#hopefully the limp wrist is good enough

[ceofcatgirls]

'DOLLARS TRILOGY' director Sergio Leone confirms 'The Man With No Name' is bisexual.

"He's bisexual and stuff"

[mastermindmiko]

Potions Partner (Part Ten)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy + fem!reader

Word count: 3378

Warnings: smut, shouting, fighting, kissing, like very cute 'I'll miss you more' fluff

Requests are open

an: We're officially half way through this series! Kinda

Part 11

Hey! if you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist

She wakes with his arms around her. He has his face buried in her chest and his arms around her waist. She notices that she has a shirt on, but she doesn’t remember when she put a shirt on. She looks at the clock hung over his desk and realises that breakfast has already started. 

She starts to gently massage his head to wake him up. He shifts over her, and buries his face even deeper into her chest. “Draco,”She whispers and he doesn’t move. She calls his name again, and he groans loudly. 

“We need to go to breakfast.” She whispers and he nods his head, but he makes no other moves. A few seconds later, he blinks his eyes open begrudgingly, and smiles, “Good morning, my love.” 

He tilts his head up to kiss her, but she looks away, making his lips land on her cheek. “Not yet, I haven’t brushed my teeth.” She explains and he groans in frustration. He tolls off of her and lands on his back in a starfish position. She gets up and she feels an ache between her legs that makes her lean on the nightstand. 

She hears a snicker and turns around to find Draco with a proud expression on his face. She glares at him and limps to the bathroom. She decides to take a shower which will hopefully soothe her aching muscles. “I could get used to this.” He smirks, letting his eyes trail down her body while she’s wearing his shirt. His grin widens when he notices the purple bruises on her neck. “I’m going to shower.” She says, ignoring his comment. 

“Can I join?” He asks, eagerly, already standing up. “Absolutely not! We’re late enough as it is.” She says, and he pouts. 

“Can I at least get ready inside with you?” He asks and she nods her head. She heads inside the bathroom and brushes her teeth and washes her face. She ties her hair up, not in the mood to wash it and takes off her underwear and Draco’s shirt. She turns on the shower head and closes the curtain.

Draco enters the bathroom and does his own routine. He brushes his teeth and washes his face. He grabs the gel bottle and opens it. The sound of the bottle opening makes her scream, “No gel!” He listens to her and closes the bottle, settling it back on the counter. He brushes his hair, but keeping it messy enough so hopefully she’ll like it. 

The water stops running and she asks, “Draco? Can you get my towel?” He reaches for the red towel next to his green one from beside the door. He opens the shower curtain a bit and grabs it from him. She pulls it around her body and steps out giving him a kiss as a thank you. 

“You better get to breakfast, I’ll take a shower and meet you at potions class.” He says, smiling. He steals another kiss then she nods her head. She goes to the closet outside the bathroom and opens her drawer, thankful that a few days ago, she had filled his room with some of her things. She wears her uniform and grabs the redstone. 

She gets transported out of the Slytherin common room, and she heads to the Great Hall. She’s about halfway there when she hears Harry shout, “Where the hell were you?” 

She turns around and he’s got dark circles under his eyes and his hair’s a mess. “I woke up at three and Hermione told me that you didn’t come back. No one saw you, not even Filch. I’ve been looking for you for seven fucking hours. Where the hell were you?” 

“I- I was…” she stutters, trying to think of an excuse. Harry folds his arms over his chest, and glares, “Well?” 

“Where the fuck were you?” Harry shouts after she doesn’t answer. She frowns and says, “I think you should go to sleep, I need to go to breakfast and we’ll talk about this after classes.” 

She turns around to go inside the Great Hall, and Harry grabs her wrist to stop her. She shoves her arms away from his grasp, and he says, “At least give me the map, so I can make sure that you don’t disappear again.” 

She rolls her eyes and gets the paper from the bag. She slams it into his palm, and he semi-scrunches it up in his hand. Before she could tell him he was being ridiculous, he seethes, “Tell professor Slughorn that I’m sick, that's why I’m not going to class.” 

He turns around and walks to the Gryffindor common room. She rolls her eyes and how dramatic he was. She starts to think of an excuse as she goes to sit next to Ron and Hermione. She sits next to Hermione, and Ron asks her with a mouth full of chicken, “Where were you?” 

“I fell asleep in the library after studying for too long, and didn't notice how late it was.” She says, quickly and starts to fill her plate with food. Ron frowns and sticks another piece of food in his mouth, “I went there with Harry this morning and you weren’t there.” 

“You probably didn’t see me from the sleep deprivation.” She says, and she hears Hermione sigh, understanding where she was. Y/N bites her lip, hoping Ron would drop it and she starts eating. She was nearly done with her meal when she saw Draco walk in the Great Hall. 

She can’t help the smile that appears on her face. She watches as he sits down, and he grabs a single apple. He only eats half of it, and doesn’t pay attention to his friends. She frowns at his actions, and she wonders why he acts so differently with them. 

His owl then flies into the Great Hall, and he reads the letter with urgency and a larger frown settles on his face. She watches curiously as he sets the letter on fire, then walks out of the Great Hall without so much as a goodbye to his friends. Weird. 

Hermione and Ron stand up to head to potions class and she follows them. She sits at the back like they do every lesson and she waits for Draco to enter the class. She tells Professor Slughorn that Harry won’t be able to attend because he’s sick, and of course Professor Slughorn asks her several questions, fussing over his favourite student. 

When she was done, she took notice that Draco still hadn’t arrived. Draco was often late, but when fifteen minutes had passed and he still didn’t enter, she started to grow worried. Why wasn’t he here yet?

She stays unfocused all of class and she keeps on thinking of where he could possibly be. She realises that Harry was right to worry, especially considering the circumstances with Voldemort back, and the death eater attacks becoming more frequent. She does her best to take notes and annotate her text book. 

When the break arrives, Hermione turns to talk to Ron and Harry when she sees Draco’s empty spot. Hermione raises an eyebrow, questioningly, and she replies by shrugging her shoulders, sadly. When class ended, she would’ve gone to look for him, but she had Arithmancy, and she couldn’t be late. She went up the stairs with Hermione and Hermione asked her, “Where was he?” 

“I don’t know.” She replied, she didn’t need Hermione to give her more information about who she was talking about. From the corner of her eye, she could see her friend bite her lip and fiddle with the edges of her notebook. “Do you know anything?” 

“I-No…” Hermione replies and keeps going when she receives a glare, “I- well, Harry’s been saying that Draco disappears a lot. Like off the map completely. You don’t see his name anymore or anything. He finds it suspicious, and I think it is too…” 

“Leave it to Harry to be nosy, but he probably just goes to his room. It’s a new addition to the Slytherin common room, so it probably doesn’t exist on the map.” She explains, hoping that Hermione wouldn’t ask her any questions like how does she know so much about his room. Hermione murmurs, “He was really worried about you, you know?” 

She bites her lip, Harry always cared, which was a good thing, but sometimes (most of the time) he cared too much. It was endearing and she appreciated him with every fibre of her being, it’s just when caring turns into protective and angry, that’s when she doesn’t appreciate it. 

“I think you should tell him… about you and Draco, that is.” Hermione stops her train of thought, and she couldn’t help but let out a few laughs at the thought. She giggles, “Hermione, you’re smart, be a bit more logical. Harry’s already very very close to killing Draco, if I tell him, he’ll actually kill him.” 

“I’m just saying it would be a lot easier for you, not having to come up with so many excuses, and besides he’s going to find out anyway, wouldn’t you rather have it come from you? Imagine if he just finds out by seeing you both kissing…or doing more, like I know you are.” Hermione says, wiggling her eyebrows at the end of her statement. Y/N’s eyes widen and her cheeks turn red. She stutters, “How did you know?” 

“I’ve known you forever. Since first year, I know everything about you…” Hermione says, in a know-it-all voice. Y/N bites her lip, amazed by her friend's deductive skills. After a few seconds Hermione adds, “Also, you walked into the Great Hall limping a bit, and you’ve got this-” 

Hermione points to the purple bruise on her neck that she forgot to cover up. She gasps and places a hand on her neck to cover it. Hermione giggles, “Here let me help-” She casts the disillusionment charm, then says, “It disappears when you wake up after you fall asleep, so be sure to do it again tomorrow.” 

She nods her head, and they reach the Arithmancy class. She thanks god that neither Harry nor Ron have noticed the bruises on her neck, that would’ve certainly caused a lot more ruckus. She sits down at her usual table with Hermione next to her. She realises that Draco still wasn’t there, and instead of him sitting in his usual place next to Nott, the place is occupied by Zabini. 

She ignores the weird feeling in her chest, and decides to take notes as Professor Septima Vector drones on about whatever she’s talking about this time. By the time her classes ended, she noticed that Draco wasn’t in any of them, he wasn’t at lunch either. 

She decided that she’ll be a bit late to dinner to see where Draco was. She makes her way to a secluded hallway where she can use the stone to teleport her to Draco’s room. She’s inside the room, and the lights are off, which means that Draco wasn’t in his room either. She sighed and flopped down on the bed. 

Where could he be? He wasn’t with his friends, since they actually decided to go to their classes. He’s been missing a lot of his classes lately. He’s been getting detention quite frequently too. She also remembers the way Professor McGonagall scolded him for not having his homework, the third time in a row. 

Her thoughts get interrupted by the light switching on and the sound of Draco’s scream. She sits up and looks at him. He looks very tired and his hair is messier than usual. He looks at her with wide eyes and a hand over his chest. He gasps, “Are you trying to kill me?!” 

She doesn’t bother replying as she stands up and walks to him. She places both hands on his shoulders, and gives him a long slow kiss. She could feel the tension melt away from his shoulders. She breaks the kiss far too early for his liking, and rests her forehead on his own. She sighs, “Where were you today? I’ve been so worried.” 

“I’m sorry, I got caught up with Zabini.” Draco whispers as he wraps his hands around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. She bites the inside of her cheek, and she whispers, “Zabini was with Nott, the entire day, and you weren’t with them.” 

She feels him tense again, and she moves away from his grasp. She folds her arms in front of her chest, and waits for him to say something while she keeps looking at the floor. He grabs her cheek and tilts her head towards him, “I’m sorry, I just got caught up-” 

“With what?” she says, and he says nothing. He gulps, and she sighs. “You can’t tell me, right?” she says in a disappointed tone, and he just nods his head. She raises a hand to cup his cheek, and she whispers, “You don’t have to tell me everything, but I- this thing, whatever it is- it’s been making you feel…worse, and I want to know what it is, so I can help you feel better because I l- care about you.” 

Her breath hitches as she hopes that he doesn’t catch her near mistake. She tries to assess his emotions by looking at him, but her heart’s got different plans while it beats out of her chest, the only thing it’s assessing is that she almost told Draco that she loved him. 

“I’ll tell you when I can, I promise.” He says, and she sighs, but smiles anyway. She trusts him enough to know that he will tell her when the time is right. She pecks his lips, and asks, “Will I see you in class tomorrow?” 

“Yes, you will.” Draco replies with a smile, and she can’t help but feel like it’s the best thing in the world. Her fingers (that have a mind of their own) trail to his lips to touch them, and when she sees his surprised expression, she takes them back quickly, embarrassed. “I just- I love your smile.” 

His smile widens as he blushes, and the butterflies bounce off the walls of her stomach. He leans down to kiss her and she wraps her hands around his neck to bring him closer to her. She reaches to play with his hair, and she loves the feeling of the soft strands underneath her touch. He breaks the kiss, and whispers, “I’ll miss you.” 

“What’s the occasion?” she asks, confused by his sudden confession. He taps her right thigh and she takes the hint by lifting her legs, wrapping them around his hips. He leads them to the bed, and he sits on the mattress. She’s still straddling his hips as he says, “Christmas break is coming soon, I won’t be able to see you for two weeks.”

“Yeah…I didn’t notice how close it was.” She says, as she remembers the Christmas break is only a week and a half away. Her heart aches at not being able to see him for that long. She leans to kiss him, “I’ll miss you too.” 

“I won’t be able to write to you.” he says, remorsefully. He plays with the ends of her hair as a way to say sorry. She replies, “I don’t think I would’ve been able to write to you anyway. Harry always wants to know who I’m writing to.” 

“Where will you be staying?” He asks, and she leans down to place her head on his shoulder, she wraps her arms around his torso. He places his arms around her waist. She wasn’t able to not touch him for a few seconds, how will she survive not seeing him for two weeks. “At the burrow with the Weasleys.” 

She waits for him to comment something negative, but he stays silent. She’s grateful for that, and she shows that by pressing a small kiss to his neck. However, she notices the roughness in his grasp, she doesn’t know why until he asks, “Will the Weasley be there?” 

“Are you talking about George?” She says smirking, and he can feel it against his skin. He purses his lips, “If that’s the one that you went to the Yule Ball with then yes.” She giggles against him, and she lifts her head off his shoulder to look him in the eyes and say, “He is a Weasley, so I’m assuming that he will be there.” 

He grumbles something under his breath as he looks away from her. She sees the way the veins on his neck strain, and she can’t help the wetness that starts to pool between her legs. A bright, wicked idea enters her head, and she grins. She leans in, right next to his ear to whisper, “I stay in Ginny’s room when I go there, and her room is right next to his, you know.” 

His grip on her hips tightened, and she decided to go on. “Ginny told me that he’s cut his hair, I’ve always liked his hair shorter. It reminds me of your hair, you know how I love your hair. It makes you look so attractive, maybe he’ll look more attractive too…” she sees his jaw clench and his gaze harden as he continues to avoid her gaze. “Who knows, maybe he’ll even turn me on? Maybe I’ll even think about him while I do this…” 

His head snaps to her as he feels her hands slide off his shoulder, and trail down to his crotch. She slides her hand underneath her skirt and presses feather-light touches on her cunt. “I’ll even start screaming his name, and he’ll hear it. He’ll come and fuck me so hard.” She whimpers as her pace begins to quicken and she feels Draco’s hard-on press against her thigh. 

“I’ll probably even forget your name-” she eggs him on and that snaps him out of it. He grabs her wrist and stops her from touching herself. He grabs her hips and throws her onto the mattress. The sudden movement surprises her and makes her even more wet. He hovers over her and seals their lips into a heated kiss. All passion and teeth. 

He takes all her clothes off, roughly and in a flash. His eyes turn darker and his gaze hardens. She looks at her body to remember that she’s wearing all crimson red lingerie today. She giggles, as she toys with the hem on her panties, “I think he’ll like this set, no?” 

He grabs it and tears it off of her body. It makes a delicious sting against her lips. She looks at the torn up garment that’s in pieces on the side of the bed. She shouts, “Hey! that was expensive.” 

 “Please, I'll buy you twelve more” he scoffs, and he rips off her bra too. He grabs ahold of her thighs, and in one quick motion pulls her down. She gasps at the action. He’s now the same level as her breasts. He presses harsh kisses all over her chest, biting and sucking. The hickeys all over her chest, make her more needy for him, and she whimpers, “Draco, please. Touch me.” 

“I will touch you. I’ll fuck you so hard that you won’t remember anything but my name. I’ll ruin you for everyone else.” He growls, and he takes off his jeans. He cups her heat, and she moans at the feeling. He slides his fingers over her and he brings up his wet fingers to his lips, “Is this all for me, or is it for him?” 

She whimpers, and the sight of him licking up her juices. He roughly grabs her jaw and he says, “Answer me.” He brings his hand away from her jaw to give his cock a few pumps. She cries, “For you, Draco. You’re the only one I want.” 

“Hmm…” he hums, satisfied with her answer. He aligns his tip with her entrance but not before sliding it over her entrance a few more times, causing her to whine. He slides only his tip in and that’s enough to make her moan loudly. “Ready for me to fuck you dumb, you little slut?” 

Taglist:

@urbansaint @angelofasgard16 @offlines-idfk @love-me-satoru

[allylikethecat]

i would love if you did either 22, 24, or 30 for george and matty! (i love the ones you write all medical and angsty but i love all of them tbh)

Hello Kind Anon who sent in these fantastic and lovely Kiss Prompt Request my way in August!

I apologize profusely that it took me literal months to fulfill this request. I originally wrote a fill for this in Septemberish, then worried it was too rushed and also too dark / dealt with some stuff that was going to be *too much* for a prompt fill, then, started rewriting the dark and too much theme as a longer form fic, got nervous that I was going to get cancelled for it and abandoned the idea, AND THEN every time I came BACK to this to fill it, I kept circling back to where I had started (and maybe one day I'll finish that idea because wow it hurt so good). BUT I finally wrote something and it is not the medical angst that you requested or I intended but hopefully you're still here and will see this fill and enjoy it!! If you absolutely hate it though please let me know and I will rewrite you something new and better because I feel bad that it took so long. And on that note... I wrote about 95% of this a few days ago, then went to a NYE party last night and met an actual pilot and found out most of this is very inaccurate... I tried to change it some but alas how it would go down in real life was not dramatic enough for me so we have the TV version of oxygen masks dropping on a plane.

Thank you so much again for sending this in, and I am so sorry again for taking months to fill your request. I hope you enjoy it, and I also want to thank you so much for reading and your support! I hope you have a very happy New Year! (If anyone else wants to send prompts the Kiss Prompts list can be found here, and the ones I have already filled can be found here)

❤️Ally

WARNING: Matty and George are on a plane that experiences rapid depressurization

22. Kiss … in a rush of adrenaline & 24. Kiss … in danger & 30. Kiss ... as comfort

George woke up to a kink in his neck and Matty’s blunt nails digging painfully into his wrist, his eyes wild as the plane rocked, his empty can of coke tumbling off of his tray and rolling down the aisle. George opened his mouth to assure Matty that they had just hit a patch of turbulence, and that everything was fine, there was no need to panic when a loud bang echoed throughout the plane and the oxygen masks dropped down from the ceiling.  

George reached up, feeling eerily calm despite the roaring in his ears, the airline safety spiel he had heard hundreds of times in his life replaying in his mind as he fitted the mask over his face. Should an emergency situation occur, you need to put your own oxygen mask on first, before attempting to help those around you. He wrinkled his nose at the burning smell as he inhaled, wondering if it was from the chemical reaction creating the oxygen, or if it was from the plane itself. He looked over, and found Matty frozen in place, staring at the oxygen mask dangling in front of him like it was going to bite him, or suffocate him instead of sustaining life. 

Ladies and gentlemen please sit down and fasten your seat belts immediately. Came the flight attendant’s voice, ringing clear, yet urgently over the plane’s announcement system. George reached over and tugged Matty’s oxygen mask down towards his head, starting the chemical reaction to begin the flow of oxygen before pulling it down over his face and tightening the elastic strings. Matty was limp, letting George maneuver him like a rag doll, his eyes wide and terrified. George knew now wasn’t the time to think about it, but he couldn’t help but hysterically wonder how they would ever get Matty back on another plane after this. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, the aircraft has just suffered a decompression and the emergency oxygen system is being activated. Please remain seated, and fit your oxygen mask and breathe normally. Secure the mask by placing the elastic over the back of your head. You must fit your own mask before assisting others. Any smell of burning is normal following the activation of the chemical oxygen generators. Do not remove the mask until advised by a crewmember.

