#i almost drew the crowbar

[stargirl-lina]

i am here to feed the people! have a jason sketch

[gatorbites-imagines]

I was reading your Bruce Wayne alphabet and I saw that you had mentioned cuddlefucking and dom/sub on his kink list! Was wondering if you’d be willing to do a post where the reader edges Bruce while they’re cuddling or something like that?

Just Reader kissing Bruce all over and praising him after a hard mission making him feel head fuzzy mixed with Reader making slow love to Bruce, edging him until he’s overwhelmed (in a good way) and maybe crying a bit.

Bruce Wayne x male reader

Drabble

Ever since I wrote my bruce wayne kinktober prompt I’ve been thinking about him being submissive so much. I think Bruce would thrive with a partner to take care of him sometimes.

I wrote this with the reader being big and thick in mind, think those buff guys with a layer of chub over the muscle, but you can imagine it however you want.

The blanket was hot on top of you, it was one of the thickly woven cotton ones, made from some material that probably cost more than you could imagine. But even as sweat beaded on your brow, you simply pulled Bruce closer to your soft chest. He was laying with his back towards you, your stomach pressed into the arch of his muscular back as your arms wove around him and held him tightly.

Small huffs and muffled whines left him as one of your hands worked up and down his slick length, the heavy blanket barely moving with the motion as you pressed kisses against the bruises that littered his shoulder and neck. A needy noise left him as you nibbled at a bruise on the underside of his chin, where some goon had clocked him with a crowbar the other day. The slight pain from the bruise, mixed with the almost euphoric feeling of being held as your hand worked his length had Bruce feeling like he was gonna melt.

He had been working on cases nonstop for days, in the end you had pulled him into your shared bedroom and pulled the heavy blanket over the two of you. It had started as cuddling, as you knew your partner loved that more than anything, though he never said it out loud. But soon you found your clothes being chucked out from under the blanket, Bruces back sticking to your front from the sweat that developed from your closeness and the warmth it developed.

Maybe Bruce was dehydrated, as he panted and bit back a louder whine as you drew him near the edge before releasing your slick hand from his cock, his hips bucking from the loss of touch. It was a process you repeated a couple more times, your voice thick with praise as you kept kissing his back and neck, mumbling into his ear as you built him up only to let him fall again, not giving him the release he craved.

It was only when Bruce melted into the bed and his noises stopped being so choked, when he turned his head to hopefully catch your lips with his, when you knew he was floating slowly away to a lighter mental state that you took pity in him. The jerks and twists of your hand grew more purposeful as his noises rose in pitch, tears beading in his blue eyes as his hips twitched and his thighs tensed.

But like this he was so good, he couldn’t finish without your approval, so even as he whined and cried, he kept being good for you. It was only when you finally mumbled into his ear that he could cum that Bruce did, spilling into your palm with a shaky moan, his entire body twitching and shuddering as you dragged it out as long as possible, until his whimpers and whines became those of overstimulation.

He let out a sad noise as you crawled out from under the blanket to get what you needed to clean the two of you up, but you knew neither of you would enjoy waking up to dirty sheets, so it was a small sacrifice. But when the worst of your and Bruces sweat had been wiped off with a cloth, your hands washed, and a new blanket draped over your lovers scarred body, you crawled in beside him again.

Bruce almost arched into your touch, like a touch starved cat, melting against your pecs as he gripped onto your softer middle, a loud sigh leaving him as he seemed to melt against you. You swore he would have started purring if he had the ability, especially as you ran your hand through his hair and scratched his scalp, the already loose body growing heavier against you.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Hii ! I wanted to ask if you could do more yandere gangster.

A/N: here's a ramble that is similar to so many other fics/imagines but its ALL I CAN THINK OF RN...

CW: kidnapping, yandere themes, murder, illicit substances mentioned, weaponry, some suggestive thots, general dark content shtuff.

Gangster! Yan who’s the right hand man to one of your city’s oldest gangs, the bosses family operating it since the prohibition era. Their main source of income back then was smuggling alcohol to different speakeasies and clubs, now mostly dabbling in the occasional shipment of opioids or small arms that they can get their hands on. Your gangster! Yan doesn’t handle that side of business, though. He’s been tasked to oversee deals, and the protection of the boss and whatever sweet treat he has on his arm for the evening.

When a ‘project’ goes haywire, he’s there to settle things. When someone needs to be taken care of, he oversees it while his boys do what they need to. And when there’s a witness to a particularly unsavory part of business, he personally sees to shutting them up. 

That’s why he didn’t have a choice but to watch you, to learn your morning routine and stare intensely when you perused the grocery isles indecisively. The boss put him up to it, to dispose of every flaw in their seamless operations; countless times he entered your backdoor, breaking the lock you had just replaced due to his previous endeavor, watching you curl up in warm white sheets and smush your face against your pillow. Standing outside wasn’t an option anymore, his shadow from the window disturbed you, and it blocked the trickle of moonlight on your dewey skin. 

Even with the small pistol in his hidden coat pocket, the crowbar he ued to pry the door open, the compulsion to rid you of what you had seen to appease his leader could not overtake the complete desire to rub his face into your chest, to have your thighs wrapped around his head like a sea of warmth, needing that earthy scent of your skin that somehow calmed his screaming heart to completely surround him. 

What drew him to you was how alone you had been-- at home, at the scene of the crime, when you were out and about. Who would miss you? Who was there to take care of you? What would be the purpose to killing you? You hadn’t even gone to the police yet, despite the millions of questionable asks you submitted to reddit and looked up online for what to do after seeing a man’s murder. 

The roughly edged gangster found it endearingly cute, so foreign to the life he had led. You had no way of stopping him if he completed what he was supposed to, no one to turn to if you suddenly found yourselves at the hands of a shady group of men who used you as a drug mule. 

Gangster! Yan knew the kind of underlings his boss employed, easy men on probation or past druggies who wouldn’t think for a minute to stop from gobbling you up on the side of the street if you just so happened to walk down the wrong alley. Seeing as you had stupidly yet to make a distinct change your route after witnessing his gangs work, it could happen any day now. 

He couldn’t let you fall prey to the men he didn’t have a leash on, nor let you continue to live in such suffocating solitude with that neutral look on your face forever. Even if it was only filled with fear from now on, from him-- he’d give you a better life than what you lived.

It was too easy to take you, too easy to drag you to his car, too easy to put you in the decent condo he had been paying for the past decade and barely came home to. Now, he had just realized, he’d have a real reason to come back home. He couldn’t just sleep the night away in shitty bars just to wake up to the next day of work. He had to take care of you, feed you, make sure you bathed. 

Gangster! Yan was almost as surprised when he gave you the cold shoulder, heartlessly teasing you for your stupidity in walking down a known drug-trade neighborhood, for not having realized that he had stalked  you every. single. Day. as you were blind to his heavy, broad shadow of scars and grimaces.

You were so quietly willing to appease him, to scoot to his lap when he demanded it with a threatening hand over his pocket, pretending as if the empty space was a weapon. “Please don’t kill me” you asked neverendingly, every meek breath expecting a slap or a shove off. But the criminal held onto you tighter, hating the reminder that you weren’t a willing pet. 

Even when your eyes faded back with ecstasy, your arms thrown around his shoulders with a grip that only a lover could offer, he saw the flinch you gave when he bent down to kiss you. 

Even with his harsh spats that he throws at you for your mistakes, his belittlement, you are his comfort doll when he’s deal with hardships for the day. When the horrible things he’s done starts to get to him and the alcohol doesn’t drown it out,  or when one of his drop-offs go to shit, you’re the one he bee-lines for for to rant to, to make you stroke him and nod at how hard he’s worked. But his possessiveness is soul-crushing. His grip is painful when he holds you at night, his kisses rough against your mouth with his chain-smoker breath and chapped lips that haven’t been touched in ages.

But with you, he’s learned to take better care of himself. He already has you, wants you in every way, but he needs you to want him, to need him. So, coming home to shower, geling his hair back like he did as a young rookie, shaving his 5 o’clock shadow, he’s made himself into the perfect, respectable man-- or wannabe bad boy. But no amount of grooming could change your perception of the blood stained gangster that kept you in a cage before you were trustworthy enough to be chained to the bed. 

“I’ve killed for you, who else could say that?” 

“Been thinkin’ bout you all day, waiting here for me. Came home as fast as I could so you wouldn’t be lonely. A nobody like you can’t be left to your own devices for too long.”

“Won’t let no other fucker get a hold of you, you’re mine-- through and through. I’ll kill us both before something seperates us.

[edgessunflower]

Sacrifice

Pairing: Lorraine Warren x Fem reader

Description: You put yourself in danger and end up hurt to save Lorraine and Ed

You knew something wasn't right as you looked around for April while Drew stayed in Brad's cop car with Christine as brad, Ed, Roger, and Lorraine kept Carolyn in the basement originally waiting for Father Gordon to arrive and do the exorcism but things grew dire leading to ed having to jump in and do the exorcism instead. "April! April where are you!?" you ran around everywhere looking for april knowing that if she was near carolyn at this point that Bathsheba would force carolyn to kill april as she had already done herself and possessed another woman to do before which only drove you to find april even more as you yelled and frantically ran back downstairs searching the kitchen as you heard small cries, you listened realizing it was from the floor leading to you opening the floor open with a crowbar where you found april underneath the floor as you reached for her tearing the floor open more before picking her up right as caroyln came making april scream as you immediately lifted April out and fell in the hole to prevent bathsheba from getting to her as everyone else tried to stop her. You yelled as you grabbed onto carolyn and held onto her tightly as she tried to climb through the hole where drew ran in and grabbed april as ed yelled out to you but you weren't letting go determined to protect april at all costs as caroyln finally yanked you up as rammed you into the ground before ed jumped in and lorraine as well which made your heart sink as you heard lorraine scream before you saw red running and ramming carolyn in the wall and pinning her there as lorraine called out to carolyn everyone telling her to fight as ed finished the exorcism and banished bathsheba leading to you almost collapsing, you teared up seeing the Perron family all together holding onto each other before you were taken to the hospital where you got stitches on the back of your head and found out that you had a concussion. You fell asleep after answering the basic questions the nurse asked you to be sure that your concussion was severe enough for you to be monitored more than a few hours or a day at the most which luckily you would only need to be monitored for the next four hours, you woke up an hour later only to see lorraine beside you learning that ed had went back to his house where he put the music box from the house in the room where things from every case was collected which you truly thought was not the best thing to do but somehow nothing had happened zoning into your thoughts until you heard lorraine speak softly and her words made your heart shatter and your eyes widen as she looked at you with an emotional and fearful expression which made you feel guilty for what you had done, "You're not a sacrifice...you're someone I care about deeply and if I lose you I don't know what I would do..." you opened your mouth to speak but your voice cracked and tears formed in your eyes out of guilt knowing you had caused her along with drew and ed worry even if you weren't trying to and had reasons for your actions. You looked down at your lap not knowing anything to say in this moment before lorraine held you in her arms relieved that you were okay that calmed the immense fear and worry that ran through her when she had seen you get thrown to the ground and collapse after the exorcism leading to ed having to carefully drag then carry you out of the house to the ambulance even with you being awake you definitely weren't in the real time and world during that moment with how dazed you were and your eyes almost glazed over, "I'm sorry..." lorraine immediately shook her head shushing you softly as she held you until you were back asleep again after repeating yourself from the questions the nurse asked before.

[makethatelevenrings]

O Me! O Life! // J.Todd x gn!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: scars, non-sexual nudity, mention of what the Joker did to Jason

Summary: He hates the scars on his back and avoids seeing them any chance he gets. He slips up one day, but you’re there to assure him.

* - denotes lines from O Me! O Life! by Walt Whitman (my fave poem thank u for asking)

The thing about scars is that it’s easy to forget that they’re there sometimes. The raised white pucker along his jaw from a knife disappeared under his five o’clock shadow. The pinched circles of healed bullet holes changed shape when he flexed. But these scars…there was no mistaking it.

Ugly gouges only healed by the Lazarus pit marred his back. He hated looking at them the few times he turned his head when his back was to the mirror. It was as if he was back in that fucking werehouse with the fucking clown and that fucking crowbar.

Today was one of those days where the Gotham humidity felt like a fucking wet blanket smacking you in the face the second you stepped out the door. Sweat practically draped his shirt along his skin as he went for a morning run and by god, the only thing he wanted to do when he got home was take a shower.

You were still spread out under the thin cotton top sheet and even that was almost unbearable in the summer heat. You offered him a smile lined with the lingering sleep that clung to your mind. Jason made sure to swing by and press a kiss to your temple as your hand loosely curled at the collar of his shirt but he pulled away before you could convince him back into bed.

“Gotta shower, sweets,” he murmured as he extracted himself from your grip and made his way into the bathroom.

“Wow, without even giving me a show?” you called behind him. He snorted in response and his shirt landed on the growing pile of laundry on the floor across from the bathroom door. You booed and he sighed but stepped out from behind the door frame. His shorts hung low on his hips, revealing the cut of his abs as they descended behind the band of rayon. You waved your hand to tell him to continue and he rolled his eyes, but a smile grew on his lips as he pushed his shorts down.

“Once more, pretty boy,” you cooed. He tugged off his boxers and raised his arms to the side and spun in a circle like he was giving you a fashion show. You burst into laughter but your laughter faded when you saw his face fall.

His eyes were locked on his reflection in the full length mirror propped up against the wall. He trailed his gaze along the harsh stripes of mottled flesh that stood out against his tan skin. You slipped out from under the sheet and made your way across the room to press up against his chest. One of your hands came up to rest on his bicep and the other wound its way behind his back to start to trace along the lines and scars.

“Lover,” you whispered. “These are signs that you survived.”

A shuddering breath escaped him and you turned to look into the mirror, your motions following you in the silvery reflection. Your finger drew hearts, circles, and words along his skin. Praises, promises, sweet nothings created an invisible diary of your devotion to him and you pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse*,” you whispered. “You are here. Life exists. You may contribute a verse. You are here. Say it.”

“I am here,” he croaked out. “I exist. Life exists.”

“You are here. With me. In our home.”

The home with plants and cats and Wonder Woman curtains. The home with mismatched plates found at thrift shops and dollar stores. The home with his gun safe next to the stack of unread books that the two of you have been pointedly ignoring. The home with the walk to the bodega for breakfast sandwiches and the farmer’s market tucked away at a local park.

He was here. With you. Life exists.

He curled his arms around your waist, delicate and tentative as though he would destroy you with a simple touch, and you leaned into it. You welcomed him with soft caresses and careful kisses and he melted into the arms of the person he loved. He was here. Life exists.

Tag List: @mcrmarvelloki​ @gone-batty-fics​ @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @kat-nee​ @khaylin27​

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #29: Spices and Contraband

Prompt: contravention || Master Post || On AO3

--

Ehll Tou burbled happily to herself as she trotted through the bustling crowd of passengers and porters along the Ishgardian airship docks. She had been awaiting a shipment of fresh herbs and spices and potions from Ul’dah for a fortnight, and today was the day they should arrive!

Soon enough she had arrived at the correct pier, and she waited mostly patiently near where the cargo was being unloaded from the Cinnamon Cloud. A few of the crew waved to her, and she waved back excitedly. If she had the time later, she would come back to see if any of them had new stories to share of their travels.

The cargomaster came over, his smile white against the dark brown of his skin. “Hello, Sky Lady!” he said. “Awaiting a package?”

[Yes!] Ehll Tou said, jaw dropping in a smile. [From Frondale’s Phrontistery; was it in this shipment?]

“I believe it was!” the cargomaster said, and laughed as she hopped up and down in excitement. “One moment, my lady, let me go check.”

