Some self indulgent headcanons about Robby since the chronic illnesses have been beating my ass the past 3 days.
Robby with a chronically ill partner:
It's really hard for him to not go into full doctor mode, but he can't help it.
Feeling dizzy? Vertigo attack? Forget walking. He's carrying you around the house. You are NOT falling on his watch.
He's taking your blood pressure to make sure it's stable. And he's doing it the manual way. He's doesn't trust those electronic cuffs.
He makes sure you take your meds and even fills your pill organizer for you.
Always has your go to safe foods and electrolyte solutions on hand, and he gets them for you if you need them.
He's always warm, and you seek out his warmth when the pain gets bad. He's always happy to hold you, rub your back, and kiss away any tears that might fall. He HATES seeing you in pain.
If he can't get out of work to stay home and take care of you, he's definitely calling to check on you. Even sending someone he trusts over to put eyes on you and get you anything you need.
He's quick to remind you that you are not a burden and that you are the strongest person he knows. He wishes he could take it away from you, and it kills him that he can't. He loves you for YOU, and considers it a privilege to take care of you.
Summary: Matt can't wait to get home to listen to your latest audio. He's a loyal subscriber, and you get him worked up like no one else does.
Warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY. Mutual masturbation (sort of), pillow humping, dirty talk, some light sacrilege. You know, THE GOOD GOOD. Reminder that you are responsible for what you see once you click "Read More".
Author's Note: I would like to thank the Academy (@bellaxgiornata @loveroftoomanyfandoms and @souliebird) for enabling this. Edited, but not beta read, we die like Ray Nadeem (RIP). ENJOY!
Divider by @saradika
Matt was sitting at his desk going over a deposition when his phone buzzed with a new notification. He had been waiting for word on something specific, so he switched his headphones from his laptop to his phone to see what it was. As soon as he heard the source of the notification, he slammed his laptop shut and started packing up his things to leave. Foggy heard the commotion from his office and came to check on Matt to make sure everything was okay.
“Hey, buddy. You okay?”
“Yeah, Fog. Just feeling a headache coming on. The seasons are changing and you know how that messes with me,” Matt replied as he stuffed his laptop in his bag.
“You want me to walk with you?”
“No, it’s okay, Fog. I can make it just fine.”
“Alright, buddy. But text me when you get home. You know I worry about you and your headaches,” Foggy called out as Matt walked out the door.
“I know, Foggy. But I’ll be okay. See you tomorrow, buddy!”
Matt walked home as quickly as he could, resisting the urge to break into a full on sprint. Once he made it to his building, he dashed up the stairs two at a time, and threw off his jacket as soon as he shut his door behind him. He furiously loosened his tie as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and used the voice command to open up the notification once again. This time when he opened it, he was met with the sound of your voice.
“Hey baby, I missed you. Did you miss me?”
Your smooth and sugary voice went straight to his cock, so he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, stepping out of them on his living room floor. He palmed over the bulge in his black boxers and pulled off his tie before going to work unbuttoning his shirt as your voice continued to play through his phone.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day. I even had to excuse myself from a meeting to go touch myself in the bathroom, but I wished it was your hand. You know just what to do to make me feel good.”
Matt was so caught up in your voice that it took him a moment to realize he was now half naked in his living room, right on display in front of the window. Truthfully, he didn’t care if the neighbors saw him, but he grabbed his phone and went into his bedroom. He placed his phone on the nightstand, shed his boxers, and climbed under his silk sheets.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out as he slowly stroked his cock while you continued to talk.
“Am I turning you on, baby? I can see you’re getting awfully worked up in those dress pants. I’m getting pretty wet, myself. You’re so fucking hot. You wanna watch while I rub my clit?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Make those pretty noises for me,” he replied as if you were in the room with him.
You let out a moan as you rubbed your clit, and Matt swore he could hear how wet you were. He started stroking his cock faster and you moaned louder.
“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come, baby.”
“Yes, come for me, sweetheart. Fucking scream for me.”
“But I wanna come with your cock inside me, so I’ll wait for you. I want you to feel me, and I want to feel you. Let’s come together, baby.”
Suddenly his hand wasn’t good enough anymore, so he sat up in the bed and stuffed one of his pillows between his thighs to straddle it. The cool silk of the pillowcase felt like heaven against his achingly hard cock that was dripping with precum and begging for release. He started counting the Hail Mary’s he was going to have to say later for this depraved act in his head, but in the moment, he couldn’t be bothered to care.
“You’re so big, baby. Do you think you’ll fit?”
“I’ll go slow, sweetheart, I promise. We can make it fit.”
Matt rolled his hips against the pillow at the same time you let out another moan, and he grabbed onto his headboard for leverage.
“You feel so good, filling me up so perfectly. Fuck me, baby”
“You feel good too. I’ll go slow at first. I want to feel you.”
“You’re not gonna hurt me, I can handle it. Just fuck me, baby. Please.”
“How can I say no when you asked so nicely?” he purred.
He quickened his pace as you continued making soft sounds of pleasure. He should be ashamed of what he’s doing: fucking his pillow while listening to audio porn and responding back to you as if you could hear him. But, he didn’t care. Once he accidentally discovered erotic audios, he couldn’t get enough, and you were his favorite creator. Your voice was like a drug to him, and he was always jonesing for another hit. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually fuck you instead of his pillow, but he would have to settle for this for now.
