and if you know what’s good for you, you will never mention ozai.

#can you tell i am also an azula enjoyer #doesn't matter because i'm correct but still #worth mentioning i suppose #obey me #obey me!#obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor

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themadauthorshatter · 3 years ago

Text

It's been a while since we last checked on Flippy, so let's see how he's doing!

We start with Cuddles this time, who's sitting upside down on a bench when Petunia and Flaky approach him, asking if he's seen Flippy anywhere.

He has not, because he thought Flippy was with Petunia.

Petunia folds her arms and asks why Flippy would be with her for about a half to a week and a half, and Cuddles shrugs; maybe they got REALLY intimate and just needed all of that time together.

Flaky squeals, because it's dirty, and Petunia tells him to get his mind out of the gutter because this is crazy serious.

Cuddles gets up and relentls and asks if they stopped by his house.

They did, and he wasn't there.

Did they check the woods?

Not there either.

The GYM?

He doesn't even BELIEVE in going to the Gym, most days; why GO to a place to workout when you have the equipment at your house or just outside in general?

Cuddles finally realizes that Flippy's MISSING missing, and gets up, joining the girls with finding their friend.

Flaky hopes that Flippy's okay, but Cuddles assures her that he's smart, he wouldn't do anything stupid like run away.

Funny he say that because Flippy IS doing something stupid, staring at a projector that's showing a bunch of war footage, like pictures that NO AVERAGE PERSON should see.

Splendid cringes as turns a small dial on an IV line and watches Flippy struggle to both handle the medicine that's being pumped into him and not flip out.

Thankfully, all that happens is that he vomits in a bucket.

Splenedid stops the medicine and hands Flippy some water, asking if he's really okay with continuing; they've been at this for a while and they're making very debatable progress.

Flippy washes his mouth out and nods. He can keep going.

Splendid hestitately changes the image to a collage of very familiar faces:

Tiger General, Sneaky, and Mouse Ka-Boom.

Flippy gasps at seeing them and asks how the hell Splendid got these pictures.

Splendid admits it was a simple internet search, because people spread information around like it's a puff puff pass, especially if said information is a tragedy and a victory. He can give Flippy a few minutes, if he needs it.

Flippy only takes a few seconds seeing the faces of his dead partners and nods.

Splendid gets the IV and medicine going again and Flippy takes a few deep breaths as what I call the "Make Me Sick" medicine(MMS for short)(if MMS is a real thing, I deeply and sincerely apologize. I know there's a name for the drug/"medicine" used for aversion therapy, but I forgot it🙏🙏🙏) runs through his system. TV perspective, his eyes dart between Mouse Ka-Boom and Sneaky and he sees old memories of the three in training, i.e. standing still while a drill sergeant yells in their faces and/or tries to make them laugh, having a meal together, goofing around before bed, and even comforting each other after getting tased and pepper sprayed as a part of training.

Flippy's eyes go 'killer instinct-y' and he fights a gag as he remembers how they all promised to meet again once they were out of the army, and how both looked at him with shock, sorrow, and betrayal because of how he accidentally killed them.

The memories change to taking on Tiger General 1v1, how he had to fend for himself, got his hands removed, and was almost strangled to death until he ultimately came out on top amd took down the rest of the enemy base.

When I say he vomits, I mean he VOMITS until there's nothing left to get out of his system and he's dry heaving.

Splendid quickly turns off the projector and gets Flippy off the IV, though the veteran tells him he can take more, he just needs a few minutes.

Splendid, however, tells him to call it a day; they've been at this for hours and he's already making phenomenal progress; of course Splendid is not going to TEST it right now because his friend just threw up all of his digestive system.

Flippy sighs and agrees, relinquishing for the day.

Splendid helps him up and asks if he's okay to walk home and Flippy states he's fine; he just wants to go shower and clean himself up after throwing up so much.

The two bid their farewells and Flippy begins a very uneasy walk home.

A bit of context: it's been a week or so since the last part and they've been doing this all day everyday since then, from dawn to dusk, and today they started around MAYBE 4 am in the morning and it is now 12 or 1 pm in the afternoon, so yeah it's time for the Flipster to go home and rest.

Back on track, Flippy's not exactly the best because he needs to get the vomit taste out of his mouth and just feels like crap, so he takes a shortcut home.

He gets there relatively fast and flops onto the couch and falls asleep, exhausted.

He dreams he's with Sneaky and Mouse Ka-Boom, all three playing a mix of Spades and Poker, Sneaky and Flippy speaking in english before translating for Mouse Ka-Boom to understand them; yes, Mouse Ka-Boom speaks french. He understands English well enough, but isn't the best at speaking it, aside from, 'Sir, yes, sir,' 'Sir, no, sir,' and a few insults he picked up from Flippy on accident; he may or may not have gotten the three in trouble because he repeated one of these insults in front of a commanding officer.

Regardless, the three are having a good time before Sneaky asks Flippy a question: How did it feel to throw that knife at him rather than the General? Did he enjoy it? Did he hate Sneaky that much he had to throw a KNIFE through his chest?

Flippy deflates and clarifies that he did not mean to miss the General; it was a heat of the moment thing and he's, admittedly, not good under stress.