She kept hopping as she waited, far less patient now. She had projects to finish, some new cooking recipes to devise and items to finish enchanting with the proper infused lacquers. Soon soon soon!

The cargomaster returned shortly, a crate in his hands, and Ehll Tou cheered.

A check of the crate’s inventory against the Cinnamon Cloud’s cargo manifest and Ehll Tou’s own receipt from the Phrontistery—the cargomaster was kind enough to pry open the crate for her so that she could check, and she trilled happily at confirming everything was present—and then a collection of her signature, and Ehll Tou was off back to the Firmament with her crate in hand. She whistled a traveling song as she skipped through the city, though at the gentle clink of the glass bottles against one another, she slowed to something more sedate.

Once back in her warehouse, Ehll Tou headed for her primary workroom and set the crate on the table. She fetched a crowbar and reopened the lid, the cargomaster having nailed it shut to ensure nothing spilled on her way back from the docks. Setting both lid and crowbar aside, Ehll Tou carefully reached inside and began removing her new treasures.

The potions were each neatly labeled: essences of fire, which would be perfect to imbue fine cotton or wool for warmth since sewing fire shards wasn’t practical, and assorted growth formulae in different grades for her to use practicing imbuing wands and staves for Ishgardian conjurers. Ehll Tou wasn’t yet proficient with alchemy to make her own, and the ingredients were expensive and difficult to come by, too. Hmm, perhaps she should write a polite request to her…how would men call the degree of relation between them? A great uncle? That sounded correct. She should write a polite request to Great Uncle Vrtra, and ask if she might come to study with his alchemists for a time. At some point, there was no rush with many centuries still before her.

Potions gently set aside, now Ehll Tou retrieved the rest of her order. Fresh saffron and laurel and aloe, from Southern Thanalan, grown and harvested by the residents of Little Ala Mhigo. Prickly pears from Central Thanalan, bright pink and smelling utterly divine to her nose even through their thick skins. And, carefully wrapped in waxed paper, a trio of huge black truffles that Ehll Tou almost fond herself cooing over. Ohhh, she would make many delicious foods with these truffles, yes she would!

The food items she brought to her kitchen, and then she returned to her main workroom to gather up the packing straw from the crate. It would make for good kindling for her stove.

Her claws scratched against the bottom of the crate, and they caught on something. A knot in the wood? But as Ehll Tou drew her hands back, the bottom of the crate lifted away entirely, and she startled.

In doing so, her claw worked free, and the bottom fell back again. Curiosity wasn’t a trait exclusive to cats, however, and Ehll Tou poked her head into the crate, running her claws along the wood until she felt them hook again. Deliberately now, she raised the false bottom and set it aside, then peeked into the crate again.

[…Oh, dear.]

--

[Who would dare do such a thing?!] Ehll Tou growled, fighting the urge to stomp around her workroom as one of Commander Handeloup’s Temple Knights gingerly transferred small, overstuffed bags from the crate’s false bottom into a small, sturdy iron chest. [Use MY goods to smuggle SOMNUS into the city? The audacity! The insult!]

“Unfortunately, not uncommon,” Commander Handeloup said, tone soothing. “Chances are your order was merely the only one traveling to Ishgard from the Phrontistery within the smuggler’s window of opportunity.”

Ehll Tou crossed her arms with a huff, a lick of flame briefly escaping her nostrils before she reined her temper in. Just because she was angry did not mean she should be rude. [And someone on this end was supposed to take out the somnus before I picked up my crate?]

Handeloup nodded. “That’s the most likely scenario, and we can at least assume the Cinnamon Cloud’s cargomaster isn’t involved in the scheme, considering how readily he retrieved it for you upon your arrival at their pier. I’ll have one of my men approach him quietly and ask about any unusual behavior among his crew.”

Ugh. At least she wouldn’t be looking at the cargomaster suspiciously the next time she placed an order from an Ul’dahn business.

[A fine shadow over my day,] she grumbled.

The Temple Knight’s Second Commander chuckled and reached out to gently pat her shoulder just above the wing. “Hopefully, you will be able to look back in the near future and feel a sense of pride at assisting in however small a way at breaking a smuggling ring,” he said.

Ehll Tou cocked her head thoughtfully. [It would make for a good song…]

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[evilmagician430]

concept art/character design for an acachalla centric horror story i've been brainstorming since last school year ^_^ still havent finalized any of these designs, i feel like they need a little more tweaking...

WARNING: blood, body horror, the mangled corpse of a dead animal, guns, crowbars, medical equipment and general medical imagery, and all around just weird and gross stuff

ADDITIONAL WARNING: really fucking long

story and images under the cut:

i imagine the premise is that sue, at the police station, gets a call from the acachallas like in canon. she decides to go to their house to help, alone because her coworkers are all busy/hate her (theyve been in the force long enough to go corrupt while sue still tries to do whats right)

when she goes in she discovers that the acachallas have been dead for like 10 years and their bodies are barely even intact. she also notices that their house is trashed, not only does it seem completely reclaimed by nature, covered in fungus and insects and blood, but a lot of their furniture and appliances are missing. their rooms look like theyre missing all that wouldve signaled the character of whomever inhabited it, and she thinks, well, maybe the house was looted after they died, but that doesn't explain who called...

then she accidentally steps in a pile of fungus. which wasnt there before. she turns around and a man, fully formed, has sprouted out of the ground. he is made almost entirely out of mushrooms and he has 2 shotguns for arms. he tells her to leave his house. she starts to run but then another figure stops her. a very tall woman who speaks in the same voice that called the police department. her form is indiscernible in the dark, but soon sue comes to realize this woman is not human.

she's not even alive.

sue meets the others and, sure enough, they all seem to be amalgamations of various household objects, both inorganic and organic matter, forming crude fascimiles of who they once were. there are 5 bodies and 5 of them, so they must be possessed by the immortal spirits of the acachallas...!

of course, it turns out they never needed help. it was merely a trap to lure sue home.

they accept her and care for her far more than her biological family or "friends" at work ever did. but being with them takes a toll on sue's body. eventually she dies and they build a new body for her. she wakes up as a beautiful monster. she wakes up as herself.

you're going to notice none of these drawings are of sue- that's because she's still just a regular human in this. by the end she might become a horrifying monster like the rest of them, but i havent designed her.

i took inspiration from a variety of sources, but i can only remember some of them off the top of my head:

undertale (lorewise the whole thing about monsters dust being spread on their favorite object so they can live in it, also photoshop flowey designwise was a huge inspiration)

deltarune (largely just the enemy designs)

dont hug me i'm scared (the teacher's designs, general vibes, also lamp's explanation of what happens when someone dies in episode 2 of the tv show)

tipping point (literally just stylistically. i need to learn digital collage to properly portray these designs)

tokusatsu (the costumes for the gorma in gosei sentai dairanger are like. really good. i enjoy their designs severely)

communications era ghost and pals mvs (the collage stuff speaks to my soul)

and thats all i can remember rn. now heres the first pictures i drew of each member of the family (on my world history notes) and the most recent draft of their designs (in mspaint) this is basically all of the drawings of them.

beginning with spencer, he's the smallest of the family at only 4 feet tall. he is made out of his computer and manga collection basically. on each of these i left a lot of notes in the pictures breaking down what each part of the body is made out of. i wanted to incorporate figurines and action figures into his design too but i decided to keep it more focused. but all these designs are still subject to change. a teacher walked by as i was drawing him and said she liked how it was "very industrial but feminine" or something like that.

sally! im not entirely sure what that first sketch is but as you can tell i wanted her to be wearing a doll mask from the start. i gave her this big poofy princess dress to conceal where godzilla connects to the shelves that act as her legs because it looked very strange and did not look like the shelves were her legs. the dress turns into curtains which are draped over her shelves. she was very hard to design but very fun. also i just chose random dolls and stuff i know g3 draculaura and kylie and pnp sasha are like recent dolls that wouldnt exist yet. its a mockup ok

next we got billy who is built out of his own medical supplies. i wanted to make his body one of those IV drip stands, although that means both him and spencer have very similar lower halves, with the wheels. hes the only one who doesnt really wear any clothes because billy doesnt really have an iconic outfit; the only thing i remember he wears is obviously his medic outfit but thats like. a whole outfit. i dont understand the layers of it so i can just put part of it on this thing. maybe i shouldve just given him scrubs. or what i think billy would wear that represents him

gertrude having a dead cat as her hair is a reference to a really specific one-off joke i read about on the wiki but dont actually remember from any of the videos. i think hair is a very important part of self expression so they would want to recreate their hairstyles with whatever they could find. it was hard as hell getting that cat into a shape that made literally any sense but i think i figured it out. her outfit is a combination of what she normally wore and her old costume as the crowbar, which i was inspired to design my version of as well (will post that drawing later). i think its very interesting how gertrude seems to exist to trap and keep safe or detain/kill various dangerous beings. shes like a shepherd but also an executioner.

papa acachalla doesnt have a draft cause this was literally the first time i tried drawing him in this story because i was stuck on trying to imagine what hed be made out of and how he would look like. then i remembered fungus comes in all shapes and forms and also works as a metaphor for his connection with his family and his roots. also his arms are guns LOL! i wanted to make him more catholic but i couldnt come up with how while still having him look like papa acachalla. maybe adding that priest collar cause i think father grigori has it anyways but its hard to draw stuff around his neck area.

[necromaniackat]

Cruel Summer

Chapter 6: Plausible Deniability

Word count: 2.5k

The oppressive morning sun beamed down on you harshly as you paced the winding front porch that wrapped around the house. You chewed your thumb nail nervously. You chewed and you paced.

It’s been a few minutes since the person you called went into the house, armed with a crowbar and you were slowly losing your mind outside. You knew you weren’t alone in the mansion; someone or something was there with you. That’s why you sent someone in to look around. Someone who wasn’t supposed to be in the mansion is in fact in the mansion. Is it a squatter that has somehow eluded you for almost a whole twenty-four hours? You didn’t know and that drove you crazy.

You stopped pacing and chewing, you pinched the bridge of your nose as a heavy sigh escaped you. The not knowing was eating you alive.

You jumped a bit when your phone began going off in your hand, a small gasp filled the early morning quiet. You looked to see it was your mum once again. You swallowed hard and pressed the green button on the screen.

“Mum,” you greeted flatly. Your mum just talked to you less than an hour ago, you don’t know why your mum insists on calling you a hundred times a day.

“Where do you keep your bathroom cleaners?” She asked right off the bat. You were stunned out of the semi sour mood, and forced you to be baffled and curious. Your dark brows furrowed as you stared blankly into the foliage surrounding the mansion.

“What?” You perplexedly retorted.

“Where do you keep the cleaners for the toilet?” Yep, you definitely heard your mum right. You blinked a few times before making a confused expression to no one.

“Why?” You drew out.

“Because your bathroom is disgusting, Evelyn,” your mum announced stubbornly. Your confusion and curiosity swiftly swung to annoyed and disbelief in the blink of an eye. You put a hand on your hip as you looked around. You couldn’t believe it, it’s been a little less than twenty-four hours and she’s already abusing her privilege of having a spare key to your flat. You had a hunch she’d do something like this, but you believed it’d be after a few days of being away before she broke. It’s been less than a day.

You sighed heavily as the load of everything going on weighed on your shoulders; the weird things happening, someone calling your name and now there’s an armed human being hunting for the cause of said weirdness inside the mansion felt like the weight of the world. That piled on top of stress of renovations and the upkeep of the mansion at the same time made your mum’s invasion seem extra personal.

You licked your lips then shook your head in defeat.

“They’re in the hall cupboard, top shelf at the back,” you told her. Your mum chirped a thank you before hanging up.

‘I don’t know why I keep letting her do this. It’s hindering both of our growth. Mum won’t cut the umbilical cord and I feel too guilty to do it myself,’ you thought to yourself sullenly. You pressed your lips tightly together in frustration and you let out a loud throaty groan.

You damn near jumped out of your own skin when you felt a hot pressure caress your shoulder. You let out a loud gasp as you spun around to face the source of the hot pressure. In front of you was the average height man. His almost black eyes widened in surprise, letting the morning sun sparkle like black coffee in the morning in them. He jumped back a bit as well; raising both hands in the air in surrender, the crowbar clattering to the wooden floor.

“Whoa, Eve, it’s me!” Felix cried. The second you realized it was just Felix and not the intruder you punched Felix in the arm as hard as you could.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You shouted in annoyance. His surprised expression changed into an amused one as he rubbed the spot you hit.

“Sorry,” he uttered through the side of his mouth as it curled into a half smirk. “–Anyways, there’s no one here. Every door and window is locked. There’s no trace of anyone besides you here.” You pursed your lips again and sighed through your nose, your arms crossing lazily under your bust. You were convinced there was someone else in the mansion with you. That terrified you. But Adam has taught you some of his combat stuff he learned while in the army. So, if there was someone else in the house, you knew how to defend yourself effectively.

“You seem really freaked out,” Felix commented accurately. You squeezed your arms as reassurance; if you didn’t look at how freaked out you were then you didn’t have to deal with it. If you don’t see it then it doesn’t exist.

All of a sudden your voice failed you, leaving you silently rocking from side to side while reassuringly squeezing your folded arms. You could only bounce your gaze around, never staying on one thing for too long, especially Felix. But you failed at that, your eyes more than once remaining on the observing man.

“I’m off today, how ‘bout I stay here for the day, to make sure there really is no one in the house,” Felix offered kindly. You felt your mouth curl upwards in a flattered smile.

“Are you down to do inventory?” You questioned with a cocked eyebrow. Felix ran his fingers through his dark unwashed hair, flexing his exposed bicep casually.

“I was doing inventory in the womb,” he jokingly bragged. You couldn’t help but giggle and shake your head.

The morning wore on, you and Felix were able to tackle the last of the figurines that littered the living room. Most of them were custom made or pure crystal. Although there was one casualty, a crystal Yorkshire Terrier took a nose dive off the shelf as you tried to reach above your head. You whispered it an apology as you swept up the broken glass before going back to taking inventory.

Of course you had actually put some clothes on; a pair of fitted short shorts that were high waisted and a black shirt You also tossed your hair up into a messy bun, leaving your bangs and two pieces of hair to face your face down.

Luckily, the morning wasn’t quiet; not in the least. Your grandparents might not have an up to date stereo; or one at all, but you brought your own. Of course you played your phone over the good quality Bluetooth speaker and chatted with Felix. Turns out you have absolutely nothing in common but you both enjoyed the other’s company. Felix was a major nerd in school, whereas you were the preppy prefect that almost everyone liked.

“So you were a popular girl,” Felix snidely commented, looking up from the notebook full of antiques and other oddities. You shrugged a shoulder then took a picture of a crystal penguin.

“I wouldn’t say popular,” you countered.

“Oh yeah? Who was your boyfriend in high school?” He quizzed, waving the pen around teasingly.

“I dated so many guys in high school,” you answered sarcastically with another shrug. At this point you were pulling his leg. You had one boyfriend all throughout high school. Charlie. And yes, he was on the football team.

“Were they all apart of the same football club?” Felix asked with an arched eyebrow.

“His name was Charlie and yes he was,” you replied mindlessly, taking a porcelain figurine off the shelf, examining it. From the corner of your eye you saw Felix looking you over closely. He was probably trying to find any hints that you were joking. He couldn’t believe that you only had one boyfriend all throughout high school.

“Okay, how many mates did you have in your circle?”

“I had a lot of friends,” you said honestly. Your jaw flexed when you realized he was right; you were the popular girl.You never thought you’d be the ‘it girl’. When you thought of popular girls you thought of the traditional blonde haired blue eyed beauties who were as vicious as they were idolized. You were never mean to anyone; you were a prefect, it’s your responsibility to treat others kindly and justly.