“Oh, fuck I’m so close. I’m gonna come baby. Are you gonna come too?”
“Fuck. Yeah, sweetheart I’m gonna come.”
“Come inside me.”
You let out a guttural, almost feral moan, and Matt screamed in tandem with you. His thrusts became more erratic, sweat was beading on his forehead, and he was white knuckling the headboard. He was getting closer with every sound you made, and he wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer.
“Oh, OH F-FUCK.”
“Yes, sweetheart. Oh yes, oh FUCK.”
His chest heaved, his breathing was ragged, and his hips stuttered into the pillow as he came hard. He collapsed backward onto the mattress, a thin sheen of sweat covering his entire body. “Shit,” he breathed out as he ran one of his hands down his face.
“Did you like that? Be sure to subscribe for more, and don’t be shy about leaving me a comment! Until next time, audiophiles…”
After a few minutes, Matt sat up and reached for his phone to close the app. He knew that pillowcase was ruined, but that could wait. He stood up on shaky legs and made his way to the bathroom to take a shower. As much as he loved your voice, and how turned on he got by it, he longed to have you in his bed so he could hold you afterwards, and maybe even join him in the shower.
When he was done washing the post-coital sweat off his body, he dried off and put on a fresh pair of boxers and sweatpants, threw the defiled pillowcase in the trash, and sat down to leave you a comment on your latest audio that he got off to. He set his phone back on his nightstand, laid down in bed, and allowed his mind to wander about how you actually felt and how your skin smelled. Maybe one day he could find someone with a voice as gorgeous as yours.
—-----------------------------------------------
The “CLOSED” sign had long since been displayed in the door of the coffee shop, and you were finally done with your closing duties for the evening. Your boss said you were free to go, so you grabbed your bag and your jacket, said your goodbyes, and headed out to your shoebox of an apartment. You loved living in New York City, but it was expensive, and just being a barista didn’t pay the bills. No one knew about your “side hustle”, and you liked it that way. It was oddly empowering to you that you were a caffeine peddler by day, but you used your voice to get people off by night. It was perfect because you could have fun living out your own fantasies, but no one knew your face.
After scarfing down the take out you picked up on your way home, you sat down to check the notifications on your latest audio post. There were always lots of comments to sift through, but there was one username in particular that commented on every single audio you posted, and you always looked forward to their comments.
As you scrolled through the comments, you finally saw the one you were looking for: “rllygdlwyr commented: So hot as always, sweetheart. I ruined a silk pillowcase with this one. May have to start buying them in bulk if you keep this up.”
You laughed and bit your lip at the comment. Normally, subscribers calling you pet names would creep you out, but this one was loyal, and they pretty much paid for your take out habit with their subscription and their tips. As much as you hated to admit it, they kind of kept you going.
Once you were done checking your account and responding to comments, you took a shower, put on some slinky lingerie, and pulled out your favorite toys to make a new audio. According to their username, they were most likely a lawyer, so tonight you decided to try a little roleplay.
“I’m afraid I’m guilty, but is there anything I can do to lessen my sentence? I heard you’re a really good lawyer.”
to be loved by death is to be death itself. some would say you become death, but you already are, in the way a snake eats its own tail.
all vampires are made out of selfish desire. is it selfish to love? is it selfish to love when you know you are death? you are only death because somebody loved you. and so you will love, and so will death. a snake eating its own tail...
“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong?” For the au where the Sides shift sizes?
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Finale (here!)
In a world where the sides shrink or grow based on their emotions/egos, Logan is still holed away in his room at a few inches tall. The others are finally let in and do their best to help the micro-soft nerd.
October Prompt #15: Control
I think this is the final part of shrinking-sides! Check out more of my writing at @hiddendreamerwriting!
Logan hid his flinch well, attempting to retain at least a small amount of his composure as his perceptively gigantic fellow sides creaked open the door, Roman being the first to show himself. It was intimidating to say the least, and certainly far worse than the sensation of being overpowered by the size of his bedroom alone.
“Wow, you’re so small.” Roman stated obviously.
“I’m well aware of my stature, Roman.” Logan huffed, his cheeks blazing as he turned away from their prying eyes.
“Yes, well, no need to get huffy, Microsoft Nerd.” Roman gave a huff of his own. Patton peeked around Roman, letting out a soft gasp.
“Oh my goodness you’re absolutely adorable.” Patton spoke softly, clearly trying (and failing) to keep from being overheard. Logan’s cheeks reddened further, the current littlest member of Thomas’ subconscious quickly feeling the situation slip further out of his control as they entered the premises.
“This is bad.” Virgil let out a hiss of breath through his teeth, coming in behind Patton and suddenly Logan was beginning to feel very outnumbered. “Logan. What the hell.”
“Language.” Patton gently smacked him. “And Logan… what happened, kiddo?”
“Ah….” Logan’s statement trailed off. How was he meant to explain that he had lost control of his emotions? He was logic, and rationality. Logan shouldn’t be influenced by petty feelings; it was positively embarrassing. It proved that Logan was incapable of performing even his most basic of functions. Perhaps he was not necessary at all, and Thomas would become a more effective human system without his involvement-
Logan flinched, startled out of his wits as the other three sides simultaneously bumped their heads on the ceiling, forcing all involved parties to duck at an awkward angle.