Mouse Ka-Boom lowers his cards and asks if cutting him in half was another 'heat of the moment thing,' along with getting them both blown to smithereens.

They change before Flippy's eyes, both mangles and burnt, and Flippy leaves the table, backing away from them.

That is until a hand claps on his shoulder and his own voice tells him to admit that he actually did enjoy killing his friends; it's what he's been trained to do, so what better way to see the reward of all that effort?

Flippy turns and sees himself, who demands he admit it, admit that he's never going to change, that he won't let himself because not only does he like it, he also wants to go back to fighting and wants out of Splendid's Aversion therapy.

Flippy barely gets a word out because his other self tackles him to the ground and starts to choke him, calling him weak, a liar, and a coward, saying he should've died on that mission, not Sneaky or Mouse Ka-Boom.

Speaking of which, the two appear and grab both of Flippy's arms, holding him while he's practically being strangled again.

It gets worse when his other self turns into Tiger General, who laughs that he wouldn't be surprised by such an admission because it took Flippy how many tries to kill him. Might as well return the favor.

Flippy, breathless and trying to break free screams out and wakes up on the floor, though he gets up and runs to the kitchen sink, where he dry heaves and coughs up spit.

He stops after a while and sits against the cabinets, having regrets about the choice to go along with Splendid's idea.

These regrets linger as he walks outside the next day, catching a toy Cub dropeed while and Pop are on a stroll, though Cub is in a wagon.

They walk off, Pop thanking Flippy, and Flippy gets a surprise attack hug from Flaky, who's close to tears because he's been missing.

Cuddles, Giggles, and Petunia also approach, asking where the hell he disappeared to, because they've been looking all over for him.

Flippy apologizes for worrying them and straight up lies, saying he just left town for a little bit to enjoy some quiet time; and to restock on his medicine as soon as he could because he ran out.

Cuddles still lightly punches Flippy on the arm and tells him not to scare them like that again, or they'll put him on a harness or walk around with him in a wagon.

With Flaky now piggybacking him, Flippy muses that it sounds tempting, because he could see everyone getting some excerise because of it.

The group laugh it off and start toward a diner, because they all skipped breakfast and lunch on accident.

Flippy decides to join them, having NOT skipped breakfast, and they head to the diner.

On his back, Flaky asks Flippy if he's okay, because he looks pale and feels tense.

He nods, claiming he's fine, just a little sore from a workout he did while he was away.

Flaky is suspicious, but drops it. FOR NOW.

Cut to them at the diner, all talking and looking over the menu to see what they want, and a visual gag of Cuddles and Giggles having a contest of who can spin longer in their chairs(they're all sitting at the bar).

Flippy is a little uneasy because ANYTHING can trigger his instincts and he doesn't know how well this aversion procedure is going to qork because neither he nor Splendid went out and actually saw if it was working.

Petunia sees his unease and asks if he needs to step outside for a second.

He shakes his head and admits he's just trying to figure out what to eat.

Good thing he's having a hard time, too, because Petunia is not in the mood for grease.

Flaky fakes a gag or an "Eugh," and jokes, "Ew, flirting."

While Flippy laughs, Petunia DARES Flaky to repeat that, because it was her that helped the two get closer.

His laughter dies when a kitchen fire starts on accident right in front if them.

TV/anime perspective, we see the reflection of the fire in Flippy's eyes as they widen and he gasps/whimpers. We don't see his flashback, but we hear about a bomb going off and people screaming in pain. Flippy clenches a fist on the countertop, silent as the fire is put out and everyone relaxes.

While everyone talks about how crazy that just was, Flippy spontaneouly gets sick to his stomach and gags, excusing himself really quick to go to the bathroom.

The group watch and are now very confused, because usually flame triggers him, but he did not go off on them.

Cuddles, being the only boy, follows Flippy, saying that he'll try not to die in the process.

He does not die, but he does see Flippy vomiting into one of the sinks, very violently, I must say.

Cuddles asks if everything's okay, which scares the crap out of Flippy, but the ex-soldier claims he's fine; the fire just got him scared.

Cuddles doesn't really buy it, and asks another question: Has he been eating, AT ALL? Because he looks like he lost a little bit of weight and sick as hell.

While he waters away his mess, washes out, and wipes off his mouth, Flippy admits he has been, as much as he can, at least.

Cuddles still doesn't buy it, asking WHAT he's eating and when.

Flippy leans over the now clean sink and measures his options.

If he tells the truth, there's a chance his friends are not going to take it well.

If he keeps them in the dark, they will be fine, even though he'll feel even more like garbage.

Flippy turns and holds up his hands in surrender. He's been eating venison to build immunity, and because it, honestly, tastes really good.

Cuddles reels on him, asking why he'd do that when he's almost deathly allergic to the stuff.

Flippy apologizes and admits that, yes, he knows it's stupid, but he's just trying to make himself better, in case they have a cookout and someone accidentally brings venison instead of steak.

Cuddles points out that's BS because NO ONE eats venison(whatever it is)(Flippy corrects him that it's deer), but still drops it because Flippy clearly doesn't want to talk about it; guy code.