“You were a popular girl,” he joked chuckling. “Your kind never gave mine the time of day.” You scrunched your nose and shook your head.

“I hung out with plenty of nerds,” you stated confidently.

“Oh yeah? What are their names?” Felix quizzed playfully. You two had completely abandoned doing inventory to have this conversation. You opened your mouth confidently only for nothing to come out, because you couldn’t remember their names. It’s been less than a year since you last saw most of your peers, July of last summer was when school let out for summer and you finished high school. Today’s date is June 14th. How could you not remember their names? You joined them every Tuesday and Thursday lunch period in the art classroom for anime club from Year six to Year thirteen.

You fell into a guilty feeling. You couldn’t believe you couldn’t remember any of their names.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Eve. I know you’re a good person then and now,” Felix reassured with a kind smile on his young face. You watched his eyes squint as his smile beamed at you. His dark eyes sparkled in the light. He ran his fingers through his floppy, wavy, dark brown locks; brushing it away from his face. His bare bicep flexed naturally with the movement. You saw part of his back flex through the massive armhole of his dark grey graphic vest top. The band of his Calvin Klein underwear was visible through the same armhole. Of course he wore trousers; it would’ve been awkward if he’d shown up in his knickers. He wore a pair of baggy black video game designed pajama trousers that hung low on his thin but toned hips.

You shared a shy smile, brushing your hair away from your blushing face. You don’t know what it is about him that has you like this. You’ve been around plenty of extremely handsome men and never acted like this; but one teenage boy who works at the local shop in a butt-fuck-nowhere town has you acting a fool.

You caught yourself ogling him; immediately straightening your back and clearing your throat a bit.

“So, what was your clique in high school?” You asked, trying to gloss over your flirtatiousness. Felix chuckled as he finished jotting down one of the figurines on the shelf.

“My mates and I are the outcasts,” he admitted. You arched an eyebrow and looked him up and down in disbelief.

You and Felix both jumped when a loud bang came from above your heads. You both looked up to see the iron chandelier swinging a bit. You turned down the music from your phone, listening for any other noises.

“Maybe it’s a rat,” you hopefully concluded. Your hopes were dashed when the sound of footsteps crossed the room above you.

“That’s a big rat,” Felix added unnecessary. You began to follow the footstep, Felix followed beside you. The footsteps stopped for a moment near the middle of the room. You and Felix stared intently at the ceiling. That’s when the idea popped into your head. Instead of following phantom footsteps, why not go upstairs to see what’s causing them.

You quickly and quietly tiptoed out of the living room and into the foyer.

“Evelyn, where are you going?” Felix harshly whispered. You paused and turned to face him.

“I’m going upstairs to investigate,” you whispered back. Felix quietly groaned to himself before making his way towards you. You both tiptoed up the stairs; you could still hear faint shuffling coming from one of the rooms.

Your heart raced inside your chest as anxiety rattled through you. You don’t know what you’ll find upstairs or who you’ll find. You understood this was a very old house so it’s going to make noises as it shifts with the seasons. But the noises you’ve been hearing and the things you were experiencing since yesterday weren’t regular house things. How do you explain the the doll being in the house? How do you explain the food on the counter? Or the scrapbook this morning coincidentally opened to the page devoted to you? What about hearing someone shout your name? None of those are normal house experiences. At least if you’re supposed to be alone they’re not.

You took the final step up to the second floor; the shuffling sounds were still happening. Only now you realized they were coming from the master bedroom, your room.

You glanced behind you, Felix was hesitantly following close behind, in his hand was the crowbar he’d left on the sofa in the living room. You motioned for him to give it to you. He reluctantly handed you the crowbar. You brought the iron bar over your shoulder, both hands gripped near the opposite end tightly. You were ready to swing at whoever or whatever was in that room.

You silently approached the bedroom. You paused when the shuffling stopped; you were less that five feet away from the doorway.

After a brief moment of just listening and hearing nothing, you stepped into the doorway bravely. You gaze bounced around the room, trying to find the source of the noise. You inhaled sharply and fell back in terror. Your blue eyes widening with pure fear reflecting in them. Your jaw clenched, along with every other muscle in your body. You swore your hair was standing on end.

Sitting on the bench at the end of your bed was the porcelain doll. His hand in his lap as he stared directly at you with that neutral expression that told you nothing of what the real Brahms was like.

“Is that where you left him?” Felix whispered from behind you. You shook your head, never taking your eyes off the doll. Felix brushed past you, walking up to the doll with confidence in his step. He picked up the doll, examining it closely.

“It isn’t one of those creepy dolls that can walk on its own, is it?”

“No. It’s just a porcelain doll, no place for batteries,” you replied from the doorway. You felt a chill settle against your arms causing you to fold your arms under your bust and run the palms of your hands over the cold skin.

You arched an eyebrow when you watched Felix shake the doll after looking it over. He peeked under the doll’s clothes to make sure you weren’t fibbing to him.

“Where was it originally?” He inquired, looking over at you curiously.

“In a closet in the attic,” you chirped. Felix’s dark brow cocked. He studied you, hoping to find a hint that you were pulling his leg. But you weren’t so he didn’t. It’s been twenty-four hours since you arrived at Heelshire and already your mum was right, the Heelshire family dragged you into some kind of mess. You weren’t expecting it to be ghosts.

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

Tagged: @hao-ming-8

[bltzgore]

Alright, alright, so I have a thing about ribs. Usually, I love breaking them, but join me on a journey as my brain reminds me I once read: "pry out ribs with a crowbar" (or something of the like).

Tw: GORE and i cannot stress that enough, stabbing, blood, broken bone, invasive intimate touch on the torso (nonsexual), breathing trouble.

What we have to start with here is a motive. Why are we prying this rib out? Are we sending a message? Are we trying to leave whumpee with the most painful death we can manage on hand? Are we taking a trophy back to the big boss and leaving whumpee to die? -Oooooh yes, that one.-

Next is the technical process, cause removing a rib can be done safely, but we're not doing that. This is just a mess of gore (but that's on brand for me) you could cut back the skin first to get a better look at it, pick which one you want. Or you could just go for it and see what happens. -Let's wing it!-

Always remember to pick a healthy amount of complications, collapsed lung is one of my personal recommendations.

I think a wretched, trashed, back alley is the best backdrop for such a situation, time to paint the picture:

It was the height of summer. Everything was slick with sweat or damp through with the humidity. It made the fight that much harder and allowed whumper to put whumpee on their back that much quicker. The thing keeping them there was the stab wound. Whumper had driven their knife right into the flesh of whumpee's leg. Then they had pulled up.

Whumpee had also taken a serious hit to the head, so they were having a hard time telling up from down. So they laid there, watching the figure over them move and discuss just how much they were going to make off this hit. None of it was really processing, with the concussion and blood loss.

Whumper stopped talking and something seemed to have changed. They were looking at whumpee again. No. Not just at whumpee. A specific part of whumpee. Whumper was studying whumpee's torso.

Whumper knelt down and drew up whumpee's shirt. Whumpee made a move to fight back but whumper pinned them too quick and with too much strength, even with just one arm.

Whumper traced their fingers across whumpee's ribs, bringing goosebumps to whumpee's skin. Whumper stopped on one, tapped it, then pressed hard into the gap just below it.

Whumpee winced and breathed out, with no choice other than taking it in stride.

"I like this one." Whumper decided. Their words slowly slithering into whumpee's poor fogged brain.

Whumper moved off, withdrawing a few steps and bending down to grab something.

Had whumpee been more aware they would have tried to run, to move, to crawl away. Too little, too late. Whumper returned and stepped on their chest, roughly forcing the air out of it. Whumpee was rattled but the fear didn't double down until they managed to focus their eyes on the thing whumper was holding.

A crowbar?

That was the last coherent thought whumpee managed before something split their brain in two. The teeth of the crowbar broke the skin, and whumpee screamed. There was no break from the pain, no moment to catch their breath as the red invaded their vision, forced their exhausted body to thrash, and their vocabulary shrink to the most deperate words they knew.

Whumper doubled down. They jammed their tool to the side until they felt it hit the bone. They grinned as they wrentched a hole into a living breathing creature, "There it is." And jammed down on the bar, adding more and more force until the bone crunched.

Whumper didn't get the whole rib, but they were certain it would be enough, as they tore through the skin to get at it. They took their prize and stood, giving whumpee one last look.

Whumpee's torso was a mess of blood that almost distracted from the hole that looked like torn cardboard, gaping and gaging blood all down whumpee's sides.

Whumpee was not as still as they should have been, gasping like a dying fish. But whumper solved that mystery rather quickly.

"I must have hit your lung. Ruptured chest wall and all that makes it pretty hard to breathe, doesn't it?" They grinned, then examined their gleaming, bloody prize. "Thanks for your cooperation. Die well." Then turned on their heels and vanished into the gathering storm.

Whumpee's body was in ruins, all that was left was for their exhaustion to put them out. It was all they had left to hope for.

The alternative, die of blood loss.

And maybe caretaker will show up if you really want them too...

Bye!

[ebitchwriting]

Dragged Into The Blood

Story Summary: Never staying in one place for long, moving nearly every year, Lea Anderson was used to impermanence, chaos, and having to leave everything behind at the drop of a hat. Lea never expected that she would be kidnapped and wake up in a rusted, decrepit prison cell because of a madman's delusional belief in eugenics and cleansing the Earth of imperfection. By herself, with only the clothing on her back, she will have to rely on luck and logic to escape before she's killed or worse. Chapter Summary: Claire, Moira, and Lea start exploring the derelict prison in search of the missing gear. Along the way, Claire discovers something vital regarding their situation. Chapter Warnings: None

Welcome back! I know it's been a few months since I last uploaded a chapter. The MA Apprentice program fell apart and the training agent(clinic) decided to fire all but one apprentice with no reason given and no consultation with the actual program managers at UWH, which pissed UWH off so much that they decided to sever the clinic as a training agent for future apprentices. Thankfully, I was still able to become a CCMA and am now job hunting. As such, the schedule for this story is no longer monthly but whenever I have the time, but I'm not going to let myself fall back into a yearly schedule.

Anyways, I know it's short, but I really didn't want to keep this hanging in limbo. Enjoy!

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17.

Chapter 17: Searching for the Gear

From beneath the improvised blindfold, crimson eyes stared at the aged and powerless spiked contraption before her. The spikes coated with a thick layer of rust, stained by old, dried blood. The scent of which was so strong Lea could nearly taste it in the back of her throat, almost making her gag.

"Oh," Moira's cadence was palpable with disgust, "that looks comfy."

"Yeah, let's take one home." Though Lea couldn't see it, she could hear the smile in Claire's voice. Lea couldn't help but snort out a laugh at the retort.

"Look at this machine! There's something inside of it!" Moira excitedly exclaimed, pointing towards the still sharp spikes. Lea's gaze followed her fingers and locked onto the slight yellow gleam of the surprisingly large brass gear trapped within the device. For a moment, surprise took hold of Lea.

'… How did I not see that...?' Lea's eyebrows scrunched up in confusion before her gaze fell back to the ground, finger tapping against her jawline.

"Maybe there's a switch?" Claire suggested, moving toward the opening in the back of the room. Moira quickly stepped behind Claire, clutching the crowbar and flashlight tightly. Lea, on the other hand, lagged, her gaze flitted between the machine and back at Claire, before reluctantly falling back in step behind Moira. A knot of doubt settled in the back of her mind, which only intensified as she observed the broken, warped ladder that appeared ripped apart. How could this derelict place have any power switches still functioning?

To Lea's surprise, the back of the room appeared better-lit compared to the rest of the facility. Neat too, with no stains of blood, minimal dust coating the surfaces, and the utility desk and shelving next to it looked well organized and even had some spare parts. Claire stopped at the desk, holding the parts in hand, closely inspecting it, before pulling out her handgun and started working on it.

The shuffling of feet next to Lea drew her attention away from Claire's mechanical work. When Lea glanced over, she saw Moira averting her eyes non too discreetly, her grip on the crowbar tightening even more. Lea wanted to say something, but her mind blanked on what she could do to comfort her. They weren't friends, Lea had no idea why guns made her so uncomfortable, and she also had no idea how Moira would take to a random stranger trying to comfort her. As her mind scrambled to produce a way to distract Moira at the very least, her clothed eyes were drawn to another platform, its ladder thankfully pristine and intact.

"Hey, Moira, right?" Lea timidly asked, getting her attention. Moira's eyes darted over to her, a wordless question in her gaze. Lea jerked her head over towards the platform behind the pixie-haired woman. "Wanna check it out? I'll cover you." When her amber eyes locked onto the platform, Moira's shoulders visibly sagged with relief.

"Sure, why not?" Moira said, trying to appear nonchalant. She closed the gap to the ladder and started her ascent. As soon as she was fully up onto the platform, Lea started climbing after her, not wanting to crowd the young woman. However, as soon as Lea was halfway up the ladder, the distinct rattle of a locked deadbolt reached her hypersensitive ears. "Fuck nuggets!" Moira none too quietly grumbled. Lea cursed under her breath, moved her hands to the sides of the rungs, and slid back down to the ground.

"What's wrong?" Claire asked, turning away from the desk and walking a few steps towards Lea. The handgun she was working on had been returned to its holster on her hip.

"Fucking door's locked." Moira promptly replied as she climbed down the last few rungs of the ladder. Claire hummed, her cerulean eyes darted up to the locked door then over past the opening to the center of the room. The older woman strode over just past the opening.

"Moira, I'll give you a boost. See if you can climb up." Claire called out, kneeling slightly in front of the warped ladder with her hands cupped, body braced.

"Uh, just me?" Moira asked, her grip on the crowbar and flashlight tightening again subconsciously. Lea's head quirked to the side, wondering the same thing.

"You're the lightest, it'll be easier if it's just you. Unless you hear anything up there?" Claire turned her eyes towards Lea's obscured ones. Lea paused, closing her eyes. Lea tried her best to focus her sensitive ears on above them and not behind. Shuffling feet, muffled rasping breaths echoed in the distance. After a moment, Lea let herself relax.

"I think we're safe." Lea answered, forcing the cadence of her voice to sound confident. When her gaze glanced over to Moira, she noticed how tense her posture was still. Moira closed her eyes and took a deep breath before handing the flashlight and crowbar over to the blonde.

Without another word, Moira walked over and stepped into Claire's cupped hands. Together, the two worked to give the young woman enough momentum to push herself onto the platform. As soon as Moira was fully up, Lea walked over and passed the flashlight and crowbar back to her. Wordlessly she took them, turned around, and with a deep breath walked into the unknown.

Lea waited, anxiously tapping her forearms as she kept her ears peeled for potential hostiles. Not too long after Moira started exploring, Lea could hear the woman stop. For a moment, she wondered what Moira was doing before the sounds of a crowbar being shoved into something metal and closed reached her sensitive ears.

"How are ya holding up?" Claire asked, snapping Lea's attention away from above and back down to her. Lea rolled her eyes and huffed out a sardonic laugh.

"Me? I'm all lollipops and candy canes over here."

"Lea—"

"Lana, remember?" Lea snapped, the burning agitation in her core almost overwhelming. With a sharp inhale, Lea made herself stop. She brought her hands up together, in an almost mock prayer and pressed against her lips. "I'm sorry, I swear I'm fine. Let's just drop it, ok?"

Annoyingly, the concern etched in Claire's face refused to falter. The knowing look in her blue eyes made the young girl feel far more vulnerable than she wanted to be, no, could afford to be. Then, the swift click of the deadbolt unlocking reached her sensitive ears, making Lea snap her attention back to the other platform. The blue door swung open, and the pixie-haired woman stepped forth, waving her arms at the others.