“...ow.” Virgil winced, ducking lower to rub at his neck. “Don’t do that again.”
Logan clenched his hands at his sides, frustrated that his struggles had become so transparent. “I am not doing so intentionally.”
“Oh sweetie, we know.” Patton gave him a pitying look, kneeling down in front of Logan and yet still towering over the shrunken individual. “Here, let me help-”
“No!” Logan hastily rejected the offer, backpedaling away from the approaching hand. “I don’t- I’m not in need of assistance.”
“And that’s why you’re the size of my hand?” Virgil slumped to the ground on Logan’s right, holding up his palm for emphasis. “Oh wait, smaller, because thanks to you we can’t stop growing.”
There was a thump, and Logan quickly turned his head to see Roman had taken up residence sitting on his left. The three giants were encasing him, leaving Logan feeling trapped and cornered. He bit his lip, looking up to Roman and waiting for the quip he was certain would come at any moment.
Roman tilted his head, an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression on his face. “...Do you ever feel like you don’t belong?”
“Roman!” Patton gasped, a disappointed look crossing his features. "You're not reacting quite like I thought you would. I expect better from a charming prince like you.”
“Yeah, what the hell, princey?” Virgil hissed, and this time he wasn’t corrected for his language. “We already know he can shrink, no need to make it worse.”
“That- that’s not what I meant!” Roman looked off put by everyone’s critics. “I was making a point, you know.”
Logan frowned, not expecting the insult to be so blatant. “Are you implying that this mindset is logical?”
“No, no no no!” Roman groaned, wiping his hand down his face. “I’m trying to empathize with you here, why does no one get that? I’ll have you all recall I’m the one who’s been in this situation before.”
“Yes, and you handled that spectacularly.” Virgil rolled his eyes.
“We can just do and say the same things again!” Patton said, his eyes shining with determination. “Logan, you are amazing and smart and we love you!”
“Please will you let me cuddle you?” Patton whined, reaching for Logan again who ducked out of the way.
“Absolutely not!” Logan insisted. “I will not be handled like… like…”
“Like a helpless doll?” Roman offered.
The room went quiet, and Logan took a moment to reconsider the way Roman was acting. “...yes.” Logan agreed finally.
Roman nodded. “You feel like you’re nothing. Like you don’t matter, and it doesn’t matter if we tell you you’re wrong because then it’s just going to hurt more because you were wrong and Logic’s never wrong, is he?”
The other two sides looked at Roman with puzzled expressions. Meanwhile Logan’s own jaw dropped, concerned at Roman’s new apparent skill in telepathy. “How... how were you aware of these thoughts?”
“Because they’re true.” Virgil butt in, looking to Roman for reassurance that he was indeed in on the plan and not about to make everything worse. With a nod from Roman, he continued. “If a side really mattered they wouldn’t shrink.”
“Falsehood.” Logan frowned, gesturing to Roman. “Creativity is an essential part of Thomas’ personality.”
“And so is Logic.” Patton insisted. “Logan, we need you.”
“That is not factually accurate.” Logan began to pace back and forth. “I could easily be replaced-”
“By who?” Roman scoffed. “I operate in a realm of fantasy, Patton’s head is in the clouds, and Virgil, well his line of reasoning puts us over the edge of the Yankovic curve.”
“Yerkes-Dodson curve.” Logan corrected.
“Why does Thomas need any of us?” Virgil shrugged. “We’re not real. It just means Thomas is insane, and by the looks of things in desperate need of some therapy.”
“Virgil, don’t say such things!” Patton scolded.
“Indeed.” Logan agreed, shooting Virgil a look over the edge of his glasses. “It is quite a common coping mechanism for humans to envision manifestations of themselves as leaders for certain necessary functions. At this point we’ve become so ingrained in his subconscious that a separation from our existence could be detrimental.”
“So what you’re saying, Little L, is that we exist?” Roman questioned.
“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Logan nodded.
“But we’re not people.” Virgil crossed his arms. “We don’t have emotions.”
“You know that statement is illogical.” Logan rolled his eyes. “Patton is quite literally the embodiment of emotions.”
“I think he meant we all have emotions.” Roman supplied gently.
Patton’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’, finally catching on.
“I...suppose that our existence has evolved beyond our mere functions, as evidenced by our names, most strongly exhibited in Virgil.” Logan rationalized. “If that is truly the case, it’s possible that, yes, several of us may experience something that is equivalent to human emotions from time to time-”
“Logan.” Patton interrupted gently, wringing his hands together. “It’s… it’s okay for you to have feelings, kiddo.”
Logan paused his pacing, looking down at his feet. “...I am aware that you hold that opinion.”
“Oh come on, we were so close!” Roman groaned. “We were so close! Why can’t you just accept our help?”
“I should not require help.” Logan answered. “Rationality should be able to control emotions.”
“And what about Logan?” Roman argued. “I mean you already said you’re more than your functions now.”
“I still need to be in control to perform admirably.” Logan continued to insist, sitting down.
“Bullshit.” (“Language.”) Virgil gave Patton a glare to tell him now was not the time for censoring. “Logan, are emotions logical?”
