#( or when knuckles gives him too much of a powerful fist bump. dead )

[melpcmene]

whenever he doesn't get a chili dog, this is his reaction

dead.exe

[starshipsofstarlord]

All mine

liam dunbar x reader / masterlist

summary; alec, scott’s new beta has a thing for liam’s girl, and sufficed to say, liam is anything but happy about the predicament / warnings; jealousy, smut, some choking, fucking in a playground, daddy kink, mentions of masturbation, mentions of phone sex, mentions of exhibitionism, oral sex (fem receiving).

the boy with anger issues was feeling a rage boil in his veins; they were in scott’s home, he had came back from college for a break, and thus, alec had joined in meeting with their alpha, though, not all his attention was reprised upon said pack leader.

there was a movie flashing upon the screen, you sat cross legged on the couch, whilst liam had been sent to the kitchen to grab a bowl of popcorn. he could feel his hand putting amble pressure on the plastic bowl, as he watched you explain every dumb thing occurring in the motion picture film.

alec was acting clueless on purpose, he could tell, more so since when he had first joined the pack, he had made such moves on you. and spoiler, eventually they had been successful. you were the same age as scott, meaning that you too had returned to beacon hills for your half term clause in the higher education, and liam wanted you to spend every moment with him, not this stray.

it took all his supernatural strength to restrain the growl threatening to rumble from his chest, his claws bent into the flesh of his palms, drawing a pooling of blood to the tether down from the self inflicted wound. scott smelt the blood, and wrinkled his nose at the scent that invaded his nostrils; he thought liam had his issues under control, but supposedly not entirely.

he couldn’t help himself, alec was trying his best, slyly glancing down your top, and he got he was only a hormonal teenage boy, same as him, but you were his girl. a rumble, resembling the natural force of thunder echoed around the living space, drawing all eyes, human and otherwise, in his direction.

the growl that had erupted from his chest had been possessive, a warning to the young, adopted beta, who quickly adjourned his arm away from the back of the couch, and shuffled from right beside you.

“li, are you good?” in an instant you removed yourself from where you were sat, walking towards him, and smoothing his shoulders over with your palms, watching as he heavily breathed. amber eyes flickered up to you, making you gulp; you now understood what had him so relentless and blunt with his aggression.

“i want to leave.” it wasn’t a question, it was a defiant statement. in turn, you nodded, grasping anything you needed, such as you jacket, and pulling it over your arms, liam quickly heading out, without bidding either of the boys a goodbye.

“see ya.” you waved at the pair, you would apologise for liam’s behaviour later to scott, he of course understood the situation nevertheless, he had been his alpha for a long time now. a hand grasped you as soon as you exited, pillowing roughly into your skin as he dragged you down the street, his pace quick and daring.

“you think i didn’t notice that beta’s eyes drifting down to your cleavage or him practically pawing for your attention.” he had stopped the two of you outside of a playground, you gulped, listening to him with an adjacent inclination.

“liam, there’s no need to be jealous.” your words had the priority of calming his angered exterior, though it happened that you had done rather the opposite. there was a firm line deposited between his dark brows, a frown that was aimed towards you directly.

“me, jealous? oh no, i know that you’re mine, but it comes to the question, do you?” he bit his lip, tensing the bridge of his nose as he moved his face closer to your own. “for all i know, at college, you don’t even let anyone know that you’re in a relationship, it could be your little secret, so you can fuck whomever you want.”

“that’s something i’d never do, you know that!” his accusations were flimsy, that much was liable, though although knowing that all his words came out of a place of secluded insecurity, you still felt the necessity to defend yourself. if you played his game, it would make him subconsciously doubt himself, and possibly believe the things that he was saying were true.

“do i?” the beta pried. liam made directories closer towards you, taking steps to discern your defence, letting his hand ravel up, and close around the front of your neck. your breath instantly hitched, as he wordlessly stated the power he had over you; not to mention, he was stronger, and he was irked, meaning that he would go to any lengths to prove his point, or lack of one.

