#prompt: bridal carry

[serickswrites]

I'm Not Ok

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, unconsciousness, blood, wounds, unclear character status

Caretaker stumbled into the darkened room. This was their last hope of finding Whumpee. The last room they had to search before giving up and accepting that Whumper had killed Whumpee and disposed of their body. But Caretaker could not, would not accept that. Not when Whumpee was out there waiting to be saved. Caretaker couldn't fail them.

"Whumpee?" Caretaker called out. The room was so dark and large that Caretaker's flashlight beam only went so far. But it was enough. Caretaker's mouth went dry as the beam of light shone on a figure that lay on the ground. "Whumpee!"

Whumpee lay on their side, back to the door. Caretaker could see that their ankles were chained to the ground and their hands were bound roughly behind their back. But Whumpee didn't stir as Caretaker called out to them.

"Whumpee, say something, Whumpee--oh!" Caretaker rolled Whumpee onto their back and felt their stomach drop. Whumpee was covered with blood, their skin ashen and pale beneath all fo the blood.

Caretaker began to tap Whumpee's cheeks trying to rouse them. "Come on, Whumpee. Wake up. Open your eyes for me."

But Whumpee didn't open their eyes. Didn't so much as move. Caretaker put two shaking fingers to the pulse in Whumpee's throat, hoping that Whumpee was still alive, that they hadn't failed Whumpee. Caretaker breathed a sigh of relief as they felt a thready, weak pulse. Whumpee was still alive.

Caretaker quickly freed Whumpee from their restraints and lifted them into a bridal carry. Whumpee hung limply in their arms, head lolling. "Not much longer, Whumpee. I'm getting you to help. Hold on, not much longer."

Caretaker repeated the phrase as they ran. Because they needed Whumpee to hold on. They needed Whumpee to be ok. They needed Whumpee to open their eyes and smile again. They needed Whumpee to be ok. Because a world without Whumpee wasn't a world that Caretaker wanted to live in.

"Not much longer, hold on. Hold on, Whumpee. I have you. Not much longer."

[corgiss]

something’s wrong (don’t pity me for long)

chapter 2

a Trigun fanfic

Mashwood, Multichapter, Rated T

CW: brief, non-graphic description of cleaning an infected injury.

Written for Bad Things Happen Bingo

—

But that’s actually not what distresses Nicholas in the moment. No, what’s distressing him in the moment is how, as soon as the gagging has stopped and Meryl is sitting up in the other bed to check on him, Vash’s Plant markings suddenly light up—not in their normal, ethereal blue, but in a vibrant red.

—

The Gang Seeks a Second Opinion

[bucketsofmonsters]

A Diplomatic Error

cw: enemies to lovers, kidnapping, being tied up, manhandling, size difference, non-human genitalia, oral sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

male orc x fem reader

Word count: 9k

You were headed to another counsel meeting. You never really stopped attending them, despite the fact that they never listened to a word you had to say. 

Your father said it was good for morale. You didn’t understand how watching someone sit around and not help was good for anyone’s morale, but you knew better than to question him. 

The halls of the palace were quieter than you were used to. Almost everyone had been called to the front lines, even your closest guards had gone. You weren’t used to walking alone, nor were you accustomed to the typically lively castle looking like a ghost town. 

So now you walked through the castle halls, more alone than you’d ever been before, no one there to wait on you, to protect you, to watch over you. Something in you said it should have felt freeing. 

It didn’t. It just felt lonely. 

As you walked, moving slowly as you wallowed in self-indulgent pity between war meetings, a pair of hands reached out of nowhere, one snaking around your waist to pull you back into the shadows while the other clamped firmly over your mouth. 

When the guards had been sent away, you’d been assured that you’d be safe. It wouldn’t exactly be easy for a hulking orc to sneak in undetected. At least that's what you'd been told. With a massive hand that dwarfed your face locked over your mouth, suddenly the idea didn’t seem so ridiculous.

You thrashed under the figure's unwavering grip to no avail. He easily held you in place, barely needing to put any effort in to stop your desperate bid for an escape. 

You weren’t one for swooning but suddenly a faintness came over you. You reached up to grab at the only stable thing in reach, hands wrapping around the figure’s arm, trying to keep yourself upright. 

Your knees began to buckle and only then, mind slowed by whatever he’d dosed you with, did you begin to suspect foul play. Maybe something on his skin that humans were weak to, maybe something in the air. Was he holding a cloth? You didn’t think so. But then again, he seemed so far away not, even pressed up against you as he was.

You blinked your heavy eyes and when you opened them, you were thrown over a large shoulder. You watched the road behind you as the creature holding you strode along, still blind to what was ahead. His hand was wrapped around your waist, keeping you firmly in place, jostling you only slightly with each step. 

It took you a second to gather your bearings enough to start struggling. Once you did, you started pounding on his back. It was a futile gesture but you were nothing if not persistent. At the very least, he knew you were awake now. 

His shoulder shook under you as he chuckled. “Good morning, princess,” he said, his gravelly voice carrying across the road.

“Put me down, you brute!” you shouted, trying your best to kick your feet under heavy skirts. If you'd known you'd be getting kidnapped today, you'd have worn something lighter. 

He paused and for a moment you thought maybe he'd listen to you. But you knew better than that, knew you'd have no say in any of this.

“As you wish.”

Your feet were planted on the ground, although he still had a heavy arm on your shoulder, holding you in place. A silent promise: you weren't going anywhere. 

You whipped around, eager to see what was in front of you instead of the increasingly distant road you'd been traveling on. 

You got your first look at the front of your captor, no longer flung over his shoulder. 

Despite it being part of the little information you already knew about him, the first thing you noticed was that he was massive. He towered over you, with a broad frame to match. Tusks stuck out of his mouth as he sneered down at you, marring an almost handsome face. 

You’d never actually seen an orc in person and despite years of being at war with them, it struck you suddenly that they were real. They were real and in front of you, no longer threatening figures discussed in crowded rooms you weren’t supposed to speak in but instead a real man in front of you with his hand on your arm. It radiated warmth, applying a firm pressure that told you if he wanted to he could crush you underhand. 

In front of you, next to your very real captor, was a camp. The sort of camp you imagined soldiers slept in. You had no idea which side of the border you were on, disputed or otherwise. You hoped you were still in your own kingdom, but you had no way to know. It all looked the same from here. 

Amidst the massive canvas tents milled a dozen or so orcs. At your sudden appearance, they’d stopped what they were doing, all peering at their new guest. 

As they all stared at you, you panicked. Your feet started moving before your brain did. You managed to slip out from under your captor's grasp just in time to feel his hand dart forward, pushing you into the mud before you had a chance to get anywhere.

As you lay in the dirt, you heard something that sounded like orders being barked in a foreign tongue. 

And then you were being hauled to your feet. You didn’t have the presence of mind to be upset at the manhandling as you looked down at your body, the front of you almost completely covered in mud.  

You didn’t even have time to protest that before he cut you off. “Come on, m’lady. We have much to discuss.”

You crossed your arms, about to demand more respect from him before you were being lifted again and all you could manage was a surprised little squeak.

You watched helplessly as you were hauled into a nearby tent, all of the towering soldiers staring at you as you went. 

You were deposited less than graciously on the floor of the tent, left to flounder and find your bearing on your own as your captor moved to look at you. 

The tents were incredibly spacious, at least for someone of your size, the roof towering above you. 

He leaned down in front of you, tone condescending as he spoke. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re a bargaining chip for us. We’ll get you home as soon as your father allows it, princess.” He said your title like an insult, spat it at you in a way that made you flinch. 

“And in the meantime?” you asked, trying your best not to look afraid. You'd make your way out of this with your pride intact. Well, as much of your pride as you could still manage to salvage as you stood there, covered in mud. 

You could barely see the deep red of your dress under the grime. You didn’t even know how much of it was from your fall and how much you’d picked up on the road. 

“In the meantime,” he said, “you will sit around until we need you.”

“Perfect.” You stood, futilely attempting to brush off your skirts as you did and taking a step towards the entrance of the tent. “Well, I should go find a place to rest until I am needed.” It was a long shot but you at least had to try.   

Your captor followed you as you backed slowly out of the tent. “I don’t think you understand what’s going on here.”

“What’s the harm in it? Where do you think I’m going to go?” you shouted, gesturing around you at the thick woods. “If I had a death wish, there are far better ways to satisfy it than getting lost in the forest. Attempting to kill you, perhaps.”

He nodded. “It would be more honorable, to die in combat against me.”