“Absolutely not.” Logan answered immediately. “They are complicated and illogical and infuriating.”
“And if they’re illogical, then why would a person who’s the embodiment of logic be able to handle them alone?” Virgil waved his hand slowly, urging Logan to catch on.
“Emotions are my realm, kiddo.” Patton reminded him. “Wouldn’t it make sense to accept our help?”
“Yes, indeed!” Roman clapped his hands, gleeful that things were going according to plan. “And certainly you should be able to tell when we’re telling you facts, like the fact that even if you’re a stick in the mud Thomas still needs you.”
Thomas still needs you. “I suppose there is some truth to what you’re saying.” Logan nodded thoughtfully, a hopeful warmth blooming in his chest.
“Logan, even when you’re a clueless moron, you’re still the one who wrangles the rest of us morons together.” Virgil smirked.
“You’re the smartest Einstein we’ve got!” Roman tacked on.
“Inaccurate, but appreciated.” Logan allowed a small smile to grow on his features.
“You’re going to be okay.” Patton assured him.
Logan’s leg bumped something. He looked up, finding Patton to be at eye level, and realized that in his daze he had grown back to his original size.
“Thank you.” Logan glanced to the sides, expecting to see at least one person giving him a knowing or condescending look. Instead all three faces were warm, gentle. Welcoming. “All of you.”
Patton squealed, launching himself at Logan. “Group hug!”
The others were quick to follow suit, tackling the nerd to the ground with ease. Despite their increased proximity, Logan found the action unintimidating this time. Instead their presence comforted him, grounding him in his ability to facilitate his duties with ease and reassuring him that they would be willing to assist him in any future emotional endeavors.
Logan considered their odd behavior upon entering his room. Rather than smother him with kindness and lord over their superiority on this topic that was so new to Logan, the others had granted him the opportunity to come to the right conclusions enough.
“Thank you.” Logan said again, finding that he couldn’t say it enough.
Some art for @themandylion from her awesome fic Always and Forever (the prequel to Forever and Always)!
If you haven’t read them, I definitely recommended, especially if you like magic, dragons, and all the fun complications that come with blood oaths/soul bonds!
(A zoomed in version of Jason and Tim under the cut.)
He smiled, fixing his gaze on the Sorting Hat as he swaggered forward to be sorted into his house, into Slytherin.
"Well now, my young friend, I can see where to put you...”
A quiet voice came to his head, the Sorting Hat itself. Without even a pause, he replied, "I will be the greatest Slytherin to ever walk these halls.”
"Slytherin? Oh dear me, is that what you think?"
A pause. "Of course, why wouldn’t it be?"
"Determination, yes, and ambition, but that’s not what drives you, Draco Malfoy."
"But my whole family have been in Slytherin!” He didn’t mention the others, the outcasts, who failed to join the greatest of the Hogwarts houses. He tried not to think of them, or of being sent to join them.
"Yes, your family is important to you. Their house, their goals, their loyalties. Loyalty runs strong in you."
"Yes! Loyalty to them, and their house. Please, I have to be in Slytherin!"
"You might be, you might be, but your loyalty to family loyalties will cause you much strife, I think, and much hard work, harder than you realise."
"I can bear it. I must bear it."
"Those aren’t the marks of Slytherin, you know, loyalty and hard work. You would do well in Hufflepuff, Malfoy."
"Please..." His voice trailed off, to barely a whisper, "If I’m not in Slytherin, my father would... would…"
"Ahh, loyalty above ambition, but self-preservation above all. As you wish."
"SLYTHERIN!"
Inspired in part by this post by @lbibliophile.
I realise that the hat is described as having barely touched his head in the books (and in the movies, didn’t even get that far), but the concept needed exploring. Draco’s character arc is essentially a war between loyalty and self-preservation.
I haven't written for BSD yet officially, but here's my jump into the fandom. It's a planned multi chapter fic but I'm not sure how many chapters this will have just yet.
Trying to be a god when you were purely mortal was nothing but a sin, the embodiment of greed. Yet to try and capture one that was blessed by the gods and harness their power? That was pure foolishness, and chaos would be the only result.
Chuuya just wants to live peacefully with his new family, yet there was this bastard that Dazai was trying to keep away from him. What did he want with him anyways? He was just someone with an ability--an executive of the Port Mafia. It wasn't like he was god.
Heavy pelting of raindrops was what brought a slow awakening to him. Chuuya could smell the scent of rain, the scent of something that was indiscernible, yet comforting all at once. He loved the smell of wet leaves, the calming drone of the raindrops hitting the window. It was calming, comforting—and all too jarring at the moment.
Why did that memory have to come back to him?
Feeling his chest clench in phantom pain, he knew that he looked as well as he did. Like shit.
White hot pain lanced through his hands, making his arms feel like they were skewered with metal rods.
He knew how that felt, just not through his arms. In his younger years, when he first started out, he had been stabbed through the side by the Golden Demon. That was something that he never wanted to relive.
Which was why he got better, and now even though Kouyou was still one of the only ones that could and would keep him on his toes in a fight, he hadn’t had the privilege of feeling that blade through him once more. It was something that he was glad of.