“liam.” your hands came up to scratch at the exterior of his, worried that he would do some prominent damage, but rather than releasing his grip, he tightened his fist, triggering a hitch in your breath, and a uncoordinated, surprising moan to fly from your lips, as though your body was inherently howling at him for more.

“does my girlfriend like that? i think she likes daddy having his hand around her throat, don’t you baby? are you daddy’s dirty girl?” his slick words made your brain disintegrate into a contortion of confusion; more specifically, riddled with uncertainty, searching for a reason as to why his mature words were affecting you so.

there was no question about the matter, he was well adorned with the specifics of how it was affecting you. the reverberating of your heart thumped in his ears, like drums of a sacred matter, telling him how your hormones crazed, thundering with potential submission, that alternately had your knees quaking, fighting to remain standing.

then, there was the intoxicating aroma that scaled up to his nose from between your legs. that alone was a dead give away, he was lucky that it hadn’t killed him in the dead of night yet. being apart from you for so long had drove him borderline insane, one touch from you had him swooning, wanting nothing more for your hands to drift and intimately pet him.

phone calls, as erotic as some of them were, was just enough. the two of you were sectioned off for education in different counties, the distance pained him, in more ways than one. sometimes he’d wake up with a throbbing appendage between his thighs, begging for attention, more specifically, yours.

his hand got by, completing the job, but it wasn’t the same as the feeling of your sweet velvet walls encasing him likes an umbrella pouch, hugging his shaft tight as he rammed his length inside of you, preening moans of ecstasy out of your sinful mouth. the thought of such scenarios would have hun instantly hard in the school showers, leaving him frustrated for the rest of the day.

and though you had returned for a couple of weeks, he remained prominently stressed, never having enough contact with your skin that he had missed so much. he wished for nothing more than to spend it in a godforsaken rut, trapping you in the confines of his bed as he thrust in and out of you, but it so happened that isn’t how your return had panned out.

the luxury of the bed was not present, in its place was the soft breeze prickling at your skin, making every lingering, and restraining touch that he gave to it that more sensual. it was like nature was biting at your skin, plucking up the courage to adorn your flesh in small bumps, coercing your nipples into being erect, although, that was admittedly not all down to the wispy air.

your boyfriend had turned you on, his methods of doing so far different from anything that he had ever embraced before. whom would have ever thought that the once youngest member of the mccall pack would not forlorn in his youth, but instead want to demean his title as something as sexual as ‘daddy’? you sure as didn’t, but you couldn’t deny, it was kind of hot.

okay, more than hot, a lot more. “answer me y/n.” that’s right, you had gotten swept away with this whole new side to your partner, to say that you were drooling was an understatement, if he pointed it out, you’d blame it on him choking you. choking you! damn, he really had been reading up on some kinky shit whilst you were away.

“i do.” it was an honest answer, traded from you to him. though, it wasn’t entirely what he wanted to hear, you recognised that as he promptly squeezed your air way, causing your tongue to dip out of your mouth as you momentarily gasped for an ounce of breath. to spare you a second to respond, he pardoned his grip, stroking down the side of your face with the back of his stern hand.

“answer properly this time babe, else, i’ll fuck you over the swing set.” gulping, you locked eyes with liam, rubbing your thighs together at his prospect, inhaling heavily, as you felt him soothe his thumb rub upon the crevice of your chin, moisturising your own saliva into your skin.

“i love you choking me, daddy.” the word had a strange affect on your body as it rolled almost effortlessly off your tongue. instantly, verbalising the phrase had you feeling meek under the cold gaze of your boyfriend, a smirk ruling his face, as he clasped his knuckles into the dips of your waist, tugging you close.