He glanced back at Ross and Adam sitting a few rows back, oxygen masks fitted over their own faces, holding onto their armrests as they looked around frantically. George uncurled Matty’s fingers from his wrist, so he could hold his hand properly, giving it a squeeze, trying to show Matty that he was here, that it was going to be okay even as the plane dipped and George’s stomach swooped, his ears popping painfully as they descended rapidly. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, the aircraft has just suffered a decompression and the emergency oxygen system is being activated. Please remain seated, and fit your oxygen mask and breathe normally. Secure the mask by placing the elastic over the back of your head. You must fit your own mask before assisting others. Any smell of burning is normal following the activation of the chemical oxygen generators. Do not remove the mask until advised by a crewmember.

“Breathe babe,” said George, hoping Matty could hear him over the roaring in his ears, “you need to breathe,” he repeated, Matty’s chest rising and falling erratically as he silently panicked, tears pooling in the corners of his wide unseeing eyes. 

The plane lurched again and Matty’s grip tightened on George’s hand, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip, causing George’s fingers to start to go numb. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, the aircraft has just suffered a decompression and the emergency oxygen system is being activated. Please remain seated, and fit your oxygen mask and breathe normally. Secure the mask by placing the elastic over the back of your head. You must fit your own mask before assisting others. Any smell of burning is normal following the activation of the chemical oxygen generators. Do not remove the mask until advised by a crewmember.

“It’s going to be alright,” George said, he was unsure if he was trying to reassure Matty or himself. The plane rocked again, and he looked up, craning his neck to try and get a peek at the flight attendants, trying desperately to get a read on the situation, trying to get more information. Matty let out a strangled gasp, his nails biting into the delicate skin of George’s hand, tears falling, pooling around the orange plastic of the mask as he looked over at George, silently pleading for salvation. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, the aircraft has just suffered a decompression and the emergency oxygen system is being activated. Please remain seated, and fit your oxygen mask and breathe normally. Secure the mask by placing the elastic over the back of your head. You must fit your own mask before assisting others. Any smell of burning is normal following the activation of the chemical oxygen generators. Do not remove the mask until advised by a crewmember.

“It’s going to be alright,” George said again. He stupidly and impulsively, aided by the adrenaline coursing through his veins, pulled his mask down to press a quick kiss to the side of Matty’s head, his lips brushing against his temple despite the apparent danger they were in before quickly refitting his own mask.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the aircraft has just suffered a decompression and the emergency oxygen system is being activated. Please remain seated, and fit your oxygen mask and breathe normally. Secure the mask by placing the elastic over the back of your head. You must fit your own mask before assisting others. Any smell of burning is normal following the activation of the chemical oxygen generators. Do not remove the mask until advised by a crewmember.

Matty made a soft hiccuping sound, and turned his head, burying his face in the junction of George’s arm and shoulder, his own shoulders shaking as he tried and failed to steady his breathing. His oxygen bag wasn’t inflated the same way George’s was due to Matty’s frantic breaths. Matty didn’t like flying on a good day, sitting bolt upright on the plane, clinging to either the armrest or George’s hand during take off and landing, and during even the most minor patches of choppy air. Matty was clean now, healthy, and George hated to admit it, but it had been easier to fly with Matty when he was using. He’d take enough Xanax to kill a horse and sleep the entire flight, moving like a zombie through the terminal when now he moved like a prey animal ready to bolt for the exit at a moment’s notice. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, the aircraft has just suffered a decompression and the emergency oxygen system is being activated. Please remain seated, and fit your oxygen mask and breathe normally. Secure the mask by placing the elastic over the back of your— 

“We have reached our new cruising altitude of 8,000 feet, it is now safe to remove your oxygen mask,” came the voice of the flight attendant that had spoken before, cutting off the mechanically instructed spiel that had continued to repeat as  they made their rapid descent. George looked around, as the plane shuddered again, but everyone began removing their masks. George hesitated for a moment before removing his as well, remembering suddenly that he had read once that the chemical reaction that created the oxygen in the masks only lasted for a few minutes. 

“We apologize for the inconvenience,” the flight attendant said, explaining how they would be rerouting to land in Charlotte, North Carolina instead of Atlanta, Georgia as planned. George didn’t even care about the logistical nightmare that was going to cause during festival season, he didn’t care about much of anything except helping Matty take off his oxygen mask and crushing their lips together, a chaste, comforting press as Matty trembled beneath George’s fingers. 

“We’re okay,” George soothed, “we’re okay, it’s okay.” 

“I’m never flying again,” Matty rasped, his voice shaking his eyes still wide. George just chuckled nervously, the excess adrenaline still beating through his chest as he pressed another kiss to Matty’s lips, before tugging him as close as he could while wearing their seatbelts, pressing his head against his chest. 

“We’re okay.”

[bokettochild]

So this is rather self-indulgent but I sprained/twisted/something my ankle earlier and until we get hands on some crutches tomorrow I've been doing a lot of hopping on one leg. I described it as 'hopping around like a demented one-legged rabbit' and then rabbit made me think of Legend and now I would love to see a fic where Legend sprains his ankle and then proceeds to power hop his way around camp or something because his legs are super strong. Hyrule and Sky do not approve but he's hopping too fast for them to stop him

Your wish is my command, darling!

Broken Leg(end)

Usually, if someone in the camp is injured, a look from Time will make them hold still. 

Usually, when someone is injured and Time’s stare somehow doesn’t work, Twilight will come and hold whomever it is down until they can be treated (unless it’s Sky, because both Twilight and Warriors have to be there to make him hold still). 

And usually, if they still struggle, one look from their fae will have them sitting still in the hopes of not angering Hyrule. 

Sure, Time is scary, but Time is, at his core, just a dad. Hyrule is a fae and has the power to curse someone to stillness if they don’t comply, or so he’s let on. 

That idea is about to be tested though. 

“Legend, for the love of Hylia! Would you just hold still!” Warriors shot at the vet. The Chain of Links was just piecing themselves together after a rather nasty battle, and while so far the worst injury had been a gash to Wild’s arm, there was of course the fact that most of their member hid injuries, so there was no assurance they were in the clear quite yet. 

 Legend, in particular, was rather hard to pin down as hiding an injury which both saddened and frustrated the other heroes. It was sad because Legend was good at hiding when he was injured because more often than not people would take advantage of it if they knew. It was annoying because it meant Legend never took care of himself and didn’t like letting them help. 

Right now, in particular, the vet in question was limping across camp. And limping, as everyone who knew the heroes knows, meant that it must be rather bad indeed. 

“Ledge, please, I’m almost done splinting Twilight’s hand, just hold still and I’ll help you, okay?” Hyrule called over, shooting the rancher in question an apologetic look as he hurried to finish binding said splint in place. 

Across the camp, out of reach of most of them and still limping about, Legend huffed something that may have been a disagreement or a complaint, no one could tell.  

“Legend.” And there was the Dad Look. 

“Time.” The vet clipped back, over his shoulder. 

“Sit still.” 

“It’s just a light sprain.” Legend scoffed, but he knelt down all the same, starting to roll out a few of their bedrolls for the night. 

Twilight shook his head as he watched, eyes dark with worry and irritation both. “He’s fixing to cripple himself if he doesn’t stop that.” 

The bandage looped once more around his wrist, Hyrule’s hands deft. “And how do you mean that?” 

A nod, a huff. “He didn’t twist it. He smells off, it’s more pain than he’s letting on.” 

A possible fracture then, and hopefully only that.  

Hyrule frowned as he finished the splint on the rancher’s arm but he still accepted a hair ruffle in thanks once he was done putting the injured limb in a sling to keep the other from moving it too much. He was concerned for his mentor, and also irritated. They were all bad, although most careful enough to not be hit too hard or be wounded too badly, but Legend had been taking more and more hits lately. Usually, it was to save someone else, and usually he had the good sense to use his shield to catch a blow rather than his body, as Wild did, but shields can only block so much. 

Maybe it made sense, to a point. Ever since they’d discovered that some of the enemies’ blades were poisoned, the risk in getting hit was higher than ever before, and while many of them were talented with a sword, there were a few of their number who failed to wield their shields with the same skill. 

Not that that gave Legend a right to be an ass when he did get hurt watching their backs, but it did make it make a bit more sense why he was hurt at all. 

After all, the vet would probably rather be killed than see another brother corrupted. 

“Legend, sit.” Maybe Hyrule’s patience was running a bit low. He was tired though, so that had to be fair, right? “Let me see.” 

Legend just shook his head, not as a ‘no’, but more like he was silently clucking his tongue at the younger hero. “It’s fine, Rule, I’ll treat it myself.” 

Okay, maybe the healer’s patience was more than a bit low, because he found himself grabbing Legend by the shoulders and pushing him down onto his backside with a stern glare. “You and I both know that’s bullcrap, Legend. You don’t treat your own wounds. You fuss over ours and panic when they’re bad, but if you're injured you leave it to sit or look away when someone else stitches you up.” 

A flush colored the face of the other as he looked up into shining amber eyes. They weren’t gold yet, not nearly, but there was a threat of Hyrule’s temper shining in their depths. “Now look here, the fact that I can’t handle blood is not-” 

“It’s valid and you’re within your rights.” He didn’t need to be embarrassing his ancestor about entirely valid phobias, that wasn’t what he was getting at anyways. “But the rest of it? Gosh darn it, vet, let us help you!” And with a stern look at the other, he released the vet’s shoulders and sat back on his own heels, holding out a hand. “Give me your foot.” 

Legend blinked at him, one brow arching in disbelief and an unspoken jest at Hyrule’s behavior. The healer wasn’t about to hear it.  

“Now, Legend. Twilight may be injured, but Sky is fit as a flea if he needs to make you hold still.” 

Across camp, Sky nodded tiredly. Legend kicked if you tried holding him down, and it was honestly more a risk than whatever monsters they faced because the vet rarely missed an opponent that was literally right behind or before him. The skyloftian was willing to help regardless, but like anyone with sense he was wary of the potential consequences. 

Legend sighed, pulling his leg back and earning and arched brow from Hyrule.  

“Chill.” The elder hero huffed. “I’m just getting my boot off. Don’t need Wolfie coming along and stealing it or something while you work.” 

At the edge of camp, Wild giggled, shooting a look at his mentor who only shook his head in an exhausted manner. 

Hyrule kept his cool, waiting just a bit impatiently while Legend worked his boot off, watching carefully how the vet’s face would twist or still here and again, teeth sawing against each other behind pursed lips in a sure sign that the other hero was in more pain than he was keen on letting on. Finally, however, the boot was off and Legend was sitting cross legged and bare footed. 

“See? No blood.” 

“No socks either.” Warriors leaned away from where he’d been sitting nearby, one hand to his nose. “Sweet Hylia, vet, why?” 

The group as a whole ignored Sky’s indignant look at Warriors using Hylia’s name in vain. 

“My socks are all worn out and holey, and I haven’t had a chance to mend them because I’ve been fixing y’alls gear instead.” Legend answered, looking pointedly at the captain’s scarf, which itself had been his most common mending project what with how well loved and commonly stollen the item was.  

The captain flushed slightly, turning away and rubbing his neck, but he wasn't the only one, Time and Wind both also turning their gazes to the trees instead of the vet’s judgmental stare.  

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

Hyrule rolled his eyes. “Foot, Legend.” 

“I’m fine, Hyrule.” Violet eyes sparked with irritation as Legend leveled him with a look. “There’s no blood, it just hurts a bit. At worst, I pulled a muscle or something, and I can walk that off.” 

Fine, if Legend wanted to play difficult, Hyrule would let him play difficult! It takes two to play though, and Hyrule has never been afraid to fight dirty. Sharp fingers darted out, grabbing the vet’s ankle and pulling. 

There was a cut off scream of pain before Legend was slamming a hand over his own mouth and glaring at Hyrule past glistening tears. “The heck, ‘Rule!” 

Deft hands worked over the injured limb, twisting and pushing as the vet squirmed, trying his best to pull back and out of the iron grip Hyrule has on his foot. 

“Hyrule- for gosh sakes- let go!” 

The vet was ignored, despite his insistence, and Hyrule’s frown deepened as Time joined the pair, their leader’s single eye fixed on the healer. “Prognosis?” 

“Broken.” Hyrule answered, sending a sharp and gold-tinted glare at his ancestor. “Not even a clean one either. Why were you walking on this?” 

A roll of the eyes, a weak tug that in no ways freed the vet’s foot from Hyrule’s hands. “You’re exaggerati-augh!” Violet eyes glared past tears as Hyrule leveled the other with a look, grip relaxing again from having squeezed the injured limb pointedly. “It’s not-” 

“If you say ‘it’s not that bad’ I will pinch you.” Hyrule threatened. 

Legend’s frown deepened, but he slumped in place, giving up fighting against his brother and instead resigning himself to sulking. “I honestly thought it was just a bad sprain or something. Chronic pain makes other pain weird; you don’t really notice stuff like this as easily.” 

The others may or may not have been staring, Hyrule didn’t know, but he knew he was.  

“Okay, first, that’s concerning. Second, if you can’t tell for yourself than you should be asking someone else to check, because it could be very bad, especially in cases like this.” The healer was already working to set the broken limb, and Warriors scooted back over, offering his hand for the vet to squeeze if needed. “With a break this bad, you could end up crippled if you don’t treat it properly.” And as a second thought he added, “or if you walk on it.” 

Legend huffed; grip white-knuckled on Warriors’ hand as he watched Hyrule work. 

Once the vet’s injury was tended, there wasn’t much left to be done. Wild made supper with some help from Four, since his arm was still injured and Time had ordered him to take it a bit easier tonight while it healed (enhanced healing was nice and all, but Wild still had limits) and they all helped a bit with cleaning up before setting watch and heading to bed. 

  As usual, Twilight and Four took first watch so they could sit up and watch the sun set fully as they liked to do most nights, whispering quietly about the twilight shadows and what they could hide. Warriors and Wild, their two war heroes, would be the ones with the dead-man’s shift so they didn’t wake anyone in the middle of the night with bad dreams. Time and Sky would take the last shift, although everyone, even Sky, knew that their leader would most likely be doing it alone. The man liked to let them rest when he could and couldn’t sleep for more than three consecutive hours anyways. That said, he’d probably spend the last hour of his shift trying to wake Sky up all the way so that the other would be alert enough to not drown in his breakfast in the morning. 

That left Legend, Wind and Hyrule to sleep through the night, which was probably for the best because Wind had been asleep across Warriors’ lap even before they’d finished supper, Hyrule was exhausted from tending the others, and Legend needed rest if he was going to heal. 

When Hyrule woke, however, it wasn’t to find the other heroes resting. No, Hyrule was awoken by harsh whispers and a scrabbling that made not only him, but most of the others, shoot up in their bed rolls and look for the source. 

The source was Legend, who, instead of sleeping like any normal person who’d had their tibia shattered, was currently hopping around camp and getting whisper-yelled at by Time, who was pinned under a slumped over and snoring Sky. 

Hyrule wanted very much to pull his blanket back over his head and pretend he didn’t see anything. In the same moment though, he also wanted tackle Legend to the ground and sit on him until the vet eventually passed out again, either from boredom or from Hyrule playing with his hair should the healer feel like being nice. 

Rather than doing either of those things though, he pulled himself out of bed and started walking towards Legend like a normal person. 

In a very not normal-person way, Legend hopped away from him, a smirk on his face as he motioned to his foot. “I’m not putting weight on it.” 

And he wasn’t. He was just hopping about on his left leg like some sort of mad, disabled cricket.  

“You should be resting.” Time sighed, not bothering with keeping his voice down since most of them (sans Sky) were now awake, despite his efforts. 

“We have a lizard to hunt.” The vet returned, perched on one leg, arms crossed in front of him and looking like one of those weird pink bird from Aurora’s books. “I’m gathering my things.” 

“You’re sitting down and resting.” Warriors corrected firmly. “You’re in no state to hunt anything.” 

One pink brow cocked higher. “I’ll manage.” 

“On one foot?” 

A jut of the chin. “Watch me.” 

The captain rolled his eyes, pulling himself up from his bedroll. “Yeah, no. Come on, vet.” 

Maybe the man’s intent was to scoop Legend off his feet and place him back on his bedroll, but Legend was across the camp like a shot, still only using the one leg, the other tucked under him like a resting bird. He was anything but resting though, moving with a speed that would surely make Time proud if the man wasn’t burying his face in his hands with a sigh that said it was far too early for this nonsense.  

Warriors gave chase, but Legend was, somehow, faster. The vet darted from one side of camp to the other, only tumbling once, just to smoothly back up to standing, still only on the one foot, and then hopping off again. 

Legend even had the gall to do it all with his hands clasped behind his back, not once flailing to catch his balance. 

Wild whistled, impressed.  

Twilight gave his cub a disapproving look and moved to join the captain in trying to grab their vet. 

“You’re wasting energy, you know.” Legend teased, looking far too awake for someone Hyrule knew hadn’t slept more than three hours that night (he’d had Wars wake him so he could check the other and the vet hadn’t even fallen asleep by then).  

Warriors darted at their brother, and Legend danced away, grinning.  

“Save your energy, captain. You haven’t even had your coffee yet.” 

Warriors all but growled. “Then sit down so I can.” 

“You heard the man,” Wind chipped in, making no move to help and instead watching with trembling shoulders that betrayed barely contained laughter, “a Wars without coffee isn’t a foe you don’t want to face.” 

Legend hummed, and for a moment it looked like the vet was cornered, Twilight coming up behind him and Warriors standing, arms poised to snatch at him, in front of him. The captain took a step forward, fingers just grasping Legend’s shoulder before the vet was ducking down under his arm, still on one foot, still smirking, and still making Hyrule want to flop down and contemplate his adoration of his brother and whether it was worth it. “I’ll take my chances.” 

Warriors groaned.  

Twilight growled. 

Legend chuckled, shooting a wink Wind’s way as he once more hopped just out of reach of Warriors. 

A movement to the side caught Hyrule’s eye, and when he glanced over, it was to see Time hunched over Sky’s dozing form, mouth suspiciously close to the Chosen Hero’s gently twitching ear as the elder man murmured something that he couldn’t quite catch. Sky’s sapphire eyes blinked open lazily, staring across camp at where the others were chasing the vet. A smile broke over his face, silent laughter making creases form beside his eyes as his shoulders shook. 

Legend was just showing off at this point, actually dancing back and forth, still on one foot, but throwing in spins that were entirely needless as he darted just out of Twilight’s grasp. 

Time grunted, catching the attention of them all, but the man’s eye was fixed on his protégé, one ear flicking and his eyes holding words they wouldn’t read.  