Flippy thanks him anyway and they rejoin the group, everyone keeping an eye on Flippy as he eats, Flaky especially, because, having known him the longest, she canntell he's both hiding something and isn't as good as he's pretending to be.

HMMMMMMMM????

#happy tree friends #htf flippy #htf splendid #htf giggles #htf cuddles #htf flaky #htf petunia #ptsd tw #nightmare tw #strangle/choking tw #medicine/drug use tw #aversion therapy tw #vomiting tw #thank you for being patient

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santigarcia · 4 years ago

Text

we’ll meet again

a ww2 au santiago ‘pope’ garcia x reader x frankie ‘catfish’ morales fic~

rating: m for smut; threesomes, some war violence

word count: 3.5k

summary: You’re in a relationship w/ Santi and Frankie and they both are drafted for the war; you anxiously await their return home.

a/n: ive been wanting to do a santi x reader x frankie fic for a while now, but i wanted to do something different w/ mine! just wasn’t sure how! until i got this ww2 idea~ so i hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated

thank you @huliabitch for this aesthetic!!!!!

We’ll Meet Again

Santiago Garcia whistles a tune while he checks the mail. He’s on his lunch break from work and he decided to come home to see you. The mail is downstairs in the lobby of your apartment building. He fishes his keys out of his pocket still whistling the tune.

Frankie Morales is right behind him; he had the same idea to come see you at lunch during his break.

“You wanna get mine out too?” Frankie asks, Santi nods not turning his head. He knows Frankie’s voice.

He knows a lot more about Frankie than the average person should. These two men are in a relationship with you. The three of you share an apartment.

You’re up there waiting for them to come home right now, and both men have a spring in their step. Until Santi pulls out two identical envelopes from the mailbox. He doesn’t have to open it to know what it is. He hands Frankie his letter. Santi stands still, while Frankie tears open the letter, his eyes scanning the document, all the color leaving his face.

“We can’t tell her,” Santi holds his hand up, he’s calm as he tries to process this.

“She sure as fuck is going to notice that we’re gone! How are we going to keep this a secret?”

“No man, I mean we don’t tell her we got drafted yeah? We tell her we volunteered.”

“How is that better? That we chose to leave her?”

“Fuck I don’t know,” Santi sighs and brushes his hand over his face.

The light clack of heels on the floor turns their heads, and they are greeted with your smiling face. Your hair perfectly curled and red lipstick swept across your lips. Normally their tongues would wag at the sight of you, but there’s too much fear and uncertainty running through their minds.

“Hi boys,” you greet them with a smile, unaware of what news they hold in their hands and is just waiting on the tips of their tongues.

“Hey honey,” Santi greets you with a kiss to your cheek. He’s better at acting than Frankie.

When you turn to Frankie, you see the worried look on his brow, and the letter in his hand.

“What’s that?” you ask him, your voice catching in your throat. You know what it is, but you don’t want it to be true.

“Baby,” Santi brings the attention back to him. He takes a deep breath about to tell you when Frankie cuts him off.

“We volunteered.”

Santi gives him a look of surprise that he said it, but you don’t see it. You feel sick to your stomach.

“Both of you?” you reach for Santi to steady yourself; you feel dizzy. Frankie reaches for you to keep you upright. “When? When do you leave?”

“Next week.”

Tears begin to fall down your cheeks. You aren’t angry, you’re scared. The loves of your life are leaving for war. There’s a high chance they won’t come home.

You try to soak up as much of them as you can in the next week, but there’s an ever-present darkness over your lives. The next few days fly by, even amidst the fear and anxiety that fills your little apartment. Before you know it, you’re at the station saying goodbye to your boys.

Soldiers in uniform are everywhere, and many others like you are saying goodbye to their sweethearts, their sons, or their fathers. There’s a bitter feeling in the air, tears are on many faces.

“At least the last image I see of you boys is how handsome you both look in your uniforms,” you sniffle, trying to make light of this situation. You smooth your hand over Santi’s broad shoulders and straighten Frankie’s crooked tie.

The train whistle blows it’s the last call to board. They have to go.

“Santi,” you reach for him. His gorgeous eyes are sad, but his eyebrows lift when you call his name. Your hand rests on his chest over his heart. “Don’t be too reckless. Keep an eye on Frankie.” Your other hand cups his face, stubble already growing in from his shave this morning. You move your hand up to touch at his hair just above his ear, his uniform hat hiding his greying curls from you. “You’re so smart and brave, use that to your advantage. But stay out of trouble.” You kiss his cheek, then he kisses your forehead when he sees the tears in your eyes.

“Frankie,” you turn to him, your hand still on Santi’s chest. “Be brave. It’s ok to be scared. Don’t let Santi be stupid.” His lips quirk up in a smile, and you feel Santi’s chest when he chuckles. You touch Frankie’s face and kiss his cheek too. “Don’t shave off that mustache. Let your kindness shine through during this. You’re so much stronger than you know.” You let out a sob and he wraps you up tight in a hug. “I don’t want you to go,” you tell him.

Santi’s hand comes to rest on your back, and he gently pulls you from Frankie to hug you one last time.