You groaned. “Yeah, sure, that’s what I meant. It’d be so honorable of me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find somewhere to rest, maybe even clean myself.”

You managed to make it about two steps before his arm wrapped around your waist, lifting you as if you were a ragdoll.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

The words were hissed into your ear as he walked. You thrashed in his grip but it didn’t matter, he hauled you along just as easily. 

You were thrown into a new tent next to a massive wooden pole, staked into the ground in the center. 

He leaned down next to you, grabbing your arm, easily resisting your attempt to pull it away from him. As he easily held your wrists in one hand, the other reached back to pull out a length of rope. His hands were surprisingly nimble, threading rope around your wrists and securing you to the pole at the center of the tent with little difficulty. 

When he let his hands get a little too close to your face, you bit them as hard as you could, locking your jaw down on him. There wasn’t any strategy behind it, you couldn’t escape or go anywhere, but the way he hissed and yanked his arm back filled you with a little bit of self-satisfaction. That had to be worth something. 

He didn’t stick around long after. It seemed you had managed to piss him off at some stage in the kidnapping process. You couldn’t imagine when. 

Your first night in the orc camp was spent restlessly, pulling futilely at your bindings as you sat there on the floor. You tried not to wallow in your misery. This wouldn’t be forever. Your father would get you out of here, one way or another. Until then, you could put on a brave face. 

As the sun began to rise, the orcs’ curiosity in you seemed to reawaken. 

Occasionally a soldier would peek in the entrance of the tent, never for more than a few seconds, or you would see them silhouetted against the canvas, hovering nearby. When you got particularly frustrated you’d shout at them, the snorts of laughter your yelling drew from them only making you angrier. 

But anger was good. At least anger felt productive. 

You’d become accustomed enough to the curiosity of the soldiers that at first, when your captor returned, you didn’t notice it was him. It was only when he strode towards you and began to undo your bindings that you realized who he was. 

The second your bindings were undone, you made a break for it. You didn’t make it far. Your captor held you by your ankle, dangling you upside down, your various muddied skirt layers falling to cover your face as you struggled. 

“This will be easier for you if you behave,” he said, and you could hear a layer of irritation in his voice. 

You would've spat in his face if there weren't layers of fabric hanging in front of you. 

His attempts to right you were thwarted by your thrashing until you figured out what he was trying to do and attempted to still yourself as much as you could, if only to get your feet on the ground again. 

“We’re moving,” he said as you steadied yourself when returned back to solid ground. “I can carry you or you can walk.”

You opted to walk, both to preserve your dignity and to attempt to plan an escape. 

The soldiers were shockingly efficient, completely packing up the camp faster than you’d imagined possible. 

And then you were on the move. 

You had to move swiftly to keep up with them, none of the soldiers willing to slow for you. 

Your captor stayed diligently by your side, occasionally shooting you looks that seemed intended to tell you you had no chance of escape. You ignored him.

After about an hour of moving quietly, out of breath from all the walking, he was the one to break the silence. 

“You’re slow.”

“Your legs are longer than mine. Besides, it's hard to walk when you’re covered in filth” you said, struggling under stiff, heavy skirts. 

“And who is to blame for that?”

You gave him a pointed look. “In fact, I think you’ll find that you are.”

“You shouldn’t have run,” he said with a grunt. 

“You shouldn’t have pushed me!”

He rolled his eyes and then you were being hauled off the ground again. You yelped in protest but were quietly a little grateful as he sat you on his shoulder. If you had to keep moving at their pace all day, dressed as you were, you might’ve passed out. 

It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t keep up with a well-trained group of soliders. If anything, they should be impressed you managed to keep pace as long as you did. 

Your hand rested on his other shoulder as he moved, trying to keep yourself steady, but realistically, you knew he wouldn’t let you fall, his arm holding you easily in place. You were just glad you were being allowed to sit this time instead of being thrown around like a sack of potatoes. 

You spent the rest of the day like that, sitting on his shoulder as they traveled. As the sun began to set and the others began to set up camp, you expected to be set down. 

It seemed you were wrong. 

Instead of placing you on the ground or even tying you up again, he began to pace off in the opposite direction of the rest of the camp. 

Nerves began to take over you. He may have said nothing would happen to you, but you did not relish in the thought of being alone with him, let alone him intentionally dragging you away from the rest of his compatriots. 

You began to squirm again and his arm tightened, holding you in place. “Settle,” he said, his voice low and calm. 

You did not listen. 

Eventually, he did set you down, although you did not think your thrashing encouraged him to do so. 

As he did, you noticed the sound of a swift-moving river just behind you. 

He nudged you towards the river. “Clean. You’re too slow.”

“What?”

“You wanted to be clean,” he said, nudging you again. "You should clean”

“It’s a river.”

He looked at you like he was worried you’d hit your head. “It is.”

“And you expect me to wash in there? It’s full of dirt!”

He chuckled and you considered biting him again. “You’ll survive, princess.”

You groaned but decided that anything was better than the mud you were caked in. It was running water, at the very least. You weren’t certain why, but it did feel a little cleaner that way. 

You considered bathing fully clothed but you’d heard too many stories of women drowning, weighed down by layers of dresses. 

You began to pull at your dress, stripping off some of the upper layers, glaring at your captor as you did. It was too much to ask to be left alone, you knew that much, but it was still humiliating to get undressed in front of him like this. 

You only took off as many layers as you needed to ensure you wouldn’t drown. You were almost fully covered but still, you felt exposed. 

At the very least, he seemed largely disinterested in what you were doing, only sparing you the occasional glance. 

You covered your chest as you moved towards the water. He looked down at you as you did, head cocked to the side. “What are you doing?”

“The skirts are heavy, I can’t wear them in the water or I could drown.”

He scoffed. “Little weakling. That’s not what I asked though, why do you hide? You’re covered.”

“I’m being forced to strip to my underwear, of course I’m covering myself.”

He stared back, clearly still confused, and you realized as you looked at him that the idea of being properly dressed was probably not the same for him. He was covered, but largely in leathers and furs, with far more skin exposed than you would ever have, even now in your underskirts. 

“Listen,” you said, trying not to be too antagonistic, as it seemed he was truly trying to understand. “It’s different for us. Especially for me, I’m supposed to be covered perfectly at all times. Maybe you should give me new clothes.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked dismissively. 

Any patience you’d been trying to put on for him snapped. “Sorry, I forgot you’re a heartless brute, I don’t know why I asked.”

And with that, you stormed off into freezing cold water. 

The mud caking your skin began to wash off as soon as you touched the water and you let out a sigh of relief. The river looked to be snow runoff from a nearby mountain, it certainly felt cold enough for it, but for now all you wanted was to be clean. 

You looked down as you scrubbed at your skin and your skirts and as you did, you realized the whites of your underthings had become translucent in the freezing water. 

You turned and caught him staring, both looking away as soon as your eyes met. You turned your back to him immediately, feeling tears pricking at your eyes, trying to cover it up with the water that was rushing over you. It felt like you had nothing left, like this was the ultimate humiliation.

When you turned back to look at him once more, he was gone, not making so much as a sound as he left. 

You weren’t foolish enough to think he’d truly left you alone, but you appreciated having at least the pretense of privacy. It was shockingly… kind? 

No. You pushed the thought out of your mind as quickly as it occurred to you. You would not start thinking like that, not about the man who had kidnapped you. 

You finished bathing quickly, the chill starting to set into your bones. 

As you waded out of the river, he was still missing. It was evident where he’d been, massive orcs weren’t exactly built for stealth, but still he was nowhere to be found. 

In his stead, you found a pile of clothes lying on the bank of the river. As you lifted them, the first thing you noticed was while they were far too big for you, they were too big by human standards. It was an old shirt, well worn, and a pair of pants you’d have to find some way to tie to keep up properly. They were slightly torn and upon closer inspection, you found speckles of a dark rusty substance splattered across the shirt. 

Someone’s blood. From who’s side, you’d never know. 

You tried not to dwell on what had happened to the owner of these clothes to leave them in the orc’s possession. They were yours now. 

They were far more practical than your fine skirts had been, even if they didn’t quite fit properly. 

As you pulled them on, you hesitated, holding your skirts. You didn’t need them any longer, but it felt like a waste to just leave them here. 

But you had no time for sentimentality right now. You cast them aside, opting to forgo your shoes, despite the lack of new ones. Your shoes from the palace were not exactly built for forests and rough terrain. They’d only slow you down. 