Twilight’s stance changed immediately, the rancher crouching low, arms poised to snatch at the vet.  

Warriors glanced between one wolf to the other, light dancing in royal blue as he followed Twilight’s lead.  

The two stalked closer to Legend, who at this point had caught onto whatever was happening but was about as confused as the watching heroes, actions more guarded and glances wary as he started actually darting away from one and just out of reach from another, this time making an effort to escape rather than to tease. 

They were herding him, Hyrule found himself realizing with surprise. Two wolves, three if you counted the old man, working to corner their quarry. It was working too. Legend may have been a hero of courage, but Hyrule knew the tales of his hero, and he knew Legend was also rabbit at heart and it showed. The vet’s ears flicked attentively between his two pursuers, spinning to face them head on, well out of range and wary for their next move. 

He made a crucial mistake though. 

Legend turned his back on Sky and Time. 

In a moment, their leader had reached up and snagged the back of the vet’s tunic, giving Sky time to lunge forwards, arms locking around the younger hero and pulling him down against the sleepy hero's chest. Legend scrabbled and, for a brief and rather hilarious moment, shrieked, but eventually stilled. 

Sky’s sleep-addled hugs were like being wrapped in a thick and heavy blanket. The Chosen Hero would cling on tight, pulling his victim to his chest and burying his face in their hair, hanging on like a limpet, although much softer and great deal warmer. 

Legend hissed. “Foul play.” 

“Sleepy bunny.” Sky drawled, still half asleep and probably unaware of the part he had just played in stopping Legend. 

“Very sleepy.” Time smirked, actually smirked, patting Legend’s head in a way that could almost be considered condescending. “He’s hurt, so he’s going to spend today resting while the rest of us repair our gear.” A single blue eye, sharp, but sparking with mischief, turned to the rest of them. “No breaking camp this morning, boys. We’ll rest a while and scavenge for supplies.” The man’s smirk widened a bit, and Hyrule found himself slightly surprised to realize their leader had the slightest hint of dimples. “If Wild can’t brew a hearty potion though, I think Legend will need to be riding piggy back until his leg heals.” 

The vet snorted, but Hyrule didn’t miss how the older boy nestled up against Sky’s chest, legs tucking up as they always did when he was sleeping, and violet eyes fluttered briefly (Hyrule found himself wondering if Legend did himself in with all that darting about). “Jokes on you, I don’t mind piggy back rides.” 

That turned out to be a good thing, because Wild wasn’t able to brew a potion, and Legend ended up riding piggy back for nearly a week until they got dropped on Lon Lon Ranch. Surprisingly, he managed to fight the monsters they ran into despite being on Warriors’ shoulders, and the two seemed to have some fun with it, so it turned out alright. 

Legend didn’t even flush when Wind teased him about it later. 

There was probably a story there, but as long as Legend was staying off his bad leg, Hyrule wasn’t questioning it. 

He was pretty sure the Old Man had told him that story already anyways.  

[lady-wallace]

Heat: Whumptober Day 5 (JJBA)

Stardust Crusaders today! This is set directly after The Sun Arc

Prompt: Every Whumpee’s Needs (hyperthermia)

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure Part 3

Character: Kakyoin

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

Masterpost

~~~~~~~

The sudden night did a little to cool Jotaro off, but his face and neck still felt burned from the scorching power of The Sun. Everyone looked a little dazed. The old man still seemed confused about the whole thing but he shook it off soon enough.

"Well, I guess we should make camp for the night then," Joseph said. "Polnareff, go see about what supplies we have left. Boys, you help me with the camels."

Jotaro nodded, then glanced over at Kakyoin who was looking up at the sky, swaying slightly, one hand pressed to his head.

"Hey," Jotaro called over to him. "You good?"

The redhead turned to him with a slightly woozy expression. "I…yeah I…" He exhaled and then he started sinking to his knees before he just simply collapsed in the sand.

"Kakyoin," Jotaro called, hurrying over.

He knelt, rolling Kakyoin over onto his side and revealing his face to be flushed red and dripping with sweat, breathing heavily.

"What happened?" Joseph demanded as he and Polnareff hurried back to them.

"He just passed out," Jotaro said, brow furrowed. He knew the other student had taken a couple blows during the confrontation but they had seemed to be mostly minor.

Joseph crouched down on the other side of Kakyoin and pressed the back of his wrist to his forehead.

"He's pretty warm still," the old man said worriedly.

"Heatstroke?" Polnareff asked, wiping his own brow. "Why now?"

"It doesn't just go away, Polnareff," Joseph said as he knelt on Kakyoin's other side. "He also had a head injury from the attack…"

"Well, he's out of the sun now, what else can we do?" Jotaro inquired.

"We need to get him as cool as possible. If his body temperature's already up, then just the change in outside temperature won't be enough to get it down."

"Here's a canteen," Polnareff said, handing it to Joseph.

"Thank you. Jotaro, get his scarf off."

Jotaro unwound the scarf from Kakyoin's head and neck and handed it to his grandfather who soaked the material.

"Help me get him out of this," Jotaro said, starting to unbutton Kakyoin's coat. "It's too hot. Polnareff, can you get a light over here."

"I kept telling you the school uniforms were a bad idea," Joseph muttered as he helped Jotaro maneuver Kakyoin's limp body out of the coat, unbuttoning his shirt collar, then pressing the cool scarf to his face and neck. Kakyoin murmured something, eyes flickering.

"Wha—?" he gasped, moving suddenly.

Jotaro and Joseph each put a hand on his shoulders and pressed him back down.

"Easy, you got a bit overheated. Drink some water," Joseph said.

Jotaro helped prop Kakyoin's head up and helped him drink some more as Joseph continued to try and cool him off with the cloth. Kakyoin still seemed to be mostly disoriented though as he sank back into the sand.

Polnareff brought the light over, and Joseph started to examine Kakyoin for injuries.

"He has a few abrasions from the fight, but it doesn't look like anything too bad." He peeled one of Kakyoin's eyelids open and watched the reaction to the light. "No concussion so that's good."

"How long do you think he'll be like this?" Jotaro asked.

"Well, hopefully cooling him off will help, at least we're not out in the sun currently," Joseph said. "We'll let him sleep it off for the most part but keep an eye on him tonight. Wake him up periodically to get him to drink something."

Jotaro and Polnareff nodded as Joseph stood up. "I'll set his bedroll out."

Once they got Kakyoin situated more comfortably, Jotaro volunteered to take first watch. He wasn't really looking forward to the idea of sleeping too much right now anyway.

He did what he could to keep Kakyoin cool. The redhead had at least stopped sweating but his skin felt more clammy now, and Jotaro wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

Kakyoin also seemed to be more restless as the night went on, and looked uncomfortable. Jotaro tried to shift his blanket to prop his head up a little, but it didn't seem to do much. Kakyoin seemed to be in the midst of a fever dream.

Jotaro sighed, feeling overall helpless, as he reached for a cigarette and lit it up, taking a long drag as he looked up at the stars.

Kakyoin shifted again, causing Jotaro to look down at him as his head tossed to one side, cracked lips parting.

"N-no," he murmured, eyes squinting shut. "Don't…I—I don't—"

"Kakyoin," Jotaro nudged him but Kakyoin pulled his arms up slowly and shielded his face with his hands as if someone were attacking him.

"Kakyoin!" Jotaro snapped, more firmly.

"No," Kakyoin whimpered, breathing heavily, his hands found his face and buried in his hair, before he started to almost tear it out.

"Hey, stop," Jotaro snapped, reaching out to grab Kakyoin's wrists in case he hurt himself.

Kakyoin's eyes blinked open with a gasp, looking around frantically, tugging against Jotaro's grip as panic started to spread over his face.

Jotaro let go of him and Kakyoin scrambled to press trembling fingers to his forehead. Jotaro realized suddenly that it was in the spot where Dio's fleshbud had been. But all that was left there was a small divot of a scar.

"It's all right, it's gone, remember?" Jotaro told him.

Kakyoin looked up at him, blinked, and finally recognition set in. "Y-yeah," he replied, then, "What…happened?"

"You passed out from the heat," Jotaro said, stamping his cigarette out in the sand next to him. "How do you feel?"

Kakyoin furrowed his brow. "Exhausted. Headache. Kind of sick."

Jotaro reached over for the canteen. "You need to stay hydrated."

Kakyoin tried to sit up, but looked like he got dizzy really quickly. Jotaro reached out to grab his shoulder and helped propped him up with one hand while he held the canteen to his mouth.

When Kakyoin had taken several long gulps, he lay back with a sigh, closing his eyes. He was quiet for a long moment before he said, "I'm sorry I'm holding us up. I'm sure I'll be fine by morning."

"It's not a problem, it was time to camp anyway," Jotaro grunted. "I'm surprised we didn't all get heatstroke honestly."

Kakyoin sighed, and shivered slightly before he looked around. "Well, whatever happened, I'm cold now," he admitted.

Jotaro reached over to the side where he had left Kakyoin's coat and handed it to him. Kakyoin took the dark green material gratefully, and spread it over himself.

"Thanks," he murmured.

"Get some rest," Jotaro told him. "We've got a long way to go in the morning."

Kakyoin nodded and seemed to drift off.

Jotaro should probably try to get some sleep too, but instead, he just lit another cigarette and continued staring at the stars.

~~~~~~~

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[ramblingkat]

In Holding and Letting Go

More Whumptober and HC Bingo. Having fun here. 

Fandom: Bleach, DnD

Characters/Pairing: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke, random drow

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42218178

Summary: An ambush and a dream come true. Just what Ichigo wanted to avoid.

IHaLG

Ichigo really should have listened to his dreams. 

They had been avoiding a rather noisy fight between two driders and their groups of giant spiders when they fell into a trap set by a group of drow. 

It was a strange group. Only two women, the rest were a group of males. From what Ichigo knew, that was unusual. Though they look rather ragged that he got the feeling that they had been on the losing side of a conflict of some sort. Which was bad. Because being on the losing side meant they were more likely to be desperate. 

The ambush had been good, which was how he was now bound down, tied to some sort of device. Wasn’t sure how long he had been unconscious, not really, but it seemed to have been long enough to be dragged from where they had been to the base camp of the drow. Because whatever he was on was far too large and heavy to be moved around easily. 

He subtly tested the bindings on his wrists, which were holding his arms flat as they were stretched away from him. His feet were bound together as well, leaving Ichigo flat on his back and staring up in the gloom above him. 

That test ended quickly enough as he felt the metal cut into his skin. That was bad, and he set aside the idea of brute forcing his way free. This was going to require patience, and he tried to curl his own natural magic up to start working at the metal.

Only for it to not respond.

Ichigo froze. He had only started to glance around to see where Kisuke was, but the feel of his power being gone, or at least unresponsive, was a shock. Could feel blood running down his wrists, his innate healing not kicking in.

Well, that was a problem.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Ichigo made himself calm down. At least he tried to fake calm, while his gut churned at the loss of his magic, something that had been his since he was born. Hopefully it was temporary, or he was going to be a lot more useless at helping them get out of here.

He swallowed hard, glancing around again. Finally, he spotted Kisuke, and his gut lurched again. The other man was in a cage of some sort, far too similar to Ichigo’s dream. His favorite hat was missing, and far too much of his hair was stained dark for Ichigo’s comfort. Yes, head injuries bled a lot, but that was still a lot of blood matting down Kisuke’s ridiculous fluffy hair.

The fact that Kisuke was a limp puddle of a person also made him worry. Because how hard had he gone down if he was still unconscious? Ichigo hoped that it was just magic keeping him that way, though he’d never seen a sleep spell work on Kisuke yet. 

“Stop,” hissed a male voice, and Ichigo turned his head to look at one of the drow. The drow waved at Ichigo’s wrists. The man said something else in his native tongue, even as he waved his hand and Ichigo’s skin came back together, healing the cuts he had caused himself.

Suddenly aware that the drow were looking at him now, Ichigo scowled back. “Guess you aren’t looking to bargain about any of this?” he said, glancing at where his bindings were. The male who had healed him snorted. “I mean, we’re pretty decent fighters when we’re not ambushed.”

The guy rolled his eyes. “Then you are useless to us,” he scoffed. A sharp word from one of the women made him flinch, and turn away. “Do not injure yourself more.”

Ichigo would have just to prove a point, but he got the feeling that he needed to be ready to fight as needed. The drow were definitely planning something. He needed to work out how to get free and get him and Kisuke out of here before that happened. 

It was going to be a lot more difficult without his powers as well. While Ichigo was an excellent fighter, he had long ago learned how to mix magic into his fighting. While not as showy as some of the hexblades out here, he had his own skills that let him get out of a lot of situations. 

Flexing his fingers, Ichigo shifted slightly, because there was some wiggle room around his wrists. While he couldn’t brute force his way free, he might be able to wiggle his way out. The joys of having such a delicate bone structure. Kisuke had spent a whole three days teaching Ichigo how to slip bindings.

Though he paused as there was a shift, and a mumble that was familiar. Glancing over again, Ichigo felt something relax as Kisuke lifted his head. The other man’s expression was dazed and a little too foggy for comfort, but at least Kisuke was awake. The fogginess was clearing away as he got himself together a bit more. 

Ichigo saw when Kisuke registered exactly what was going on, the man bolting upright. His fingers moved in a familiar pattern, but nothing seemed to happen. For a moment, Kisuke looked at his hand blankly, then frowned. A second later, and he reached for his throat. That was when Ichigo saw something wrapped around his partner's throat. It seemed to be something woven of dark grayish-white material. Likely spider silk, given how common it was here. 

Seeing it made Ichigo realize that he had something similar around his throat. It was so light he barely felt it, though now that he was aware, it seemed to cling to his skin. A very unpleasant sensation. 

“Ichigo?”

Kisuke’s worry was clear in his tone, and Ichigo realized that the faint hint of red in Kisuke’s eyes was gone. The spell to hold up darkvision had failed. Ichigo realized that it meant Kisuke was blind.

“Here,” he said, ignoring the snapping words from the drow when he had spoken up. He was not going to let Kisuke worry about him, no matter how much their captors complained.

Kisuke frowned again, and then said something in a similar tongue that the drow had been speaking. It almost made Ichigo roll his eyes. Of course Kisuke knew how to speak Drow. Ichigo wasn’t even surprised anymore at the stuff Kisuke could pull out of his hat.

There was a stir around him as the drow reacted to that. None of them spoke at first, not until Kisuke spoke again. While Ichigo didn’t recognize the words, he knew the tone. That was Kisuke at his most flippant, distracting and annoying. It seemed to work. One of the women and several of the men snarled back something. 

Ichigo made a note to make Kisuke start teaching him languages. Not knowing what the words were made him frown. 

He also was keeping an eye on the woman who wasn’t interacting with the blond. She seemed to be focused on something else, lips moving around silent words. While her stuff was a little ragged, it was also fine quality. Covered in spiders and made of a dark material, something about it reminded Ichigo of something. 

In the cage, Kisuke seemed more unsettled, shifting onto his knees, fingers fluttering lightly along the lines of the cage. Getting the feel of the cage around him. Ichigo wanted to get free even more, because Kisuke being trapped blind made Ichigo worry. Not that he thought Kisuke was helpless, but he had no idea what the man could do without his magic and his sight.

There was a sharp word from the woman who had kept her focus, and the others shifted into places around him. Ichigo tensed, not liking this at all. Then the woman began to chant.

“Ichigo, what’s going on?”

Kisuke’s voice was tight, fingers curling around the bars of the cage. Even from here, Ichigo could see the grip turn Kisuke’s knuckles white. “Not sure,” he started, and then trailed off.

Even if he didn't speak the language, almost everyone knew at least one word. 

Lolth.

Ichigo heard that, and he knew Kisuke did as well, the man’s mouth opening to say something.

Then pain filled Ichigo, something dark and sharp shoving up through his back and out his chest. He couldn’t help the noise that it forced from him, pain and shock spraying from his lips as blood did the same. Though he heard Kisuke shout his name, but it was impossible to focus on anything besides the pain that flashed through him, surprisingly cold as it seemed to drain his energy. 

Ichigo felt like something was crawling over his skin, the prickle of tiny things scurrying over him, leaving him numb. Even the pain seemed to fade, lost in the cold and numbness. The only heat was that of his blood spilling over his skin.

Ichigo fell back into a darkness blacker than he had ever known, Kisuke’s voice the last thing he heard as he sank into the silence.

[pleasantwizardphilosopher]

For you, inah (15)

I wanted to apologize for how long it took me to upload it, the false hope and all that, my life has been...messy, hectic would be an understatement, with the pressure to present results from my research, meeting with my comitee (I was chewed alive thank you very much), and all the paperwork, I've been drowning in things to do. But hey, here we finally are, you can read the chapter whole in AO3.

Read in AO3

He rocks on his heels, hopeful, as if waiting for a sudden miracle to change her mind and decide that letting him meet Lori is a good idea. Hell no. The younger woman can see J’onn stiffening behind her, probably from her own tumultuous thoughts, but she sends him a small smile in reassurance, she can handle this.

“I don���t want you to meet her”, her voice is steady and cold, it doesn’t waver with the trembles that are wrecking her body, and there isn’t really much more for her to say. She barely waits for him to give a meek nod before turning away, turning her back on that chapter of her life, finally closing that lid of pain, her mind single-focused on the babbling toddler on Kelly’s arms, waiting for her as she’s escorted by J’onn to one of the DEO’s vans.

Maybe one day her heart won’t break or shudder when her mind thinks of Mon-El – despite it being a less and less common occurrence – maybe one day she might be able to stop feeling so much anger and shame, dulling the pain, maybe she could even forgive him, as unthinkable as it is now. One day, maybe. But that day isn’t today.

It's a bittersweet taste, knowing that the girl she loves the most, cradled in her arms while sucking on her thumb, came from a situation of so much pain. A part of her story tainted with blood and splattered in tears, towering insecurities and pain. There had been so much pain she still womders more often than not how she managed to survive, to come to the other side and live to tell it, even is she had adamantly refused to do so. Not until that moment in that creepy glass cell when the words simply became too heavy to keep inside her, too tarnished and real to pretend they weren’t there.

A violent shudder pull her out from her spiraling thoughts. With a sigh, trembling and hollow, she remembers that it isn’t that tragic. Not even being on the other side of the room from the woman she loves. There really isn’t much to complain about, she knows is for her own wellbeing and because it allows her to be close to the love of her life, in spite of it all, it is still a bothersome that she has to be feed vitamins and supplements through a tube half of the time – her body refusing solid food after such long period of time basically starving herself – and that, albeit they’re in the same room, they’re not allowed to be together, when all she wants is to caress the Kryptonian’s blonde tresses and kiss her lips, even if she’ll never say that out loud. However, said alien is extremely injured and needs the sunlamps, that are absolutely harmful for her very human skin, and it isn’t like she can stan upright much, her own muscles being weak and slightly atrophied.

