Professor Layton & the Mystical Bond
Disclaimer: "As per fanfic regulations there is no profit besides pure utter giddiness from writing this, no value what-so-ever besides the ungodly amounts of time each of us puts into our works, nothing to show for it since no one reviews almost anymore, and absolutely no sanity for why else would I writing this pairing(-theme-)?"
Plan/Warnings- you'll see. Looks to be very sad, or angsty. May turn into Shouta, well... quite possibly. LaytonxLuke bonding. May contain lots of OOC-ness. Also possible, severely warped humor is standard procedure. No smut planned... so very unlikely. Layton, as much as we love him, is going to suffer sadly... (Your author blames the Fanfic Cold for this.) Luke should be mostly fine save for awkward situations for the rest of the fic past the beginning.
*a/n: apparently I have a passive voice in literature… well take this as passive Microsoft word 2007!*
TROUBLESOME FOOLS- LAYTON
When next he awoke he felt an immediate sense of uneasiness… Luke was missing. Layton drew himself slowly out of the bed, his muscles were sore from disuse. It was late, possibly nearing unspeakable hours, Layton didn't know what he was looking for, but his mind told him it wasn't Luke. His heart was heavy, the stark bareness of the hallways was unnerving, and he could feel pain where he had removed the IV line through sheer force. Though he was in pain, the pain was nothing against the uneasy feeling he was shuffling towards. His footsteps, when started to pick up his lead weighted limbs, echoed down the barren corridor, at the end he could make out the letters, but his mind could not seem to comprehend what they read.
The squeak of the door as he shoved it open, the cold feel of the handle, that damp chill that hung in the air… His brain refused to listen, he had been summoned here, but to what end? There was only a high metal table, which was lit by the faint red of a sign up behind his head. There was only his own harsh breathing, heartbeat ringing in his ears, and of their own accord his knees shook then finally gave. His head hit the table in front of him, he could feel the warm liquid chase the lines of his cheeks to what surely should have been five o'clock shadow upon his jowl line.
"So you came, this is most fortunate for me. The boy it seems, was the perfect bait to lure you here," the voice called from behind his ear, "your life is mine. Now submit!" Layton could see a heavy cloaked woman looming over him, but his body was so weak he could do nothing to avoid the object being swung down in his direction. As it made contact with his temple he heard a loud crack followed by a snap, the pain ebbed and flowed trying to decide where the sensory was needed most. After its moments of indecision it settled heavily upon his temples.
"You should have stayed home that day Layton, for now I am going to show you what happens when you interrupt my ceremony," her voice was cold and filled with malice. He vaguely felt being picked up and dropped onto the table his head had just made friends with. There was a slight rustling and the tearing of cloth, the full chill of the room descending upon his naked body.
"You are going to wish I knew what the word mercy was, but hopefully you'll stop breathing in the process and I won't have to worry about you again," that voice announced very bored. Layton was sure that his teeth were chattering away, but that annoyance was quickly drowned out by a far more pressing problem. As his hands were being tied to each side of his ankles he could only plead that he passed out soon. His wish was granted, but only not soon enough…
With a sharp scream and the ripping of a place that objects are not meant to be he was allowed to fall unconscious. That didn't however stop the mistress from continuing in her spiteful malicious ways…
CrimsonChoucho: my apologies for the long delay, this doesn't quite go the way I wanted it. I may add a bit on this at a later date.