When you look at their faces you smile through your tears seeing you left a lipstick stain on each of their cheeks. You reach in your purse for your handkerchief, but Santi grabs your wrist, “leave it.” He says with a soft wink.

They each give you one more kiss then they turn and board the train.

That first night is one of the worst. For so long you’ve had not one, but two men in your bed keeping you safe, keeping you company. Now this bed feels so empty and cold.

It isn’t easy for them either. It’s not until they sit down on the train that the gravity of the situation hits them both. It’s here where they meet with two brothers, Will and Benny. All these men here are in the same situation, leaving home behind to go to war.

Basic training is up first for the boys, and Frankie struggles. He throws up on the first day, Santi claps him on the back telling him it’ll be alright – and he doesn’t just mean his stomach.

Santi intends to keep his promise to look out for Frankie, he’s family.

The boys write to you as much as they can, even when they’re shipped out overseas. Their letters serve as a comfort for all three of you. For you it’s knowing they’re alive, for them it’s a chance to think about something else, something better – you.

Santi is formal in his letters, precise. His handwriting is neat. His words are comforting, romantic, and full of sexual things he’d like to do with you when he gets home. He tells you about what’s going on as much as he can and tells you funny stories about Frankie, he hopes will make you laugh. He tells you about how he and Frankie have nicknames now. How he’s Pope and Frankie is Catfish. He tells you that he looks at the photo you gave him often, wishing to hold you again.

You like to imagine what Santi looks like when he writes. Maybe he’s in a tank top, arms dirty from the mud. A cigarette hanging loose between his lips. It’s much better to think of the alternative, which in reality Santi is in the mud, but he’s cold. Writing to you from a dim flashlight, hearing the sounds of shells exploding in the distance.

Frankie writes the way he talks, it’s simple and sweet and direct. His handwriting is messy, and his letters bring you a different kind of comfort. He tells you that he’s got his eye on Santi. That he too looks at the picture you gave him. How much he misses your warmth, your laugh. How he wants to take you out dancing when he gets home. You can tell by the way he writes that he’s sad. But there’s a change in him too that brings you comfort; he’s finding his courage.

What he doesn’t tell you is the ridicule they’ve gotten for “fuckin’ the same broad.” When everyone was showing off photos of their girls, someone snatched your picture out of Frankie’s hand. In Frankie’s photo, you’re smiling bright – a smile just for him. In Santi’s photo, you’re blowing a kiss to him.

Frankie almost punched the guy for talking about how sweet your pussy must be for two men to want it. Santi had to bite his tongue as he pulled Frankie back.

When you write to the boys, you tell them what you’ve been up to. How holidays and birthdays are terrible without them home. How you are helping out with the cause in whatever way you can.

What you don’t tell them is the nightmares that plague your mind. Graphic depictions of their deaths. It’s hard enough to imagine one, but often times both of them die in your dreams.

The nightmares only seem to worsen when the letters become less and less frequent. You resort to other things to keep their memory alive while they’re gone.

The scent of Santi’s aftershave becomes a comfort. You hug Frankie’s pillow at night, so you don’t feel so lonely.

Your boys have no such comfort other than a small fading photograph and your letters sprayed with your perfume. Their lives are a living nightmare, and it continues to grow more hellish.

The worst of their nights at war is when boys reach a small German village, the enemy hiding in the homes of innocent villagers. It’s dark, all the lights in the town are out. The moon overhead, and the lights the soldiers have with them are the only way they can see.

Santi volunteers to take first watch.

During his walk of the perimeter, he peers around a corner and a grenade explodes. He wasn’t close enough for major shrapnel to hit him, but the force of the explosion sends his body hurling backwards. He slams into a brick wall like a ragdoll, his knees hit first. He falls to the ground hard, and it is chaos now around him, but he can barely hear it because his ears are ringing.

Frankie searches frantically for Santi, and his commanding officer Redfly, orders Frankie to stay at his position. But he doesn’t listen, he made a promise to you.

“Why don’t you just leave him eh Frankie?” he hears one of the other soldiers tease him. “The competition’s been wiped out!”

Frankie keeps looking, and finally in the early dawn he finds Santi in a heap in the mud and blood.

“The hell are you doing?” Santi groans when Frankie gets to him. Gunfire and explosions light up the morning sky around them. “Leave me man. My legs are shot.”

“I won’t leave you here,” Frankie shakes his head and leans down to pick up Santi.

“Fuck!” is all Santi can say as Frankie moves his body. “Wait, just wait. I can’t walk.”

“No shit,” Frankie almost laughs.

“I promised to keep you safe, now get out of here.”

“And I promised her I’d keep you from being stupid.”

“How’s that workin’ out for you?” Santi laughs and splutters up some blood.

Frankie leans down again and hurls Santi’s body over his shoulder. Fear and adrenaline are his only explanations for how he managed to do this.

The next thing Santi remembers is waking up in a medical tent. Both of his legs are bandaged and elevated, and he feels miserable. His ears still have a dull ringing in them. He has an awful headache, but at least his legs don’t hurt, and he can in fact feel his toes. He misses you. He wants you here. Fuck. He wants to hold your hand. For you to comb your fingers through his hair to help him calm down.