Being apart after such trauma isn’t easy, particularly after they managed to survive precisely because they were together.

The nightmares hunt them, more often than not being real enough to make them wary of the world and people surrounding them. They don’t talk about it.

----

The Kryptonian pads into her kitchen with her fluffy rainbows socks, still limping slightly, creaking like an old house with every step, her joints are still tender and ache sometimes, but she’s almost entirely recovered from that endeavor, hopefully she can go back to work soon. Though washing the dishes has never been her favorite chore, it is soothing in its way, allowing her mind to drift the way she knew it would, while she meticulously scrubs the dishes clean, hands soapy and the front of her sweater slightly damp. A slender hand on her shoulder pulls her from her musings, tenderly pulling at her wrist until she has dried her hands and starts following the raven-haired woman.

Lena navigates them – the blonde’s hand securely held in one of hers – with familiarity through the apartment, turning lights off as they go, before passing through the partition that leads to Kara’s bedroom, pulling the blonde along, who follows sheepishly with slightly furrowed brows. Nevertheless, as soon as the alien registers where she is being taken to, she stops lightly eyes widening, staring questioningly into green eyes that always seem to hold all the answers. The fact is that she truly wants Lena to mean what she’s implying, but she also knows the woman might just be offering to sleep there alone, in a show of care for her wellbeing.

As predicted, the younger woman reads right through her-

“I won’t let you sleep on the couch”, Lena is clearly not asking permission. However, she can read Lena just as much as she can read her, with narrowed eyes, eyebrows scrunched, she pulls up some of her Supergirl persona, even if her back has a hard time handling such pull. Not even giving the other woman the time to say anything, because she’s pretty sure this is one of those selfless acts she frequently pulls off – and that are something she loves about the raven-haired woman, but right now she just wants them to share – and that has no place right now, not when she has to look after her, human fragility and all that aside, she made a silent vow to always care for the younger woman, months ago, and she will spend her life fulfilling it if she’s allowed.

“I won’t let you sleep on the couch”

“Thank you”, despite the effort behind the word, it comes out raspy and fragile. Brittle like porcelain but equally gorgeous, clearing her throat, the thought, half-formed, that had been bouncing in her brain finally comes out, “I know you’ll be an amazing mother”, a lone, pearly tear slides from a blue eye as her lips form a surprised ‘o’, once the words register. The next moment, warm, plushy pink lips are pressed to her own, Kara pressing into her and trying to commit her feelings into the kiss.

And Lena gets it, she does, pushing back just as strongly and tangling a hand in golden hair. They kiss like the other is water in a dessert, their kisses moisturized with spit and tears. When they part, foreheads touching and breathing ragged, Lena can clearly see her future painted beside this woman.

Pressing a tender peck to Lena’s lips, “You are an amazing mother already”, Kara murmurs against her lips, breathing ghosting her face. Lena simply clings to her and let’s those (definitely) happy tears, roll down her face freely.

They fall asleep tangled into each other, limbs tightly wrapped around them and faint smiles on their faces, finally taking a step forward with their own hapiness.

----

It isn’t easy being in a relationship again.

That’s a thought that she had been terrified to allow into her mind, worrying that it might mean she’s not sure about Kara, about them. But now, striding confidently across the polished floors to her new office, she realizes that it’s nothing but reasonable, to feel out of her depth being in a relationship, sharing with another person her life and the intricacies of her mind. It doesn’t mean that she isn’t happy, she is, but after the trauma she went through, part of her is just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She had been naïve enough to believe that being with Kara sunshine Danvers would be more than enough to soothe all her insecurities that – despite therapy and all – still pop up whenever she feels too vulnerable with someone else.  The crippling fear that she’s being manipulated, pushed around and controlled, decisions taken out from her hands, beliefs and ideals dismissed. Lena thought that with Kara those things wouldn’t happen – couldn’t happen, considering Kara would never treat her that way – even though she had avoided relationships like the plague since Mon-El. After all, it felt very logic to believe so, she already knew Kara, before her heart had been shattered and her self-confidence thrown out the window, because the blonde alien is her person, will always be, and she knows her heart, hence, she always wanted to believe that those fears wouldn’t have a place in their relationship.

How wrong was she.

----

To say that Kara is feeling jittery would be the ultimate understatement, she’s buzzing with excitenment to the point where Lena had to pass Lori into her arms in an attempt to keep her from drilling the entire building down, her entire being vibrating with excitement. She can’t be blamed for it though, today is the day when Lori will officially become her daughter.

She and Lena have already signed the papers and had Lena’s very fancy lawyers look at them, but finally turning them over, finally taking the final step into becoming a legally-bound family, has her filled to the brim with love for the girl in her arms, babbling happily at her mothers’ attention. This part of the procedure could’ve been done through their lawyers as well, only handling over the signed papers from both parents (Rao does she love how that sounds) in order to them to proceed before the law, but she insisted they do it personally, insisting that it was the whole experience.

Doing this as humanly possible, having a family under circumstances she never imagined, and loving them in a way that she never though her wounded heart would be able to – after Krypton dying, the pain that it caused her, she feared that there was no longer space in her heart for love, filled with the never-ending fear of being left alone again, surviving. But that is certainly not the case.

Lena has changed her and her life.

When she looks to her right, where the aforementioned is going through several blueprints that she can barely get the gist of – emerald eyes scanning in a breath the entirety of it, before proceeding to make annotations – she is dressed in her full attire business after months of staying on the sidelines – with her maternity leave and all that happened afterwards – and Kara can’t help but fall a little bit more in love with her. With the way she slowly chews her lip while concentrated making calculations, or how her neat, intricate, bun gets messier the longer she struggles with fixing an issue, poking at it with her pencil and hands, heels abandoned on the floor haphazardly.

[slasherhaven]

HI, I discover your blog and i really love it. i dont know if youre already done it but could you do how the slasher would react to dreaming about they killed their s/o and wake up finding his s/o peacefully asleep next to them? im pretty curious (and sorry for my english :,3)

The Slashers having a dream were they kill you:

Thomas Hewitt 

It was horrible and he woke up feeling sick.

In the dream you had been terrified of him, pleading with him to let you go, but you didn’t seem to recognise him. He didn’t recognise you either, you were just the next victim in the basement. Just a job. He woke up just as his dream self killed you.

He panicked, suddenly terrified of losing you, needing to see you.

But there you were, where you always were at night, practically laying on his chest, sleeping peacefully. You even had a small smile on your face. Nothing like in the dream.

He didn’t want to wake you, he knew it was just a dream but it had really shaken him. So, he just wrapped his arms around you tighter, holding you close and refusing to let go as he buried his face into your hair.

He loved you so much, he didn’t want you to get hurt, and the thought of being the thing that hurt you killed him inside.

“Tommy, are you alright?” you asked quietly, barely even awake. Still, it made him jump a little, he didn’t mean to wake you.

He just nodded, making you smile to yourself as you cuddled up to him some more, placing a light kiss on his chest before falling back to sleep.

Michael Myers

He hadn’t even realised it was a dream at first, he was stalking a house like he usually did, targeting the person inside. But then he realised that the house was his own, the one he now shared with you, and the victim inside was you. That didn’t seem to stop him though, he found his way into the house, taking you by surprise and driving his knife into your stomach.

You had looked up at him with wide eyes, hands clutching his arms. “Michael?” you sounded scared, betrayed...it wasn’t an image he would soon forget.

But then he woke up, finding himself in your shared bedroom, looking up at the ceiling of the dimly lit room.

It felt so...real...

He sat up and looked down at your place on the bed, finding you sleeping peacefully, unaware of the inner turmoil he was feeling. He did not like this feeling.

Killing somebody had never once left a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach but this did. If he killed you, you would be gone forever, and that was something that unsettled him more than he would like to admit.

You were sleeping deeply, so he luckily didn’t wake you up. He didn’t want to have to explain himself to you if you found him laying back down, shifting closer, and wrapping an arm around you, holding your body closer to his. He focused on your breathing and your warmth.

Maybe he was only just realising it but now, for once, he had something to lose.

Jason Voorhees

The dream was horrible. The scream, the blood, your limp body. You had been so afraid, so afraid of him, and he had killed you mercilessly, something he couldn’t even consider doing in reality. You had screamed before choking as the machete hit you. Jason had lowered you to the ground, your hand raising and leaving a bloody handprint on his mask before falling limp, the light leaving your eyes. You were gone...

And that was when Jason woke up, eyes wide and panicked.

The first thing he did was look for you, reaching out to touch you. Finding you sleeping soundly in his embrace.

You were here, alive and happy. Sleeping by his side, completely unafraid of him.

He didn’t want to wake you, he just wanted to hold you. So, he did. 

He couldn’t help but tear up as he held you. It had all felt so real, for a moment he really thought he had lost you and it was painful, it had broken his heart before he realised that none of it was real. He wouldn’t be able to get that vision out of his head, of him stained in your blood...

You would wake up the next morning held in a tight embrace with Jason’s face buried in your hair, refusing to let you go.

Brahms Heelshire 

In the dream, you had been busy and he was having a tantrum. You tried to shush him while getting on with the work you needed to do, but you kept denying him, ignoring him, telling him to give you a moment. Then you shouted at him. And then there was blood...so much blood. One moment Brahms had stabbed you, the next he was trying to stop the bleeding, begging you to stop. He couldn’t stop it, and he saw you die.

He woke up, shooting up straight in the bed, breathing heavily with tears in his eyes.

He was absolutely panicked. He hadn’t done that right? No, he couldn’t do that!

Frantically looking around, he saw you sleeping beside him, having clearly been disturbed by his sudden movement.

You woke up a little, sleepily asking if he was okay. He swallowed the lump in his throat before laying back down, cuddling up to you, holding you like his own personal teddy bear.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I wouldn’t ever hurt you. I’ll be good” Brahms promised you, the pain obvious in his voice.

“Of course you wouldn’t, Brahms. You’re a good boy. Why are you saying these things?” you asked but he just buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Bad dream?” you asked and he nodded. You sighed before petting his hair, slowly lulling him back to sleep before joining him.

The next day he would be on his absolute best behaviour, he couldn’t do enough for you. He would also be extra clingy, not letting you out of his sight for a moment.

Bo Sinclair

Bo had his fair share of bad dreams, he just wasn’t very open about them, but you knew. This dream was different though, it wasn’t about his childhood, it was of present day. He was taunting you as you begged him to let you go, promising to do whatever he wanted, asking him why he was doing this. But he only laughed at you, not caring, all before killing you. Watching the life leave your eyes as you reached out to hold onto him, your hand wrapping tightly around his wrist as you feel to the ground.

Bo woke up suddenly with an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. It was a dream, he reminded himself, chastising himself for being so pathetic.

Then he felt you shift beside him, moving closer and getting his attention. Bo looked down at you and slowly felt that feeling in his chest fade, replaced by warmth.

You were alive and well, and sleeping peacefully right beside him.

He wrapped his arm around you, letting you cuddle up to him some more. 

He wasn’t going to wake you up because he didn’t was to share the dream with you, not just yet anyway.

For now, he was quite happy to just lay with you and hopefully get some more sleep.

Vincent Sinclair

Everything had happened so fast in the dream. A new group of victims had come into town and Bo had sent him after them. He did, as he always did, finally catching up to the last victim, stabbing them, killing them. Only then did he realise that it was you, looking up at him in horror, your blood coating his hands.

Vincent woke up breathing heavily, eye wide as he tried to ground himself back in reality.

He instantly looked to you, gradually calming down as he watched your body rise and fall with steady breaths.

He didn’t want to wake you up or disturb you, he just needed some comfort.

He carefully shifted closer to you, wrapping an arm around you and pressing his chest to your back, nuzzling his face against your hair.

He felt a tear threatening to fall and he just allowed it, as long as he was quiet as to not wake you. 

All he wanted right now was to hold you and calm down. Everything would be alright in the morning, he knew that.

Lester Sinclair

Lester had a bad dream every now and again, just like everyone else, but they had mostly stopped since you started sharing a bed with him. Tonight seemed to be an exception. Lester never did the killing, he brought the victims to the brothers. This was no different. He had taken you into town, handed you right over to the twins, even when you begged him not too, both of you knowing what your fate would be. As Bo walked you away, followed by Vincent, you had looked back at Lester, begging him one more time, a look of complete betrayal and heartbreak on your face.

Lester startled awake, breathing heavily and sweating slightly.

His sudden movement woke you up, making you roll over to face him, rubbing your face sleepily. “Lester? You okay?”

“Y-yeah, just a bad dream...you’re okay, right?” Lester assured you, looking over you as if checking for any injuries.

“Of course I am” you frowned slightly, confused by his question. But he seemed to relax then, joining you in bed again.

“Good...good” Lester sighed as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You just wrapped your arms around him and held him as the two of you fell back to sleep.

Bubba Sawyer 

It had been an accident in the dream. He was chasing down an intruder, chasing them through the house, nothing too new. He thought that he had caught up with them, dealing with them using his chainsaw...but once the chaos was over, he saw you laying on the floor, your blood pooling around you.

Bubba woke up, instantly panicked and searching for you. But he found you sleeping with a content smile on your face right beside him.

He quickly moved closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest in a tight embrace.

The movement woke you up but you knew it was Bubba so you just happily moved closer and cuddled into him.

“You okay, Bubs?” you asked and he nodded, letting out a few concerned coos. “Bad dream?” he nodded again.

You lifted your head, kissing his cheek, silently assuring him that everything was alright, before cuddling up to him again. Falling asleep in his arms.

Billy Lenz

Bad dreams weren’t new to Billy but this one was. He was walking through the house and he had a knife in his hand, he had a destination in him, a victim was waiting for him. He slowly pushed the bedroom door open before stepping in, the slither of light illuminating your sleeping face. He moved over to you, raising the blade above his head before forcing it down into your chest. 

Then he woke up with a gasp, eyes wide and frantic as he sat up.

The suddenness waking you up slightly. You asked if he was alright, altering him that you were alright.

“Bad dream” Billy murmured as he returned to you, tangling his limps with yours and clinging to you. “Billy wouldn’t hurt you. Billy loves you” he mumbled.

“Did you hurt me in the dream?” you asked softly and he hesitantly nodded. “It’s okay, Billy. I know you wouldn’t hurt me in real life. I love you too” you kissed the top of his head, feeling him hold onto you a little tighter before trying to get some more sleep, you joining him. 

Asa Emory (The Collector)

For Asa, bad dreams usually related to his childhood, not anything from his present life. Sometimes he would dream about his crimes but he wouldn’t call them bad dreams, he was very neutral on them. This...even he couldn’t feel neutral about what he was dreaming about right now. Of hurting you, not even making it quick, drawing your pain out before finally doing you the mercy of killing you.

As soon as he wakes up, he steadies his breathing and focuses himself. 

It was a dream, nothing more. 

But that didn’t change the sense of contentment he felt when he looked down to see you sleeping, arm around his waist and head on his chest. A perfect reminder that it really was just a dream, that you were still here, and he wasn’t going to hurt you.

He wrapped his arm around you some more, just holding you more securely without waking you up. He wasn’t going to discuss this with you, not right now anyway.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) 

In the dream, it was like you were just another victim. He had subdued you but you were still away, tears staining your face as you pleaded with him to show mercy. He just took the camera off of his shoulder and zoomed in on your terrified face, he was enjoying it. He soon put the camera back in place before pulling out his knife.

Your piercing scream of agony rang through his mind as he woke up, greeted by the ceiling of his bedroom.

He turned his head to the side, seeing you sleeping beside him. Perfectly well and unharmed, your arm resting over his waist.

You were alright, you were safe. He would never hurt you.

Jesse wrapped his arm around you, gently pulling you closer to him.

It was just a dream, he was well aware of that, and knew not to let it effect him too much. Still, the thought of hurting you made him cringe. 

That would never happen, he would protect you, he promised himself that.

Otis Driftwood 

It was a violent dream that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Just him carrying out his true nature but on you instead of a victim he couldn’t care less about. You had cried, pleaded, tried to get through to him, but he didn’t stop, he didn’t care. And then, you were dead. He had killed you, your blood staining his hands and clothes.

Otis is pretty used to disturbing dreams, they rarely bothered him, but this one definitely did.

He woke up, instantly focusing on you. How your head was resting on his chest and your legs was draped over his hips. Very much alive, not a spot of blood on you, perfectly content.

He never thought that somebody outside of the family could have such an effect on him. That somebody’s loss could...scare him so much.

His arm remained around you as he made himself more comfortable, causing you to shift closer as well, letting out a quiet, sleepy hum.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, nearly chastising the fond feeling he felt when you smiled in your sleep.

Baby Firefly 

Gory dreams never bothered her, they couldn’t be any worse than reality, in fact she wouldn’t consider them nightmares at all. This though, this was certainly a nightmare. You were bleeding, crying, and in pain, but she was just giggling, being the person hurting you. And, just like that, you were dead and her giggling stopped, a look of worry spreading over her face.

She woke up, running a hand over her face and brushing off the dream. It was just a dream, you were alright.

There you were, sleeping right beside her. She knew that, she was looking at you.

Still, she shifted into a more comfortable position, brushing your hair out of your face and beginning to scatter kisses over your face.

She wasn’t going to mention the dream right now, it was silly. She just wanted to hear you wake up giggling at her playful attack.

Yautja (Predator) 

Dreams weren’t all that common for him, at least not like this one. Even in teh dream it was an accident, him forgetting how fragile you were compared to Yautjas. And it cost him everything.

He woke up just as you died in the dream, leaving him with a sickening feeling.

But when he felt you shift, making him relax.

You were curled up on his chest, sleeping peacefully, just like you did every night.

He purred soothingly as he gently combed his clawed fingers through your hair, purring some more when you smiled and nuzzled into him.

You trusted him. Trusted that he wouldn’t hurt you, that he wouldn’t let anything like that dream happen. He just had to trust himself, and he could do that.

[officialcharactersimp]

Mending & Amends

(Graduation Gift Part 4)

Summary: the fourth installment of my graduation gift series (can be found on my masterlist). This picks up literally seconds after the end of pt 3 with Natasha trying to find ways to make amends and get you to trust her again. No smut, but still not appropriate.

A/N: author’s note WC: 3k (holy heck)

CW: dark fic; mommy!nat; there is no porn, I repeat no porn; but there is mommy milk/breastfeeding; reader is injured; dubcon existence; 18+ only, do you hear me??

While you’re out, Natasha has time to tend to your injuries without you cowering and crying. Without all the guilt.

She picks your limp form up gently and brings you back out to the basement proper and lays you face-down on the bed-crib. She goes to get some medical supplies and cleans you up, then bandages the open bits and rubs some healing salve all over you. With only a few strikes having landed on your core, she’s satisfied with rubbing some of the salve there.