"Guys, this way!" Moira called out, cutting Claire off before she could start her lecture, much to Lea's relief. However, that relief was quickly replaced with dread when she glanced back at the older woman's face, the expression promising that the conversation was in no way over, only delayed.

As soon as the two got to the top of the platform and reached Moira, she anxiously shoved a small red box of handgun bullets into Claire's hands. 

"Good find."

"Not really, only has two in there. Who the fuck decided it was a great idea to put two bullets in a big-ass box with two locks on it?" Moira grumbled, flipping off the mangled remains of the lockbox down the hall to the right. Lea couldn't help the snort that escaped her lips at the motion.

'… Ya know… if it weren't for this hellscape… she'd be a lot of fun to hang out with…'

They didn't linger long in the cramped hallway, turning left and walking through the next slightly rusted blue door.

"Maybe once we're outside we can find someone to help us." Moira suggested, anxiety-riddled voice laden heavy with hope. Claire turned her head back as if to respond, but before she could utter a word a loud, muffled roar filled the silence. Moira gasped, pressing herself closer to Claire and Lea as a cloud of debris fell from the ceiling. "I just want to get out of here." Moira softly whimpered to herself. Lea felt a pang of sympathy flood her system at the fearful tone, memories of Africa threatening to rise to the surface.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Lea started, trailing off as she saw Moira's already stressed face seem to contort more into an agitated grimace. "Sorry." Lea hastily added, tearing her gaze away from the other woman. Lights, switches, perhaps a control room? She tried the knob of yet another blue door. Locked, of course it was locked. Lea resisted the urge to hiss and fell back in step with the other two as they traveled down the hallway.

Claire carefully twisted the slightly dented knob, and when it didn't give her any resistance, the older woman pushed the squeaky door open. Lea couldn't help her eyes narrowing, switching from that door to the locked one in the hallway. The hair prickled against her shoulders as they passed into the new hallway, this one in just as much of a dirty disarray as the rest of the complex.

Forward, turning right, and slowly traversing down the cell block. Claire kept the handgun pointed up, finger next to the trigger as she checked each open cell. Turning left, through another door, and into yet another ominous hallway. Claire slowly stepped her way over to the right, craning her head in. Slightly lowering the gun, Claire looked back at the two younger women, waving at them to follow. A storage room, one that surprisingly wasn't too chaotic, except for the grim.

'… This place is like a fucking maze… undoubtedly by that bitch's design…' Lea couldn't help but wonder as she set her shotgun against the wall. Aimlessly, she wandered to one of the two storage shelves, rummaging through boxes and papers. Next to her, she could hear Moira's light steps, following suit in a mindless gathering of materials. A venture quickly proving fruitless, until Lea's eyes spied something white on one of the higher shelves.

Leaning up on the tips of her toes, Lea stretched her fingertips, reaching as far forward as possible. Her tiny fingers missed once, twice, then finally on the third try she finally managed to grab the slightly lumpy object under rough material. As she brought it down to eye level, Lea's eyes widened, recognizing the coarse white gauze and little black bar freely lying in the middle. Smiling, Lea pivoted on her heels and turned back to Claire.

"Look, it's a tourniquet! And it's visibly clean!" Lea excitedly informed the older woman. Claire didn't react, head buried in some paper. "Uh, my uh, my aunt showed me now only how to use this but also how to improvise one out of basic cloth and whatever sturdy stick is nearby. Plus, the material here is gauze, great for light wounds!" Lea nervously rambled on, feeling the familiar anxiety creeping higher the longer the older woman scowled at the paper. "What's, uh, what'cha got there, Red?" Lea asked, tone taking a higher pitch with the awkward drawl.

"Um," Lea craned her head back to look at Moira. Her amber eyes decidedly were looking in a far corner. Suddenly, she shot her hand out, holding a small red ammo box. "Found this, there's not much though. Finally, Claire lifted her head, looking between the two. Concern yet again etched her face, flitting back from the paper, down to their wristbands, then back to their faces.

"That's great," Claire said as she grabbed the bullets, taking the two bullets out and shoving them in her pocket. "Give Moira the tourniquet, she has more pockets." Lane nodded, passing the tourniquet over. "Good, now I want both to listen carefully. These cuffs," Claire lifted her wrist, pointing at the metal, glowing band, "they're measuring how we're reacting to all of this. Green's normal, orange for anxiety." Claire then pointed to the paper she was so engrossed in, "if it's blinking red, we're feeling fear. If it's a solid red, we'll mutate."

Lea's heart numbly sank with every word Claire said. Vaguely she registered Moira gasping and taking a step back.

"So, they're fucking gonna turn us into some fucking Silent Hill freaks because we're scared?!" The words harshly spilled out of Lea's lips before she could stop herself. Her hands snaked up behind her head, tugging at what little hair remained.

"What the fuck." Moira softly exclaimed, voice warbling ever so slightly.

"Hold on, it's more than just being scared. We've all been scared since we woke up here. If it was just that then we would have changed a while ago." Claire cut through, stepping forward. She clasped a hand on Moira's shoulder, and the other on Lea's shoulder. At the sudden touch, Lea couldn't stop how her body stiffened, rigid as a plank board. "Regardless, we are all going to get through this together. We're gonna have to keep each other in check. It's ok to be scared, but we can't spiral. Do you understand?" Claire's eyes danced between the two, her face soft yet stern. A pregnant pause passed, thick with tension as Claire waited for any indication that the two younger women understood the situation.

"Got it." Moira said, thankfully breaking the silence after fifteen seconds had passed. Lea gave a sharp nod, stepping back and away from Claire's gently firm grip. Claire weakly smiled, nodding at the two, and jerked her head in the direction of the opening.

"Come on, let's find a way to get that gear."

[dillusionalgrins]

"Mm tea..I do so miss the hatters antics. Nevertheless he's been rather quiet now." The voice dipped down to a low methodical tone. Thinking. So much thinking. And as the other drew closer he kept talking. Laughing at his question as he moved just that little farther out of reach. A guessing game is personally the green cat's favorite game. Chess and blackjack another. But he was in the mood to keep the boy guessing. His sticks made his cat like grin grow in amusement.

"But I know many things..about you dear Robin. Tell me. How long did he wait before replacing him?" It was a genuine question. But it made him cock his head. There was no mocking to it. It made him...excited for his reaction though.

His green piercing eyes piercing through the darkness." Or..do you even know who I'm talking about?" The patter of feet picked up. The light patter of paws against the concrete of the abandoned warehouse picking up speed. The crowbar tipping over clacking against the floor as the voice shifted to a deeper one. Almost a young man. A shadow standing in the darkness of the corner. Taller than tim. But hunched in pain as he wheezed and spewed." I was left to die alone. He failed to save me. Only then to be completely replaced how long later? A week? Two? Looking at you..I envy you."

Before him stood a battered Jason Todd. Body covered in blood. Bruises of many kinds. Face barely recognizable. Gripping onto Tim's shoulders he bore his teeth." You!? You took my place!? Pathetic.." was all he said before he vanished from thin air.

"It's rather sad. If I do say so myself..herr, Timothy."

cont. II @dillusionalgrins:

"Oh, I do so enjoy a good game." The voice purred out towards Tim. Deep. Thoughtful. Almost as if he was sized up and put down about it." What is truly a game without the company of a party? Would two plus two truly equal four? Or would children wearing the tights of a hero truly be considered crazy! No different than the crazy people they hunt for on the dank streets of Gotham."

The patter of feet could be heard. Almost on purpose to lead the child to him. Licking his odd colored fur with looks being on his mind more that the human boy who was swiftly approching.

Tim's footfalls were near-silent in return. It was unlikely that this newcomer couldn't see him, but on the off-chance that he couldn't, it would give Tim an advantage. And right now, they'd take any advantage they could get.

Besides, even if Tim was visible, the less human he could make himself seem, the higher the potential for intimidation became. As such, he also shrouded himself in the shadow of his cape, letting the outer black fabric of it cover him completely, where his hands could reach for all sorts of weapons and still go unnoticed.

They continued to creep toward where they'd heard the other person step.

"A lot of the bad guys in this city like games. You one of them? One of the ones I 'hunt'?" Underneath his cape, his hand encircled the collapsed bo at the small of his back. "I mean, you definitely sound like a particular one, with your voice and the stuff about a party."

Time to throw the metaphorical dice. "Is it a tea party you're after?"

[themaribatpit]

Love and War: Chapter 2

Prompt: Thigh (Jasonette July) @maribat-calendar-events

Rating: M for violence  

Ships: Jason Todd/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Jason often felt more comfortable sleeping in his private room at the Iceberg Lounge.  It was lonely, but he was left to suffer in silence and battle his own demons.  Sure, there was the simple joy of reading to Marinette while she rested her head on his thigh, and his voice would lull her to sleep after a long day at the shop or after finishing a difficult commission. He made the mistake of falling asleep at Marinette’s place once before, it wasn’t one he planned on making again.

Once, Jason had spent many sleepless nights trying to take care of some upstarts encroaching on his territory. He offered to let them join him, provided they played by his rules.  Sadly, they refused and that made them troublesome for him to deal with.  The thought of running into Batman was enough to make the more skittish goons back out for good, but the rest of them needed some persuading.  Jason was cooling his heels in Marinette’s apartment one night, while she was toiling away working on some commissions. She didn’t say anything as Jason drifted off to sleep, this was one of the few times he slept in her apartment. It was one of the few times, and after this time, it was the only time.

The nightmares that haunted him had eventually caught up to him, and Jason couldn’t seem to outrun them this time.  He felt the CRACK of the Joker’s crowbar across his face. He heard the ringing in his ears as the timer on the bomb reached zero, and the firey explosion that followed and snuffed him out. He watched himself sink deeper and deeper into the Lazarus Pits, several pairs of eyes watched and waited for him in anticipation.  They could not foresee the vengeful killer that would emerge, one who would kill them all with the ease that they had killed many others.  Jason felt the waters burning his skin, as flesh and bone knitted back together, as he felt himself being reforged into the man he was today.  His cries for help were silenced, all that came out was the desperate gargling of a drowning man. Did he cry out for help? Or was he crying out for someone to put him out of his misery? This time, through the surface, he could just about make out a figure staring down at him. She was reaching towards him, as if she was offering him a way out.  While he was underwater it sounded muffled, but it almost sounded like that person was calling his name.  Jason tried to swim to the surface, arms scrambling as he tried to reach out and take that person’s hand. Wherever they planned to lead him, it had to be better than here, right? “Jason…” he heard the voice call as he drew closer and closer, “Jason…”

“Jason!” his eyes shot open and he saw Marinette leap back in shock, “Jason?” she asked more tentatively, probably wondering if he was still the person she knew.  It took Jason a moment to realise where he was, he looked around the room, he felt the thick futon beneath him, he took a deep breath. 

“How long was I out for?” he asked, his voice sounded groggy. “I came home and saw that you were asleep, I didn’t want to wake you so I just kept working on my commission. Suddenly, you…”she trailed off, she was at his side and her eyes were wide with concern.  “Did something happen to you?” she asked softly.

Jason rubbed the bridge of his nose, her concern was touching, but telling her all that he had been through would have her running for the hills. He wouldn’t blame her if she did.  Jason looked into her sad eyes wishing he could tell her, tell someone all that he had been through. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and he held her hand close to him.  “For many years in Paris,” she began, “there was someone who was always on the hunt for people who were feeling angry, scared, and heartbroken.” Jason had seen some files on what was happening in Paris back when he was Robin, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.  The Justice League was repeatedly told to stay out of it, and no one knew why at the time.  Marinette was used to seeing people being turned into literal, rampaging monsters because someone wanted to harness the power of those emotions for their own ends.  This ongoing calamity only stopped just before he returned to Gotham, but from what he gathered, the people of Paris haven’t been the same since. “If something happened to you before, you know you can always tell me about it, okay?” she said encouragingly.  

When he did manage to get it together, he gave her a weak smile and told her, “It was just a bad dream Pixie, don’t worry about it.” Jason hoped that calling her by the nickname he had for her would get her to change the subject.  He wanted to tell her, but that would mean telling her everything, and he wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

“Do you give nicknames to everyone you meet?” Marinette asked with a sigh, followed by a smile shortly after.

“Not to every girl I meet, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he joked. He got to his feet and looked around the tiny kitchen for something to eat, he could still see the slightly concerned look on her face.  Once she’d even asked about the white streak in his hair, and he simply shrugged and said it just grew out like that.  The fact that he could lie to her so easily turned his stomach, he convinced himself that he was doing it to protect her.  Having been raised by Batman, having grown up alongside Dick and Barbara, most of the people he knew were already vigilantes themselves.  They understood that their identities had to be kept separate in order to protect people, especially those close to them. Right now, the guilt of lying to someone who was close to him was starting to weigh on him.  

So from that night on, he made a note to never fall asleep in Marinette’s apartment, no matter how nice and warm it felt.  Sadly, it meant spending his mornings in his room in the Iceberg Lounge.  More recently, he had been spending time in his bunker, researching Ladybug and trying to figure out what the hell she was doing in Gotham. She hadn’t been seen in her home city of Paris for about 5 years, and there haven’t been any sightings of her anywhere else.  Why was she snooping around one of his warehouses? What did she hope to find in Gotham City? Nothing added up.  He hadn’t seen her since that night. If she came here to join up with some other heroes, literally anyone else would have jumped at the chance to take her under their wing.

Marinette started her morning like many others, she woke up to find Jason had already left, she wasn’t entirely sure if he got any sleep the entire night.  He told her that he worked at the Iceberg Lounge, and that was the reason why he left early in the morning.  Between working at the shop and doing her commissions, Marinette never really had the chance to see the place for herself.  It was a quiet day at the shop today, as she strummed her fingers on the counter. Very few customers came in, but a certain crime lord didn’t come knocking on her door either.  She was worried he’d show up asking if she knew anything about Ladybug and what she was doing at the warehouse that night.  As the hours ticked by, she was by herself and only had Tikki for company.  Marinette was alone with her thoughts for the most part, and found herself thinking back to one of the few times she found Jason asleep in her apartment.  

At first, when she returned to her apartment that night and found him sleeping, she let him sleep. This was because for a moment, he looked completely at peace.  Sure, there was a softness to him underneath the veneer of bravado and sarcasm, and she had a feeling that she was one of the few who knew about it.  When she saw him sleeping, he looked almost vulnerable, and Marinette had no intention of ruining this moment.  So, she tried to work quietly, so as not to wake him.  The tapping of her sewing machine seemed a lot louder than usual at that moment, and she kept glancing over to see if she had accidentally woken him.  Later in the night, he had begun to stir in his sleep. Marinette didn’t move, she pulled away from the sewing machine to see if that was interrupting his sleep.  After a long moment, it only got worse from there.  His once peaceful expression was gone, he furrowed his eyebrows and gritted his teeth.  He began violently tossing and turning on the futon, and Marinette was immediately alarmed.  Tikki emerged from her usual hiding spot, pulling at Marinette’s sleeve to get her attention.  “Marinette…” Marinette looked down at Kwami, hoping they had an explanation for what was happening. “Do you feel it? Do you sense the magic in this very room getting stronger and stronger?” Marinette knew Tikki was right, but it didn’t have anything to do with what was happening in front of her, did it?  