He knew that blood and pain was what so many members of the mafia went though to stay alive, and it was more than that; that really was drenching those with ambition. He had been drenched in his own blood, worked to the point where he couldn’t even stand up anymore, and he still kept going. All of the scars, the sweat and blood that he put into the mafia, as well as clawing his way up to his position of executive was worth it.
It was all worth it, yet why did he feel like he was falling to pieces?
It was days like this that reminded him what he had dealt with before the mafia. One of the main reasons that he felt the need to wear his gloves most of the time, how he wasn’t all completely there like he tried to portray he was.
Being an orphan with an ability could be hard.
Several things could happen if people got wind of a moldable ability user. Being kidnapped and tortured until their mind broke, so that they’d do whatever what the person that saved them would do; possibly being killed if they disagreed. There was the other method, that the child would have to sleep with one eye open because of the fact that several people wanted them to further their own goal in life. Child trafficking was another thing, because of the fact that certain abilities made potential customers want to raise the amount of money they would pay for a good slave.
The thought made him scowl unconsciously.
He had been through another hell. He had gone from killing his adopted father in his defense after the bastard had killed his adopted mother. Unfortunately, his step father was of the greedy sort, and after he realized that this little redheaded child had such an interesting ability, he had tried to sell him for money when he was five years old.
Fuck everything if he didn’t realize what he was doing after he said that he would be bloody rich, and that’s when he started pulling away even more. He had run away from his home before, and while he tolerated his adopted father—he really wasn’t even there most of the time, because his mother had been separated from him for almost a year at that point.
It was greed and debt that brought death back into his life.
The bastard was deep in debt with the Italian mafia, and they even had a few small footholds within Japan as well. The Italian mafia worked quite well with Russia’s own mafia, and because of the fact that he was in debt with both of them, was why he was looking for fast and easy money.
Chuuya knew one thing, he hated being tied up. Once that bastard had tried to tie him up, ranting about finally being debt free, he had started to crack.
His poor adopted mother had an inkling of what has going on when she heard him swearing up a storm at the pitiful fool, and when she had stood between him and what he saw was his money—he had shot her point blank.
That was the last straw for him, and he could feel the rage that had been building up finally release with the feeling of warm blood splattered all over his face.
She had tried to protect him, and had been killed for it.
She had died to save him.
“You won’t take Chuuya from me!”
Those were her last words, ones intended to protect him.
Mama had died for him, protecting him.
“Mama..” He murmured, feeling himself shake.
He could feel the splashes of warm blood that trickled down his face, the opened eyed stare of shock that were in those green eyes of the mother that he had cherished so much.
She was the only one that cared. The only one that wanted to take care of him, to make him happy.
She even knew French. She didn’t want him to lose his heritage, so she kept speaking their shared beautiful language in their house, as well as Japanese.
“Je t’aimerai toujours maman.”
The last words that he had spoken to her this morning had been that he would always love her, his mother.
That hadn’t changed, and he knew that he always would.
“Mama….” He murmured again, feeling cold all over. It was like nothing mattered anymore, like it was his fault that those warm green eyes weren’t going to be able to show him love ever again. It was his fault.
It was his fault.
It was his fault!
His mother loved him, and she died for him.
It was his fault…no, it wasn’t.
All he had done was love his mother, wanting nothing more to make her smile. He loved her smile, and that was enough for him.
He loved her, and he lost her. That was something that he had been afraid of. He hadn’t wanted to get close to someone, and when he finally allowed himself to stop being so standoffish, he had grown to love his adopted mother. That love now brought him to heartbreak.
Why had she protected him then?
He was the one that was supposed to protect her.
“You…”
Feeling his arm being grabbed violently, he heard the deranged laughter of his mother’s ex echo in the room.
“Now that she’s gone, no one is going to stop me. They will pay me handsomely to take you off my hands, boy.”
A cold fury came over him. He had been angry before, but this was something entirely different.
“Don't touch me!” He hissed out, feeling his teeth grind together.
“Never,” He began, feeling himself become lighter as he felt the icy anger seep into his bones.
Ripping his arm from the man’s grasp, he noticed the look of fear in his eyes.
Good. He should be afraid.
“What, are you trying to defend yourself now?” He asked, cocking a brow. “You couldn’t even defend poor Madeliné.”
That was the last straw, as he noticed that the bastard had the gall to kick his mother’s body.
“Don't touch her!!” He screamed out, feeling like something snapped in his head.
His head pounded, and even though he could see it was like it wasn’t him within his body.
She shouldn’t have been harmed. She was just trying to save him.
“Maman…” He murmured, his wish of righting his mother back onto her side becoming a reality by just wishing it. Takashi, the bastard, was frozen still in his tracks, silent.
Thank god, he needed to shut up.
No, he wanted to see the bastard burn.
He needed to feel all of the rage and despair that maman felt, that he felt—he needed to feel like his very world had been ripped out from underneath him.
He needed to be ripped to shreds.
The only thing was, no one was going to be there to piece him back together.
“Just what in the hell are you doing brat?! I can’t move!!” Takashi bellowed, shaking where he stood. Chuuya smirked, realizing that something was indeed going on.
Lifting his arm, he realized faintly that he was glowing.
Ah, it was him, wasn’t it?
Good. That meant that he was the one that was making him quake in fear.
The realization of this was like a rush. He felt powerful, and as he thought of pushing the bastard backwards and pinning him to the ground he downright laughed as he realized that it worked.