She gets you to drink some water from a bottle in your sleep, your natural instincts she’s been nurturing taking over. She checks your temperature, a solid 99, which isn’t too bad. She wipes the sweat and tear-tracks from your face, then brushes your hair out again. She lays down beside you and drapes an arm over your waist, burying her face into the back of your neck as she tries to think of what she’ll do when you wake up.

An idea forms slowly as she runs her hand along your waist. Yes, that will work. You might not like it at first, but it will work if she bears through it. She’s not sure how much of the fear and pain on your face she can handle, but she needs to.

She moves you off the bed to make it up nice, then sets you down gently, face down. Whenever you’re healed up you’ll be able to lay on your back, but right now that’s not possible. She ties your hands and feet to frame corners with plenty of slack—she wants you to be able to move.

Finally, she reluctantly removes your collar, biting her lip as she does so. It looked so precious on you, a symbol of the progress of your relationship. All gone now, thanks to her paranoia and overreaction. As much as she doesn’t want to remove it, it’s not right to keep it on if it speaks a lie.

Then she waits for you to come to. It shouldn’t be much longer now, maybe another half hour or so. She sits in the rocking chair in the corner, anxiously bouncing her leg. She needs to get herself under control before you wake. She knows her little baby needs for her to be the collected, caring, soothing mommy right now, and that you will for some time.

You mumble a little as you begin to stir, picking your head up a little. She takes a deep breath and smiles before going over and crouching down to look at your face while she gently tucks your hair back.

“Hey baby,” she says softly. “How’s my little sleepyhead feeling?” she asks. You whimper and inch away from her.

“D-don’ touch me,” you stammer.

“It’s okay baby, mommy isn’t gonna hurt you,” she says.

She sits down beside you. “I am so so sorry about what I did earlier. I was scared you were gonna try to leave me and get hurt. It’s a nasty drop from that window. But I didn’t take the time to think past my initial reaction or ask you, and that was wrong. I overreacted out of fear and anger without stopping to think, and I’m so sorry, little one. I never should have done that,” she says, tears brimming in her eyes. You turn your head to look up at her, eyes searching hers for any sign of ingenuity. You find only regret and sadness.

“You mean it?” you ask softly.

“Yes baby,” she says. “And mommy promises never to punish you without talking first or before taking some deep breaths, okay?” she says.

“Pinky promise?” you ask.

“Pinky promise,” she sticks out her pinky to hook with yours. She’s thrilled that you’re already starting to be a bit little again. As you move to interlock with her, you notice the restraints.

“Wait, what?” all traces of your headspace are gone as you jerk up to look around at your tied limbs. “What the hell?”

“Baby, it’s to keep you safe. See? They’re not tight or anything,” she tugs on all the loose rope.

“This is insane! All of this is insane!” you shout at her for the first time in weeks. It breaks her heart even more.

“I told you, mommy’s gonna fix what she did. Mommy’s gonna show you you can trust me again, gonna take care of you, of everything. Make it so this collar means something again,” she taps it on the bedside table, just out of your reach. You bury your face in your pillow and sob.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby. Mommy’s here. Mommy’s gonna make it all better,” she curls up beside you and puts an arm over you again. Despite how upset you are, you lean into it, wanting the physical comfort you associate with her.

“How’s your bottom?” she asks.

“Hurts,” you mumble.

“Do you think some Advil might help?” she asks. You nod and she gets up briefly to go get it. “Here you go, baby,” you tilt your head up and she puts the pills in, then grabs your bottle of water. You roll your eyes but suck on it to get the water to wash the pills down. You nod a thank you.

“Are you hungry?” she asks. You nod. “What do you want? I’ll even go drive through somewhere if that will help,” she says. You think for a moment.

“McDonalds?” you ask hopefully. She nods and smooths your hair back.

“McDonalds will be here soon,” she assures you. “Mommy has to go see a friend, too, so it works out. I’ll be back in half an hour or so, okay?” she says. You nod.

She kisses your head, which you recoil from, and leaves. You’re left alone to lay face-down on the crib-bed, restrained and in pain, until she returns. It’s silent. It’s lonely. You’ve grown used to either having Natasha or the sounds of the TV running since you came down here.

You think back to this morning. Everything was so different. You honestly trusted her this morning, even if it wasn’t the strongest trust. But this afternoon reminded you that she was an unstable, dangerous, paranoid lunatic. And it scared you.

Truth be told, you’ve grown to like being “little,” as Natasha calls it, letting yourself stop thinking too much and trust your mommy—Natasha, you correct yourself—to take care of you. You liked playing with her and cuddling. And when she touched you, it felt so good. So much better than when you had touched yourself. You felt loved and cared for in some twisted way.

But that was all in the past, now. You’d been doing so well, both of you, and now this. How does she expect you to trust her again? You’re not sure. You turn your head and close your eyes.

—

“You’re sure this will work, Wan?” Natasha asks her friend anxiously as she pulls her shirt back on. The red glow around her is fading. Her bra feels painfully tight and she winces.

“I’m positive. It worked for me, and especially given that you told me it’s happened before with those meds. If not tonight, by tomorrow for sure. And here’s these,” she hands Natasha a package. “They’ll be much more comfortable.”

“Thanks, Wanda. I don’t know what I’d do without you, in all honesty,” she says. Wanda smiles and hugs her.

“I could say the same to you,” she smiles. “Go on, get back to your little one,” she shoos her playfully. Natasha waves and leaves, then drives by McDonalds as promised. She’s back in a little over half an hour to see you dozing. It warms her heart to see her precious baby sleeping.

“Come on, little one, mommy brought your food,” she says, shaking you gently. You open your eyes and push yourself up off of the bed some. “Let’s get you comfy,” she helps you find a position that isn’t too uncomfortable for your aching rear, then hands you your food. “What do we say?” she asks.

“Thank you,” you say with a french fry in your mouth. She smiles. The mommy will come back later. She won’t push it for tonight.

“Do you wanna watch some cartoons?” she asks. They always engross you and help you into your littlespace. You nod and she flicks through the TV until she finds one she knows you like.

You both eat in relative silence, watching the TV. At least you’re not trying to cower anymore. That’s good, right? Progress? She hopes so.

“I’m gonna use the potty,” she tells you, then gets up. You don’t notice her bring the package with her as does.

When she returns, you notice something different about her, but you can’t tell what. It’s a small difference, then. Maybe she just fixed her hair. She’s smiling though.

You’re finished with your food soon enough, and the show ends shortly after.

“Let’s get you in the bath now baby, hm?” she suggests. You feel gross anyways, so you nod. She unties you and scoops you up in her arms.

“Let me down!” you squirm.

“Hush now, like mommy told you, I’m gonna take care of everything. Gonna show you you can trust me again,” she says. You squirm all the way to the bathroom anyways. She sets you down on the toilet facing the wall, almost straddling it.

“Huh?” you ask.

“It’s less pressure on your little bottom,” she explains. You nod and use the toilet while she gets the tub ready, but when you go to get some toilet paper, Natasha beats you to it. “I’ve got it, baby,” she says, wiping your tender area gently. You wince and try to get away from her.

“Stop it, I’m not a baby!” you try to grab her hand and move it, but she stays still, unmoving.

“Come on, little one. I know you’re in there. I know you want to let mommy take care of you,” she says. You shake your head. “Baby, this is about me proving to you that you can trust me to take care of you,” her voice is even. “I want you to choose to let me prove it to you. That’s why I haven’t given you any of the medicine I used to. But that doesn’t mean I won’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to believe how much I care about you again,” she says.

“But—“ you don’t know what you were planning on saying. “But I wanna do it myself. I can do it myself,” your voice is quiet as you lose your grip on her wrist, barely audible.

“That’s the thing, precious,” she steps closer to you, finishing her task and then using her other hand to pet your head. “I know you can do it. But you don’t have to. That’s why I’m here,” she says. You groan and lean forward on the toilet tank. “Come on, you’ll feel better when you’re clean,” she picks you up and sets you in the tub, then flushes the toilet.

You sigh and let her bathe you. Your body is too sore from getting dragged and caned to wash yourself that effectively anyways. When she gets to your most sensitive areas though, you squirm away from her and reach for the soap.

“It’s too sore. I wanna wash it myself,” you say quietly.

“I’m gonna be so careful, you won’t even notice,” she gently moved your hand away and got the soap again. Tears brimmed in your eyes and your bottom lip started to form a pout. “No, baby, don’t cry,” she gasps, petting your cheek. “Tell mommy what’s going on,” she says.

“I’m scared,” you say. “I don’t want you to touch it because you hurt me,” you say. Her heart breaks again.

“Okay, sweetie, how about this: we can do it together,” she takes your hand and puts it over hers, then begins to wash you gentler than ever. Your breathing hitches and your heart kicks up, but it’s over before it can go into full-blown panic.

“All done. You did such a good job, little one,” she praises you. “Ready to get out, or do you want to play in the water some?” she asks.

“Ready to get out,” you say. She picks you up out of the bath and dries you off with a soft towel before taking you out to the bed. She pulls on a soft shirt, leaving your bottom half uncovered so as not to irritate it. She changes into the spare pjs she keeps down here and crawls into bed beside you. You don’t welcome or recoil from her touch, which she’ll take as progress.

Her chest is still dully aching, but she knows she’s pushed you far enough for tonight. Maybe tomorrow she’ll be able to coax you into it.

—

When day comes again, Natasha is treating you the way she did when she first brought you down here, only with gentleness and tenderness where there was hardness and strictness before. The lack of the sedative drugs in your system makes it more difficult, but she’s able to maneuver your squirming form through the daily ritual of getting up, using the toilet, getting dressed, brushing your hair and teeth, and finally breakfast. Whenever she can, she has you laying on your stomach on the bed, and this is one thing you don’t protest.

You notice her shifting in discomfort the whole morning though, and despite how much you dislike her at the moment, you hate to see her in pain. You work up the courage to ask after a while of watching cartoons.

“Are you hurt?” you ask.

“I… well, I have a side effect from a treatment I had done that’s causing me discomfort,” she admits.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “That sucks.”

“There’s a way you can help me,” she says, sounding more timid than you’ve heard her maybe ever before.

“What is it?” you ask. To your confusion, she started to unbutton her shirt, and then she unclips her bra, but from the top? What?

“Huh?” you blurt out.

“I’m lactating,” she says simply, squeezing her nipple a little, causing a drop of what can only be breast milk to come of it.

“I—what do you want me to do about it?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“They hurt because they’re too full,” she explains. “And it would be really helpful if you would, well… empty them. I don’t have a breast pump, of course,” she says.

“Wait, like, you want me to—to drink your milk?” you’re turning bright red. Even after everything you’ve done with her, you’re almost unbearably embarrassed.

“Yes, baby, it would really help me, plus I think that you’ll like it. And it could help us…feel closer,” she chooses her words carefully, gauging your reaction.

“It’s kinda weirding me out,” you say honestly.

“Just try it, please, baby? It’ll help me feel so much better. And I promise, if you hate it after a little while then I’ll get a pump,” she crosses her fingers behind her back.

“I… okay,” you say. This whole situation is so absurd you can hardly bother trying to resist it. She smiles and adjusts the both of you to where you can reach her breast.

It’s not like you haven’t had her tits in your mouth before. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous right now. Natasha gently puts a hand on the back of your head and pushes you a little closer. You wrap your mouth around her nipple hesitantly, unsure of what to do.

“It’s like your bottle, sweetheart,” she senses your confusion. You tentatively begin sucking, and you’re surprised by the flow of milk into your mouth. You jerk back, but Natasha keeps your head in place, groaning in relief.

When the initial shock wears off, you realize she was right—you do like it. It’s warm and sweet, and the sucking action soothes you. You relax a little.

“That’s a good baby for mommy,” Natasha says gently, stroking your head with her thumb on the hand supporting you. “Do you like mommy’s milkies?” she asks. You nod, slipping into littlespace quickly as you drink from her. “Is it yummy?” she asks out of her own curiosity. You nod, not wanting to stop to answer. She chuckles. “It’s all yours, little one.”

She moves you to her other breast when you’ve finished, looking down and noticing that her other one is indeed smaller, and it certainly feels better now. You clutch at her gently to get a good angle, and her heart swells. She’s so glad this worked, but then again, Wanda’s advice has yet to fail her, so she shouldn’t be surprised.

When you finish, your eyelids are droopy and you nuzzle into her willingly, a rarity even before she fucked everything up. She pets you gently.

“Sleepy, little one?” she asks you softly. You nod. “Want a nap?” she asks. You nod again. Between your body being exhausted already and the soothing effects of her milk, she’s not surprised you’re already tired even though you’ve only been awake for a few hours. “Let mommy check your bottom, okay?” she turns you on your tummy. You’re healing nicely. “Do you want a blankie? I think it won’t hurt,” she says. You nod and she covers you with a blanket.

“Mommy stay,” you say when she gets up. And how is she supposed to argue with that? The answer is, she isn’t, so after she turns the lights off, he curls up next to you and holds you close.

“Mommy’s here, little one,” she assures you, finding your favorite stuffie and handing it to you. “Mommy will always be here, don’t you worry.”

[sanzu-sanzu-sanzu]

home bodies

Ken Ryuguji (Draken) X Reader / 1.6K / part 2

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draken is your flatmate / domestic, mostly gen

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Saturdays are normally for sleeping in and half-hearted pancakes for lunch, but Draken opens his eyes on this particular morning to his phone screen that reads 6:25 and decides it’s good enough. He lets out a yawn; he might as well head to the shop early so he can hopefully finish by noon.

He stops in mid-thought as he again hears a loud clanging from the kitchen. His alarm isn’t actually due in another thirty minutes or so and he realizes that it was some slight commotion or some other that has woken him up. He frowns; there’s a 90 per cent chance it’s just you and not some robbery attempt so early in the morning—and not in this neighborhood where every goon knows who he is, for good or for bad—so he puts a shirt on and decides to check, his mind still half-asleep.

He enters the kitchen and sees your face on the floor; lying down, head facing sideways. The sight quickly dissipates the early morning haze out of his head and before he knows it he’s crouching down, eyes blinking worriedly at your face. No blood no bruises still breathing. He sighs. Draken has lived with danger for most of his life for him to instantly know it when he sees it. This one isn’t, but the fact that you’re lying limp on the cold floor at freakin’ 6 in the morning is still very much far from normal.

“Oi, you alright?” He clears his throat. “What’s wrong?”

You feel the soft padding of his fingers slipping under your head coaxing you to face him, making you turn sideways and on your back so you’re now looking at him upside down. You offhandedly register that if his dark hair were just about an inch or so longer the tips would be tickling your cheeks by now. Haircut. You need a haircut.

“Everything, Ken. Everything is wrong,” you say in a voice devoid of life, one hand resting on your abdomen. You let two and then three seconds pass where you both just stare at each other before you shift your eyes towards the top shelf of the cabinet right beside you. His gaze follows yours.

“Need new cereal. Can’t reach,” your voice low, like you can’t let anyone (not even him) hear.

Draken huffs out a chuckle upon seeing your dilemma. When he returns his eyes to you you see the upside down curve of his mouth to mean that he’s smiling while he shakes his head. He gives you a quick pat on the cheek before finally standing up to his full height, effortlessly snatching the unopened pack of cereal with one long arm.

Under normal circumstances, you would be lightly jabbing his ribs as he stretches his arm leaving one side of his body vulnerable to attack—a pitiable, highly pointless one of course that he’d easily catch (if not dodge) with his hand around your wrist and his other hand quickly finding the other, pinning them against your back, the little game then turning into an impromptu cop-and-robber as he drags you out of the kitchen area, telling you I said no horsing around in the kitchen, you child right at your grinning face, as if you weren’t just exiled and banned from watching him cook—except these aren’t normal circumstances by any means, so you’re only left with grabbing onto the hand he offers to help you up.

Oh, how you miss the times when you didn’t have period cramps.

“Danger’s over, breakfast is saved,” he grunts, mimicking your manner of speaking, as he goes on to prepare his own breakfast while you slug your way towards your spot at the table. He reaches the refrigerator before you even get to your seat and when he opens the door and sees your carton of milk still inside, he quickly snatches the box before placing it on the spot next to your bowl in a quick succession of movements, your milk now safely in your midst right at the moment you sit down.

You quickly realize your oversight and you groan loudly. Another disaster averted. You look up to your flatmate’s eyes and sigh dreamily. “Draken, you’re really amazing, you know,” to which Draken only shakes his head in mock disappointment as he makes his way back to the stove.

He sees remnants of an attempt at making eggs on the kitchen counter which he doesn’t mention anymore and only quietly clean up. Did you miss your extra hour of sleep? Was it an upset stomach from last night’s prawns? Whatever might be wrong with you, he knows you’d get over it; although this still makes him wonder. He looks you over once.

“Are you ill?” he asks gruffly. It’d be a hassle if one of you gets sick, actually, but he tries to tone down the roughness in his voice because he’s had enough of you keeping it a secret whenever you do.

You expression doesn’t change while you chew and he waits for you to finish. It’s almost laughable how he’s able to tell whether you’re about to tell a lie just by the movement of your hands; you would clench or unclench your fists, you would be biting your nails, your fingers would be drumming on the table or your cheeks, restless as if unable to contain the quiet hum of adrenaline at doing something slightly out of turn.

“No,” you simply say, your hands steady around your spoon and on your lap.

Not a lie, he decides, but not entirely true either. Draken frowns; not that this is nothing new. You do get irritable, (sometimes comically) uncoordinated as if ill, like once a month—

And then it hits him. Must be that time of the month, huh.

It figures why you were already up so early today—it’s barely 7AM—especially since it’s a Saturday. On these days, Draken had noticed that you usually would stay out of people’s ways, people mostly meaning him because you live together (how you navigated around people at work, he never knows), just silently walking within the periphery; staying out late, or otherwise curled up soberly on your end of the couch beside him in front of the TV at night, very rarely enacting conversation.

Okay, then.

He settles on the other end of the table to give you space, and you both eat in silence.

You disappear to your room for a bit right after eating, leaving Draken behind. It takes another while after he finishes his breakfast for him to clean up and then get dressed for his Saturday trip to work. When he finally comes out to the living room, ready to go, his coat draped on one arm and motorcycle keys jingling in his hands, he sees you on the sofa with your head against the backrest, eyes closed and with your own coat on. He’d think you have plans on going out as well, except your entire body is curled up seated with your knees up, bare feet planted on the sofa, both arms hugging protectively around your torso. He raises an eyebrow at your slightly frowning expression.

“You heading somewhere?” he asks.

You don’t even turn to look at him. “Drugstore. In a few minutes.”

He doesn’t respond for a good three seconds or five choosing to wait for whatever further elaboration from you, before you crack an eye open. “Gathering energy, Ken.”

He tries to come up with something to say. First of all, you would definitely think that he looks too overdressed to be simply going on a drugstore errand, he thinks, but oh, what the hell. “I’m heading there. You need anything?”