Jason had begun hissing in pain, and Marinette knew she couldn’t continue to watch in horror.  It made her heart sink to see someone she cared about in this much pain, but she had to be brave if she was going to help him. “Jason…” she tried to call out to him, she inched closer and closer towards him, reaching out to gently touch him.  He was still twitching slightly as she inched closer still.  “Jason…” she tried again, his head shook but he didn’t wake. “Jason!” she finally called, hoping that would make him snap out of whatever nightmare he was having.  His eyes shot open and Marinette leapt back in shock, his soft aquamarine eyes were now a bright green. She didn’t want to say anything at that moment, she was too stunned. As he woke up from his nightmare and got his barings, they started to fade back into the colour she knew and loved.  Marinette tried to ask him what happened, but to no avail, he just brushed it aside as a bad dream.  Marinette had her share of bad dreams, mostly from her time as Ladybug. In those dreams she had been unable to save people from their demise. That said, her nightmares didn’t make her eyes do that.  

She loved Jason, but there was a part of him that he seemed to keep secret even from her.  One time she saw him shirtless, and although she was a little embarrassed at first, her curiosity surpassed her embarrassment as she saw several scars along his body.  He flinched slightly when she reached out to touch them. Naturally, she wondered what happened to him in order for him to get these scars. He simply said that he got in a lot of fights as a kid and well into his teens, and all Marinette could wonder was, with who? Even the most rough and tumble kids didn’t have quite this many scars, but again, Marinette didn’t push the subject.  

“Is something wrong?” Tikki asked, and Marinette glanced down at Tikki, who was sitting in her lap and looking up at her.  The Kwami tried to stay out of sight from the customers, but today was slow enough that no one would notice them as long as they weren’t in the shop window.  Jason would tell her the truth about his scars and his nightmares when he was ready. After all, Marinette hadn’t told him that she was once the Parisian hero, Ladybug.  

“It’s nothing,” but before Marinette could say anything more, the bell above the door chimed and Jason entered the shop. Tikki dove into her pocket and Marinette leaned forward on the counter, “What can I do for you today?” she asked cheerfully. 

Jason propped himself against the door, and gave her a warm smile. “I was wondering if you planned on doing anything later?” he asked, there was something charming about this sight before her.  Marinette stood up and went over to the rack to straighten out some blazers that were perfectly fine minutes ago. He wasn’t going to let her live it down if just being around him was all it took to make her blush.

“Slow day today, why do you ask?” she turned back to him and smiled, hopefully her face didn’t look quite so red.  

“So I was thinking,” Jason leaned over the counter just as Marinette sat back down behind it, and he was just close enough that the tips of their noses almost touched “there’s a French restaurant in a nicer part of Gotham, if you’re feeling a little homesick.” Jason smiled, but Marinette cocked an eyebrow. True, she hadn’t really explored that much of Gotham, but this came out of blue. She wondered if there was any particular reason he was suggesting this.  He pulled back slightly, “Figured you could use a night-off, every night for this past week, you come straight home from running this place to work on commissions.”

Marinette knew he wasn’t entirely wrong, he didn’t know that the night before, she was on the hunt for a source of magic that seemed to hang over the city. However, explaining that would not only give away her big secret, it would also prove his point that she seemed to be working around the clock.  “I close the shop at 7pm, can you come by then?” Marinette suggested, Jason smiled and Marinette cursed that charming, mischievous smile every time it made her heart race.

“So it’s a date.” Indeed it was, as he stepped out of the shop.  Marinette sat there for a long moment to calm her racing pulse, before getting up and walking into the back room.  There were some spare clothes that she stored there for herself, in case she got splashed by a puddle on her way to work, or in case she forgot to bring a raincoat.  Hanging from a hanger was a simple black and white dress that she had recently cleaned and hung up in the back room.  It was simple, yet elegant enough to wear somewhere nice.

[satashiiwrites]

WIP Wednesday

Aka I’m going to post a bunch of Mreyder snippets and NOT tell anyone where they came from (they actually come from a couple of different things but that would be telling).  Bonus kudos to anyone who can guess which fics they’ll eventually get crowbarred into. 

Tagging whoever wants to play this fine wednesday, @radio-chatter​ @missanniewhimsy​ @imsupposedtobewritting​ @quietborderline​ (yes i know you just posted yesterday!) @tkwritesdumbassassins​ @outtoshatter​.  No obligation as always this is just for fun.

From: Untitled MReyder work(s). Theme is sensuality here. 

Fandom: Mass Effect, Mass Effect Andromeda

Pairing: MReyder

Other tags/warnings: first draft zone. Cut going for the sexy stuff. *** denotes different scene/fic. Stuff below the cut is explicit. 

Scott closed the distance between them, holding up his hand so Reyes could see what he was doing but stopping right before touching his face. The urge to cup Reyes’ chin and kiss his lips was strong but after Reyes’ talk about choices Scott felt he needed to make sure that they were both on the same page. That they both were going into this having made the choice to commit to each other. Dark eyes drew him in, only a hairsbreadth between their bodies now. 

“May I?” Scott whispered, almost sharing breath they were so close and he could feel Reyes’ body heat.

A flick of eyes to his hand and then back to meet his and Reyes was gently wrapping his fingers around Scott’s wrist, fingertips settling right over the pulse point and causing a shiver of delight. The firm touch of calloused hands encircling his wrist then sliding up to the forearm before giving a  tug to tilt Scott’s wrist in order to lay a feather light kiss right over the pulse point.  Reyes’ eyes never leaving Scott’s as he set to work  The touch of velvet soft lips and the swipe of tongue had Scott inhaling sharply as a bolt of arousal swept through him. He couldn’t take his own eyes off Reyes as the man laved his skin, suckling and with a hint of teeth to make the skin start to bruise from attention. 

The moan that burst out of Scott’s mouth surprised him as his knees felt weak but he was pinned in place by the gentle hold on his arm and the lips on his wrist. 

Sensing the effect he was having, Reyes paused in his attention and a small, private smile that seemed to just be for Scott bloomed. “Scott....”

Scott couldn’t help himself and called Reyes’ name in response, “Reyes... babe... “

“Yes Quierdo?”

Scott licked his lips, trying not to pant. “Can I?”

The smile quirked up in amusement. “Can you what?”

“Touch you,” Scott hissed as Reyes went back to kissing his wrist, shivering. His eyes closed as he just couldn’t handle the sight of Reyes worshiping the delicate pulse point in addition to just feeling the touch. He wanted to accuse Reyes of being able to manipulate his nerve endings like an Angaran it felt so overwhelming. 

Reyes withdrawing his lips made him reopen his eyes with a noise of protest. The other man was watching him, eyes gleaming. “You may mi corazón. I am yours if you will be mine.”

***

Waking wrapped tightly around one another in the pale light of dawn that filtered through the balcony door, Scott never wanted to leave. The smooth sheets and heavy quilted blanket had been pulled around him to keep him warm even as Reyes radiated heat underneath him. 

Scott had fallen asleep with his head pillowed on Reyes’ shoulder and half sprawled across the other man, legs tangled and skin bare to one another. Rubbing his face against the smooth skin of shoulder and chest, Scott just watched the steady rise and fall of Reyes’ chest as he breathed with the steady heartbeat under his ear reassuring and calming. Dark eyelashes like a raven’s wing moved slightly as Reyes dreamed, his face relaxed and younger appearing in sleep. 

Shifting just enough to free his arm, Scott lightly reached out with tentative fingers that hovered above Reyes’ face before gently tracing them in a caress. In his sleep, Reyes rubbed into their careful seeking like a cat.  

***

Breakfast was a sensual experience and they only made it halfway through a shared plate of food before they found better uses of their time. Reyes had resisted letting Scott sit apart from him and had pulled his fiancé down to sit between his legs on the kitchen chair. Scott had just on a pair of Reyes boxer briefs that were slightly large on him in the hips as well as one of his henley’s in a dark charcoal color that he preferred. It just made Scott’s usually protected from the sun’s rays skin glowed pale in the morning light making Reyes want to mark him up again. SAM’s ability to make any mark left by Reyes disappear within hours made him feel a primitive urge to renew them constantly—the bruise from his teeth and tongue over Scott’s pulse point on his wrist had faded until it was barely visible. 

The breakfast that had been delivered to the front door and then taken to the kitchen by Reyes had scrambled eggs, fruit, and an angaran version of what could be likened to pancakes that were drizzled in a sugary strawberry syrup with an extra squeeze bottle of the stuff included in case they wanted extra. Reyes hadn’t held back and he found his hands constantly roaming from around Scott’s waist to his thighs and chest, pulling Scott back against him firmly when he leaned forward to pull one of the dishes on the table closer. Scott, for his part, was amused by Reyes and had tangled his ankles around the outside of Reyes’ foot, caressing the outside of his shin before shifting his fantastic ass back into Reyes’ increasingly interested and perked up cock. 

Reyes hadn’t bothered with a shirt, having just put on a loose pair of sleep pants that were overly long that allowed Scott to push up with his feet and play. He nuzzled into the side of Scott’s neck as Scott speared a piece of strawberry and offered it to him. Having not yet shaved, he rubbed his stubble against Scott’s neck before delicately nipping at the red berries, left hand delving between Scott’s legs to give his package a squeeze over the thin fabric, making Scott shiver and groan. Guiding Scott’s head to his with his other hand, Reyes shared the strawberry with Scott as they kissed, his tongue pushing the berries into Scott’s mouth. Scott’s hips gave an aborted thrust into his hand as he ground his own cock into Scott’s ass. 

Releasing Scott’s tongue, Reyes pulled back to look into his fiancé’s eyes. The icy blue of Scott’s iris was a thin band around the dilated pupils that were hidden as Scott sighed, tipping his head back into Reyes as he swallowed the strawberry. “Reyes,” was all Scott said as he picked up another bit of food, this time a piece of pancake and held it out to Reyes. This time he didn’t look away as he ate the fluffy pancake that was dripping in red syrup. He allowed a small bit of the syrup to stain his lips and it was immediately licked off by Scott as he chewed. 

His hand that had been twined in Scott’s hair found it’s way to his abdomen and found the hem of the shirt, pulling it up so he could splay his hand over Scott’s abs and hold Scott tight against him even as his other hand slipped underneath the loose briefs to grip his erect shaft. Scott shuddered in his grip, hips thrusting into Reyes’ grip. Scott’s breathing had sped up and he was mindlessly rutting back and forth between pressing his ass against Reyes’ own erection and his cock into Reyes’ hand. Reyes just rhythmically gripped Scott’s shaft, fingers finding the precome that he was leaking to provide lubrication as he began to slide his hand back and forth to stroke Scott from root to tip. 

Getting the stimulation he needed, Scott was now fully pushing his weight back into Reyes, his own hands tightly gripping Reyes’ wrists but allowing them to move. Reyes moved the hand that was on Scott’s abs up and found his left pec, cradling the thick muscle as his thumb pinched and rolled the nipple causing it to peak and Scott to let out a snarl as he pushed back harder, grinding his ass against Reyes in a frank display of unrestrained need. Reyes was rock hard and the cloth barriers between him and Scott needed to go away now.

Biting at the thick tendon over the pulse in Scott’s neck  as Scott strained to push back into him, Reyes nuzzled the hot spot he’d found just below the ear. “So fucking good mi vida, so beautiful. Want you to come in my hands and then I’m going to drench you in that syrup, lick you open and fuck you right at this table. Do you want that mi vida? Do you want me in you? As deep as possible, take me to the root as I fill up that space in you that was made for me?”

“Fuck me,” Scott’s voice was hoarse and fucked out already. “Please babe... Fuck me,’ he pleaded as he rocked back and forth between the two points of stimulation. “Want you in me. Fill me... so empty.”

At Scott’s words, Reyes found his grip tightening to the point that Scott whimpered as it was too tight. Realizing this, he loosened his grip and began to pull at Scott’s shirt as he kissed him, taking his mouth in a possessive kiss, tongues twining. They separated long enough for him to pull the shirt off and drop it to the floor before returning to the kiss, Scott twisted in his grip so he could wrap his arms around Reyes’ shoulders and found himself straddling Reyes.

Drawing Scott closer now that they were facing one another, Reyes gripped Scott’s hips and pulled him in tight, their erections rubbing together through layers of cloth as his hands sought the skin and went underneath the waistband before gathering a handful of asscheek in each hand, thumbs pulling the cleft wider. Kneading and spreading as he pulled Scott to grind tighter, Reyes broke the kiss to begin nipping down Scott’s neck to his clavicle as Scott’s back arched, head thrown back and his toes curled even as his arms clutched at Reyes’ shoulders. 

Nipping hard enough to bruise over the clavicle, Reyes soothed the mark with his tongue before rubbing his stubbled cheek over it. The sounds Scott was making was a garbled combination of Reyes’ name and “fuck” “more” “babe” and other endearments. Pulling harder with his thumbs, he moved his hands to follow the groove of Scott’s crack to his entrance, pulling the briefs down and uncovering his cock that was leaking profusely. The briefs couldn’t move further due to Scott sitting on his thighs. “Stand up,” he snarled against Scott’s pecs, wanting Scott naked. 

It took a few seconds for Reyes’ command to penetrate the haze of arousal that Scott was entrapped in. He reluctantly released his grip on Reyes’ shoulders and stumbled backwards, his bare ass hitting the edge of the table and cock hanging out free and bobbed with each stuttering breath Scott took, abdominal muscles contracting as he trembled. He looked wrecked—mouth swollen, skin red from stubble burn and a blossoming love bite on his chest, nipples peaked and tight, a light sheen of sweat making his skin glisten in the diffuse morning light from the windows. Reaching forward, Reyes gently tugged at the briefs that clung to Scott’s muscular thighs to make them fall to the floor where Scott flung them away with a flick of an ankle. Gripping the table edge with white knuckles, Scott purposefully arched his back to push his hips towards Reyes, stretching to show off his body and tempt him. “Please Babe.... please....” he asked softly. 

Reyes slowly stood, kicking the chair back and away as he found the waistband of his own loose sweats and shucked them, kicking them to join the chair as he settled between Scott’s spread thighs, arms bracketing Scott’s own tight grip to encourage them to loosen. Scott did and his hands grazed up Reyes’ arms back to his shoulder even as his legs wrapped around his waist to pull Reyes closer. He didn’t look away from Reyes’ eyes, a small, private smile that was just for Reyes. He inclined his head and touched their foreheads together, eyes fluttering to half mast as their noses touched in an Eskimo kiss as they shared breath. “Please,” was the only thing Scott said before Reyes kissed him to silence any further words. 

This kiss was gentler than the ones that preceded it, a promise and a nonverbal declaration of love even as his hands bracketed Scott’s hips, fingers splayed as he tilted Scott to give them more physical contact cock to cock. As their erections aligned, Reyes pushed Scott to sit on the table’s edge, pushing the plate and food to crash to the floor as he pushed Scott backwards but catching the bottle of strawberry syrup before it tumbled after. He had plans for that. 

Scott, having seen the squeeze bottle, gave Reyes a smirk.  “I think I know what you’re planning,” he gasped out even as he purposefully wriggled against Reyes. “We’re going to need another shower after this.”

“Of course mi vida. I plan on getting us nice and sticky... and dirty...” Reyes said as he leaned down to put Scott’s back on the table. “I just wonder if it’ll hide your natural flavor too much or not,” he whispered into Scott’s mouth as he kissed him again, tongue delving behind Scott’s lips to tangle with his tongue. 

“Why don’t you find out,” Scott said as soon as the kiss broke, his eyes gleeful as he challenged Reyes, smile showing a lot of teeth as he nipped at Reyes throat as he threw his head back as Scott rubbed their groins together in impatience, the friction just right. 