“What in the hell is going o-on?” He cried out, trying to sit up. He was only able to flail about in his place. Chuuya had noticed before that when he got too emotional things would start to float around him, and he had tried to work with that to calm him down, but he had lost his focus instead, which made everything clatter to the floor.
Now, even though he was past the worst anger he had ever experienced, he could feel a dead calm within his mind. Oh, he knew what he wanted to do. He knew what he had to do, and it was like the devil was whispering in his ear.
“Tear him apart,” The voice whispered, sounding full of promise yet protective all at once. “You'll get revenge for maman.”
He just wanted to see Maman smile again, yet that wasn’t going to happen.
Feeling himself move over to the prone form of Takashi, he grinned, full of teeth and anger.
“You think you’ll take me, that you’ll sell me?” A deranged chuckle escaped him. Oh yes, the voice was right, he should take revenge for his mother. He needed to see him suffer, to let him experience just what his mother had and more.
“You little fucking bitch, let me go!”
He could feel something wrap it’s arms around him. He knew that no one was there, but it was like warmth was seeping into him. Warmth that was keeping the cold at bay. He was chasing the warmth, wanting it to stay.
“You’ll never escape darling.” He murmured, his hands twitching as the pocket knife that he carried for protection was fished out of his pocket. Flipping it open, he noticed the surefire flash of fear in the man’s eyes.
Chuckling, he felt like he was pushed back this time, and he was the one taking a back seat.
Be still little one, I will finish this for you.
Why did he feel like he was safe from harm?
He knew that he was in safe hands, but why was it like he was talking to himself, yet not?
Chuuya could feel his eyes close, and then when he opened them again, his vision began to haze over.
“Do not wake me again....” He could hear himself muttering, and it was like he had inhaled several cups of coffee all at once. He could see, yet he couldn’t, and all that he heard was the sound of screams.
Taking a deep breath he could hear the voice again, this time sounding pleased.
“Yes, scream for me more. How much did maman scream when she was beaten by you months ago? Don’t lie, I saw the bruises that she tried to cover up….”
Oh, that. He still was livid about that fact, and he could feel himself slam his foot down on the bastard’s right hand, and with the added pressure of gravity, he had crushed the bones within it. Several crunches and a blood curdling scream came from Takashi’s prone form, and he could only find himself smirking in delight.
Good, he needed to suffer more.
“Did that hurt?” He asked with false sincerity.
He only received a garbled scream as a result.
“Oh, what a pity.” He replied, a happy smile turning his lips upwards. “I was hoping that you’d actually answer me.” Because he didn’t, Chuuya felt himself direct his anger upon another part of Takashi’s body, this time it was on his left foot.
“Oops.” He muttered, whistling some as he heard another series of crunches and a high whimper that turned into complete sobbing as blood splattered along the floor. He knew that he had used enough pressure to keep the man from bleeding out before he was finished, but he also knew that he couldn’t afford to dawdle too much.
Chuuya felt numb. Numb yet warm, and he could hear a gentle croon in his ears. The beat of someone’s heart was soothing him, and it was keeping himself from going off the deep end. He was glad that it felt like someone was still embracing him, and he held onto that feeling with all he had.
“Don't worry my love, nothing will harm you.”
Hearing that just made him miss his mother even more.
Shuddering as he felt his limbs twitch, he watched with satisfaction as he watched the man breathe in a shaky, pain filled breath.
A high pitched whine came from him when he tried to speak, which filled Chuuya with a sense of incredible glee. Oh, he was finally starting to hurt!
A dull ringing echoed in his ears as he felt his foot slam down onto his left knee. This time, there was a rather interesting squelch, coupled with a loud popping sound and the unmistakeable sound of bone breaking. What made this even more interesting was that he could hear something snap.
Muscle maybe? It didn’t matter.
Another scream tore from Takashi’s throat, and as he took a glance at the now pale and beaten man he grinned toothily.
“Does it hurt, Ta-ka-shi?” He cooed out, dragging his foot up from the man’s shattered and bloody knee, noting how he was shivering and whimpering like a kicked puppy.
He will do more by the time I'm done with him.
“N-no you monster!” Takashi cried out, coughing some as Chuuya kicked him in the ribs for the backtalk. He made sure to not layer his ability with it because he wanted to draw this out as long as possible.
His dear phoenix had dealt with more than enough. It was time for him to fly free.
Monster? Was he a monster? Just what made this man, whom had beaten and abused his mother in several ways, had the reason to call him a monster? He wasn’t the one that deserved that moniker.
Takashi was. For what he had done to his mother, for what he had tried to do to him.
“Me, the monster?” He asked lightly, tilting his head curiously. His hair had fallen over his eyes as he let the confusion that he was feeling show on his face, and he hummed lightly in question. The thought was laughable, really. He was the one that was the monster? Takashi should look in a mirror, really.
Though that was the problem there. Even if he did look in a mirror, he would just see himself and not the monster that he really was.
It was rather disappointing.
Yet at the same time he was glad that he didn’t see himself as a monster because he could play with him more.
“I'm not the one that’s the monster here.” He reminded Takashi, pressing the heel of his foot on the muscle of the man’s left thigh. Without a thought he closed the pocket knife he had been carrying and threw it, knowing instinctively that he could call it back. He was edging closer to simply slamming his foot down and crushing any sense of him being male again, though he did have other plans as well.