You slowly open your eyes as if your mind’s taking a second to catch up; you narrow them slightly at him, dumbfounded. “Really? I thought you’re gonna go check that old bike that Seishu brought in?”

Draken’s eye twitches; of course, he’d mentioned this to you over dinner last night. “I meant I’m dropping by. I’ll be quick in the shop anyway, I don’t plan on working there all morning, you know.” He did, actually, plan on doing a bit more thorough work this morning and not merely a ‘quick’ one, but there’s no real hurry after all. Monday it is, then.

You’re still looking at him a bit suspiciously. “What were you gonna buy?” and he quickly thinks of something.

“Milk.”

You swallow down the mention of the hefty stock of milk in the pantry that you won from that freakishly lucky lottery at the supermarket last week, and find yourself secretly smiling at the light tinge of pink on his cheeks—a subtle, particular tell-tale sign of his attempt at lying. “Okay,” is all you say.

“So, you need anything?”

You shift your body on your seat so you’re now curled up on your right and facing him.

“If it isn’t too much trouble…” and he stifles down a sigh, because of course you’d think every small favor you put out there in the world is potential trouble enough for anyone. “I need painkillers.” He’s still looking at you without saying anything, urging you to continue. You hand him a piece of paper from your pocket.

“These ones,” you shrug as he takes the slightly crumpled paper. “The clerk would know what it is.”

“Gotcha.”

Neither of you habitually says your goodbyes anymore, not really, must be from all the years and years of being around each other, presences effortlessly orbiting, knowing that the other is just there and, if not, will not be gone for very long anyway…always finding home, always seeing and looking out for one another, in your own, secret ways; this time, however, he turns his head back before stepping out, his eyes finding yours.

“Promise you’ll go to your room if you’re feeling ill?” his smile manages to soften the hint of demand lacing his tone. You smile back. You hardly have to verbalize things anymore for Draken to understand.

“I will, Ken. Promise.”

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read part 2

author’s note: latest chapter had me thinking more about draken, is all

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

My Maribat Betrothal AU: Take Two

Okay so people like that post that is more of a train wreck produced by my sleep-deprived brain. I expanded on it and added some changes. Fair warning: Most of my ML and DC knowledge came from Maribat fics, a few episodes and the DCU movies like son of Batman. I have Mari's pov and background stuff written and it needs some editing. Anyways, enjoy <3

It is not a continuation but: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0

[Masterlist]

(Part 2)

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

PART 1

Damian groaned.

He was not having a good day.

First, Father decided to pair him with Todd, TODD of all people, for patrol.

Second, while doing a stake-out for the warehouse near the docks which might be used as storage for criminal activity and enduring Red Hood's annoying taunts, they both were knocked out by tranquilizers and his mother's face was the last thing he had remembered seeing.

"Don't worry, little one. You are just fulfilling your duties as heir to the Demon's Head. Then, all will be perfect." She had said, just before he fully lost consciousness.

Third, he woke up to being chained up with a major headache. Taking a bearing of his surroundings, the room he was imprisoned in had two exits, an iron door and a window that had the view of his childhood home. He was dressed in wedding ensembles of the League of Shadows. Red Hood was chained up next to him as well but unlike him, still had his suit and helmet on. Glancing to the other side, he saw a raven-haired girl, chained up and dressed in the black and gold robes of a bride. She had also retained consciousness and was staring at him.

Bluebell eyes met his piercing green.

His betrothal was petite with Asian features. She had freckles dotting her button nose and rosy cheeks.

She is fragile and will break easily, he thought. Why did his mother want him to marry such a weakling?

"Savez-vous où nous sommes? (Do you know where we are?)" Her voice was sweet and trembling with fear. Her eyes were wide and seemed filled with innocence yet carrying great sadness. She was an Angel, an ordinary girl, not fit for this harsh and unforgiving world she was forcefully going to get married to.

She opened her mouth to ask another question and suddenly, she went limp, appearing to be unconscious. Damian furrowed his brows in confusion. Why did she-

A moment later, he heard footsteps approaching and the iron door opened to reveal his mother.

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

Jason woke up to the sight of the Bitch Talia and Demon Spawn, face to face, glaring at each other.

Talia broke the tense silence.

"Damian, I hope you know what you should do."

"To be forcefully married to that little girl. She is no one special. Why am I getting married to her?"

Married? The Demon Spawn is getting married?!

Jason saw through his helmeted vision, a girl about Damian's age, chained up like them but not yet awake. He raised his hand and saw the shackles around his wrists. The chains were connected to the wall. He experimentally yanked the chains, drawing Talia’s attention.

“Well, Jason, you are awake. You can be the best man for the wedding.”

“No. I don’t know what game you are playing but you better release us. B is gonna find us and you will pay. Let the girl go. She is innocent in all of this.” Jason said vehemently.

"Ladybug may not seem like it but she possesses great power that my father converted for centuries. Speaking of, she should be awake by now."

Talia stood up and grabbed Ladybug’s(?) hair and yanked so that her eyes met the girl's. The girl, who unfortunately was going to be the Demon Spawn's bride, lets out a cry and starts to tear up. Jason felt anger at how she was being treated, seeing the girl as a little sister already.

"Tch, See, she is more pathetic than I thought. She is not powerful." Demon Spawn growled out. The girl starts babbling in French. From the little French Jason knows, she was begging for mercy.

“Like I thought, weak. She is not deserving of the title of my wife.” Damian spat out.

"Appearance can be deceiving. Despite her demeanor, she is the current wielder of the Ladybug Miraculous and the Current Guardian. The old Guardian, the old fool had promised her in exchange for his protection." Talia countered, letting go of the girl.

Miraculous? Guardian? What the hell?

"That doesn't mean I want to marry her. She is not worthy of an Al Ghul or a Wayne. Look at her, crying at the slightest feeling of pain."

The mother and son begin to bicker. Damian refusing to marry and Talia trying to change his mind.

“Yes, both have to be willing to be married but the curse placed on both of you will ensure that you will agree.”

The dark haired girl had stopped crying and started whispering in a strange language when the fight started, fiddling with the silver ring she wore. Jason saw a terrifying smile crossed the face of the girl across him that chilled him to the bones. Later, a black blur came out of her robes and went through the door. He wondered if he imagined that before he was a determined glint in her eyes.

He blinked.

Talia was choking on the chains that were previously chained to the wall and were now around her neck. Fortunately for them, Talia had closed the door after her entrance and the guards most likely to be stationed outside didn’t storm into the cell. The girl whispered something in Talia's ear, making the woman's eyes widen with what could be fear.

The experienced assassin struggled to get free and gain an upper hand on the girl but was unsuccessful, passing out from the lack of oxygen and strangely strong grip of the small girl.

What happened next was surprising. She breathed hard on her shackles which instantly disintegrated into flakes of rust.

Holy Shit! Demon Spawn's girl is magic. Jason knows his mouth was hanging open under his helmet at that realization. Damian seems to be in the same state.

Talia didn't have the keys to the locks. Being crafty like that. Bitch

"Call me Lady." she said in lightly accented English as she summoned black orbs at the tip of her hands. “Stay still.”

She then proceeds to place her hands on Jason’s shackles, turning them into nothing more than specks.

"I am Red Hood." said Jason, rubbing his wrists.

"The little shit here," as he kicked Damian's leg, " is-"

"Damian Al Ghul" she said the last name with venom. She moved on to Damian's bonds. "Son of that bitch over there, grandson of Ra's, demon heir, blah blah blah. Hold still, mon mignon. I am sure you don't want to lose a hand."

Damian stopped moving at that, due to the pet name or fear Jason couldn’t tell but by the red at the tips of his ear, it could be the former. And she used her powers to free him.

Lady somehow managed to use what remained of the chains to hog tie Talia up.

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“How do we get out?” Damian asked, inspecting the blade that he flinched from his mother.

“Hey, kit.” A nasally voice called out. “I checked out the place we are in. Like you asked. The way to the Throne room is heavily guarded and they seem to think old Ra’s the target. The Pits are guarded too but they are nothing you can’t handle.”

“What is that?” Jason shrieked.

“Thanks, Plagg, you will get that camembert danish when we get back. This is a kwami, a god of sorts and his thing is destruction so I wouldn’t insult him if I were you. He likes to go by Plagg”, answered Lady, which doesn’t clear up Jason’s confusion.

“So, Pigtails, what’s the plan?” The floating, black cat-shaped god(?) asked.

“I was thinking of destroying the Pits to give Al Ghul a middle finger and call Maman to use the Horse to get home.”

“We need Tikki to get rid of it..”

“I will just tell Maman to bring the earrings.”

Damian snorted, “That sounds like a foolish plan. You are insane and not strong enough to take on the League alone, despite having a ‘god’ of destruction at your side. This Tikki or magic earrings will destroy the Pits, many have tried. And sorry to disappoint but no horse can make it up the mountainside of Nanda Parbat.”

“Have to agree with Demon Spawn here and I rarely do that. Your plan sounds insane, Pixie. You are just one girl. Let us help, we know the League better than you. We can come up with a better one.” Jason was worried for the girl, she was crazy if she thought her plan would work.

Lady smirked, “It is a perfectly sound plan. I know what I am talking about. Despite the weak girl act, I am no Damsel in distress. After this is all over, we will split our ways and hopefully, never see each other again.”

“We can’t separate. My mother said there is a curse that will ‘make us fall in love.’” Damian said, using air quotes. “You need to come with us so we can get someone to break it.”

“Fine. But I need to do something before I am coming with you. Plagg, Claws out.”

Bright green light flashed around her and she was now dressed in a black bodysuit with green linings. It was armoured at the chest, knees and elbows. (Add whatever details you want, I can’t do it. Jacket, designs, use your imagination) Her gloves were claws-like, reminding them of Selina and there was a belt carrying some vials, pouches and throwing stars. Her hair was now longer and braided and seemed to move on its own. Cat ears were attached to her head. Her eyes were changed so the sclera were the same shade of blue as her iries and the pupils were slitted like a cat. A black domino mask framed her face. Two ten-inch daggers appeared out of thin air in her hands.

The transformed Lady did the inhuman feat of kicking the door open. The assassins stationed outside were immediately knocked out by Lady.

“Well, are you coming or not?” She called out, before running down the corridor. Jason patted his shocked brother’s shoulder, “You doing okay there, demon spawn?”

“Tch, Let’s go, Todd.” Damian replied, trying to get rid of that funny feeling in his chest.

[delimeful]

nothing in this world (i wouldn’t do) (3)

warnings: misunderstandings, OCs, mild drowning/hypothermia, violence, one instance of self-inflicted injury, attempted self sacrifice, cliffhanger

-

Virgil laid low for a while after his encounter with Roman, avoiding towns and taking winding paths far from the main roads. Every passing moment, he half-expected a maniac with a sword to descend upon him out of nowhere.

Isolating himself probably made him seem more suspicious, an easier target, but he didn’t want to risk getting caught in a crowd. Demon slayers were an odd bunch, rumored to have supernatural senses to counter a demon’s, and the last thing he needed was to be outed in front of everyone.

The rumors about the ‘Hooded Demon Slayer’ had shown him that gossip spread in unpredictable ways, and he didn’t want to have that unpredictability turned against him.

So, yeah, no towns.

Unfortunately, that plan hadn’t accounted for the people living out in more rural spaces, the way his own family had once.

And now he was here, in a silent standoff at the shore of a frozen lake with a stranger who was staring at him with far too much alarm for his liking.

He held up a hand in an awkward wave. The stranger threw a handful of salt at him, made a sign to ward off evil, and then twisted on their heel and bolted.

Virgil blew some salt out of his fringe, nonplussed, but didn’t move after them.

Either they’d noticed his eyes reflecting eerily the way they sometimes did when light caught on them, or they really hated social interactions. Regardless, who was Virgil to stop their frantic flee to safety?

There was an ominous cracking sound from the direction they’d just run off in.

That could be anything, Virgil told himself stalwartly.

As if in retribution for the thought, there was a splash, as though perhaps something approximately human-sized had been abruptly plunged into the waters of an icy lake.

Virgil was sighing even as he hurried onto the ice after them.

Sure enough, the stranger was scrabbling at the edge of the brand-new hole they’d made, eyes wide and breath coming in tiny little gasps as they clawed at the ice.

He stepped closer testingly, and the ice pinged in warning, hairline fractures spreading under his feet. The stranger let out a half-sob, probably thinking that an evil demon was taunting them or something.

Virgil pulled off his cloak, brushing his fingers over the clumsy stitching of the patch closest to the neckline for good luck. He really hoped he wouldn’t have to patch it up further after this.

His ears catching every minute noise the ice made, he leaned forward as far as he could and tossed one end of the cloak in front of the stranger’s grasping hands.

They latched on with surprising speed, maybe due to cold shock, and Virgil tugged them up.

The ice in front of them broke the moment their weight was leaning on it, and he hissed through gritted teeth. Didn’t this person know anything about escaping thin ice?

He struggled to speak, and only growled, the noise low and half-choked. Somewhere between his mind and his mouth, the words became tangled and refused to form. He would guess that horrific man-eating monsters didn’t deserve to talk, but he’d witnessed other demons chattering away, so maybe it was just something in his brain that had been scrambled. Figured.

Giving up on words, he instead slowly lowered himself until he was flat on his stomach, now eye level with the stranger. He forced his hand into a flat shape and laid it on the ice several times, hoping that they would catch on.

Gradually, they did, though they looked as though they could hardly believe they were listening. They stretched their arms out and kicked their back legs in the water until they were as level as possible, though their movements were growing more sluggish.

Virgil reeled the cloak towards him, providing the leverage needed to help them propel themselves onto flat, unbroken ice. He relaxed slightly in relief.

They immediately tried to get to their knees, prompting a creak from the ice beneath them, and Virgil snarled so viciously that they went right back down like their limbs had given out, terrified eyes locked on him.

That was one way to tell them not to stand, he supposed.

As quickly as he could, he shuffled back to solid ice, towing the stranger along with him over the smooth icy expanse. Once the ice beneath them was solid against even a few elbow jabs, he rose to his feet and gestured for them to do the same.

Apparently being dunked in life-threatening waters had taken the fight out of them, because they followed without protest, trembling from the cold or fear or both. They were still clutching tightly to the cloak, so Virgil used it to lead them along the ice until they reached solid ground again, mindful of their slow, stumbling pace.

All told, they hadn’t been in the water very long, perhaps under a minute or two. Still, Virgil knew better than to leave them to their own devices. One didn’t grow up on an icy mountain range without knowing what the cold could do to people.

He sniffed the air, the dip in water thankfully muting the scent beside him, and easily caught the trail that the human must have taken. Hopefully, it would lead to an actual building as opposed to some campsite in the woods.

The stranger seemed to be about Thomas’s age, though they currently looked more like a drowned mouse than anything else, and Virgil had been able to lift Thomas up into a fireman’s carry even before he’d gotten the supernatural strength of a demon, so he had no problem scooping them up and beginning to run.

They kicked and flailed for a short moment before seeming to just… give up, letting their limbs go limp and heavy, their only movement the full-body shivering that was still tearing through them.

Shivering was good, Virgil reminded himself, shivering meant they weren’t at lethally dangerous levels of cold or shock yet. He should feel reassured about that, but he couldn’t ignore the terror that was practically coming off the stranger in waves.

He couldn't shake away the memories of carrying a younger Thomas around in the same hold, either. The gleeful shrieks of his kid brother being toted around overlapped with the taut, tremulous silence of this stranger, painful nostalgia twisting in his chest.

Once again, the world proved that he was right to have left Thomas. Even the idea of his little brother like this-- drenched and resigned and terrified of him-- was enough to make his stomach roll. He didn’t want to imagine how bad it would feel to face it in reality.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek and kept moving, hoping that shelter was nearby.

-

The upside was that Virgil had found a small house, saturated thickly enough with the stranger’s scent that it had to be their home.

The downside was that there was someone in there.

The other downside was that as soon as he got within sight of the little home, the drowned-kitten stranger found a reserve of energy apparently dedicated to trying to smack the shit out of him.

He grunted in annoyance as another swing thwapped against the back of his head, their other hand frantically attempting to grab at his ears and throat with surprising vehemence. It was about as effective in actually harming him as a kitten’s pounce, but he tilted his head away anyways before they could get too close to one of his eyes. Sure, his eye would probably heal from any damage human hands could inflict, but superhuman regeneration didn’t mean he couldn’t feel it.

Calm down, he tried to project, but the few throaty chirrups that curled out of him weren’t exactly reassuring to a human.

They continued to struggle, not subsiding even when Virgil’s annoyance turned to literal growling, and he eventually just gave in and crouched to shift them off his shoulders.

Rather than try to struggle to their feet and bolt for the door, they plunged a hand into a pocket and came out with-- Virgil’s irritated rumble spiked up into an alarmed snarl, but he was too late to keep them from putting the carved whistle to their lips and blowing hard.

The piercing noise was enough to make him shift back, and two heartbeats later, the door of the cabin slammed open, revealing the silhouette of a new stranger.

Next to him, Drowned-Kitten was making a motion with their hands over and over, but the new person barely even glanced at them before running directly at Virgil, pulling a knife from a sheath with vicious intent.

The dagger’s blade practically glowed, even in the dark of the night, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose up the moment it got in range. He jumped backwards, but Stab-Happy just kept coming, matching his ‘back-off’ growl with a shattered human snarl of her own.

Slayer-knife or not, this human didn’t have nearly half the trained grace he’d witnessed from Roman, and so he was able to trip her up and grab her wrist mid-strike, ignoring the way being so close to the blade made his skin crawl.

He twisted, forcing her to drop the knife, and the moment it hit the ground, he dragged her back toward the open doorway, ignoring her vicious swearing as she struggled to break away.

Drowned-Kitten made a choked-off sound but was barely able to move, let alone stand and stop him.

The interior of the cabin provided what he needed, and he yanked a blanket from the mat on the floor and shoved Stabby into a chair, swiftly wrapping the blanket around her until she could only snap her teeth and kick her legs, the rest of her swaddled against the chair back.

“Get back here!” she screamed when he turned back to the door, the anger in her voice cracking into something close to fear.

Drowned-Kitten had crawled a few paces from where he’d left them, and they’d grabbed the fallen blade. Virgil grimaced as they pointed it at him with trembling hands, looking frantic enough that they seemed more likely to injure themself with the jittering knife than him.

He couldn’t tell exactly in the dark, but it seemed like their hands were turning the shiny red that heralded frostbite. They needed treatment. Why did people have to make everything so damned difficult?

A moment passed in this silent standoff, Stabby’s angry shouts still going strong, and Drowned-Kitten’s gaze strayed past Virgil to the doorway before their gaze went firm and hard.

They tightened their hand on the knife hilt-- and ran it clumsily over their other palm, opening a thin red line.

Virgil was there in the next instant, wrenching the knife away before they could try again for a less shallow injury. They shuddered but didn’t recoil, tucking their face away like they didn’t want to see what happened next.