Pulling back so he wouldn’t loose control, Reyes stood at the edge of the table with Scott’s legs wrapped around his hips. Scott was unbelievably flexible and he flexed the muscles in his legs to tighten like a python’s grip around Reyes. It was undeniably sexy and Reyes almost lost his train of thought on what he intended to do next. He hadn’t dropped the syrup bottle from his grip so he upended it on Scott’s chest. A thin stream of bright strawberry red syrup came from the tip to land right on Scott’s sternum to pool in the groove between his pecs to create a small puddle before it ran down to the end of his rib cage—some going down into his abdominal muscles and the rest spreading laterally. Reyes kept applying it liberally in a line down past the indent of Scott’s navel and to each pelvic groove before stopping. He had maybe half the bottle left and he set it carefully to the side. 

“I’d suggest you hold on,” he told Scott before bending forward. He didn’t put his face into direct contact with Scott’s cock but instead breathed on it which made it twitch as he watched. Giving Scott an amused look, he then lowered his mouth to the right hip and began laving the area the syrup had dripped into with his tongue to collect it. Salty yet sweet, an overpowering smell and taste of strawberry with Scott underneath it. 

He switched to the other hip, Scott making noises that suggested he was impatient but enjoying himself. Reyes snuck a hand around to start jacking Scott as he followed the trail of syrup up to his belly button and sucking hungrily at the small, pooled collection there before continuing northward up the impressive six pack to the base of the rib cage. 

As he reached the valley between Scott’s pecs, he felt Scott’s hand gently cradle his head and suddenly he was seeing double as Scott initiated the mind meld when he didn’t pull away. He could feel the stickiness of the syrup as it lay on his skin and the clean strip that he’d licked clear that still had some residue.  Scott was holding on with iron control to his biotics not to flip their positions and ride him which made Reyes moan and his hips to stutter, thoughts following Scott’s mental vision as he showed several different possible positions in rapid succession—Reyes sitting back on the chair and Scott riding him both forwards and backwards, falling to the floor and rutting into Scott from behind, and his current preferred position of pulling Scott’s ass to the edge of the table so he could get leverage to fuck him across it... before a vision of Scott standing, hands braced on the table, legs spread with feet on the floor, red syrup trailing down his spine in a river to go between the perfect globes of his ass and trail down his inner thighs, inviting Reyes to lick him open and then take him. 

Unaware he was moaning Scott’s name, Reyes continued to lick the chest before him clean. Scott’s hands were carding through his hair as he pled through the open link for Reyes to fuck him. 

Soon, Reyes promised him. I will take care of you, he told Scott, maintaining eye contact as he finished the last bit of syrup, his hand jacking Scott even faster as Scott’s eyes rolled back in orgasm as he came over Reyes’ hand at the promise. 

Scott didn’t resist as Reyes pulled back and started licking his hand clean, legs reluctantly releasing him. The connection buzzed as Scott wasn’t with it enough to break it and the pleasant floating feeling made Reyes want to preen at having caused Scott’s sense of pleasurable satisfaction. Reyes watched Scott with half-lidded eyes, his body unhappy with delaying it’s own gratification but he ignored it in favor of Scott.  Scott who hadn’t looked away from him but provocatively, as if reading Reyes’ thoughts, spread his legs further. Scott’s cock hadn’t softened at all and his breath was rapid, pulling the muscles of his abdomen in with each inhale. His skin was inflamed from stubble burn and Reyes could tell that it was something that Scott found arousing.

“I want you to rub your fucking face against my thighs until I can’t close them,” he confessed. “I want to have a hard time tolerating clothes because they’ll rub against where you’ve been, remind me you were there. That you did this,” Scott told him as he flexed his muscles to adjust his position where he lay on the table. “Do you like what you’ve done Reyes?”

“Yes,” Reyes told him as he hesitantly touched the inflamed skin that was slightly warmer than the rest of Scott, voice hoarse like he’d been deep throating Scott for hours. “I want to do it again.”

Scott’s biotics flared like a flash of lightning over his skin at Reyes’ confession but the flare didn’t hurt Reyes.  “How do you want me Reyes?”

“Any way you’ll have me, mi vida,” Reyes whispered, hand spreading out to feel the fluttering tremor in Scott’s abdominal muscles as he adjusted himself. 

“I noticed that you didn’t have any position in particular when I shared...” Scott prompted him, the mental connection strengthening and Reyes was hit with arousal that made him shake momentarily at how hard his muscles contracted, hand curling up on Scott’s belly. 

“The last one,” he finally admitted. As much as he wanted to feel those powerful thighs wrapped around him... he wanted to taste and take some more, the vision of Scott spread wanting him and allowing him to explore... able to rub his face against those thighs and ass until they trembled... “The others... we have time later.”

Scott’s breathing hitched at Reyes’ admission and his body froze for a moment before he carefully sat up, brushing purposefully against Reyes as he stood in the minimal space created between Reyes and the table before turning to face the table.  Reyes mind blanked at the friction as their bodies touched and he could feel the amusement this caused in Scott. One orgasm had clearly given Scott his control back and the delay was fraying Reyes’ to the breaking point.

Right.

Lube... they needed lube. 

Bending down to find his discarded pants, he took the tube of lube he’d stashed there and stood back up. Scott was looking at him over his shoulder, having assumed the position. Scott’s long lean legs were spread slightly further than shoulder width apart and he was leaning over the table slightly, arms rotated out so he could grip the edge which made his muscles flex as he arched his back pushing his ass towards Reyes. That ass which was out and so fucking perfect. 

“And here I thought you liked my chest,” Scott teased him, not looking away as he purposefully flexed his thighs and hips to entice Reyes. 

“Mi vida... you have a fantastic ass... and while I love seeing how much you can tolerate me nursing at your nipples, tweaking and rolling them in my hands and fingers before you break... I would be missing a work of art to not give as much appreciation to an ass such as yours,” Reyes snarked back, stepping up closer to push the front of his body to cover Scott’s backside, lips just millimeters apart but not kissing as he gave a playful smack to said ass. 

“You’re such a smooth fucking bastard... who isn’t fucking me yet,” Scott grumbled even as he leaned forward to touch their foreheads together. “Reyes... please. Move it.”

Swallowing heavily, Reyes pecked one kiss on Scott’s mouth before withdrawing to rub his stubble up and down both sides of Scott’s neck making him moan appreciatively as he rested his head trustingly on Reyes shoulder. Once Reyes was satisfied Scott was distracted, he nibbled at the top of Scott’s spine before kissing and biting his way down each vertebrae, tongue soothing each abused spot. Soon he was kneeling behind Scott, hands firmly holding Scott in place while he used his thumbs to spread Scott’s cleft open. 

He then purposefully rubbed his face up and down and around Scott’s backside, tongue laving the crease but not dipping into the tight muscle that contracted each time he neared it in anticipation. Scott’s groans and moans as he pushed his ass back into Reyes’ face told him that Scott was enjoying himself even if the flow of encouragement and lust through the bond verified it. Switching his hands to pull Scott’s thighs slightly further apart, he rubbed his face up and down Scott’s inner thighs making him tremble at the rough treatment of his skin, pushing himself into Reyes’ face. A steady chant of “Reyes” was escaping Scott’s lips as if it was the only word he knew.

When Reyes began tonguing at Scott’s entrance, Scott lost it and lost the ability to form words, only nonsensical grunts and moans as Reyes tongued the tight muscle, burying his face deep in Scott’s ass. How was Scott so tight after last night... Reyes thought even as the muscle gave way and he began to thrust his tongue deep, moistening the skin and channel with spit. Uncapping the lube, he put some on his fingers and slipped a fingertip to join where his tongue was. Withdrawing his tongue, he slipped his pointer finger in deep, Scott’s hole taking it with an impatient inward contraction of the muscle. 

Giving Scott a moment to adjust before he began to thrust his finger back and forth to loosen the muscle, Reyes murmured words of encouragement and love to his fiancé. “Mi vida, so beautiful, so good....so tight Scott... how are you so fucking tight... love how you take me... going to be so full of me...”. Scott was trembling visibly to hold himself in the position Reyes had put him in, head thrown back as he rocked his hips to meet the second finger that joined the first with a small yell of pleasure. The bond was alive and writhing like a captured animal between them, feelings ricocheting back and forth. Love. Lust. Desire. Pleasure. Want. A thousand shades of different emotions shared at once was almost overwhelming but it also spurred Reyes to finish prepping Scott. 

Hands shaking as he pulled his fingers out of Scott, he managed to put a bit more lube on his own cock as he stood. The coldness of the lube made him take a deep breath and pause for control that he wasn’t in. Scott’s inquiry through the bond made him realize he’d stopped moving and he crowded against Scott, his own hands coming to grip those tantalizing hips again as his cock found the groove of Scott’s ass and rested there between Scott’s legs. “Reyes,” was the plea that got him moving and he positioned himself and began to enter Scott in a steady push that made Scott writhe in his hands as he pushed back to meet him.  

Seated deep within Scott, Reyes held back barely to give Scott time to adjust. Scott was impatient and he could feel the encouragement to begin moving immediately through their bond but he resisted. He wanted Scott to enjoy this and he wasn’t going to push too quickly, sending slight concern through the bond back to Scott. Scott panted, his body restless but he abided by Reyes’ request. 

When they began to move, it was in concert. Reyes pulled back and then thrust forward as Scott rocked back onto him. Scott was mostly supporting himself on his hands and on the balls of his feet as he forcefully pushed back, wanting more of Reyes. The doubling of sensations shared through the bond, both filled and filling, was more intoxicating than any alcohol. The tight squeeze of Scott’s inner muscles around him as he could feel the stimulation as he hit Scott’s prostate just right sending jolts of pleasure. 

Reyes lost track of time as it both expanded and contracted around him. All he could focus on was giving Scott pleasure and receiving it back. The bond, wide open and hiding nothing from each other, was alive between them and he poured himself into it. He could sense memories that he hadn’t shared or thought of in years flittering between them. Saw Scott graduate from his N-school course, breaking his arm when he was twelve falling out of a tree he’d climbed to have some privacy, and the half-memory of playing football with a bunch of kids he couldn’t speak to as he didn’t speak or understand Spanish.  Seeing his own, young, face in the child Scott remembered fondly was startling but lost in the maelstrom of emotion as their bodies strove to connect like their minds. 

Despite the distraction of the minds, their bodies were fast approaching the peak and when they crashed over it, it was simultaneous. The tight contracture of Scott around him as they both came was exquisite. Reyes’ mind overloaded with the stimulation and he wasn’t sure how long or if he blacked out. 

He was next aware that he’d somehow found himself sitting back in the chair, Scott sprawled on top of him, head pillowed on Reyes’ shoulder, Reyes’ cock still within Scott’s channel which was spasming around him in aftershocks of their powerful, conjoined orgasms. Scott didn’t seem to have much more control or sense about him than Reyes did—or at least so it felt through the open bond. Scott was satiated, his hunger momentarily appeased but still there as he purposefully clenched around Reyes as he became more alert. 

“Fuck,” Scott said as his arms began to respond and he was pulling their mouths together for an open mouthed kiss that broke only so they could share breath as their bodies trembled from exertion. “Fuck,” Scott whispered, his body coming back to under control as he kissed Reyes again, hands tangling in Reyes’ hair. 

His hands had been on Scott’s hips but now they were roaming the relaxed muscles of the thighs and abdomen, one hand cupping a pec possessively as the other played with Scott’s cock that was softening after a second, powerful orgasm before pulling Scott’s hips to grind against his. “Mi vida,” he said against Scott’s lips as he took Scott’s mouth again, tongues battling gently for dominance. 

The kiss broke so they both could take a breath, Scott burrowing his nose into Reyes’ neck as his hands covered’ Reyes and squeezed. “That was... fuck....” Scott finally said. 

“How the hell did the chair get here?” Reyes asked with a slight chuckle.  He was softening within Scott and would need to pull out eventually but could tell Scott didn’t want him going anywhere right now given how his channel tightened down almost possessively as Reyes thought about it. 

Making a noise of protest, Scott fidgeted slightly to push himself back into Reyes’ hips, muscles flexing and contracting around him as his thighs—which were on the outside of Reyes’ quivered. “No,” Scott said, sending through the bond that he didn’t want either of them to move. He muttered into Reyes’ neck, “I think I pulled the chair... not sure.” 

This had Reyes openly laughing. “We’ll have to move sometime, mi vida.”

“Feels good,” Scott grumbled, pushing his own face into Reyes’ neck to avoid meeting his eyes. “How long do you think your refractory period is?”

“Longer than yours unfortunately,” Reyes admonished. “Are you saying I didn’t satisfy you?”

This got Scott to lift his head and look at Reyes with worry before lowering his eyes again and pushing away but not before Reyes could stop him and pull him back, not letting Scott leave, the bond abruptly fading away. “I’m sorry... I forget that I’m such a needy freak....”

“Stop that right now,” Reyes told him, face concerned. “Did it feel like I didn’t enjoy what we just did?”

Scott looked puzzled before answering hesitantly, “No?”

Reyes shifted his grip to be less confining and more cradling Scott to him. “I want to satisfy you? Is that such a bad thing?”

Scott’s face screwed up in a complicated look, his hands resting on Reyes but not clutching at him like they had earlier. “I know that I’m not normal anymore Reyes... and I.... well I don’t have normal reactions. I....”

“Scott,” he said tenderly, “I want to make you feel good, to let you know how much you affect me—physically as well as emotionally. Does the bond when you do that... does it not tell you like it tells me what you feel?”

“Sometimes it feels like too much,” Scott confessed, voice breaking slightly before he continued, his gaze dropping back to Reyes’ chest. “I want you so much but I... in the past when I wanted things... I was normal then. I’m... well... I can’t expect you to be...”

“Be what?” Reyes prodded gently. “Want to make you feel good? Share my life with you?”

Scotts face scrunched and he hid himself in Reyes neck, not looking at him.  “You say that like I’m going to be able to stay here with you.”

Reyes sighed, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Scott’s head and encourage him to look him in the eyes again. Scott didn’t take much prompting and reluctantly met his eyes. “I told you I wanted you to have choices Scott. I won’t make them for you but I will be here waiting for you when you can be here. I,” Reyes own voice broke slightly, “I want to make a home for you to come back to—even if that isn’t very often. My mother called it the family curse—that we’re only made for one love, one person.  My Tío called his husband his vida....  You’re mi vida, Scott. I’ve made my choice.  Don’t take my choice away.”

[bakugosbratx]

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could write a story when y/n is the crazy one and kidnaps Bakugo. Tysm ! -meena

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Content. Yandere, stalking, kidnapping, cursing, mental illness, blood, abuse, drugs, etc.

Check out my other works here

A/N: Hmm this is a different turn of events. I love it 👀 I hope you enjoyed anon! I went a little wild with this one.

Words: 2.2k

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @miriobaby @lanarist @sickchildren @bakugousbrat @ssplague @ahbeautifulexistence @m779 @vinny-likes-to-play21

“Dear Katsuki,

I watched you save a civilian on television today. I know it’s your job and all, but you did not have to save her. Her life is not as important as mine. Do you not cherish what we have? Am I just a nobody to you? This is my 103rd letter to you and still no response. I know your address did not change so do not give me that pathetic excuse, Katsuki Bakugo. Surely, you must remember we are soulmates. We are one. How dare you fucking forget me? I had to rip all of my posters down in a fit of rage. You know how angry that makes me, baby, but it will all be okay, because you are coming home to me. We will be one.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

You burst into a fit of giggles as you kick your bare feet back and forth on his bed. You wrote in black ink and covered the paper in orange hearts since it is the pro-hero’s favorite color. You could not help but leave precious lipstick kisses on the page. Something you always do in your love letters to Katsuki. The posters in your house are covered in them. Katsuki’s beautiful face is just so kissable. You cannot wait to do it tonight.