As you finished dressing, situating yourself in the unfamiliar clothes as best you could, you looked around nervously. You could find no sign of your captor amidst the unfamiliar foliage, but you had more than enough reason to doubt yourself. You felt lost amidst the thick trees surrounding you, it was hard to tell where you stood. You didn’t know what to look for or how to orient yourself, trapped in a foreign landscape. 

You did what you could, checking for any onlookers, peeking through the trees, and once you’d made your decision, taking off. 

You had no idea where you were, or where you were running to, but anywhere was better than here. There were surely search parties looking for you and even if you were on the other side of the border, orc civilians or soldiers who were unfamiliar with your status were a better bet than your current captors. 

As your bare feet pounded down on a floor of sticks and rocks, you tried to ignore how cut up they were getting. 

You were faster this way. That was what counted. 

You focused on moving as fast as you could, the determination drowning out the pain until suddenly, the sharp rocks and twigs were underfoot no longer. Your brain took a second to catch up, feet still moving down to try and push off of a ground that was being pulled further and further away.

“Predictable little thing,” said a familiar voice beside you. “What happened to attempting to best me in combat? I didn’t take you for a coward, princess.”

A frustrated scream escaped you, cutting through the peaceful quiet of the forest. 

Despite your protests, he continued to haul you back towards the camp, tying you up as soon as you reached your tent, a practiced routine for the two of you by now. 

You had the night to sleep off your anger before morning came and you were on the move again. 

Your captor did not wait before lifting you onto his shoulder and this time, you did not fight him. It was preferable to running to keep up with them, especially on newly damaged feet. 

It felt strange to sit there, without struggling or screaming, just moving in silence. So instead, you spoke. 

“Do you have a name?”

“Drakar,” he said. His voice was low but with your position atop his shoulder, it was easy to hear him, even over the bustle of moving soldiers. 

“Thank you for the clothes,” you tried again, wanting to start up any sort of conversation to break the silence.

He didn’t even grace you with words this time, giving you a simple acknowledging grunt in return. 

His answers remained brief, with no apparent interest in engaging in conversation. Eventually, you stopped trying. 

When you came to a stop and the soldiers began to set up camp around you, you waited for your chance. 

The second Drakar turned his back to you, you were off. 

Another orc caught you in a heartbeat, hoisting you off the ground until Drakar could come fetch you. 

He dragged you off with a huff, scowling at you as he set you down. “Why do you continue to fight and run? I’ve told you of our plans to trade you, you’ll fare better with us than on your own in the wilds.”

“I have no desire to be a bargaining chip against my own people. Besides, I’m no fool. I know good things don’t often happen to soldier’s prisoners.”

He scoffed. “Your soldiers, maybe. We have honor, unlike them. And you call us the monsters.”

“Monsters? Maybe. Uncivilized at the very least.”

“I assure you, your soldiers in my country are living in no more luxury than we are here.”

So you were still in your country, not yet over the border. If you could just get away, your chances were good. “Well, then they’re uncivilized dogs just like you,” you spat. 

He never seemed to find your outbursts anything other than vaguely annoying or passively amusing. Right now, he seemed inclined towards amusement, despite your latest escape attempt. It was for the best, that tended to work out better for you. It was irritating nonetheless. “Perhaps.”

Your enlightening conversation was cut short as a horn sounded, a familiar announcing horn. The sound of one of your people. Drakar’s head perked up and before you understood what was happening, your legs were being bound together, untethered but severely limiting your movement. You might be able to move like this, but you couldn’t get far. 

He did not feel the need to explain this to you or threaten you with hunting you down, trusting you to come to your own conclusions as he strode off in the direction of the horn. 

You might not be able to run, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do anything. The least you could do was try to gather information, so you could be useful when you were saved.

If you were saved.  

You managed to scoot your way towards the back of the tent Drakar had retreated to, out of sight of any of the soldiers, just close enough that you could peek under the thick fabric of the walls. 

Drakar’s back was to you. You could barely see the messenger from your spot on the floor, his body blocking your vision. You could just see the tip of a feather, presumably stuck in a hat, bobbing as the messenger spoke. 

As you got close enough to listen in, you caught Drakar mid-sentence. “- does your king think about our terms for his precious daughter?”

You held your breath, trying not to get your hopes up. This was a war. They couldn’t just be giving in to the first demands given. This could be a long, arduous process. You understood that, would never blame him for it. The country came first. 

“The king rejects your terms.” You tried not to let it get to you. You knew this would probably happen, could understand exactly where your father was coming from. The messenger continued on, unaware of your quiet heartbreak. “Furthermore, he would like to close negotiations on this matter.”

You could not hold in the gasp that came at his words. You saw Drakar stiffen and knew he’d heard you, knew he’d figured out exactly what you’d been doing. A moment passed and he untensed his shoulders and continued on. You silently thanked him. You were in no state to face anyone right now. 

“What do you mean close negotiations?” he asked, and you choked back tears. 

You cursed yourself for putting yourself in such a tight spot. You didn’t think you could manage a quiet escape, at least not without being noticed, not in your current state, so instead you sat, a captive audience to a discussion of why your family had given up on you. 

The messenger cleared his throat. “We do not negotiate with beasts.”

“So he chooses instead to abandon his daughter with them?”

The messenger disregarded his words entirely, his voice squeaking as he cried out, “You creatures will pay for the loss of his daughter.”

“She is not lost yet. He is choosing that fate for her, not I,” he hissed out.

“I have said all I was bidden to say. Do you have a message for the king?”

“Tell him if I see him or any of his scrawny little messengers again, I’ll rip them in two.”

With a little yelp, the messenger retreated. Drakar stood for a moment, the sound of his heavy breathing filling the tent. 

After a moment, the canvas of the tent was lifted and your hiding place was revealed. You sat, crumpled, on the ground, bile rising in your throat. 

That was it. There was no one coming. 

He hauled you to your feet, undoing your bindings. 

“What did you ask for me?” you asked as he undid the ropes, keeping you propped up on him as he worked. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does!” you snapped. You needed to know what was so much more important than you, what you’d been given up for. “You will tell me. I’ve earned that much.”

“A full retreat. It never would have been taken, it was just supposed to be a start to the negotiations.”

“Hmm.” It was a ridiculous ask, obviously so. But to dismiss you completely? To not even try?

Drakar pulled you out of your thoughts with a question. “Would you even want to go back now? If I let you go?”

Your brows furrowed. “You can’t let me go. It would show weakness, show you’ll roll over if your terms aren’t met.”

“I know, it was just a question. So what do I do with you now?”

You shrugged. “You could kill me.”

“No. We won’t be doing that. I should have killed him, though. The audacity of them sending a little snot-nosed fool to tell me negotiations were over. I should’ve gutted him.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He spared you a look that said more than you were sure he wanted it to, rage and concern both written across his face. “I had other things on my mind.”

He tried to speak to you again but you’d begun to shut down. It was all too much, you could do no more. 

It didn’t seem too unreasonable a reaction. Your life had just ended, severed by your father without even a real rescue attempt. 

But even if you’d shut down, the world had not. 

And so it continued. Drakar seemed to have decided you were still useful somehow because every day you were hauled along with his troops, and every day you were given your own little tent. 

He didn’t keep you tied up anymore. It wasn’t because you’d become docile, you’d attempted many escapes and he’d found you and brought you back every time. You weren’t entirely sure why you were no longer being tied up. Maybe it was because you weren’t valuable anymore. 

You didn’t fully understand why you hadn’t been killed yet. What more could you do for them? 

As days passed, the grief lessened to more practical thoughts, thoughts about your future. What was there for you now? Why were you still here? What else could they want from you?

You wanted answers. 

You stood and stormed off. Several of the soldiers around you went to grab you until they realized that you were not headed out, but instead towards Drakar’s tent, letting you continue on your warpath. 

You started to shout as soon as you entered the tent and he whipped around to face you. “You should kill me. Why won’t you kill me? What do you want from me? Whatever it is, I won’t give it. I have nothing to give. I don’t understand what’s wrong with you.”

He watched your outburst with a level of amusement on his face that made you want to attack him. “Are you done?”

You ran at him, trying to claw at him, bite him, anything. He restrained you easily, pinning you against him, but still, it fed something in you, trying to do something.

You felt him chuckle behind you and if you weren’t pinned down, you would have attacked him again. 

“See,” he asked, and you felt the rumble of his voice through his chest. “You’ll be fine. You’re a fighter.”

“I will not fight for you,” you spat.

“I don’t expect you to. But you will fight for you. Nothing is over.”