He takes in his surroundings. Men are in beds everywhere. Nurses are walking all about, checking on everyone. His best guess is he’s in the recovering area, but he can still hear muffled screams in a nearby tent of extreme trauma cases.

He feels sick to his stomach, images of war coming back to him. It’s then he sees Frankie is sitting next to him, his arm in a sling.

“What happened to you?” Santi rasps, his voice gone from not using it in a few days.

“I carried some idiot off the battlefield over my shoulder. Tore it to shit.”

“She’s not gonna be happy about this,” Santi laughs. He can only imagine your reaction, but he would love for you to fuss over him.

“We’re fuckin’ alive man. She’ll take us however we are.”

And Frankie’s exactly right. He stays with Santi until he heals. And soon after that – the war is over.

They get to come home.

You cry when you hear the news on the radio. So many lives lost, you mourn with those around you who won’t have their soldier coming home.

You’d gotten one letter from Frankie in the last few months, and one only one came you feared the worst. But in his letter, he details how Santi was hurt and doing well in recovery. You felt sick reading this letter, to be so far from those who you love when they are hurting is a pain you never experienced to this degree.

And you can’t even begin to imagine what they went through. It tugs at your heart.

The entire time they were gone, every time your phone rang – it filled you with dread. That this would be the phone call alerting you of one or both of their deaths. You never got that phone call.

But today, you’d get to hear their voices on the other end of your phone.

“Hello?” you answer, and you hear both of their voices pouring in through the phone. From what you can hear over their excited babble and your crying, they are in New York. They’re boarding a train and will be home to you tonight.

Santi’s holding the mouthpiece while he and Frankie talk into it. You wish you could see them.

“We love you, honey. We’ll be home before you know it!”

They don’t talk long because they have to board and the lines for the phones are packed full of people trying to get in contact with their families.

You hold your own phone mouthpiece to your chest after they hang up. You’re setting it on the hook to hang up when you hear a knock at your door.

Confused, you move towards it to answer.

When you open the door, there they stand. Frankie and Santi. Shoulder to shoulder in their uniforms. Their bags at their feet. Santi slowly takes off his hat when he sees you, Frankie’s chest tightens. Your hand flies to your mouth and tears fall from your eyes as you leap into their arms. Your arms wrap around their necks and you cry there in the hallway, not caring who can hear you.

They both lean in to press kisses to your cheeks. Then Santi goes for your neck while Frankie whispers affections of love in your ear. You kiss both of them on the lips, smearing your lipstick all over their faces.

Even when they set you down and you pull them into your apartment by their ties, you still have tears falling down your cheeks.

In the soft light of the apartment, you take a good look at them. It’s the first time you’ve seen their faces in four years.

They look older. There’s a look in their eyes that makes you sad, it’s hidden but you know it’s what they’ve seen that haunts them. An unspeakable weight they carry. Santi’s hair has more grey than black. Frankie still has the mustache, and he stands taller.

“I wish I had known you sneaky boys were going to be home so fast! I would have made your favorites!”

“Baby, you’re our favorite,” Santi winks as he takes a seat at the kitchen table, shrugging his bag onto the floor.

Frankie quietly walks over to the record player and puts on a slow song. He takes off his hat and smooths down his hair, only to put it back on again. He reaches for your hand and the two of you start to sway to the music.

Santi has a soft smile on his face. Just happy to see you again. Happy to be home. It’s strange to be there all together again. How are you supposed to go on now? Do you all just pick up where you left off? There’s so much that’s been seen, pain that’s been felt.

All that you know right now is how good it feels to lean your head on Frankie’s chest. Frankie guides you over to Santi, and you reach out to weave your fingers into his hair.

“You going to dance Santi?” you lean down to kiss him.

“In a minute, he deserves this one.”

You look up at Frankie as you continue to sway.

“What does he mean by that?” you ask.

“Did he not tell you?” Santi lights a cigarette and places it between his lips, pocketing the lighter. “He saved my life. Threw me over his shoulder when I couldn’t walk.”

He sugarcoats the story, it’s still to raw to talk about.

“Why didn’t you tell me in your letter?”

“I was just keeping a promise,” Frankie smiles and leans down to kiss you.

“I’ll dance with you baby, but back in that bedroom.”

“Then what are we waiting for hmm?” you reach for Santi and tug Frankie back towards your shared bedroom.

There’s heat in their eyes, and an ache you’ve all been needing to fulfill. You take your time to undress each one. You want to touch him just to make sure he’s real.

While you undress Santi, his hooded eyes are full of delight. He’s been waiting for this for four years. There’s a smirk playing on his lips as you fumble with buttons out of excitement. You slap his hand away when he tries to help, only coaxing a chuckle from his lips.

You strip him down until he’s naked, only thing on him are his dog togs dangling around his neck. He goes to lay down on the bed while you work on Frankie.

His eyes are you on, but there’s a different kind of heat in his eyes. He shudders when your hand touches the skin on his chest. He groans into your lips when you pull him in for a kiss.

“Lay down, sweetheart,” Frankie rasps. You do as he tells you and you lay next to Santi.