To save that for later, or to do it now?
Decisions, decisions.
“Should I show you just how loud you can scream? You wouldn’t be able to use this ever again.” He commented idly, sighing almost as if it was a pity. He held his foot up, making a slight downwards motion that had the man squealing and choking on his own spit as he tried to jerk away from him.
Said motion got a delighted laugh from him, and in the back of his head, Chuuya could feel just how amused his protector was.
It was odd, seeing things from this perspective. Too odd, almost. Yet here he was doing things that he wished that he could have for his mother, and yet it wasn’t him. Even though it was his body doing the damage, it wasn’t him that committed the actions.
That was weird enough to make sense of in his own head, how would he make sense of it if he actually said it?
Humming wordlessly he smirked.
“Now do we start here, or do we take another joint?”
It was pretty funny seeing that Takashi spit out blood, hoping to stain his clothing. He didn’t care if he did, so it was a moot point. Though he did wonder how he had a bloody mouth anyways for a few seconds, he figured that he had either bit his tongue or the inside of his cheek.
“Fuck you.” He hissed out, the words sounding harsh as he tried to breathe in deeply, to get breath into his lungs and hopefully to steel himself against what was to come.
Now that, was just funny.
“Even if I could, you would be not even on the list of people I would.” He replied, using more force to cause the man’s bones to creak, to strain his muscles and make him gasp out in pain. It was a rather nifty gift, to be able to control gravity. He knew just how far he could go in his beloved phoenix’s body, and he was starting to realize that he couldn’t go too much further.
Chuuya would collapse as soon as he gave him back control.
He needed to make sure he was safe before that happened.
No one would hurt him like this again if he could help it.
Deciding to skip some of the playing, he slammed his foot down onto the bastard’s right knee once he had both feet back onto the ground. It didn’t take him too much force to feel the give of bone underneath his foot, and it was somewhat satisfying to hear another scream come from Takashi.
This time, it was harsh and it ended in a series of wet coughs.
Good, he needed to feel more pain.
“Yo-ah!” He gasped out, his voice catching as he fought the pain that he was in, and he would have more than likely choked on his own blood if he wasn’t able to turn his neck and cough up more onto the ground.
Humming in amusement he tsked a few times.
“Now don’t play that way, you know that you’re not going to get away from me.” He chided lightly, keeping his voice low yet mellow at the same time. He made it completely obvious that he was playing with the man, and to show him once again, he lifted the knife that had clattered to the ground earlier with his own ability, hovering it above his head.
“Oh, were you going to use this on me if I resisted? Too bad for you, I already know what I’ll do with it.”
His phoenix had always had an affinity for knives for some reason, and it did please him. They were always something that had fascinated him, to a certain degree, because gravity worked in certain ways against them. You could make them even more deadly by altering how they flew, or stopped them completely, turning them into hunks of metal and then using them as projectiles.
“You were always a—damned pest!” He gasped out, all of the air wheezing out of his lungs as it felt like his chest was compressed by an unknown weight, and Takashi could almost swear that his ribs were creaking.
Fuck.
He wanted to live, he wanted to live so much. Yet with how it seemed like the boy was possessed by something, he knew that wasn’t going to be the most likely outcome.
If only he could move!
Hearing a grating laugh, he felt his head throb in pain. Did he say that out loud? Shit, he knew that he was already bleeding out—he had to have been with everything that had been done to him, and he was only just holding onto his sanity, to his consciousness.
“Don't go and pass out on me now, you bastard. I still have so much more to do to you!” Chuuya hissed out, not caring if he stepped on the man’s chest as he leaned down, reaching out and grasping Takashi’s head and pulling it up. He wanted the man to see him, to have his face and smirk seared into his mind before he really offed him.
Feeling something twist in the back of his mind, he knew that he had to make this quick.
The little one was starting to feel pain, and that pain was starting to echo over to himself. He wasn’t wanting to tear his partner’s body apart, his precious little one—he had to finish this once and for all.
“I'm so tired…”
Feeling Chuuya waver some, he sighed, turning his attention back to the man that was on the verge of passing out due to blood loss and sheer pain. “Come now, here’s what I’ll do to you.” He purred out, twirling the knife in his hands and plunging It down into the man’s chest.
A garbled screech was what he received, and he idly let go of the now dead Takashi’s hair, letting his skull slam to the ground. He might have been a bit vindictive by letting his power increase the impact, which made the idiot’s skull shatter.
Blood sprayed across the floor in hot gushes, and it stopped rather fast as brain matter oozed out of the gaping hole now at the top and sides of what used to be Takashi’s skull.
A soft sobbing could be heard in his ears, and that was what queued him in on his little one’s emotional state. Everything was now hitting him, and all he wanted was for everything to go away. To not have to see this, and to bury his mother.
“Mama…we need to get her away from this place.”
The thought echoed in his mind, and he couldn’t help but to agree with it. The woman had been battered, but she was a diamond in the darkness for them. She was lovely, and she had protected his little one from anything she could.
“Indeed. We'll give her a proper send off.”
He could feel the desire for a burial, but at the same time he knew that with what he wanted to do to this place—to make sure it was never found again, that wasn’t going to be an option. He had always heard of fire being the way to heaven, and he was damned hoping this was the case.