He released you from his grip and before you could decide what to do with your newfound freedom, someone came crashing into the tent, armor shining a bright silver. He stood, ready to attack, sword in hand, but the second he saw you he froze. “You’re dead,” he choked out, words muffled through the metal of the armor. 

You didn’t have a chance to respond before Drakar had thrown him halfway across the camp, orc soldiers rushing over to finish him off. He didn't stand a chance.  

You stared at the spot he had just been in, processing his words, before slowly turning to Drakar. 

“What was that?”

“An attacker. A foolish little man.”

You shook your head. “No not… why did he think I was dead?’

“Princess, the whole world thinks you’re dead.”

You head snapped up to look at him. “Why?”

“Because I told them.”

You reeled back. “Why would you do that? I didn’t ask you to say that.”

“Your people didn’t seem to care.”

“Oh, thank you so much then. As long as they didn’t care, then it’s fine. You speak of honor and then do this. Why? To torture me? Make sure I have nowhere to go and ensure that I know I am not loved?”

You’d had enough of this conversation, turning heel and storming off without another word, set on putting as much distance as possible between you and them. 

You vaguely heard orders being barked to follow you, but that didn't stop you from running. 

It didn’t change anything. No matter how far you ran, you had nowhere to go. 

Drakar didn’t follow you himself, instead sending someone else to do his dirty work. A few orcs stood behind you, easily able to keep track of you and match your pace. 

You weren’t even given a full hour of feigned freedom before one of them had picked you up and started pulling you back towards camp. You fought them the whole way. 

You were set down in front of him, the whole process embarrassing. You straightened your ill-fitted pants as you desperately tried to regain any ounce of dignity. 

Despite your appearance, he didn’t seem amused. “You shouldn’t run.”

“So you saw fit to have me kidnapped? Again?”

“I had to tell them you were dead,” he said, pushing past your outburst.

You scoffed. “You didn’t have to do anything.”

“I have orders to kill you. The negotiations failed, my people wanted you dead. It was the only way out of this for you.”

Oh. There was no reprieve for you on either side. You’d known your father had signed your death warrant with his refusal to negotiate but now the orders had been given. 

“Then why am I still here?” you asked, your voice smaller than you would’ve liked. 

“It is not just. I will not kill you.”

“So what now?”

“No one knows what you look like,” he said, his voice soft and low. “It doesn’t have to be over.”

It didn’t matter. Both sides had condemned you. You had your life, but nowhere you could live it. “I have nowhere to go,” you said, sounding braver than you felt.  

“You’ll find somewhere. Until then, there’s always room for you in my camp. I displaced you, the burden of this wrong falls to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “And none of your men will send word that you’ve kept me here?”

“As long as they get to keep staring at you, I can’t imagine they’d mind.”

Your nose wrinkled at his words. “These are your honorable men? Letting me stay for the right to keep ogling me?”

“It’s not so odd. They’re fascinated by you, such a strange little thing.”

You supposed you were strange and foreign to them, as they were to you. But surely you weren’t the first, not with the combat they must’ve seen. “You’ve seen humans before.”

“Some of them haven’t. At least, not living ones that aren’t trying to kill us.”

“Who said I’m not trying to kill you.”

He snorted. “Well, you’re doing a piss poor job of it.”

“And if I stay? I won’t fight my own people, even if I was trained in combat. You’ll just carry around dead weight?”

“You’re hardly dead weight. I don’t even notice you up on my shoulder half the time.”

“You know that’d not what I mean.”

“I do. There are towns over the border where you could stay.”

You looked up, curiosity gleaming in your eyes. “They’ll take me? A random human?”

He nodded solemnly. “They will, if you wish to depart. If not… I am the reason your people forsook you. I do not regret it, I did what needed to be done, but I regret what has come to pass to you because of it. You’ve faced this better than I ever thought a human would. They’re cowards to have cast you out, I will not follow in their steps. It may not be what you’re used to, I am no prince and we are no humans, but you’re welcome to stay at my home. You will never be a princess again, that was taken from you. I took that from you. It is only fair to give what I can in return. It is not much, but it is what I have.”

You smiled, swallowing down the lump in your throat and willing away the misty feeling in your eyes. “Thank you. I’d love to stay, if you’ll have me.”

It was no great concession from you, you weren’t exactly drowning in options, but it felt like choosing it all the same. It was no less of a choice than your last home had been, born into it and forbidden to ever really leave. 

This was being offered to you. You were being given the opportunity to say no. To run. 

As much as Drakar had angered and frustrated you in the past week or so, you weren’t sure you’d ever been given this much respect. Real respect, not the fake respect of being placed in war rooms and told to be silent. 

You gave him a final nod and a smile, adding a curtsy that you pulled yourself out of halfway through when you thought better of it, tripping over your feet a little as you did. 

His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you and you wondered how you’d never noticed it before. 

You went to bed that night feeling lighter, freer than you were used to. 

As you left your tent the next morning, you almost tripped over a deer carcass left in your doorway. 

You backed away slowly, rushing over to Drakar’s tent. 

He was barely dressed for the day, the sun having only half risen past the horizon, and gave you a smile and a nod as he saw you rush into his tent. “Good morning, princess.”

You barely let him finish his sentence before you blurted out, “Someone left a dead animal outside my tent.”

He froze, his shoulders tensing.

You watched, waiting for a response and getting none, before adding, “Should I be concerned? It felt like a threat. Maybe they don’t like that you lied for me, that you're protecting me. Maybe they don’t like me like you think they do.”

“It’s not a threat,” he said with a swift shake of his head. 

“How could you know?”

He explained it through barred teeth. “It’s an orchish courting gift. You’ve caught someone’s interest.”

Your breath caught in your chest. “Oh.”

“Oh indeed.” None of the tension had left him and he made no attempt to hide his irritation. “It’s odd, an orc taking an interest in such a frail little thing.”

You rolled your eyes. He was clearly upset that one of his soldiers had become distracted with you, maybe even disgusted at the prospect of one of them taking interest in a human of all things. Clearly your bonding the day before hadn’t taken you that far. 

“I don’t know, I’ve heard I can be quite charming.”

He ignored your statement completely, shifting closer to you as he spoke. “You should stay close to me until I can find out who left it and tell them off.” He was being strangely protective almost, the disgust you’d assumed would be there instead entirely absent. 

“Why would you tell off my suitor? Surely I should do that myself. Besides, why do you even ca-”

Oh. 

The reality of why someone courting you would make him protective set in and you looked up at him with wide eyes

You couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that plastered itself across your face. “Well, maybe I’ll accept it. I’ve got no future now, it couldn’t hurt to have a big, strong orc husband.” 

He stood a little straighter as he understood the implication. “You seek protection?”

“Hm, I do, thank goodness I’ve finally found a suitable option, I was really starting to worry.”

Frustration flashed through his eyes as he realized what you were doing. “Fine, we should go find this suitor so we can tell him how graciously you’re accepting this courtship. I, for one, will be glad to be rid of you. Now you’ll be someone else’s problem.” 

“We should. Unless there’s something you’d like to say?”

His nostrils flared as he glared down at you. “Nothing.”

“Are you sure? Nothing on your mind? Nothing like, I don’t know, having feelings for the, what is it you keep calling me? The weakling you kidnapped?”

He avoided meeting your eyes as he spoke. “Your force of will is admirable. The odds were against you but still you fought.”

You fought the urge to coo at him, at how flustered he looked and how it seemed like he was forcing out every word. You had no doubt he would rather have left you an animal carcass. You preferred it this way. 

“I’m going to need you to be more direct than that.” Your voice was patient and kind and you could tell it was making things a hundred times worse for him. 

“I had intentions to look into human courting, to find something familiar for you amidst so many new things you’ve been forced into. But given the situation, I suppose I can just tell you.”

“Tell me what?” you asked. You were going to make him say it, you didn’t care how long it took.

“About my intention to court you.” 

You giggled at his pained face and he relaxed a little, looking down at you with fondness in his eyes. You wondered when that had begun. You wished you’d been paying attention enough to notice. 

“What now?” he asked. “How do your human courtships go? I will do what I must.”

You thought about it, amusement flickering through you at the thought of Drakar trying to uphold the proper etiquette required while courting a princess. But the courting process was long and strained and if you were being honest, you preferred the brutal honesty you’d been given here at camp. “Frankly, I’ve had just about enough of how humans do it. What about you? We can skip the dead animal bit, but what comes next?”

He looked you up and down, some gears turning in his head that you were not privy to.