Parting your legs, Frankie dives in to mouth at your heat, his mustache tickling your sensitive flesh. Santi takes this opportunity to angle himself so he can mouth at your breasts and neck and your lips. His hand on your forehead groaning into your lips and on your chest.

Frankie moves his tongue over your lazily, even after you’ve reached your high, he still works his tongue over you, enjoying the taste he’s been starved of.

When he’s through, Santi rolls back over and you crawl into his lap. You’re slick and ready for him, so you sink down on him. You both shudder to feel this, the warmth you’ve both been missing. Frankie stands near you, and you reach for him – grasping his hard length in your hand you stroke him lazily while Santi thrusts up in you. Frankie slides his hand down to rub at your sex.

Feeling both of them after going without for so long has you coming hard on Santi. You shake and Santi steadies you with his hands on your hips.

Your hand is still on Frankie, and he lets go before he meant to. He wanted to be inside you, but feeling you was too much for him and he’s coming all over your side.

A couple more thrusts from Santi and he’s tossing his head back coming hard in you. You lean forward to kiss his chin and capture his groan. Then you sit back up and lean up to kiss Frankie’s lips, his hand coming to cradle your jaw.

You clench once around Santi while he softens up, and he groans again. You giggle to tease him so, and he whispers, “that’s my girl.”

You spend the rest of the night like that. Naked and laying in between your two lovers. You kiss them as deeply as you can. Listening to them tell stories, and they listen to yours. Catching up on the four years missed, it feels like a lifetime ago.

It’s strange to feel whole now that they are home, but there’s something missing too. They are not the same men as before, but you’re not the same woman. The one thing that hasn’t changed after all this time – through war and sorrow is your love for each other.

tagging: @agentpike, @bisexual-space-slut, @blancatobarxoxo, @cosmicmando, @damndamer0n, @darksideofclarke, @feelmyroarrrr, @ghosttofcalum, @goldhoran, @himbopoes, @huliabitch, @ironman-iam, @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa, @itspdameronthings, @ivars-heathen, @javihoney, @knittingqueen13, @limenlimon, @literatureandqueen, @maciiiofficial, @magicsuperheroes, @mandoplease, @marvel-dameron, @melanietrancy, @mitchi-c, @mylifeliterally, @pajamasecrets, @pascalplease, @pascalz, @perropascal, @phoenixhalliwell, @poesflygirl, @poeticandors, @punkpascal, @rewritingstars, @savagethewhale, @saved-fanfiction, @sgtbookybarnes, @shadow-assassin-blix, @stanningtoomanypeopleatonce, @stardust-galaxies, @the-bird-suit, @thehippiequilter, @thepjofanqueen, @this-cat-is-dea, @tintinwrites, @triggerhappyflygirl, @waatermelon-sugaar, @wakalas, @xremember-me-notx, @xxidontwikeitxx

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #santiago garcia x reader x frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #my writing #I HOPE YALL LIKE THISSSS

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glimmerglanger · 4 years ago

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Hello, hope you're having a good day. Here's a prompt for your spicy Sundays/whenever: obikin, sex pollen/aphrodisiacs, but sex happens *after* the pollen/substance wears off. I see it as not yet established relationship, with background pining, and much 'must not give into this' during the exposure to the pollen/substance. Who is the one exposed-or both are?-I leave up to you. Feel free to ignore this, if this scenario is something that holds no interest for you. As always, I love your work.

:DDD! So, this ended up with no actual sex happening, it’s all dealing with waiting for the substance too wear off. But it’s still...very explicit and spicy. So much dirty talk and...giving oneself a hand?

SPICY SUNDAY FIC. Set during the Clone Wars. I guess technically pre-Obikin? Warnings for non-consensual use of an aphrodisiac, but, again, no contact happens.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Enough things had gone wrong in Obi-Wan’s life for him to begin to feel suspicious when things went well. Master Yoda would, inevitably, have something to say about that, if Obi-Wan ever had the opportunity to mention it.

He shoved those thoughts aside with a punchy laugh, engaged the lock on the quarters he and Anakin had received, when they arrived on Marilk, and leaned his shoulder against the door. There was a curse from the other side of the door, barely a moment later, and then Anakin said, “Obi-Wan, this isn’t funny, let me out.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that quite yet,” Obi-Wan said, turning to rest his back against the door. He nodded, flashing a strained smile, at a few of the Marilkians who had followed them from the feasting hall.

They were near-human, perhaps slightly taller than average and tending towards unusual hair colors: blues and greens seemed to predominate. They’d been friendly enough. Very friendly, really. It had made Obi-Wan’s spine itchy and he’d tried to set aside that worry….

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, from the other side of the door, strain in his voice, “I’m serious. I--”

“So am I,” Obi-Wan said, and, to prove it, he sank to sit in front of the door, folding his legs. He put his hands on his knees and breathed slow and deep. He’d worked so diligently not to worry, to not jump at shadows, and for his trouble, Anakin was--

Pounding on the door at his back, the strain in his voice getting thicker as he said, “You have to let me out, Obi-Wan.”