All you can think about is Katsuki. That is all your day consists of. Your clothing is all his merchandise and his favorite colors. You spend hours upon hours watching interviews, videos, surveillance footage of the hero. When he is out on patrol, you do your best to hide in areas so you can see the hero up close and personal. Your face just beams with joy at the mere glance of him.

You did your best to meet him several times. Any disaster there was to be had, you put on your nicest attire, do your make-up just how you think he likes, and have your hair freshly done. No better way to greet your significant other after hero work than looking like a beauty pageant queen.

Sadly, all your attempts were failures. Katsuki did not even give you the time of day. He is way too focused on beating the villains to a pulp. You did admire this about him, but your own selfish desires created hatred in you. He should be paying attention to you. Not those pesky villains.

Katsuki is sure to receive forty-five letters addressing the issue. All that he will never even skim over. This is only adding fuel to the fire.

The posters that hang in every single room in your apartment are ripped to shreds. Pools of tears covered your orbs, smudging all of your makeup. You climbed onto your black sofa, taking your left high heel and breaking the glass photo of Katsuki hanging there. Shards of glass sprinkle the couch and hardwood floor below. You don't even care for the pieces that collected into your skin. You will worry about that later.

“Fuck you, Katsuki!” You sobbed, ripping his face with your teeth and spitting out the saliva covered photo onto the litter filled floor.

“Pro-Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite saves another civilians life yet again, taking down another member of the league of villains who was terrorizing the victim.”

The news anchor’s words fell on deaf ears as you went to the television screen. You are captivated by your significant other’s beauty on the tv. Blood leaked from your freshly manicured hands. They are painted orange and black as always.

“Oh, Katsuki,” you sighed with a smile, tracing a heart around his face with your leaking blood, “we will be together soon. I promise, baby. I’ll take you away from this sick, cruel world so we can live happily ever after.”

You were serious that day. You planned it on your calendar. The countdown began on the night you are going to be one with Katsuki. A day you knew you both looked forward to.

“Dear Katsuki,

Did you miss me? I know I missed you. I even stamped this letter in my blood so you can have my DNA to mix with yours. I can’t wait to procreate with you. We will make such wonderful babies, don’t ya think? They will be so beautiful like you. I will be such an excellent mother. No woman can be a great wife to you like I can. Do you understand me?”

You had to pause writing as your blood started to boil at the thought. Your pen is already creating a huge ink spot from the anger consuming your hands. Small growls escaped your parted lips as you began to growl.

“If I can’t have you, no one can, Katsuki Bakugo. I am your one true love. You're one and only. And I’ll make sure that day comes. Just a few more days, baby, and we will be one.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

The day finally came. You knew Katsuki’s schedule by heart. You loved watching him do his morning routines with the security cameras you placed in his home. The poor male never even thought to check. Such a mistake on his part. It only confirmed he needed protection from the world. Only you can provide that. Sure, you may be quirkless, but no one knows Katsuki like you do. No one can love him like you. He knows this. He has to.

You drew a luke-warm bubble bath with nice lit candles, rose pedals, a few drops of your blood, and some freshly made desserts for you both to enjoy while you catch up. You are even so kind enough to fetch him a beer or two so he can relax. You know how he enjoys his alcoholic beverages after a long day of hero work.

You rested on his bed. The natural caramel scent engulfed your nostrils as you wrote letters into your notebook once more. Even when you two are officially together forever, you still love to write out your thoughts. You know he enjoys them as well.

Hours upon hours passed. Frustration arose overtime. You did not want to be angry with your spouse, but he knows better than to be home late on your special day. You have almost filled up your notepad with phrases upon phrases of ���I love you’s’ and sweet nothings. Along with other things.

You tapped your bandages covered foot on the ground as you began to pace. “What is taking him so long?” You huffed aloud, growing more impatient by each passing second. The bath is beginning to become cold and that is just rude in your opinion. You decided to write out your emotions.

“Dear Katsuki,

What the fuck is taking you so long, huh? It’s so fucking aggervating and just plain rude. I have done so much for you only to toss me to the side like I’m nothing. Are you cheating on me? I do not tolerate disrespect, Katsuki Bakugo. You are going to make me mean and you know I hate being mean to you. You just make me jealous, baby. You know how you do that to me. Make me feel all types of emotion I can’t seem to understand, but one thing is for certain is that you and I will be together.

Sincerely,”

You did not even get to finish your final entry as you hear the front door downstairs unlock. Scrambling to put the diary away, you gather the necessary items from under the bed and wait for the perfect moment to strike. Katsuki’s natural loud ways was helping you locate his every move without even having to look at security footage.

All you have to do is be patient.

Katsuki sat on the couch, propping his sock-covered feet onto the glass coffee table and turning on the television. You allowed him some moments to get settled before gently tip-toeing down the stairs, rope, duct tape, and a blunt object ready in hand.

Just as Katsuki turned to acknowledge your presence, the crowbar hit his head, knocking him unconscious. You quickly attend to his wound — not without dropping some droplets of blood into his — so it does not get offended. You cannot have your husband getting an infection.

You tie up his hands and legs, duct tape his mouth after delivering kisses to his perfectly plump lips, and drag him to the kitchen. You did not realize how much your lover really weighed. Too much time was wasted dragging him to the fridge than preferred, but it will all be worth it in the end. You know it will be.

Katsuki did not wake up until the next day. You stayed by his side the whole time, telling him about your day and how much you have planned for you two. Of course, he needs to build his trust with you. You love a very intelligent man and the last thing you need is for him to be against you.

Slowly opening his crimson eyes, his attention is brought to a grinning you. Katsuki immediately attempts to escape the captivity he is in, but it is no use. You just had to buy special rope that cancels quirks.

“Struggle all you want, Katsuki-poo. There is no escaping me.” You chuckled, loving the way he squirmed and furrowed his eyebrows at you. All of his curses are mumbled by the tape which is probably the best considering you did not want to be insulted right now.

“When you calm down, I’ll take off the tape.” You bargained, shrugging nonchalantly as you kneel in front of the man. Did this calm him down? No. You know it wouldn’t regardless. You know Katsuki better than he knows himself yet you already want to push his buttons. The way he gets so angry turns you on and you can’t just help yourself but want more.

After a couple of hours of Katsuki complaining and you writing even more in your diary, he decided to calm down. This made you happy. You wanted to hear his beautiful gruff voice.

Grabbing the corner of the tape, you rip it off. Katsuki is already barking insults. “Are you fucking insane? Who the hell even are you? This isn’t going to end well with you, you psycho bit—“

A hard slap to his face interrupted Katsuki’s spill. Along with the duct tape you placed back on his mouth. “Such a meanie,” you pout, “and here I was about to be so nice to you.”

This cycle repeated itself for three days. You never left his side once. How could you? He is obviously in distress. He needs you by his side. He cannot do anything without you. Especially with his hands tied behind his muscular back. Katsuki finally decided that playing the game is the only way to win it.

You ripped the tape off once again. Katsuki did not even speak this time. “Did you learn your lesson?” You quizzed with an arched brow. “Y’know being a meanie is not going to get you anywhere, Katsukikins.”

“Why are you doing this?” Katsuki inquired, his gruff voice sounding so weak and hollow. You almost felt bad.

“You’re so silly, Suki. C’mon,” you brought your lips close to his, “gimme a kiss.”

Reluctantly, Katsuki did as instructed. Considering you are straddling his lap and his powers are useless, he has no choice in the matter. You loved the compliance.

“Good boy.” You praised, ruffling his messy blonde hair. Katsuki glared at you. “Will you be good and eat some food for me?”

“I don’t want your stupid ass food.” Katsuki growled, laying his head against the bottom freezer of his fridge.

“Nonsense, Suki.” You giggled, feeling extremely joyful to be with Katsuki. You bring a spoon of Miso soup up to his closed lips, “have some. I blew on it so it’s not too hot.”

“Get that trash away from me, you idiot—“ Katsuki was interrupted by a spoon entering his mouth. Though he would hate to admit this, the soup tasted delicious and he is quite hungry. He put up a fight, but allowed you to feed him properly until every drop was gone. Unfortunately, Katsuki is unaware that the soup is drugged until it’s too late.

His body began to feel numb. He did not even have the strength to ask questions as his eyes became drowsy. Soon, he is slumped over, sound asleep as you manage to drag him up the stairs and into your shared bed.

Planting kisses all over structures, you tuck him in and finish some late night entries in your diary. Skimming through them all and reflecting on how you got here now, it made you smile. Progress has been made and will continue to do so.

Signing off on the final page, you write:

“Dear Katsuki,

These past three days have been exhilarating. I see it in your terrified eyes how happy you are that I am here. I know how much you missed me. I missed you, too, baby. We will continue to grow and soon, we will have children. I even have my menstrual cycle all planned out. I am all yours and you’re all mine. Can’t you see, baby doll? We are forever meant to be.

Sincerely,

Yours.”

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 1! “Harvest”

My first ficlet for Suptober! Read under the cut :)

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: Mature 

Word Count: 2,218

Tags: Fluff, Disaster Bi Dean Winchester, Daydreaming about hot farmers, Some suggestive language (and swearing), Angelic wheat harvest assistance, The Dom Brow makes an appearance, Sam Ships It, Mini Case Fic  

On AO3 here.

“All right,” Dean announces as he stomps into the hospital room, trailing mud with every step. “You’re not gonna have a problem anymore, Randy.”

The man propped up on the hospital bed cushions glares at Dean from under bushy eyebrows. “Well, it’s about time,” he snaps. “First these-- these things terrorize my fields for weeks, then y’all show up and are so useless that they maim me after you’re already on the case, and now I’ve lost the prime window to harvest a year’s worth o’ growth ‘cause I’m laid up in this godforsaken facility. So don’t you tell me I ain’t gonna have a problem anymore.” 

Dean sinks down onto the rickety plastic chair next to the bed, moving gingerly to avoid jostling his (probably) dislocated shoulder, courtesy of some extremely vengeful spirits. He fixes Randy with an even gaze. 

“Man, I’m sorry about your leg. I am. The spirits had a wider range than we thought and we figured you’d be safe at the house.”

Randy snorts in obvious derision, his scruffy mustache fluttering comically. Dean presses on.

“But, we’ve put them to rest. Your great-grandparents aren’t gonna give you any more grief.”  Even if the rest of your family did totally fuck them over.

He stands again, awkwardly, and pats Randy’s good knee. “Sorry about your harvest, though. Can anyone help out? Neighbors? Friends?”

Randy glowers. “I ain’t takin’ no charity.”

Dean quirks his lips and nods. “Right. Take it easy, Randy.” He leaves the still-grumbling farmer behind, following his own trail of mud back down the hallway. A tall janitor lurking around the corner sends him a death glare and Dean tries for an appropriately apologetic smile. 

It’s been a real headache of a night. 

The pair of spirits haunting Randy Johnson’s wheat fields ended up being way more pissed off than Sam, Dean, and Cas had anticipated. By the time Cas located the heavy brass key to the farmhouse that was apparently tethering the property-line-obsessed spirits to the material plane, Dean and Sam were long out of rock salt. In their retreat, they’d ended up waist-deep in a pebbly creek, splashing and wobbling as they beat off the screeching spirits with crowbars. Dean has an unfortunately-placed boulder to thank for his dislocated shoulder -- he went down hard and clumsy just as Cas reappeared next to the stream, the old key melting dramatically in the bright glow of his palm. 

The spirits burned away in a shower of sparks, along with Dean’s dignity.

To top it all off, Dean drew the short straw to go tell Randy the case was closed, and he may have stomped off in a sulky huff before thinking of asking Cas or Sam to put his shoulder right. 

Oh, well. At least it’s dealt with. One more night in their more-stained-than-usual motel room, and first thing in the morning they’ll get the hell outta Dodge (almost literally - they’re up in Osborne County). 

Dean thinks of a bright July morning on the open road and sighs in relief.

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

He doesn’t get his wish.

“I just feel bad, Dean!” Sam protests as Dean gesticulates incredulously at him. (His shoulder was very pleasantly healed by Cas the night before, and if Dean noticed that Cas’ warm hands lingered a little longer on his skin than was technically necessary for a cursory dislocation repair, he didn’t mention it.)

“God, Sammy, yeah, it sucks about the guy’s leg, but maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole to everyone he knows, somebody’d help him out! It’s not-- it can’t be our problem.”

Sam crosses his arms stubbornly. “It’s not about Randy. His fields are part of a huge supply that feeds a ton of people. Do you want people to go hungry, Dean?”

Castiel chooses that moment to materialize directly next to Dean, his nose inches away from Dean’s cheek. He’s holding two steaming cups of coffee and Dean immediately grabs one. Cas squints and tilts his head. “Why does Dean want people to go hungry?”

“Oh my god.” Dean throws his free hand up. “Fine. Fucking fine. We’ll find someone who’s willing to plow the dude’s fields. That’ll be easy.”

Sam opens his big mouth, probably to say something about having faith in humanity, but Cas beats him to it. Still planted firmly in Dean’s bubble, he sends a puff of warm air against Dean’s face as he speaks.

“Oh. I can do it.”

Dean and Sam both look at him. Dean shuffles back a couple steps and wills his eyes away from the guy’s lips. He really spends too much time staring at them.

“Um--” Sam clears his throat. “You can harvest Randy’s wheat?”

“I can plow, yes.” Cas nods firmly. Dean’s first sip of coffee comes spraying back out. He pounds his chest and wheezes. 

“Like-- like-- with a combine?” 

Cas furrows his brow. “Is that a machine? No, I don’t require machinery. This is a very basic task.”

“Plowing,” Dean says weakly.

“Harvesting,” Cas corrects, tilting his chin down and narrowing his eyes. “Humans have been doing it for a very long time. I used to help, now and again. I can’t imagine the process has changed much.”

Sam slaps his thighs as he stands up from his bed. “Well! Look at that, Dean. Cas doesn’t want people to go hungry.” 

Dean flips him off, but it lacks the usual heat.

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

An hour later, they find themselves on the edge of a vast, lazily undulating expanse of gold. They’d skirted the north edge of the field extensively while working the spirit case, since the activity was strongest there along the creek, but in his single-minded focus Dean hadn’t really paid much attention to the field itself.

It’s big. Like, squint-into-the-distance-and-you-can’t-see-the-end big. 

“You’re really gonna plow all that?” Dean asks, glancing at Cas. The morning sun is turning the tips of Cas’ hair a chestnut gold. 

“I will cut down the stalks, separate the grain from the chaff, and deposit the edible grain into a large truck, which apparently takes it where it needs to go,” Cas says matter-of-factly. “I visited Randy early this morning to make sure I knew which truck it was.”

Sam laughs. “Oh yeah? How’d good old Randy take that?”

“He seemed dubious,” Cas says. “And rude. I assured him that despite his unsavory attitude, he would come home to harvested fields.”

“Very angelic of you,” Sam remarks. 

“So how’s this gonna go?” Dean lifts a hand to block out the steadily-rising sun. “You gonna be flapping back and forth? Probably not smart to let the locals clock an angel doing the harvest.”

Cas arches an eyebrow at him, somehow gazing down at Dean despite being an inch shorter. “I don’t flap, Dean. I may have wings, but their movement in the ether is beyond your comprehension.” 

Dean rolls his eyes and turns his face away in a show of studying the field to the north, but mostly to conceal the flush of his cheeks in response to that eyebrow. 

For Christ's sake, keep it together, Winchester.

“I can’t explain to you how it will look,” Cas continues, oblivious. “You’ll just have to watch. Anything you see will be for your eyes only. I guarantee no locals will ‘clock me.’”

Dean looks back just in time to see the tail end of the finger quotes. Cas is staring right at him, that damn eyebrow still up, a subtle challenge, daring Dean to make a move.

Maybe not so oblivious. Asshole. 