“I will have to be gentle,” he said, before hauling you over his shoulder and bringing you over to his bed of furs on the floor. 

Your eyes widened as the implication set in. You’d been far from the perfect princess, having your fair share of trysts with guards and servants over the years, but this was a different beast. 

And then he kissed you and you stopped thinking altogether. 

It was desperate and urgent, his lips figuring out how to move against your smaller ones and you reached up, pulling his face closer as he set you below him on his makeshift bed. 

He ground down on you, clothed hips moving to meet yours. Your disparate sizes meant to do so while kissing you he was contorted at a strange angle but he certainly wasn’t complaining. 

He stopped kissing you, rushing to pull off his off pants, and his cock slapped against your stomach, thick and hard and hot and you wanted him inside you now.

But when it fell against you, it hit just above your belly button and you thought that perhaps your eyes were a bit bigger than your stomach.

He seemed to realize the impracticality of it at the same time you did, a hearty laugh escaping him. “Don't worry, princess, I'll get you nice and stretched out.”

You chuckled nervously. “I don’t know if stretching will be enough.”

He slid down, hitching your shirt up and pressing a gentle kiss on your stomach. “I won’t hurt you. If you’re not ready, that’s fine. There are other things we can do.”

He shifted both of you with ease, pulling you to sit on his chest as he laid back on his bed. You looked down at him, brows furrowed. “What about your traditional orc courtship.”

That pulled another laugh from him. “What part of this do you think has been traditional? The closest we got to traditional was when you bit me.”

You flushed red, recontextualizing the memory and wondering how many of the things you’d been doing to anger him had also been part of traditional orc courtship. 

While you were busy blushing, he’d set to work on your pants, wrestling them off of you as he easily manhandled you. You barely helped, halfheartedly kicking them off. You remembered how much you hated being picked up by him when this had begun and how much that had changed. You were loathe to admit it but every time he lifted and moved you so easily, something stirred inside you. 

As soon as he got your pants off you were pulled roughly forward, his hands wrapping around your thighs as he pulled you onto his mouth. 

He ate you out with just as much urgency as he kissed you with, wasting no time before sliding his tongue through your folds. 

His grip was unforgiving, pulling you down so all of your weight was on him. 

His tusks dug into your inner thighs and he seemed to pull you impossibly closer as his tongue thrusted up inside of you. 

Even his tongue was almost too thick, you walls stretching to accommodate it. You hands grasped at his hair, needing something to hold onto. 

His mouth locked over your clit, sucking hard before moving back to thrust inside of you again, hands rising to play with your sensitive bud of nerves as he did. 

As you began to fall apart above him, writhing against the onslaught of sensation, he only doubled his efforts. 

You arched your back, your thighs clamping down on either side of his head, hips shifting with the waves of your orgasm that suddenly overcame you. He was content to let you ride it out, grip loosening to let you have your control as you moans filled the tent. 

You came down slowly and it took a few moments to realize you were still sitting on his face. 

You moved to sit beside him on the furs as soon as you did, your face warming. 

You shifted your head to rest against him, staring down at his cock as you did. It was impossibly hard and practically pulsing with need, and you made a decision you hoped you wouldn’t regret. 

“You know, it can’t hurt to try.”

He sat up immediately, eagerness evident in his face. “You’ll stop me if it’s too much.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. 

You gave him a knowing look. “Of course I will.”

He shifted you, lifting you over him and you were happy to give over control. You trusted him.

It felt even bigger pressed up against your entrance than it had on your stomach and you took a deep breath. You waited but as nothing happened, you realized that Drakar was waiting for your signal. 

No nodded and he began to lower you, incredibly slowly. As it pushed inside, you knew the girth was more than anything you’d taken before, but it was manageable. The stretch bordered on painful but it was slow and careful enough that you had time to adjust. 

And then, as it went further and further, it became too much, 

You winced long before he’d bottomed out, about half of it inside you. It was bordering on too painful and you pressed your hands against his chest, shaking your head. “No more,” you said quietly, already weak from your last orgasm. 

He didn’t seem to mind, holding you steady as he pressed you close to him, muttering quiet praises to you. 

You slowly adjusted, not ready to take more but more than happy with what was already inside of you. 

You shifted your hips a little, pushing it against a perfect spot inside of you, letting out a quiet moan as you did. 

He put a stop to it fairly quickly, holding you still. “I think I’ll just keep you there. You’re perfect, taking me so well.”

You writhed, trying to get the stimulation you were becoming desperate for but he held you steady easily. 

So you tried a new tactic. “Want more,” you said, voice soft and sweet. If that didn’t work you’d try yelling at him, see how that fared. 

“Careful, I promised I wouldn’t hurt you. You damn humans, so fragile.”

“I’m not fragile, you’re just too big.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Despite his words, he began to slowly move, shifting out of you before pushing in again, careful to not push past the point where you’d stopped him. 

He moved you up and down like it was nothing, careful even as he began to speed up, hips shifting a little to meet you, chasing after your warm cunt as he pulled you back up.

His breathing grew shaky as he did and despite feeling overwhelmed with sensation, you fought to keep your eyes open, to watch him come undone. 

As his grunts became more and more unruly, your walls clenched around him at the sight. 

He immediately pulled you up, leaving just the head of his cock inside of you as he filled you with thick ropes of come. 

His breathing was ragged and his grip on you tightened slightly, pulling you even closer to him. 

He looked down at you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them, before pulling you off of him and settling back with you resting on his chest. 

You made an absolute mess of him as he did, with no chance of keeping the frankly absurd amount of come inside of you. 

He didn’t seem to care at all.

“We’re making a mess,” you said, despite suspecting the objection would fall on uncaring ears. 

“You said you wanted an orcish courting, the mess is traditional.”

You weren’t sure if you were cut out for a traditional orc courting, already squirming as your thighs were coated in his spend. 

But his chest was warm and his breathing steady and you couldn’t help but settle into the comfort of it. 

“I'm gonna fit all of it someday,” you said, meaning it fully.

He laughed. “Brave little thing, aren’t you? Dreaming big.”

You snorted. 

“What happens now?” you asked as you snuggled further into him. 

“You reject that fool's advances.”

You hummed happily. “I will. I guess I’m lucky I caught your eye, don’t know if I would've survived this if I hadn’t”

“I meant what I said. I wouldn’t have let them kill you. It wouldn't be right. And you would’ve managed even without me. You wouldn't be the first human to sneak away to our side.”

That surprised you. “I wouldn't?”

He chucked, hands running through your hair. “You wouldn't. We're a more accepting group, I've found. Although you are a weak little species, we don’t have much use for you. You’re lucky you're pretty or I don't know if we'd put up with you.”

You scrunched up your nose. “You didn’t decide to court me because you thought I was pretty though.”

“No,” he said, like you both already knew the answer. “I decided to court you because no matter how many times we stopped you, you never stopped trying to run, to fight.”

You sat up with a sudden urgency. “If I said I wanted to go home, to my father, would you let me?” 

You watched the panic flash across his face and some selfish part of you hoped it was panic over losing you and not panic over the consequences that could come if you showed up alive after his order to kill you.

He sat with it for a while and you let him, in no rush to pull an answer from him.

Finally, he seemed to find whatever he'd been searching for. “I would.”

“Good,” you said, a smug feeling welling up in your chest, right beside the warmth that had begun to fill you at his answer. “Then I'll stay.”

He tried and failed to hide his smile. “Good. Does that mean you’re done running from me?”

You grinned, knowing full well it didn’t. What would be the fun in that? “We’ll see.”

“I’m sure,” he said as he shifted the two of you, wrapping you up in furs to protect your modesty before picking you up once more, with one arm under your knees and the other below your back, keeping you close to his chest. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, princess.”

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Tim was four days into a sleep deficit so he felt that to say that this predicament was his fault was a bit of a reach.

For it to be his fault he would have had to cognizant of the last 16 hours.

All he wanted to do was take a power nap in the nearest closest durring the Waynetech gala but nooo Bruce had to be taken hostage by the Joker.

So he did what he thought would work best and shoved uncle Clark into the nearest emergency bat storage and told him to suit up.

Maybe he looked a bit more confused than normal but they didn’t need a reporter they needed Batman!

That being said wasn’t uncle Clark supposed to be off-world?

Oh no.

———————

Jack honestly had no clue what was happening for the last six months so when he was told to be Batman he merely just shrugged as the frankly exhausted teen left him to his own.

With his son turning out to be part ghost to the government hunting down his said son and having to move shop halfway across the continent.

This might as well happen.