“It’s better that you stay in there,” Obi-Wan said, working to maintain his calm and to project it towards Anakin. He worked, at the same time, to release everything he was picking up from Anakin, everything that had been pouring out of him since Anakin picked up Obi-Wan’s cup during their dinner and downed it.

Their host - the High Chancellor - had seemed ever so unhappy about that. That had been, really, the first obvious sign that something was wrong.

Additional obvious signs had followed shortly, as Anakin’s heart rate spiked up, as he grew flushed, as his signature in the Force shifted. Lust was always easy to pick up in the Force. It yelled and shouted, pushed outwards, needy and full of hunger.

The High Chancellor had explained, when faced with their sudden suspicions and sharp tempers, what he had done. He claimed that whatever he’d slipped into Obi-Wan’s drink was quite harmless. Only meant to increase one’s enjoyment of an evening’s delights.

Obi-Wan had taken Anakin from the room before he lost the fight with his temper. Punching a dignitary would not be an acceptable resolution to their current situation. And so he had brought Anakin back to their rooms, away from prying eyes and wandering hands.

He’d expected, really, for Anakin to put up a fight about it, but he’d gone willingly enough. The protests only started after the door shut between them. Anakin banged something against the other side of the door and said, “Obi-Wan, please, I can’t stay in here.”

“Yes, you can,” Obi-Wan told him, ignoring the rush of lust and want he got back. Anakin was spilling it everywhere, directly across their bond, into Obi-Wan’s head. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and exhaled it, even as he felt a flush creep up his neck. “Try to meditate, it’ll--”

Anakin laughed, sharply. Obi-Wan heard it through the door. “Meditating is not going to help me right now,” he said. “I need--”

“A cold shower?” Obi-Wan suggested, thinking he would not mind one himself. He tried, very hard, not to think about the way Anakin had shoved him against the wall, about the slant of Anakin’s mouth against his, before he’d managed to slide from the room.

“No,” Anakin said, hoarse. “That’s not it at all.”

“You haven’t even tried it,” Obi-Wan said, casting a frown down the hall when one of the Marilkians tried to take a step closer. He would have very much liked to go to a different set of quarters, to climb into a fresher and meditate until the burn of want in his blood went away, but he did not trust their hosts to keep their hands to themselves.

He could not very well leave Anakin alone. Not in his current condition.

“I know what’ll help,” Anakin said, thickly. “I’ll show you, just open the door.”

“You know I won’t,” Obi-Wan said, breathing slowly and steadily. They’d get through this. He’d heard of plenty of similar drugs. It would likely burn from Anakin’s system in an hour, perhaps two. Perhaps less. Use of the Force tended to make the metabolism of Jedi very high.

“Please,” Anakin said, apparently unwilling to take any of Obi-Wan’s advice. “Please, I know I was a little rough, at first, but I’ll - I’ll be gentle with you, if you just open the door.”

Obi-Wan felt a shiver down his back. He exhaled, carefully. Inhaled. Counted to five. Resolutely did not think about his shoulders against the wall, about Anakin pressed against him, mouth hungry and greedy, hands tugging at Obi-Wan’s robes--

“Does that sound nice?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan could feel the pressure of his want and need, crackling across their bond. “I could make it so nice for you.”

“You need to go meditate,” Obi-Wan said, working to keep his voice even. Unaffected, despite the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks. He tried to allow the words to simply flow out of his mind. Anakin didn’t know what he was saying. Didn’t mean to say any of it. He was not in control of himself.

“I told you, meditating won’t help,” Anakin rasped, and was quiet for a time. And then he made another sound, lower. Guttural. Sometime else curled through his signature in the Force. Pleasure. Building quickly, too. Obi-Wan stared at the far wall, breath catching in the back of his throat.

He asked, knowing it was a mistake, but unable to help it, “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Anakin asked, a snap in his voice, frustration and desire all tangled up in his presence in the Force. “I’m touching myself, since you won’t come in here and help me. I’m--”

“Anakin,” he cut in, standing, because he could not--

“Oh, fuck,” Anakin panted, and Obi-Wan could feel it when he found release; it sung across their connection, a brief little flare of relief that had Obi-Wan curling his hands into fists under his robes. It was far too easy to imagine Anakin on the other side of the door, his trousers open, his hand moving over his cock until he’d--

Obi-Wan tilted his face up to the ceiling, wrestled with control, and asked, “Are you feeling better, now?”

Anakin was quiet for a long moment. He didn’t need to answer, really. Obi-Wan felt the answer before he spoke. “No,” Anakin ground out. “No, it only helped for a moment.”

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut. He’d dared to hope, for an instant. He cleared his throat. “Mediation could--”

“Kriffing hell, Obi-Wan, I don’t want to meditate. I just want you to come in here with me.” Anakin sounded strained. “I want you to lick all this come off of my fingers, and--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan snapped, ears burning, even as he jerked a step away from the door. The sheer explicit nature of what he was saying made Obi-Wan’s gut get tighter, against all his best efforts. “That’s enough, you--”

“It’s not enough,” Anakin countered, his breathing getting shakier. “You don’t know half the things I want you to do. Fuck.” He was quiet, for a moment, quiet enough that Obi-Wan imagined he could hear Anakin touching himself again, right through the door. “I’d - I’d be so nice, if you’d just open the door, Obi-Wan, if you just - just put your mouth on me. You’d feel so good, sucking my cock.”