Dean smiles sweetly and gestures at the wheat. “All right then. Have at it, buddy. Show us what you’ve got.”

With no further ado, Cas is gone. Dean’s left staring through the previously-Cas-occupied space at his brother, who’s grimacing with an air of great suffering. 

“What?” Dean demands. 

Sam sighs heavily and gazes out over the field. “You two are so weird.”

Dean’s about to respond with something really witty when Sam perks up and points into the distance. “Holy crap, look!”

Dean follows the path of Sam’s outstretched finger and his mouth drops open. On the horizon, at the far end of the field, there’s a cloud. No-- a mini tornado. A golden tornado. A… sparkly tornado?

“What the--” Dean cups his hands around his eyes like blinkers. Even with the glare of the sun blocked out, though, the tornado is just as bright -- a swirling, racing funnel criss-crossing the field way faster than a combine, or even Baby, could drive. 

“Why is it-- what’s the sparkly stuff?” 

Sam’s squinting too. “I think it’s the pieces of the stalks he’s separating? And they catch the light as they get tossed around.” 

The tornado’s already halfway across the field, approaching them steadily. It’s about as tall as an oak tree, and as it gets closer Dean sees that Sam was right: thousands of little stalks and bits of grain and -- what had Cas called it? -- chaff are whirling and flitting amid the twisting golden dust of the tornado. The effect is a bit dizzying, kind of like that ocular migraine Dean had one time as a teenager, when an aura of tiny flashing spots obscured his vision, right there in his eye yet impossible to focus on. 

He steps back instinctively, Sam mirroring his movement, when the tornado grows close to them. It whips past, blowing Dean’s jacket open, and where there was once chest-high golden grain, there’s now just dirt littered with aborted stalks. 

“Damn,” Dean whispers. He’s seen Cas do all kinds of badass things, of course, but they’ve been more of the smiting and heavy-lifting variety. This is a new level of cool. In a farmer-y way. This, of course, leads Dean’s traitorous brain directly to images of worn flannel stretched tight over biceps; of a blade of hay dangling jauntily from chapped lips; of long, strong fingers gripping a pitchfork--

“--Dean!” 

The pleasantly-evolving bubble bursts. Dean twitches as Sam elbows him in the ribs.

“Dude! Cas is done, come on.”

Dean blinks a few times to bring himself back to reality (a reality with wheat-harvesting angel tornados) and realizes that Sam’s heading north along the field to where a normal-sized, non-funnel-cloudy Cas is standing, brushing off his trenchcoat. Dean follows his brother and takes in the scene; the whole field really has been reduced to nothing -- just a flat, dappled expanse.

“Damn, Cas,” he says quietly as he reaches Cas’ side. His voice comes out strained and a little breathless. “That was some good plowing.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Can replies gravely. He tugs on his cuffs and some wheat dust puffs out. “It was an effective harvest. I disguised myself from mortal eyes -- including yours -- as I transported the grain to the truck, but I trust you saw the rest?”

Sam nods enthusiastically and launches straight into a barrage of questions about the physics and techniques and yadda yadda before Dean has to come up with a response. Yeah, I saw it. Yeah, it got me all tingly. That’s normal. He takes a few deliberate, slow breaths to calm the pounding in his chest.

Still tuning Sam out, he zeroes in on a single piece of wheat still stuck in Cas’ hair. It’s poking up toward the blue summer Kansas sky -- a tiny, trembling link between earth and heaven. Dean sidles up to Cas before he can overthink it. He slips his fingers into Cas’ wild, dark hair and plucks the wheat out. 

He throws it on the ground. It belongs to the earth. 

Sam falls silent with a choked-off laugh and Cas turns his trademark unblinking stare onto Dean. But this time there’s a slight crinkle to the edges of his eyes. A quirk of his lips. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says again. He reaches out and -- Dean stops breathing -- brushes another piece of wheat out of Dean’s collar. His warm fingers graze Dean’s throat and all Dean can do is watch the little stalk flutter to the ground. 

Well. So much for a steady heartbeat. 

“Hey, I’ve got stuff in my hair, too,” Sam announces, voice thick with amusement. “Anyone gonna help me out?”

Dean tears his eyes away from the enlightening piece of wheat and points a finger at Sam, leveling him with his sternest shut the fuck up face. He prays his cheeks aren’t flaming. 

“If you need assistance, Sam--” Cas says, starting toward him.

“--He’s fine,” Dean interjects hastily. Maybe a little loudly. He coughs to cover it up. Smooth. “Let’s go. I wanna hit the road.”

Sam’s already jogging away before Dean’s done speaking. “I’ve still got the keys,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll warm up the car. You guys can catch up!”

Cas and Dean are left at the edge of the empty field. Dean rubs his neck and shuffles his feet, acutely aware of Cas’ piercing gaze. It’s nearly warmer than the morning sun. “Uh-- that was really cool, Cas. Thanks for letting us see it.”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas replies, measured and deep. “I enjoyed sharing that with you.”

Wow. All right. Dean needs to get moving or he’s going to explode. But not before filing that particular comment away for extensive mental perusal later, in the privacy of his bedroom. 

He flashes a grin and punches Cas’ shoulder. “Come on, farmer angel. Let’s go home.”

[twisted-imagines]

Heyo! May I request headcanons for how Leona and Azul would react to their respective SO being unassumingly strong? Like they look like they possess average strength but they are able to carry a lot of heavy things (easily the dorm leaders) or hold their own in a physical fight. I hope this makes sense 😅😅😅

Unbelievable, I'm back! With a request, nonetheless💖 I wonder if you missed me, hehe? Man, did I miss you all and my precious boys~ It's shorter than usually and I got hit with a writer's block, but it'll try to pick up my pace from now on >:3

But for now, please, enjoy💗

Unassumingly strong S/O

Leona Kingscholar 🦁

Rays of sunset gently caressing his face woke Leona up from his post-lunch nap. Still groggy from his sleep he rose up just to look at the clock. Almost evening, the last classes in college ended at least two hours ago. But that wasn't important to Leona. What really bothered him, was the absence of one customary part of his sleeping routine: your warm form beside his. To have you curled up into his side or just sitting near him telling about your day always made his dreams more pleasant and now that he got used to it, not having you beside him rubbed him the wrong way. You should have already been there, so where were you? The lion didn't want to think about the worst, but only the most alarming conclusions came to his mind. The bed shifted beneath him when he got up, but before he could even take a step a loud stomping resonating in the hallway drew his attention. Ruggie was at his doorstep, disheveled, and clearly agitated.

"Leona-san! You need to see this, come. Quick!"

Leona could finally let out the breath he took when Ruggie rushed him out of his room and to the common room. Several students were running to-and-fro around the other three beat-up Savanaclaw residents. The dorm leader stopped at the door, relieved to not had seen you there. And why would you be there, though? Nonsense. But it was really the only thing he was worried about since the sight before him was all too common for Leona at that point. He was about to turn to Ruggie and ask what all that fuss was about until a conversation between couch occupant and the students treating him reached his ears.

"Ouch! That hurts, man! Ugh, if not that piece of-!"

"Don't even think about ending that sentence. You're lucky that it wasn't the dorm leader who got his hands on you."

"Yes, dumbass, can you even imagine what would have happened to you three if he found out you fought his mate- Wha? Huh?! Leona-san? Since when did you-"

Leona crossed the room in a few powerful strides only to pick the unfortunate student by his collar. An unbridled fury grimaced his face.

"What's about [Y/n]? Tell me, your puny life depends on it!“

"Nishishishi, what can he even tell? That he and his thick-headed friends got completely obliterated by a single, small human?"

"Listen, I'm very sorry about it, but it was just self-defense!"

Leona dropped the scared, shaking from fear student to the floor in favor of rushing to your self, who too entered the room. He swiftly checked you for any injury and let out a relieved sigh. From what he could see you were completely fine, while those who harassed you were very much not, trembling and holding each other, bruised and humiliated. Kingscholar could only look bewildered at them, and then at you, at them, at you.

"Leona, I'm really sorry, I didn't want to hurt them so bad."

Your ramble became faster the more your boyfriend looked at you with a blank look, not even saying a word to you.

"...so if there's some disciplinary punishment or otherwise or will take it, I-"

A snicker interrupted your speech. You looked at the man before you stunned. Before you could utter even another word he erupted in a fit of roaring laughter, it resonating in a completely silent dorm.

• Ah, Leona can't genuinely remember when was the last time he laughed that hard. The whole situation is so amusing to him, there isn't't a boring day with you, is there?

• Of course, you'll face no punishment, vice versa, you'll be celebrated. His darling, his kitten, was actually a mighty carnivore all along. He's going to mark the day, when he finally found out about that.

• Never would he think, not a snowballs chance in hell, that you had any physical strength in you, but you managed to prove him wrong. Yes, he was very close to destroying poor souls who tried to harass you, but if not for them taunting you and being beat up in the process, he wouldn't have such a discovery to laugh at. They're getting away with it, a living example of why exactly one ought to not touch dorm leader's lover. They're not dining with everybody that evening though, no matter how much tasty food there is.

• He doesn't think a lot about this discovery at first, that's just another gimmick of yours and he loves it, he loves you, but does it turn his world upside down, both figuratively and literally, when you, fed up with him lazing around the greenhouse and trying to make you lie down with him, swing him over your shoulder and carry him out. His pupils are just two saucers. He hangs speechless from your shoulder and until he feels ground under his legs he doesn't register what happened.

• Congratulations, now you have Leona Kingscholar living in your arms. He'll just use you as a personal carriage and how can you deny him, when he's so cutely snuggling up to you. Oh, he knows what he does to you and isn't ashamed to take advantage of it.

• He's quite pleased to know that you can hold your own in a physical fight, even in a magical world they're still too common. He even starts to watch himself, especially when he thinks he went too far with his teasing since you do have a strength to turn it on him. Well, he doesn't really protest. A bit of roughhousing and a tickle fight never harmed anybody, it amuses Leona when you start them.

• He admires you more than anybody else at this point. You're badass and you know it, and he couldn't be more proud. He sleeps soundly, knowing that you can stand up for yourself if the situation calls for it. He still much prefers to have you safe in his arms, or vice versa, so don't leave him for longer, than you should.

• One time he just casually asked you, if you could wield any weapon with a very unsettling glint in his eyes. He told you that a lot of people in Afterglow Savannah were proficient in some war art, it was a very respected tradition, and some of the masters could teach you, if you visited his homeland with him. He left the question open, but sometimes you still wonder what did he actually mean?

Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

Night Raven College was in a state of emergency. All students were to follow their seniors to a safe location, while teachers and student council were dealing with the threat. The reason for such a panic was a single creature. Highly dangerous at its full potential and untamable, college's Chimera was much less imposing than it's wild nature sisters, but still a difficult opponent for students at their Magic Defense classes. Apparently this time it decided to give a special lesson to everybody.

"The beast ran in that direction, don't let it get away once again, surround and subdue it!"

Azul's order rang in the hallway, spurring every present student to action. At the state of total disarray, the youth was the only one who reacted fast enough to rally his fellow students and direct them properly. But to say the hunt was going awfully is to say nothing. The students, so much for them being skilled at magic, had no idea of command work. Ashengrotto had already regretted sending Leech twins away with Octavinelle juniors, it would have ended so much faster if they were present. But alas, after running around the campus for more than half an hour, Azul could finally hope they would catch the damned beast at last.

"It's running away, catch it! Why are you standing still?"

"Can you not complain for five seconds, pretty boy? Want me to fix your make up with my fists for you?"

"The Chimera is resisting magical attacks, somebody please sacrifice yourself for the greater good. We need to neutralize it!"

No, they were hopeless. Azul could only observe the people he saw daily at college lose all respect he had for them in less than an hour. Azul was genuinely contemplating to just give up and let the teachers, who got lost halfway too somehow, handle it. At that point he wasn't even chasing it, disappointedly watching how it was running away into the sunset.

Until it suddenly didn't. Chimera crashed with a loud thud, falling to the floor completely motionless. And the one who was standing above it with a bright red crowbar was none other than you. Shocked, he slowly approached you and the unconscious animal.

"Um... [Name]?"

"Sup' Azul! You were late for our date so I returned to check up on you. This Chimera is so big! It's the first time I've seen it. Where should we carry it?"

"Yes, yes...You'll still meet it at your Magic Defense classes later the semester. To the classroom on the third floor, let me-"

Before Azul could lift it with magic you had already hoisted it on your shoulder and awaited for his lead.

Well, it was certainly a dream so he didn't have to freak out, right? His dear significant other couldn't possibly knock out a huge beast in one punch?

• Wrong. You did. You also had enough strength to carry it to its cage. You could do even more than that. The more Azul was coming to the understanding of it, the more he was freaking out. Until he completely stopped responding to you. The date had to be canceled, unfortunately. You led him to his dorm, while he was having an identity crisis.

• When he finally snaps out of his state you're so going to be bombarded with questions. They won't stop, and you're not even sure he addresses them to you. How did you hide it and why? Or was he just oblivious? But you look so demure, look at Jack for example and look at you! How?

"Well, I'm pretty soft, but here touch - there muscles underneath!"

He's now more lost than before, after making contact with your bare skin.

• It's going to take him time to come to terms with your actual strength. Lack of magic not equating to being powerless didn't register in his brain, and he thought it was actually very ignorant of him. He respected you before, but now he's in awe. His significant other is very strong and Azul thinks it's beautiful.

• When he has too much work and is stubborn about cramming it all into one day, even though he's already drooling on his notes and slips down his chair, you just lift him from his seat and parade through Monstro Lounge to his room with Azul blushing madly in your arms. Leech twins think it's the most hilarious thing they've ever seen. Azul is very embarrassed, but it also feels so good to be carried around by you, he feels the most special man in the world. He politely asks you to not handle him like that ever again, while he clings to you like a baby koala. It's obvious where he wants to be.

• He has a love-hate attitude to manhandling. It certainly feels exciting when you tug him on your lap if he's passing by, or envelop him in a hug if you're happy, but he's also quite shy about it, especially if there're people around you. Sometimes he wants just to find a pot big enough to hide.

• He likes your way of solving problems. You don't have to choose the best spells that would give you an advantage against a certain opponent, neither do you have to worry about things like mana and blot. You can only rely on yourself in a fight. He wheezed when you suggested, that Floyd wouldn't be a dangerous opponent to you since his unique magic wouldn't deflect a punch to the face. Floyd wasn't impressed with that logic, but he kept quiet.

• Azul is quite pacifistic, if he can mitigate the conflict and reach a consensus that would benefit every party, mostly him, he will try to avoid a fight. But when even he can't do this, you enter the picture. You know that those jerks are too arrogant and they should be prescribed a nice, educating blow to a face. Azul is mortified, when you escalate things, for he usually doesn't see such scenes, Floyd or even sometimes Jade leave them offstage. He quickly comes to his senses though and helps you out. Best believe you're going to get away with it, and even will be treated as a victim. Who in their right mind will think that you, of all people, can deal any serious damage to anybody?

• He feels a bit weird when you're the one carrying his shopping bags, or screwing the jars open, but he learns to roll with it, even starts to enjoy it. And his face when he sees you carrying a huge table all on your own, because he just so mentioned, that he didn't like how it stood in the Lounge? Priceless.

• No matter how much time passes he'll still react surprised when he sees you displaying your power, but it's also one of the qualities he loves about you. Azul treats your unusual strength as your special appeal and couldn't be more proud to be your lover.

• He's ecstatic that he can just casually mention to anybody picking on him, that "his significant other can and will snap you in half". Maybe you can, maybe you can not, but you just let him have his fun. The truth is that you will do your best at any given time to protect your boyfriend.