Grinning like a kid on Christmas, Jack plopped on the finishing touch.

“Oh Danno is not going to believe this!”

Raising a cloaked arm with a flourish Jack struck a pose.

“Alrighty Jack enough messing around! Time to save the party, Fenton style!

Shifting his feet, Jack took a deep breath before smoothing his face the best he could. After all, couldn’t have a smiling Batman! Before walking out the room and taking running leap through the wall to the streets of Gotham before grappling to the nearest building.

[esbee-daisy]

Give me Caretaker bridal carrying a weak Whumpee who is desperately trying to stay conscious…Whumpees arms are around Caretakers neck and their head is bobbing up and down against Caretakers chest.

And then suddenly, all at once, Caretaker notices Whumpee somehow feels heavier. Caretaker looks down at Whumpee just as Whumpee’s arms fall limp and their head flops backwards. And Caretaker has to drop to the ground both out of shock and panic as well as to check that their precious cargo is still breathing and to recollect Whumpees deadweight limbs to their chest before they stand back up

🥺🥹

[peaches2217]

💪 Mario bridal carrying Peach for the win

Rescue (TW: Blood, Injury)

~~~

Steady footsteps, pounding rapidly against stone. A strong, racing heartbeat. Deep but quick puffs of air. After three months hearing nothing but the drip of stale water and the scrape of metal trays against a dungeon floor day after day, these sounds were like music to Peach, drowning out the slow roar of magma and the panicked shouting of soldiers scrambling to reassemble their ranks. 

It was foolish to assume that she was safe now, and she knew this well, yet she was all too happy to call herself a fool. She could die this very moment and she would die happy, so long as she never left the sanctuary of Mario’s arms.

She buried her face into the junction of his shoulder as he ran and inhaled deeply. Blood. All she could smell was blood, its sharp coppery tang permeating through layers of grime and sweat and charred skin, and she breathed it in greedily. It enveloped her senses and protected them from the acrid stench of sulfur. 

She had never seen so much blood pour from a single source. She hadn’t known the human body was capable of such a thing. 

“Hang on tight.”

Pleasant tingles sparked through Peach’s body at his command. His voice — it was exactly as she remembered it, solid and sure, only the slightest bit strained from exertion. She obliged, tucking her legs tighter over his right arm and repositioning to wrap her arms around his neck; he in turn hoisted her closer, his left arm bracing against her back and pressing her chest securely to his. 

Sweat trickled down her neck, and dizziness threatened to steal her consciousness away, the sweltering heat of Bowser’s fortress almost more than her compromised body could handle. This didn’t stop her from clinging tighter to Mario. His warmth was so much softer, so much gentler, and she welcomed it with open arms.

From there he broke into a dead sprint, his feet so quick that she may well have been floating through the air. They passed plenty of soldiers in the midst of their escape, Koopas and Paratroopas alike, but most were too busy fleeing or chasing deserters to pay them any mind. The few that did gaped in awe, like they had seen the dead come back to life.

Peach understood their shock all too well. She had felt it only minutes earlier.

It all happened so quickly. The crash of metal against metal, her cell door being flung open. The whisper of her name, so weak yet so relieved, its source so disfigured that she didn’t want to believe it was truly him. But the gentle smile that had graced Mario’s lips as he collapsed onto the cold floor left no room for doubt or denial.

She had scrambled her way into an ever-growing pool of blood and pumped every last ounce of magic she could muster into his motionless body, cradling him and urging — no, begging him not to leave her, not now, not ever. And she had been too horrified by his deathly pale and blistered and burnt face to notice the bleeding crawl to a stop; in her mind, she was failing. Three months starved and sedentary had weakened her too greatly for her to hold any meaningful amount of magic. 

Yet she gave her all anyway, and she had screamed out in agony, in sorrow, in terrified uncertainty. She didn’t stop until her body forced her to stop, at which point she slumped over him, shaking and on the verge of blacking out, willing the Star Spirits to bring him back or else let her die alongside him.

There had been silence save the sounds of her pitiful weeping. There had been stillness. Then, a hand reached up and brushed her tears away. From his place in her lap, Mario had smiled up at her once more.

Now his heart hammered against her chest as the gloomy stone fortress and the blinding lava surrounding it faded farther and farther into the distance. She shut her eyes and buried her face into his shoulder once more, and she thanked him in her mind for heeding her pleas. Thank you, thank you, thank you, I love you—

She had almost said it in the dungeon. She wanted nothing more than to pull him into an impassioned kiss and babble words of love against his lips. He hadn’t given her any time. The moment he realized he wasn’t dead, he scooped her up and ran.

When he put her down, she decided. As soon as her feet were on solid ground once more, she would kiss him and set years worth of words unspoken free. 

But he didn’t put her down, not even as the choking smell of sulfur faded and cicadas sang out into the peaceful night. His sprint slowed to a run, then a jog, and with each passing minute his breath grew more labored. When his arms began to tremble, he just tightened his grasp, and the constricting pressure against her legs and torso might have been painful were his strength and presence not such a comfort.

Peach did her best to focus on these sensations, because she knew she would fall into catatonia if she let herself process any of today’s events, and she couldn’t afford that until she was home, at least.

Home. Her dearest friend and the love of her life carried her through an increasingly dense forest as a groom might carry his new bride, and he was taking her home. Peach’s saving grace — the only distraction potent enough to keep her from crying once more — came from Mario’s lips. 

“Mario?”

It happened again: a small noise of distress, then another, and another. With each one his pace stuttered until he slowed to a stumbling walk, each footstep taking notably more effort than the last.

Sympathy panged deep within Peach’s chest. The magic that had brought him from the brink of death still coursed through his veins long after, giving him the stamina to carry them both to safety, but now that magic was wearing off, and with it the pain of his injuries was returning. Before she could suggest they were far enough from the Darklands to rest, the last of Mario’s energy evaporated, and he sank to one knee in the grass with a pained whine.

Peach remained tightly clutched against him.

“S— sorry— hold on—” His words came in breathless pants, and he shook so violently that Peach was impressed he could still hold onto her. At this rate, she truly feared he might pass out.

“It’s okay,” she soothed, her voice low. “You can put me down. We’re safe for now.”

For just a moment, he squeezed her even harder, and though she knew it was selfish, she found herself hoping he’d ignore her completely, that he would hold her here in the dark wilderness until the sun peeked through the treetops. 

Eventually, he grunted in agreement, lowering his other knee so he could place her on the grass. The movement was surprisingly gentle given his state; he slid his right arm from beneath her legs once her backend made contact with the grass, and his left hand lingered for a moment at her spine to ensure she was steady.

Then it slipped away, and he slipped with it, crumpling heavily onto his side.

“Mario—!” Peach twisted to face him and brought her hands to hover over him. She had coaxed him back once. She would do it again if she needed to. Not once did she stop to wonder if she actually could.

But he was stable, if only barely. His clothes were torn in multiple places, and blood still seeped from the cuts they revealed. Undoubtedly there was even greater damage beneath those layers. But the puncture in his side, the primary source of his brush with death, now looked like nothing more than a nasty gash — painful, something that would need medical attention quickly, but not immediately life-threatening. He groaned and quivered as he lay there, but he drew deep and somewhat consistent breaths with fairly little difficulty.

Already his face looked so much better than it had in the dungeons. Not unscathed, not by any means; it was still littered with scratches and angry red burns, but the blisters and charring that had rendered him near-unrecognizable were nowhere to be found, the work of her lingering magic. This was the face of her Mario. Her champion.

Only when she cupped his cheek did Peach realize her hands were trembling. No, it was her entire body that trembled, and splotches of black began to dance in her field of vision. With a nauseated moan, she lowered herself to the ground beside him. Their journey home would have to wait a while longer.

Once she was situated across from him, her palm returned to his cheek, rough with stubble and warm from trauma. Already her heart raced, and its pace only quickened when his eyes fluttered open. Those eyes, deep blue and filled with tenderness… she had dreamed of them every night for the past three months. And she had begun to believe she would never see them again.

“Hey,” she whispered, because she really wasn’t sure what else to say.