She deserved the best after all.
It was almost a sad thing, seeing the almost decapitated remains of the murderer on the ground, and with merely a thought he released gravity’s hold from the corpse. He wasn’t going to need the more finite position he had put it in before. Instead he flicked his hand, letting the corpse close in on itself—then he crushed it. Using enough force to grind bones, he paid little attention to entrails and muscle dripping down onto the floor—it would be gone soon enough anyways.
Sighing, he turned back to where he he had left his mother, rather, their mother and felt his chest tighten. He wasn’t used to feeling like this, and he knew the it wasn’t just going to be his little one that was going to be forever changed because of it.
For once he was glad that he kicked the fool a ways away then pinned him. That monster’s blood hadn’t touched Madeliné, which he was forever grateful for.
Because of the fact that he was so small, it was going to be hard to carry her back to her room, even with his control over gravity. Sighing, he made it so that he was able to lift up his mother, not caring too much that her legs were dangling as he held her close to his heart.
She was so cold.
It was really setting in now, that he wasn’t going to be able to see her again, to see her smile. To feel her hug him ever again.
“I wish this never happened, maman.” He murmured softly, padding back to her room and lying her down on the bad. It was eerie, seeing her so still. Closing her eyes because he couldn’t bear to see them sightless like this, he carefully arranged her so it looked like she was sleeping upon the covers.
He was the only one that knew different however.
Chuuya stared forlornly down at his mother, brushing her hair from her face.
“Je t’aimerai toujours maman.” He repeated again, feeling tears well up in his eyes. They stung, and he knew that before he broke down, before they both broke down, he needed to finish this. Good thing they loved barbecue so much after being introduced to it on a trip to France, because they still had what he needed to burn this place down.
Moving to the kitchen, he barely recognized that he had grabbed lighter fluid and a set of matches.
Wordlessly he popped open the bottle of lighter fluid and liberally coated the bed and his mother in it, then moved around the house, making sure to pour higher concentrations of it where blood had pooled.
He had been at the door when he flipped the matchbook open, and blue eyes stared into the flame that had been created with the flick of his wrist.
Being reminded once again that it was raining when the drone of raindrops hitting the window echoed through the now quiet house, he dropped the match, watching as flames licked at the accelerant. Mindlessly he continued to watch the whole place go up in flames, starting with the living room and then leading into the kitchen, then finally into his mother’s room.
“Au revoir, maman.” He spoke aloud, feeling like every step that he took away from the house was like a knife being shoved deeper into his heart.
Feeling like it took hours to get away from his old house, Chuuya realized faintly that he didn’t know where they were. They were in a darker part of town though, one that he knew that he should stay away from.
He was way too tired to make sure that people would stay away from him.
I can’t…why does it hurt so much?
It was time for him to let his little one have control back.
Looking down, he noticed that his hands were shaking, and he had to stop in his tracks, looking up at the sky as rain continued to fall.
Giving up control again was easy, almost like breathing.
Once Chuuya was back on the outside, he could feel his head spin. It felt like everything was crushing down on him—his head was pounding and it was hard to stand up straight.
Staggering, he fell forward, bracing himself agains the streetlamp that had been looming overhead. God, he was glad that this was one of the better cities to be in, because there were so many different places that he could hide.
He needed to hide, to find a safe place.
He was so tired. So very tired.
So utterly alone.
“What…do I do now?” He asked himself, gaining his bearings. He was still dizzy as hell, and because of that he was wary of moving at all. Yet he knew that he had to because he wasn’t safe out in the open like this. He knew that he wasn’t on the waterfront, which was a damned good thing because he would be in more danger if he was.
“Oh fuck.” He muttered as he finally started to walk again. It felt like he was walking over hot coals. Every little step he took had his muscles screaming at him, and he had to bite his lip to make sure he wouldn’t cry out.
He had just ripped the chains off him that threatened to shackle him down, he wasn’t going to go back to another set of them!
Gasping in surprise when he felt himself pitch forward, he groaned internally.
Fuck, not now!
“N-no!” He whimpered out, seeing the ground coming closer.
More than expecting the impact, he knew that he was going to be in for more pain once he hit the pavement. What he hadn’t been expecting was falling into something soft.
“Damn…" He grit out, feeling his head throb again.
Was he caught by someone? He needed to get away, and quick!
Chuuya knew that he was in trouble when a set of hands grasped his shoulders, pulling him up some.
Fucking hell that hurt!
“Now what are you doing here by yourself? You look positively dreadful.” A smooth voice commented, and he felt his breath catch.
He was a goner.
“Come now, Mori. We should at least let the boy rest in a warm place, away from the rain. Can’t you see the smoke in the distance?” The female voice was soothing, which had him hoping that maybe he wasn’t in the hands of traffickers.
That was the wrong frame of thinking, but he was so tired.
He just wanted to sleep, to not think about anything.
It was something else, when he noticed that he was now being sheltered from the rain. The hands on his shoulders had disappeared, and he was now bundled in warmth, the feeling of someone hugging him as they dropped down to his height.
The scent of sakura was what really shattered the last of his control, and he clung to the unknown woman and wept.
Everything hurt, and with how it was raining, it was like the sky was crying with him.