Obi-Wan’s hands ached, from how tightly he had them clenched. His jaw seemed to have welded itself shut, too. He could only stare at the door, burning all across his face and down his throat, listening to Anakin pant, “Fuck, I promise I’d go easy, I’d - I bet you’re so good at it, I’ve always thought you’d be so good at it, do you like sucking cock, Obi-Wan? Because, I have to say, your mouth--”

He strangled off, then, with a ragged groan that Obi-Wan swore he felt down his spine. His gut felt hard and tight. He felt strung out, himself, but he’d not taken any of the drug that was affecting Anakin so, and so he breathed, in and out, and sought balance.

He asked, even, “Is it finished?”

Anakin laughed, ragged, from the other side of the door. “Come in and find out,” he suggested.

Obi-Wan frowned, wishing his heart would slow down. “Anakin, that’s--”

“Please,” Anakin gasped out, cutting through every piece of advice Obi-Wan wanted to offer him. “Please, I need your help, Obi-Wan, I need you.”

Obi-Wan was back at the door before he could stop himself. He pressed both hands against the metal, head bowing over. In a way, he wished that he had consumed some of the substance. If they were both in this same situation, they’d at least be on an even playing field.

As it was, he could only stand sentinel. Only listen. Anakin was quiet, for a long time. Obi-Wan could hear soft, wet sounds from inside the room. Groans, sometimes, but at least he’d stopped talking. It didn’t mitigate the surge of his want and desire, but Obi-Wan knew how to process those emotions, to accept and release them.

He kept his peace until Anakin made a soft, pained sound, and then he asked, “Are you--alright?”

Anakin snorted. He thumped something against the other side of the door. “Starting to feel chaffed,” he said, his voice closer to a rasp than Obi-Wan had ever heard it.

Obi-Wan could imagine, and tried not to, not wanting to imagine Anakin slumped against the wall, touching himself, already covered with his own mess--

“Is it getting any better?” he asked, focusing on what mattered.

Anakin was quiet for a moment, and then let out a muffled groan. Obi-Wan heard his name, tangled in the noise. When Anakin spoke again, his voice was ragged. “I still want to hold you down and fuck you raw,” he said, words all sharp edges, “but I think I could hold back long enough to work you open on my fingers, now. Is that better, do you think?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, trying to formulate any kind of reply, and Anakin must have been feeling slightly better, because he projected the image through the Force; Obi-Wan, on his stomach, robes just gone, with Anakin stretched over him, fingers moving--

Obi-Wan sunk teeth into his tongue, working to hold back the sound that tried to rise in his throat. “I want to open you up,” Anakin went on, before Obi-Wan returned to anything like stability. “I want to see the way you take me. I bet you’d take me so well, so tight and hot around my cock--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan managed to grit out, overheated under his robes, his cheeks on fire, his gut tight and--

And his cock embarrassingly hard, under his robes.

“Can you come from being fucked?” Anakin asked, breath starting to hitch. “Or would you like me to touch you? While I’m filling you up? I would, if you wanted, I’d make it so good for you, Obi-Wan, I promise. I’d--fuck, reach around you, touch you, I’d--”

The projection shifted, and Obi-Wan bit the insides of his cheeks, curling his head forward, wishing he’d drank the damned stuff. He would have sat in the shower and sorted this out on his own. He wouldn’t have tormented Anakin, he’d have--

“I’d keep fucking you, after you came,” Anakin panted, voice quaking. “Would you like that? Hm?”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan blurted, and regretted it, immediately, but he was--was breathing shakily, himself, leaning against the door, overheating. Hard and aching, from Anakin’s words and his want, overflowing through the Force, and--

“What the kriff do you mean you don’t know?” Anakin asked, ragged. “You don’t--”

“I’ve never,” Obi-Wan started, and then stopped, tongue catching against the back of his teeth. And Anakin swore, on the other side of the door, and Obi-Wan felt it when he came. Obi-Wan sunk teeth into his bottom lip and drew on the Force and his cock stayed hard and aching.

He did not fall over the edge. Did not take advantage. Did not - not let Anakin’s words while he was out of his head drive him to that. Anakin deserved better than that.

For a moment, there was no sound but their ragged breathing, there in the hall. And then Anakin cleared his throat and said, quietly, the lust fading out of his signature in the Force, replaced with something like embarrassment, like mortification, “I - I think it’s, ah, over.”

Obi-Wan swallowed. He collected himself, putting together the ragged edges of his emotions. He said, straightening, ignoring the ache of his cock, “Good. I’m very glad to hear it. Let’s just...wait a few more minutes. Before I come to check on you.”

“Fuck,” Anakin said, voice cracking a little. “Yes, actually, if you could--just wait--maybe. I need to--uh. I need to shower. And - and clean up. Just. Just wait, a bit, alright?” And Obi-Wan nodded, turned, put his shoulders against the wall, and slid down, ignoring the buzzing hum of his pulse.

#glimmer replies #ask me anything #obikin #spicy sunday #not safe for wizards #spicy talk #:D

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