For the third time since their reunion, Mario smiled at her, and she was certain her heart would burst. The pain etched into his features melted away as he met her gaze. It was as if everything was alright in his world now. And as he lifted a tremoring hand and mirrored her touch, his tattered glove meeting her cheek, Peach realized that everything was alright in her world too.

“Hey,” he whispered back. That one word wasn’t weak and feeble, like his dying whisper of her name had been. Its softness came from timidity, a timidity she knew all too well.

That was it. That was the final push Peach needed to overcome years of shyness, dancing around social etiquette and expectations and uncertain affections. She was going to pour her heart out to him, right here, right now, consequences be damned.

Once again, he didn’t give her any time.

He kissed her before she had the chance.

[the-baby-storyteller]

Heeheeheehee manhandling.

Throwing a resisting whumpee into bed

Moving a weak or feverish whumpee from one room to the next

Bridal carriesssssss

Lifting and hefting up a whumpee under the armpits to help them reach something

Roughly pulling a whumpee out of trouble and into their arms

Gripping a Whumpee’s wrist when they try to run away

Restraining ill or injuredwhumpee to make them stay in bed

[pianokantzart]

Bridal carry with Donkuigi

The Jungle Kingdom was built for two things: primates, and ridiculously dangerous go-karts.

Given the nature of the roads, Luigi was unsure about stepping foot into any vehicle despite Mario's invitation. "If you hold on tight enough, it's not that bad." There was hesitancy in his voice, and no argument when Luigi turned him down, insisting he preferred to travel to the palace on foot. "Go ahead. The king will be looking for you and Peach more than he'll be looking for me." Luigi shrugged and buried his hands in his pockets, "Besides, I want to take in the sights a little! Y'know?"

Luigi didn't regret his decision when the kart first sped off, nearly throwing Mario right out of the sidecar at the first hairpin turn. He did, however, come to rethink his position when he proceeded to try and travel kartless.

For all the trouble his knees gave him, Luigi considered himself quite athletic, but all his skill served him little in a cityscape built for apes who leapt and swung circles around him, a few struggling to hold back giggles as Luigi clumsily shuffled along narrow piers, looping vines, and mossy tree branches.

The final stretch toward the cliffside palace was the worst. The only entrances that weren't built for karts were only accessible through dangling green vines, hanging over a sheer drop into roaring waterfalls.

Luigi, having underestimated his own exhaustion, got stuck halfway to the top, too tired to move up and too anxious to slide down, when he heard a familiar voice call out to him: "Enjoying the view?"

"Donkey Kong!" Luigi started. He almost lost his grip as he turned to the source of the voice, sliding a few inches down the vine and nearly giving himself a heart attack. The great gorilla prince was swinging lazily back and forth on a neighboring vine by one arm, looking as at-ease as someone strolling down a sidewalk toward their mailbox. "Stick with DK," the royal said with a smirk, "It's shorter." "DK," Luigi corrected himself. He tightened his whole body around the vine, his palms began to sweat though his gloves, and tried to sound less desperate than he felt. "Hey! Hi. Um... look, I hate to bother you, but could you–"

"You need a push?" Donkey Kong's smug grin turned mischievous as he swung closer, making a motion like he was going to shove Luigi like a kid on a tire swing. "No!" Luigi squeaked. He braced himself and squeezed his eyes shut. "No no, please!" "Oh, I'm just kidding!" Amidst the sound of Donkey Kong's laughter, Luigi felt himself scooped up and cradled in a burly arm nearly as large as he was. The Plumber's hands automatically released the vine when he found himself carried swiftly upward, pressed firmly into the gorillas large chest.

In a fog of relief combined with a keen sense of how unusual his situation was, Luigi couldn't help but notice a few things: One, he felt unusually safe given the circumstances. DK's hold was firm, but not too tight, almost giving him the sense of laying in a warm hammock. Second, his fur was surprisingly soft, akin to a bearskin rug, only slightly denser and softer.

Third... DK smelled surprisingly good, like a recently-used woodshop and citrus fruit peels. Luigi dared not mention any of his observations aloud, and Donkey Kong thought it was merely nerves that made him so hesitant to dismount from his arms when they were safe within the palace.

"Loosen your grip, L, you're okay."

"...L?" Luigi asked, carefully setting his feet down on the carved stone floor.

"Yeah! DK..." Donkey Kong pointed to the letters on his own tie, then reached over and flicked the L on Luigi's cap hard enough to twist it around so it sat backward's on the plumber's head. "...and L."

Luigi fixed his hat, looking more confused than annoyed as the gorilla raced ahead of him on all fours, and waved for him to follow. "C'mon!" DK called over his shoulder. "I'll show you around!"

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Hero x Villain Whump Finale (June of Doom Day 29)

Alt. "I'm not okay."

Prompts List | Event Masterpost

Hero x Villain Masterpost | <- Previous Part

Fandom: Original Work

Tag List: @juneofdoom @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf @doctorsawyer @pinkrangerv @42questionsandaloafofbread

CW: concussion, captivity whump, referenced injuries, delirious, swearing, bridal carry

A/N: thank you so much for all your comments on this work! It has been really encouraging and I've had a lot of fun writing this. Thank you especially to @fourwingedsnake for requesting I pick the Hero x Villain series back up after Whumpmas. This is late in part because I didn't want to rush it and post something that in my eyes sucked.

Love all of you!

----------

Leader had been cocky enough to keep Hero and Villain’s cells relatively close to one another. Not cocky enough to place them next door, but close enough that each could hear the other screaming. Or lack thereof.

When Hero stepped inside the cell after Techie unlocked it, they found Villain slumped against the wall, head bowed, eyes closed. The blood on their face had clotted into a dark red matted mess in their hair and on their temple, and four small, round bruises dotted their cheek.

Where Leader had touched them.

Where Leader had inflicted their powers on them.

“Villain?”

They stirred slightly, eyes cracking open. “Oh… hey Hero…” they murmured, words slurring together. Wincing, they pressed one hand to the side of their head. “Ow… got the worst headache….”

Panic rose in Hero’s throat, but they gritted their teeth against the fear, crouching at their side. “Villain, you had a pretty bad concussion when we got here, and then Leader… they… they used their powers on you.”

“I… huh… so that’s… that’s what happened… fuck that hurt a lot….” Their eyes slid closed and their head drooped down, their hand falling to their side.

“Villain?! Villain!” Hero grabbed their shoulder and shook them, not caring if it made the concussion worse.

They groaned. “Ugh… whaddya do that for…?”

“Villain, you’re not okay.”

“No… no shit…” they muttered, “a child could… could tell I’m not okay….”

Hero took a deep breath. It was strange seeing Villain like this, they were used to Villain being the strong one. But Villain was in no shape for that, so now it was Hero’s turn. “I got you. Can you stand?”

“I dunno… fuck… I’m sorry… so… so useless….”

“You are not useless!” Hero snapped. “It’s not your fault we got caught, you did all you could.”

Villain laughed dryly, a short brief sound that trailed off into a low groan. “...don’t even… have any powers… Leader just kept me around for… for fucking training purposes….”

“Well fuck them! Fuck them and whatever they said to you! They’re a lying piece of shit, and if it weren’t for you Techie wouldn’t have had the courage to take them down!”

Villain’s eyes cracked open at that. “Didya just… say Techie? Took them down?”

Hero glanced over their shoulder at their teammate and jerked their head. Techie hesitated, but took the cue and stepped inside the cell, massive energy gun in hand. They nodded at Villain, a slightly self-satisfied expression on their face.

“Oh…” Villain murmured, “suppose I should… apologize… for punching you in the face… that one time….”

Techie rolled their eyes. “I let you both inside the building. Didn’t think you were gonna attack me like that, otherwise I would’ve locked myself inside the control room until you were done.”

“S… sorry…”

“I got over it.”

Hero carefully scooped Villain up in a bridal carry, their limp form in their arms. Villain groaned slightly at the movement, their eyes sliding closed again. “The light… hurts….”

“I’ll get you medical attention,” Hero said reassuringly as they moved out into the hallway, “there are a few people in your part of the city who would gladly see to your recovery as a favor for protecting them well.”

Techie frowned. “Why do you say that like you’re not going to be watching over them?”

Hero stiffened slightly at the accusation but started walking towards the stairs regardless. “Someone needs to watch over the city. With Leader and Shapeshifter… indisposed… and Youngest out of commission, it needs to be done. You can’t do it alone.”

“About that…” Techie said softly, trailing behind them, “I… uh… contacted one of the other superhero teams. Sent them everything in my database. And I mean everything.”

Hero stopped in their tracks. “So Leader will see justice?!”

Techie nodded, an almost disbelieving smile on their face. In Hero’s arms, Villain stirred. “Hope they… hope they have… a good time in prison… heh… ugh….”