The smell of blood turned thick and cloying in the air, and Virgil swallowed the sudden welling of saliva in his mouth with no little irritation.

Snarling, he grabbed the back of their shirt with his other hand and yanked, using the shirt as a makeshift scruff and stomping back inside. He dropped them on the mat, pulling the satchel he’d restocked at the last town from his back.

“Don’t you dare touch them, you monster!” Stabby yelled indignantly, and Virgil ignored her entirely to press a pad of gauze against the cut and breathe very carefully through his mouth.

Drowned-Kitten watched him wind thin cloth bandages around the gauze with wide eyes, like they weren’t quite sure this was real. More of those hand motions-- signs?-- and even Stabby grew quiet, thankfully for the headache beginning to pulse behind Virgil’s eyes.

The two of them were eerily silent as they watched him poke around their cozy little home with bated breath, dragging any extra cloth he could find to drape over the one who’d fallen into freezing waters and stoking the fire stove until warmth suffused the room.

Drowned-Kitten’s breathing turned strained almost immediately, the increasing temperature likely feeling much too hot on their skin, but they grit their teeth through it and didn’t try to shed any of the blankets after Virgil just insistently pressed them back on.

He crouched in front of them and held his hands up, moving his fingers through the slow stretches that would help ease the near-frostnip that had blistered Drowned-Kitten’s fingertips red. This, at least, was something he was familiar with, having done it frequently for passing travelers back when he apprenticed under the town’s doctor.

Back then, he’d mostly helped neighbors with colds or bruises and ran delivery errands, rarely seeing the doctor perform actual large-scale treatments. How was it that he was only getting more experience with medicine out in the field after becoming a demon?

Seriously. He was pretty sure that having a monster tending to them was freaking people out.

Case in point, the silent, secretive conversation that the two teens behind him were trying to have, made slightly less discreet by Stabby’s occasional hissed answer. He added a bit more charcoal to the stove, and rose from his squatted position to stare at the two of them, feeling fairly satisfied at the way Drowned-Kitten no longer looked as though they’d been dunked in freezing waters.

It had been an annoying detour, but at least he could say that he hadn’t yet managed to drive someone to death-by-lake just by walking past them.

Dawn would come soon. He unraveled the knotting keeping Stabby in the chair and ducked through the door back into the cold night air before she could fully untangle herself.

He took the knife with him.

-

Naturally, because the fates weren’t fond of him, the pair found him curled up in a cave the next day.

Drowned-Kitten-- or Harley, as Virgil would learn-- could smell demons, and had followed his trail, DW-- also known as Stabby-- right behind them. He hadn’t bothered to hide his scent trail because he hadn’t caught wind of another demon for miles, and foolishly assumed that he was safe. Which had led to him being cornered and interrogated by two teenagers.

Yeah, he’d been less than pleased.

Still, he could snarl and snap until they stepped out of his cave, but he couldn’t exactly get away with the sunlight bright overhead. So, he grumpily conceded to the questioning.

Surprisingly enough, they seemed to believe him when he shook his head ‘no’ to ‘are you going to eat people’. They hadn’t outright expressed doubts, at least. It was kind of concerning that they took his word for it.

DW had demanded the knife back, at least. Smart kid.

He’d attempted to shoo them off afterwards, but Harley had been very insistent on ‘repaying their debt’, wary in the way that meant someone had given them kindness before, but with strings attached. DW had eyed him with more blatant suspicion.

They didn’t owe him anything. Debts, deals, returned favors... Those were for people, not monsters. Virgil had dragged a hand over his face and wished he could say as much.

And then he’d paused.

He’d jabbed a clawed finger at the little hand signs that Harley made, the ones DW had been translating the entire time, and tried to mimic them sloppily until the two cottoned on to what he was asking.

Lessons in hand-speech.

Maybe there was still a way for him to speak after all.

-

From there, they settled into routine.

Virgil spent his days in the shadiest corner of their little house at the urging of Harley’s puppy-dog eyes, and at night, after their daily work was done, he would slink out under DW’s wary gaze and learn how to angle his hands into the proper shapes and flick small motions full of meaning in the right directions.

He picked up on the structure of the language surprisingly fast. Harley was a patient teacher, and DW was always willing to provide extra details on where Virgil had gone wrong.

He’d half expected them to usher him out the door once he’d had the basics down, but the season began to turn and still, they allowed his presence. The blatant trust was enough to make him worry, though any attempts to convince them to be more careful around demons earned him a confused look from Harley and a derisive snort from DW.

Hopefully, Thomas wasn’t being so reckless.

Since he was staying, he insisted on carrying their heavier goods down to the market in the nearby town, heading out with them in the early-morning dark and making sure they didn’t fall into any more lakes on the way there. He spent those market days waiting in a dark spot, his nerves frayed, until evening fell and he could meet them at their agreed rendezvous point.

As he adjusted to the sudden presences around him after so long traveling alone, the two adjusted to him as well. He hadn’t realized just how many noises he made aloud in substitute for his thoughts until Harley showed him all the signs for different emotions, and matched each of them with a soft imitation of Virgil’s growl, or huff, or even, embarrassingly, that cat-like purr that got started when he was particularly pleased. DW had laughed hard enough to make her side cramp up.

He could admit it. It was… nice. To not be feared. To have people to look after again.

Naturally, though, his occasional presence at their side couldn’t go unnoticed forever, and once one person knew, practically the whole town was guaranteed to hear about it. If Virgil had been paying better attention to anything but the two teens under his protection, he could have had advance warning.

But he hadn’t, and so he wasn’t ready when a polite knock came at the door, unusual considering how remote their little home was. He wasn’t ready for the sudden foreboding that washed over him as the three of them exchanged glances.

He wasn’t ready when DW opened the door to the sight of a smiling stranger with a sun-bright sword at his hip.

[sweetcathedral]

Note: First Toji story! Your "mom" that I had in mind for this one is basically a female Nanami, and your adoptive mom. Tried my best not to get burnt out from this one, so it might sound a bit rushed and repetitive, but I’ll be taking a two week break after I post Gojo’s sometime this week (hopefully tomorrow or the day after). Enjoy !

⚠️: 18+, raw, bulge, plot (?), voyeurism/exhibitionism (phone), eating out, fingering

It was obvious why Toji was around your mother lately, and why your mother still bothered keeping him around.

“Cut the sweet talking and just say you’re broke again,” you overheard your mother say. There wasn’t any anger or resentment in her voice, she didn’t need any sweet talking for her to lend Toji money again ‘cause she was also someone without any need for attachments. In fact, your mother hated attachments, so her pretend relationship with Toji was perfect. Not only did he fuck her any chance he got, but your mother even asked if he could take you into his place until you found a suitable apartment close to your university (of course he’d be getting paid double the amount for the hassle).

“I don’t have an extra room, so take mine for now. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You sure? I don’t mind taking the couch instead,” now that you’re finally facing him, you take in the details of his gruff features, hardened by whatever work he does for a living.

“Something wrong?” he cocks his head to the side and rubs his hand at the back of his neck.

“No. Sorry, it’s just—it’s my first time properly seeing you,” you can feel the heat rise up in your body.

“Oh, I guess it is,” he walks up to you and looks down, realizing how big he is and that you’re no longer looking at him from afar. “You’ve changed from the last time I saw you though,” measuring you against him, using his hand to see where your height compares. He smelt of smoke and something metallic, a foreign scent your memory had nothing to contrast to. A dark red smear on his forearm catches your attention. You thoughtlessly brush your fingers on his arm, triggering him to grab your wrist. His eyes widened in a wilderness you’ve never seen before with a hint of panic.

“Um . . .” you didn’t know how to react.

“Sorry,” he clears his throat and collects his composure back, “I’m gonna go take a shower first. Make yourself comfortable.”

The grip around your wrist lightens, leaving a red imprint that’s a bit sore to the touch.

Fuck. Toji had been too caught up with the bounty hunts he took that he forgot you were temporarily moving in with him today. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. It was his calendar app that reminded him, in the middle of a fight with a curse user, that he quickly finished the job and rushed back home to see you already standing at his door. Patiently waiting for him to answer the first few knocks and hesitating to knock again, which he found cute. He didn’t even have time to clean his wounds up when he snuck in through his back window.

Once Toji strode into the bathroom and locked himself in, he took off his shirt, thankful for the black shade concealing the blood slowly oozing out of his wound on the side of his torso. “Tch, for fuck sakes,” he mumbled before cleaning off the excess blood and throwing his shirt in the garbage. He thought his forearm was wounded too, the pain concealed from the rush of adrenaline he still had from running back home, but it was just the blood from his torso.

Toji wasn’t sure how to react when he’d see you again, especially as a proper person, since he has never paid any attention to you back then, until now.

“Take in my daughter until she finds her own place. She’s currently shopping for ones near her university since the other one had a person who died in the building,” your mother told him over the phone, neither sounding like a question or a demand.

“Huh? You have a kid?”

“Are you blind now too?”

“Don’t give much attention to kids.”

“Well she’s an adult now, so how ‘bout it?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Money, of course.”

“Heh, deal,” he answered, not giving much thought to the details as long as he’s getting paid for it.

“Now you’re making it sound like I’m selling my daughter off to the Devil.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.”

“She’ll be coming over in two weeks time,” your mother sighed in relief before hanging up.

Toji pulls himself back to the present hearing the faint scuffling of your feet across the floor, probably carrying your boxes and luggage into the living room. I should help her out. He carefully lifts the towel off his wound to check if the bleeding started to slow down. He lost track of how long he’d been in the bathroom, so he went against the thought of stitching it up and just slapped on some gauze for now. It’d be suspicious if he holed himself in the bathroom for too long. As Toji inhaled his breath to pull himself together, he raised his head, losing his sense of his equilibrium.

“Shit,” he softly chuckles, seeing his blurry reflection in the mirror falling out of the frame and hitting the floor. His body goes limp as his mind slowly succumbs to the darkness, only the sound of your frantic voice through the door being the last to leave his senses.

When you finally busted the door open, Toji was shirtless and laying on the floor drifting in and out of consciousness. You flipped him over to see that he was trying to patch up his wound. “We need to get you to a hospital,” you started dialing 911, but his heavy arm stops you from doing so.

“. . . don’t . . .” he desperately said through ragged breaths before going limp again.

“Fine, but I need to at least get you to your room. I’m not strong enough to carry you,” you try to heave him up to his feet, lugging his arm over your shoulder, opposite from the side where his wound is.

Once you managed to get him in his room, you guided him to his bed before rushing through your boxes to find your medical stitch kit. Although it was hard trying to disinfect his wound before stitching him up and placing a clean gauze over it, you managed to help him dodge the hospital bills he wanted to avoid. Cheapskate, just use the money you get from my mom.

You let out a sigh, tired from the nervousness of moving into a new place shared by a man with a mysterious background, and the panic that ensued when Toji looked like he was knocking on Death’s door. Peering up at him from the side of his bed, you take in his other scars along his body; there’s a jagged one on his chest, a couple clean slits along his shoulder, and some small rigid circular ones scattered over his stomach. You lightly run your fingers over the soft pink flesh like tracing a roadmap of his past life, his scars standing out like checkpoints.

“Home. My father threw me into a . . . fighting pit,” the rough vibration of his voice startles you, breaking you from your trance.

“Sorry, I—!” you pull away, retracting your hand back. But instead Toji grabs it back, unfurling your fingers to place them back on his scar.

“Also home. A fight with my cousins . . .” he continues guiding your fingers throughout his body, dragging you from scar to scar and telling you the story of his past, like there was nothing to hide. “And finally,” he gently places your palm on his fresh wound, “. . . another bounty hunt . . .” There was a moment of hesitation in his voice, his eyes laid on your hand as he thumbs over your knuckles, twiddling with your fingers before firmly yanking you over him onto the bed.

His finger traces up the curve of your spine, the small of your back, feeling the bulge form under his joggers—nudging at the plump bulb of your cunt through the thin fabric of your satin shorts. Keeping yourself calm and collected, you push yourself up from his shoulders, his muscles tensing up from your touch.

“Toji, I don’t have money to pay you. The medical courses in university are expensive already.”

“Who said I was asking for money?” he traces down your neck with his eyes before bringing you towards him, rubbing a lock of your hair between his thumb and index finger as he kisses your neck.

“You’re hurt and acting delirious from the pain. I’ll look through my boxes to see if I still have painkillers,” you huffed, trying to fight through his strength and the aching need to continue to see through to the end. It felt wrong, but his desperate hands kept you from making the right decisions.

“Don’t leave, stay,” he whispered between kisses, now trailing down to your breasts, sucking at your nipples. The straps of your tank top and bralette slip from your shoulders as his fingers softly drag down your back, your garments now clinging to your waist. Your soft moans bounce off the walls of the room. Your fingers laced through his hair, continuing to tease your nipples and thoughtlessly riding your hips on his bulge, leaving a wet stain through your shorts and his joggers. A wave of shame clashes over your need to have more of him, but the movements of his hands, arm, tongue, body keeps you from turning back.

“I can’t take it anymore,” you moaned through huffs of breaths.

“Then, what are you waiting for? Do it. I’m right there,” he valiantly bucks his hips up, pressing his erection into your pliant cunt, holding your thighs down on either side of him.

Your fingers reach for his cock from under you, molding around the shape of him as you push his joggers further down his hips. There was already precum dripping down his cock, painfully pulsating at your soft touch. You hold the tip at your entrance, glossy and slippery from your eager juices, and slowly ease yourself onto his cock. Toji groans at your plump walls hugging him and pulling him deeper inside of you. Your body blooms into a lustful behaviour that even he was surprised in awe at the honesty, forming a bemused grin across his face.

When your hips started to tremble beyond control, Toji continued, propping himself up with his arms and careful not to bust the stitches you gave him. At this point his pain had melted into pleasure, gratefully thrusting into your cervix and feeling the satisfaction of the shape of his tip protruding from your lower abdomen. You wrap your arms around him, spreading your legs wider so as to not touch his wound.

“Ngh, I think I’m about to pass out,” you bit back a moan, struggling to keep from cramping.

“Heh, that’s cute,” he rammed himself harder into you, the sound of slapping intertwining with your moans & grunts. Your body twitches in intervals, keeping up with his rhythm, nearing your climax. Toji grasps onto you, clamping you down on him as his warm cum fills up your womb, unable to keep the excess from flowing out.

“Shit, sorry,” he reaches down to touch your vulva, the tips of his fingers feeling at his thick substance leaking out from you..

“Mm-mm, it’s fine. Infertile,” you said, trying to catch your breath.

“Did you cum yet?”

A giggle fell from your lips, “not yet—!” he flips you over before you could finish whatever you were about to say, switching places so that you’re laying on your back now. He wasn’t gonna take that for an answer cause he always finishes what he started.

“Allow me,” his head settled in between your legs, hands firmly placed at the back of your thighs. You sharply inhaled at the soft velvety feel of his tongue to your sensitive clit, and the strong feeling of his fingers pushing through your swollen walls. Your head falls back into a lustful daze, allowing him to do whatever he wants to do to you. Only the sound of your rapid breathing and cute moans fill the air of the room, as Toji satisfies himself with your lewd expressions and lolled out tongue.

“Did you make it safely to Toji’s place?” your mom asks through the phone.

“Yeah . . . everything, went well,” you bit your tongue, flailing your hands behind you to try and get Toji to slow down.

“Are you okay? You sound too out of breath in the morning.”

“Yeah—! I just, just came back for a—jog,” he thrusts harder into you, having fun watching you try to keep your composure. Ready to hear a moan slip out from your wet lips. “Anyways, I need to, to go, bye mom!” you hung up before she could say her goodbyes.

“Someone held up pretty well,” he chuckles at the nape of your neck before leaving his marks along it.

“Fuck you,” you pant, hating yourself for obliging in this situation, but loving the hard feeling of his cock splitting you apart. He hooks one of your legs up to the kitchen counter, your other fighting to stay on its tippy toes as you reach your morning climax—squirting on the kitchen floor.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growls in your ear, flipping you over and stirring his cock back inside of you. “Get ready to go rounds with me.”

[suspicious-whumping-egg]

Alec and Raina part 18 and Toxin Day

Happy toxin day! (Event by @whump-of-the-month) Tw for noncon drugging, coercion, and blackmail/manipulation. Alec and Raina masterlist is here. Enjoy!

~~

Isn’t this enough of a punishment? Alec thought bitterly. He hung limp in an intricate web of cordlike ropes, trussed up to a column to be better put on display, a muzzle tightened around his face. He’d hardly registered who the people were that did it— at some point, he’d stopped keeping track of his own agony and had let his mind drift far away, where he could pretend he was somewhere else and someone else.

He was dragged back to reality with a hand through his hair, and flinched in shock before instinctively stilling himself. He groaned through the bit of the muzzle, his muscles aching from being tied in one position for so long. 

“Ready to be let down, darling?” Raina asked him, her honeyed voice dripping with false sympathy. Alec nodded weakly, tugging pitifully at the tight restraints. He knew he’d be punished when she untied him, but he’d rather have it done with. It would have to happen sooner or later. 

He felt the cold metal end of a blade against his skin as Raina sliced the ropes that bound him, letting him collapse unceremoniously to the floor. He whimpered at the harsh impact as his body slammed against the marble, his limbs too useless for him to even catch himself. 

Raina grabbed him by the wrists and dragged him behind her, callous to her captive’s muffled protests. “I don’t want to hear it, Alec,” she snapped. He flinched, twitching in her grip. It struck him that this was the first time in too long that she’d called him by name— was she really that angry at him? He supposed he’d find out soon enough. 

She pulled him down the stairs to the basement, ignoring his cries as his body hit each step. “I know it’s only human to want to avoid pain, but I thought we were past this silly defiance phase,” she sighed. “Do you want me to send you back to Hadley until you learn to respect me?” 

Please no please I can respect you— Alec tried to say. He shook his head rapidly, mumbling incoherently through the muzzle. “Nhh—“ he managed desperately, but nothing more. Please…

Raina knelt down and unbuckled the muzzle, tugging it out from between his lips and setting it on the ground. “Try again,” she prompted. 

Alec barely even hesitated in his response, he already knew he’d prefer Raina’s torments to the hell that’d await him with Hadley. “I c’n be good, please,” he slurred, the words heavy and awkward as they rolled from his clumsy mouth. “Don’ take me back… I’ll be good…” 

Raina nodded approvingly and flipped the light switch on in the cell, white light flooding the room to replace the barren sunlight from the window that was barely more than a crack in the wall. “I’m glad we understand each other, then,” she said sweetly. “Anyone else tries to get you out, and you go straight to me.”

She was preparing something he couldn’t quite glimpse from his limp position on the floor, he only saw her black stilettos clicking across the floor as she got his punishment ready. But it was still enough to make his heart race. 