Hero glanced down at them, hesitated, and planted a quick kiss on their forehead. Villain’s eyes flew open in shock. “Hey… no fair… can’t kiss you back….”

“Oh! Of course!” Hero leaned their head forward, their lips finding Villain’s. It was strange, harboring these feelings, these attachments for so long, and finally having them out in the open. It was comforting. Villain loved them back. 

The kiss didn’t last nearly as long as Hero wanted, but duty prompted them to pull away long before they desired to. “Let’s get you medical attention.”

“…m’kay…” Villain murmured sleepily.

Techie watched them leave, Villain in Hero’s arms. When they finally decided to follow, to accompany them to the door, Techie realized they were grinning like an idiot.

Everything was going to be okay.

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1264

Submitted by Anon - thanks!

I feel like we overlook the whump potential of tearing up the bottoms of a whumpee's feet too often. They could get their feet shredded by glass, rocks, or hot sand. They could try to run away on bleeding feet or their caretaker(s) could see this and tenderly carry them everywhere. Just a thought.

[slippedtheknot]

"I'm not weak,"

Whumpee lay on the ground; his clothes soaking in his own blood off the wooden floor. He attempted too get up and clean, but he just couldn't. It was humiliating to be laying there like a fish out of water.

"Hey, Whumpee?" Caretaker called from down the stairs. Whumpee started panicking and once again tried to pick himself off the floor. His hand lost traction from the blood all over and his back hit the floor hard. and loud; loud enough for Caretaker to hear it from his place at the stairwell and come running.

"Whumpee, are you- oh my gosh!" Caretaker stood frozen at the doorway for a minute before sliding to Whumpee's side.

It was all too much. The pain, the humiliation, the distant sounds of Caretaker screaming his name....it was all too much. Whumpee's eyes started burning with tears that he tried to fight back, but they fell anyways. It felt like with each tear falling down his cheeks that they left a burn mark. Maybe it was just his face heating up from embarrassment.

"Hey hey, Whumpee, stay still." Caretaker gently lifted up Whumpee's shirt only to find that his side had been split open. Caretaker squinted at the intense gash to see the glistening of bone. "Okay, buddy, we're gonna be headed out now, okay?"

"No! No no no I'm fine! Please!" Whumpee cried out; his voice cracking at the end. Caretaker stopped to look at Whumpee's face for a minute. "I...I'm not weak, Caretaker. Please. I can take care of this myself. Please."

"I know you're not weak, kid, but that wound is...well...let's just say it's above the scraped knees I've bandaged up. I don't know how to deal with that but the doctors and nurses at the hospital do, okay? You're not weak for going there, Whumpee."

Whumpee's death grip on Caretaker's arm loosened, and eventually fell. Caretaker took note of the bloody handprint that was left. "Okay, I'm gonna slip my hand under your knee and one under your back to carry you to the car."

"Okay..." Whumpee nodded his head quickly. "Okay."

[whump-for-comfort]

My second entry for the @whumperless-whump-event! This one is two prompts combined.

Day 2: Alt Prompt: Seizure + Day 3: Like a record, baby: Vertigo

Characters: Generic (whumpee + caretaker + medic)

Warnings: None, appart from a breif mention of nausea.

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

“Whumpee? Whumpee, can you hear me, love?”

Everything was sore and Whumpee groaned. Their head was pillowed on something soft, yet the rest of their body was lying on the hard floor. Caretaker’s capable hands were carding through their hair, and despite all the pain and the unknowns, they relaxed into the sensation.

“They're coming back,” Medic said somewhere above them, and Whumpee recognised their hand clutched around their wrist. “You ok, Whumpee?”

Whumpee groaned again and cracked their eyes open.

They was lying on the floor, curled on their side. All they could see from their vantage point was the bottom of the bookshelves, Medic's knees as they crouched in front of their prone body, and their own hand curled in front of them. Their other hand was resting in Medic's lap, Medic's fingers over Whumpee's pulse point.

They attempted to move their head to locate Caretaker, but shut their eyes against the barrel of vertigo that hit them. They moaned and curled further in on themself.

“Dizzy?” Medic asked. Whumpee grunted an affirmative; nodding was not an attractive idea.

At least Caretaker’s hand in their hair was a welcome distraction.

“First aid kits still under the sink, right?” Medic asked Caretaker, and Whumpee heard Caretaker's affirmative before Medic stood to retrieve it.

“Let’s get you sitting up, love,” Caretaker said softly. “Come on, you can lean against me. Up you come.”

With Caretaker's hands under their armpits, they helped Whumpee up into a reclined sitting position. Even with their eyes closed, the vertigo made itself known, it was as if they were on board a ship on rough waves.

They were pulled between Caretaker’s legs, their head against Caretaker's chest, cradled in their arms. They relaxed against them and let them take the entirety of their weight.

“What happened?” Whumpee grumbled. They kept their eyelids pressed firmly together; opening their eyes would do no good for their stomach.

“You had another seizure,” Caretaker provided. They rubbed up and down the side of Whumpee’s arm in a comforting gesture and pressed a kiss into their hair. “You might have hit your head on the floor as you went down.”

Whumpee groaned again. “Hurts.”

“Your head?” Caretaker began to run gentle fingertips through Whumpee's hair, stopping only when Whumpee winced. “Ah. You’ve got a little bump.”

“And perhaps a concussion,” Medic added as they re-entered the room, presumably with the first aid kit, but Whumpee didn’t want to risk opening their eyes to find out.

The air stirred as Medic crouched down in front of Whumpee. They heard a zipper being pulled and rummaging in the kit, then a click and a burst of light that made the insides of Whumpee’s eyelids glow red. “You’re gonna have to open your eyes, Whumpee. I’m sorry, but I need to check your pupils.”

Whumpee cautiously opened their eyes as if preparing to squint into the sun.

The light burned, and it took all of Whumpee’s willpower to not cringe away from it. They forced themselves to look into Medic's face as they brought the light into their eyes and away again in brisk movements. Whumpee must have made a noise of discomfort, for Caretaker had begun to shush them softly.

“A mild concussion,” Medic reported finally, clicking the torch off again. “You should be alright, but I’d recommend bedrest for the rest of the day. No falling asleep, though. Caretaker, you’ll have to stay with them.”

“Of course,” Caretaker said readily, and Whumpee couldn’t help the affectionate smile that leaked out behind the pain.

With help from both Medic and Caretaker, Whumpee stood on two feet, though it felt like they were falling. They gasped, despite the two strong presences at his sides holding them up.

“Can you walk?” Caretaker asked.

Whumpee shook their head, an action that had them pressing their lips together against the sudden wave of nausea it elicited.

“All right,” Caretaker said soothingly. Slowly, ever so slowly to avoid upsetting Whumpee's head any further, they lifted them into their arms and cradled them to their chest.

It wasn’t long before they were placed gently on the bed, and Whumpee let out a sigh of relief as they were enveloped by soft pillows and plush blankets.

Distantly, they registered Medic's farewell pat on the arm, and then Whumpee and Caretaker were alone.

They felt the mattress dip beside them, and they reached their hand out blindly. Caretaker tangled their fingers together.

“Here,” they felt the nudge of two pills against their lips, which they parted to let Caretaker place on their tongue. They swallowed them both dry; they had gotten quite good at that recently. “No going to sleep, remember?”

“I know,” Whumpee grumbled. They wished they could sleep off the remaining symptoms, but it was not to be. “You’ll stay with me though?”

They heard the smile in Caretaker’s voice. “Of course. For as long as you need.”

[sonknuxadow]

sorry mild hater moment incoming but . idk what it is with s/onadow fans (not all of them. just a very loud subsection) specifically and making every little thing shadow does about s/onadow even if its the biggest reach imaginable and immediately going "omg s/onadow" every time hes confirmed to be in some upcoming thing . or being so obsessed with the ship and letting it warp their perceptions of things so much to the point where they act like every little thing is a hint from sega that theyre in love for real. and they cant admit that its not canon or that just because they choose to interpret certain things romantically doesnt mean that thats actually what sega/the writers intended even if theres an obvious non so/nadow explanation for it

before people take this the wrong way i dont hate the ship i dont think that its completely baseless or that everyone who likes it is wrong and annoying or anything . but some of you look like this if im being honest

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Keeley faints from overworking and Roy & Jamie are there to take care of her. (thank you for the request!)

For the day 30 prompt: bridal carry.

Read on ao3.

[3-2-whump]

WoW Birthday Whump Event Day 8

Alt. Prompt: Bridal Carry

Just a quick little sketch. This is canon to me, think of it like canon behind the scenes.

It’s alright, Nico, he’ll be fine, you’re not gonna get fired