Raina bent down to pick him up, taking him in her arms as if he weighed nothing and depositing him onto a steel table in the corner of the room. Alec noticed the IV stand next to the table and winced, curling back against the wall he was propped up on.

 “I don’t usually like to do these kinds of punishments, but unfortunately I don’t think you can take anything else without bleeding out,” Raina explained . “Hopefully it’ll still be plenty enough for you to learn your lesson. I don’t want to have to wait ‘til you heal just so I can do a second round of teaching.” But at least this way she wouldn’t have to do anything but watch him suffer. 

She turned one of his arms to face the ceiling, sliding an alcohol wipe over his inner elbow and locating a vein. She produced a thick needle moments later, aiming for the vein but stabbing right next to it. Alec winced as she tugged the metal out of his arm, giving him a nonchalant shrug before trying again and once again missing the spot by mere millimeters. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved that his punishment would be staved off by seconds, but had no time to make a decision— the next time she tried to insert the needle, she was successful. 

And an instant after the unknown substance began emptying into his bloodstream, Alec cried out weakly. It felt as if fire was pouring into his veins, seizing his whole body and leaving him unable to even tremble with pain. Raina ran a hand through his hair as he began to tear up. “I can’t take it out, dear, you made me do this,” she said condescendingly. 

Acid was melting through his flesh, sending a sharp throbbing through his whole body. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, his world was the pure, white agony of unbearable pain. His soft cries turned into desperate wails, his sobs mixing with screams that escaped his lips despite his pitiful attempts to stifle them. Raina held him through it all, pressing invasive kisses to his forehead and holding him tight. “Just a few more minutes, love, I need to make sure you’ll remember how to be good for me,” she cooed. 

And Alec didn’t even have the strength to push her away. 

~~~~

The sound of loud, rapid knocking filled Dorian’s apartment. He slammed his laptop shut— it wasn’t as if he could focus on work anyway— and rushed to the door. Some tiny, foolish part of him hoped to see Alec on the other side; after all, who else would be at his door well past midnight. Instead, he stared at two well-dressed strangers when he opened the door— one with half-shaved pink hair, a cape-like trench coat over a dark tuxedo, and a pair of crutches; the other lanky and clad in a form-fitting green silk dress. 

“Uh, you’ve got the wrong place,” Dorian said quickly as he began to shut the door. They were probably just coming back late from a party and too drunk to find their own apartments… 

“We’re friends of Raina’s,” said the one in the green dress. “So I suspect you might want to hear us out.” 

Dorian nodded tersely, checking his back pocket for the knife he hadn’t gone without since Alec’s disappearance, and opened the door the rest of the way. “He’s not just in a relationship, is he?” He asked quietly. Forced to join a cult, maybe? Abused so much he wasn’t allowed to leave the house? Using Raina as an excuse to abandon him? Sick with medication being held over his head to keep him with her? 

“No, he’s not,” confirmed the man in the emerald dress. “But we’ll get to that in a moment.” 

A few awkward minutes later, the two strangers had introduced themself sat on Dorian’s couch. As the tense silence grew, he only worried about Alec more and more. “So what happened?” He asked nervously. “What did she do to him?”

Hadley grinned just imagining Alec’s little cries of pain. “A better question would be what didn’t she do— but mainly she kidnapped him, whipped him, broke his leg, drugged him… and in general she forces him to act like he loves her. I don’t blame her, he’s absolutely adorable in pain and such a little slut… but I digress. The point is that you’re collateral— insurance, so to speak. A manipulation tool. And since Alec had a little outburst tonight, she’ll certainly want some kind of incentive for him to improve his behavior.”

Dorian listened to them numbly, images of their descriptions playing in his head. Alec screaming, crying, terrified; forced to act like everything was alright when he came over that one time. Even imagining it made him sick. And they thought he’d participate in tormenting his own boyfriend?! 

“You’re fucking sick,” he spat. “Leave him the fuck alone and give him BACK! Tell Raina that sooner or later, you’ll all get caught if you keep this up. If you let him go, we won’t talk. I swear. I just want him back and safe… I don’t even know your last names, please. He did nothing to deserve this… I— I don’t have money but I swear, anything else you want from me…” he trailed off, blinking back tears and tightening his grip on his knife.

Knox laughed. “He’s too much fun to give back, I’ll say that much. And I know Raina agrees. I think you’re forgetting who has the upper hand here. Hadley’s close enough to Raina that they could kill that boyfriend of yours if they want to, and I would likely find a way as well if needed.” He pulled a gun from a deep pocket in his jacket and placed a finger on the trigger guard, pointing it casually at Dorian— whose knife would do nothing to deter a bullet to the head. 

“You shouldn’t be begging for his freedom but his fucking life, and your own if you have any to spare,” he snapped. 

Hadley produced a gun of their own, not bothering to cock the hammer or even aim it. The threat would be enough. “What we want from you is simple. Either we kill you right here and bring your body back to Alec as a warning, or you sign the documents provided.” They shrugged off their backpack and tugged out a thick stack of papers. “Read through them if you’d like, but it’s the only way you’re making it to tomorrow. In short, we’ll own you. Technically as an indenture, but I don’t expect you’ll be able to pay off a million dollars anytime soon. As long as you don’t cause any trouble, you can mostly lead a normal life and see Alec every so often. But it means any claims you make against us will be invalid, and if you try to run off and hide we have the authorities on our side trying to get our property back. And if you disobey anything we tell you to do, it’s illegal.”

Dorian glanced around his living room, a desperate attempt at finding some path of escape, as his heart seemed to drop out of his chest. “Is that even legal?” He choked out. Either way, I don’t have a fucking choice. 

“Legal for anyone who can afford the right bribes,” Knox replied smugly. “So what’s it gonna be, loverboy? Wanna live to see tomorrow or die without even saying goodbye?” 

Dorian picked up the papers and began skimming the contents, his tears beginning to fall as the situation set in. He’d rather be owned than dead, but he had a feeling he might regret the decision later— although at least he’d be around to contemplate it. 

He picked up the pen he’d used only hours ago to poorly attempt a drawing of his lover and scrawled a miserable signature at the bottom. His tears fell to the paper as they rolled off his face, the only sign he hadn’t agreed of his free will— a sign that would soon be erased.  ~~ Taglist: @hopepetal @painsandconfusion @onlywhump @warm-my-whumpee-heart @dont-touch-my-soup @yesthisiswhump @infinite-olives @bastard-illusionist @crimson-wrld

[beigehearts]

Yandere adult trio when you actually manage to land a hit on them Random drabble I came up with- needed to spoil yall since ive been gone- so ive got three drabbles Lemme know if you want Uvogin and/or Phinks- or if you want a nsfw version of this CW: blood, knives, stabbing

Illumi

Weeks have passed since you were taken from your comparably mundane life. You assume it's been weeks- it could have been longer. For the first time, you have woken up while man who has taken you is not home. He manages to stay at home until you're exhausted- since you won't sleep around him. That way once you collapse from exhaustion- he can escape to do whatever a man like him does.

It's been two hours since you have been stuffed into a kitchen cabinet. Your legs are cramping- and there's a sharp pain in your lower back. There's no way your body can handle being in this cramped position for another hour- hopefully he gets home soon. Or hopefully he never comes back.

You hear the unfamiliar sound of the front door opening, only after the multiple locks have been unlocked.

Click. Click. Click. His shoes tap on the cold floor with a methodical slowness. You hear him walk towards the room you are usually sleeping in when he gets home.

There are no more clicking of his shoes, just an eery silence hanging in the air. Your chance, this is it. You've learned how to silence your own actions- you had to in order to live with this emotionless monster.

Once you're standing upright, you sprint at him- knife in hand. He's quick but he also doesn't expect you to be just as fast. He moves so quickly that you can barely see him, but you drop to the ground, sliding against the wood floor. Your knife slices through his ankle, knowing that it could render his leg useless. There's no sound as you lay on the cold floor, a stand still between you and your captor.

"Interesting." His word is deafening. "I did not expect that of you." Illumi's voice remains calm. It remains calm as well when he grabs you by your arm, grip almost bone shattering. "It seems I have not trained you well." He says as if you're a dog.

You continue swinging, but it seems that Illumi doesn't even care about the damage you're inflicting on him. Cuts that are an inch deep- at least three of them. You glance down at his foot, seeing his pant leg soaked in blood, leaving a trail of it behind him as he drags you into the unknown. There's no humanly way possible he could be walking on a severed Achilles tendon. He should have bled out by now, or at least enough to go weak in the knees. The only answer is... that he's not human.

Your body goes limp- all fight draining out of you once you realize that there's no use. Illumi notices this, and pauses. "I'm glad you've come to your sense y/n." He bends down to your face, letting go of you arm and you fall against the floor. "It doesn't change what you've done." He points to his ankle, "It will take at least a week for my ankle to heal- my Achilles is completely severed."

Your eyes travel to the floor as he continues speaking, his words beginning to sound like fuzz. You snap back when a strong hand grabs your chin and tilts your face towards his. It almost feels as if his fingers are going to go through your jaw bones. "I expect you to look at me when I'm speaking."

Hisoka

He expects you to perform wifely duties. Well, mainly duties that take care of him. The eggs in the pan sizzle next to some greasy bacon. You're making breakfast like Hisoka told you to. He probably won't eat the food you make him, he just enjoys watching you make it.

The buzzing of the oven fan and churning of the coffee machine almost make it seem as if this were a normal situation. It's not though- the both of you know that.

It has taken you weeks to master the art of being unassuming. You've practiced doing something but showing no signs of that actions beforehand. Such as if you're going to pick something up that you don't look around for it first.

The tip tap of the magician's heels alert you to just how close he is to yo. He stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, "You look so good today y/n." He nuzzles his nose into your neck, inhaling your aroma, as if he can't get enough of it.

You pull a coffee mug from the cabinet above the oven, ignoring the man wrapped around you. The cup clinks against the counter and your heart jumps when you hear the coffee pot finish brewing.

The man releases you, perfectly on cue. You grab the coffee pot, spinning around and throwing the boiling liquid on Hisoka. You then leap forward while he's momentarily stunned, and bring the glass pot down on his head. It shatters and you take the chance to lunge for the door. You're stopped short when the man grabs your ankle and you face plant into the tile floor.

Your entire face will definitely be bruised in a few hours. Your head spins but the dizziness quickly turns into an excruciating pain all over your head. You crane your head backwards and look at him- somehow he just seems stronger. His skin is burned badly and is extremely red. He must have third degree burns. But he's smiling at you with crazed eyes. No, lustful eyes.

You yell when he pulls you to him by your leg. He straddles you and punches you in the neck. You yell turns into a heavy cough which turns into gasping noises. There will be no talking for the next few weeks.

"You're so cute when you defend yourself." You stare up at his untouched face and fear shoots down your spine. He leans down and licks a strip up the side of your face and brings his lips to your ear. "It only turns me on even more."

Chrollo

It’s as if the place you’re being held has no electricity. You’ve flicked on and off the light switches around the house but nothing ever happens. The windows are boarded up and no matter what you do- you can’t rip the boards away that are nailed into the window. Despite this extremely dark, and cold home, all of the furniture is quite nice. The bed fit for a king, soft and you just sink into it- which is where you spend most of your time since it’s the only place you can catch a fleeting sense of warmth. 

The warm bed doesn’t compensate for the fact that you’ve been kidnapped by a man that insists on your affection and your quality time. He leaves every night- and it’s simply too dark to try and find keys for the door. There was only one way you will be able to escape- surprise attack him the moment he gets home and run out the door. You’ve tried to attack him before but your punches are futile against the tall man. He can just grab your wrists and throw you in the bedroom- locking it until you stop ‘throwing a tantrum’. As he puts.

There’s no better place to attack him then at the front door- before he gets the chance to defend himself. Though your fists obviously hold no power against this man- you’ll have to find something to hit him with. For hours before he comes home (according to your biological clock), you scamper around the house, checking every corner of it for something sturdy that you can pick up. Eventually you find a set of handcuffs. While they’re not ideal- they have heft and a whack to the face would leave any normal person reeling. 

If your natural sense of time is correct, you only have a few minutes before he comes home. You stand next to the door and brace yourself- hoping that your reaction time is as good as you think it is. 

You hear the footsteps down what you assume is a hall to this apartment. They stop in front of the door and your heart begins to pound. Each lock clicking is deafening in the quiet apartment. The door opens with confidence and you take your chance. With a wide swing of your arm you nail him in the face. The sound of the metal against skin makes you cringe but there’s no time to waste. You leap out beside him, sprinting down the pitch black hall as fast as you can. When hands grab your waist gently you screech, fighting his grip. As gentle as he’s being you still can’t escape him. 

He brings your back against his chest, and he wraps one arm around your arms and torso, preventing you from hitting him. His other arm lays loosely around your waist. “You’re very resourceful y/n.” He purrs in your ear. “Thank you for trying your best and not holding back.” You continue squirming in his grasp but know what your fate is when he says, “Though it’s quite unattractive for a girl to be so feisty.” 

[theangrycomet-art]

Just where do you think you’re going, Randall?

“I’ll be right behind you.” Randy said softly, lying through his teeth as he shoved her through the door with the others. Fleeing like rats, the students stampeded through the halls as they clambered for the exits. No one looked back as another rumble shook the building.

He couldn’t blame them. This was an extreme situation, even for Norrisville high. The school may be regularly attacked by monsters and robots, but that didn’t make anyone okay with it, even on the best of days.

Much less when someone was crazy enough to make themselves a shnasty blend of the two such as the cyborg crawling around. Running was far easier than sticking around for this event.

The screams cut off as he slammed the hall doors shut, allowing him some thinking room. He couldn’t exactly say breathing room- given the all too familiar smell of sneaker-burns on the tile tainting the air. Crinkling his nose, he sprinted silently down the halls, keeping to the walls as he carved his way to his gear.

Hopefully Brent and S.Ward had finished working out the kinks of the Helmet’s charms, otherwise he’d have to spend another 20 minutes crossing the school to gather and assemble the armor by hand. Time which he wouldn’t have if he was right.

Sneakers skidding to the stop, he rounded into the main hall, slamming into wall of lockers with a crash. Swearing, he fumbled with his lock and wrenched the door open.

Atop his text books, his helmet lie. More obvious placement than he’d like, but that was a later problem. Scooping up the helmet, it hummed with magic. A golden sheen rippled across like water where his fingers met the scarlet material, settling into a gently red hue. Tracing the engraved characters along the side, they glowed gold beneath his touch.

“Woah.” He breathed, skin tingling. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as a shrill voice cut through the air.

“Ah ah AH!” Stiffening, a steel tendril snapped around his wrist and wrenched him away. The helmet slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground as he was thrown through the air.

THUD-a-pop!

“Gah!” Randy’s shoulder popped as he was slammed into the wall. Sliding to the ground, a good portion of the drywall came with him as he clutched blindly at his arm. Chest seizing, his lungs had forgotten how to function as he tried to recover the wind that’d been knocked out of him.

The lights flickered, before shutting down one by one.

Something shifted in the rubble, rasping against the floor beside him. Through grit teeth, Randy rolled to his side, avoiding the steel tailcoat as he got to his feet, unsteadily clinging to the nearby locker for support. He glanced at his limp arm and the blue lockers, grimacing.

“Mom’s gonna kill me for this,” he muttered dully as he regripped the side of the locker. Before he could over think it, he rammed the afflicted joint into the metal.

POP!

“GAH!” Jerking back, Randy rolled his shoulder with a shudder. He clenched and unclenched his hand, testing it as the lights continued to dim.

“Now I just gotta- shit.” Where’s the helmet- eyes flicking around, red flared lightly in the corner. The rasping returned around his ankles, and he leapt towards it without thought.

“Well that just won’t do.” The wire tailcoats snatched him waist and his uninjured hand, jerking him to a halt. Biting down a cry at the jerked shoulder, his free hand was instantly holding one of his pocketknives. Twisting the best he could- held as he was, his arm snapped up, raised to slash down through the restraint.

It was quickly encompassed by the jagged tendril shot from the darkness. Scraped up metal dug through his coat and threatened to break skin. A quick squeeze had his knife clattering to the ground beside the helmet as he was jerked further into the air

Jerking against his restraints, Randy glared at the source of his predicament as it strutted towards him, tutting.

“Randall, Randall, Randall.” Julian sighed, it’s voice lodging into Randy’s ears like a throwing dagger. Shaking his head, the cyborg’s eyes narrowed as he continued to bemoan, the words turning to static in his mind as Randy searched around for an exit strategy.

Tugging at the tailcoats(?) got him nowhere but pain shooting down his arm. No good. The second wired tailcoat curled around his waist, constricting. That left his feet and legs- so they were still in amateur hour here.

“And yet you still don’t listen, how quaint.” Julian laughed. The digital tones of the mecha surrounding his former classmate twisted and warped his giggle into something deranged as Randy was rammed into the wall. Jagged steel fingers grasping his jaw, the tendril around his chest tightened as the cyborg forced his face forwards.

“Didn’t your mothers ever teach you to look at people when they are speaking to you?” The mock-teeth twisted into a pained grimace- a fun house mirror of a smile as he leered close. He dragged a clawed finger down his face, grazing but not cutting the soft skin. A barely cloaked threat as he tapped the space just below his eye.

Randy flinched back instinctively, lips curling in frustration. The arsenic green orb in Julian’s chest flared, blinding him in its light.

“It’s frankly infuriating.” He said continued dryly, fingers digging into his jaw. “How you never listen. One of the many things I can’t stand about you.

“Julian-“ Warily watching his hands, Randy forced himself to look into the cyan orbs in front of him. “I know this isn’t you, but you are making it INCREDIBLY difficult for me to help-”

Words cut off with a choked noise- his windpipe was squeezed shut.

“Oh don’t worry, you’ll be able to help me plenty, my Samurai.” He cooed, laughing maniacally at Randy’s squeaking gasp as a fourth tailcaot (how many of those did this kid have?) snapped up, helmet spinning along the rim.

Eyes flaring wide, a small part of Randy’s brain screamed at him to stay calm as instinct took over. Panic gripped his chest as he kicked out at the jagged chest plate before him. The tailcoat around his waist wrapped around his legs until they were bound tight.

Julian shook his head. 

“I must say I’m disappointed.” His lungs must have been set on fire- why else would they be burning like this. The corners of his vision darkened where it wasn’t tinted green. “I thought you might be more of a challenge.”

Releasing his throat, Randy gasped on reflex, choking on the thick mist as the taste overpowered him. It was in his nose, his eyes- he couldn’t get it out.

The helmet trembled as stank surrounded it, engulfing it in sickly aura as Randy’s eyes flared green.

-//-

This takes place around time of the dance- hence Randy’s more formal attire because hey- what kind of story is this if we don’t have a monster crashing the dance?

Julian is as creepy as ever. I don’t know why they dropped the Der Monster Klub during his evil power grab arc but they come in later.