“good girl.” he ushered the words into your ear as though he were a pro at doing so, lowering his palms to grab both your ass cheeks, a shocked squeal clawing out of the colander of your throat. “but i’m still going to fuck you over it, and i expect you to grasp onto the chains like you’re holding on for your life, and wail like a banshee that you are all mine.”

a slither of a sound, radiating utter betrothal escaped your withering lips, it was something between noise of a whimper, and a small moan. liam took that, and rightfully so, as approval to proceed with his intentions, and thus, he lead you through the gravel of the empty playground, directing his footsteps to the swings, and pushing you to be in front of him.

he bent your waist a little, so that you were hunched over, offering the perfect angle to generate pleasure for the both of you, as he began to tug your jeans down, letting the tight material meet with the croons of your ankles, and remain tethered around them.

“shit, you’ve already soaked through your panties baby.” liam soothed his fingers over the wet patch that opted through the thin material, brushing directly over your sensitive bundle of nerves, causing your mouth to wantonly drop open, in a silent beckon for more. “i can smell you too, you know, and damn, do you smell fucking divine.”

“daddy please.” the beg fell comfortably from you, there was no sudden recital to saying it once more. peculiarly, it felt natural, the dynamic between you and your partner being a stable structure to begin exploring further aspects that spectated in intimacy.

“sit on the seat, daddy will help you out darling.” trailing around the side of the metal structure, you carefully strode to do as liam has said, perching your ass on the swing, it lightly swaying from the impact of your weight upon the small dipped hammock. “there we go.”

liam knelt, scathing his covered knees upon the ground, as he ran his eager palms along the insides of your thighs, plucking at the band of your panties, before shuffling them down far enough so that he had all the access that he hungered for. the brisk whim that waded through the nighttime air had your pussy clenching, feeling the cold integrate against your folds, as liam puckered his lips.

he blew hot air upon your labia, enforcing your grip around the malleable metal chains to tighten, as you lightly shuffled the way that you were sat, spreading your legs a little wider, as your toes scratched relentlessly inside your socks, digging the front of your sneakers into the tarmac below.

your boyfriend leant forwards, swiping his tongue up your folds, causing you to press your head back, as you airily sighed from the contact, loving the way that his tongue delved around the area of your clit, swirling the bud in his mouth, as his teeth gently pinched the sensitive fumble of flesh.

“li- ah, daddy.” he had nipped at your outer lips, serving his actions as a form to correct how you had labelled him. “fuck, you’re so good with your tongue- shit.” his tongue slipped down into your entrance, thrusting the part of himself in and out of you, as you almost fell out of the swing seat.

“mmh.” your so called daddy hummed, sucking once more on your clit, before pulling his head away, as he stood, dragging you with him to force you to stand, delving his saturated tongue into the depths of your mouth, giving you no other option than to taste yourself on his buds. “what do you say baby?” his hand crawled into your hair as he bit his lip, staring with heavy lids at your flushed expression.

“thank you daddy.” a strong nod, he swiftly rotated you around, giving a light smack to your ass cheek, pinching the flesh, as he hurriedly undressed his bottom half, after fishing a loose packaged condom out of his back pocket. his tongue toyed with his top lip, as he ripped open the plastic square, rolling the condom onto his erect cock, giving himself a couple of jerks, as he steadied himself behind where you had hunched over once more.

he grasped his heavy cock, sliding his length through your smothered folds, teasing you as he tapped your clit, resting his hips flush against your own, as he pressed inside of you, causing an elongated string of obscene sounds to cast out of your mouth, playing a tune out of your melodically fawned lips.

a grunt tore itself out of his chest, as he clenched his fine jaw, digging his thumbs into your ass cheeks, as he began to move; delving deep within you, before pulling out of your tight walls, and rutting himself back inside of you. “fuck, feels so good da- ah!”

your natural sounds of pleasure drowned the surrounding area in an epitome of adulterated musings. adjoined with the sounds of liam’s skin slapping against your own, it was a surprise that no one had intervened, nor walked by. though, liam would have heard if they were in a nearby radius, with his supernatural hearing, that he had gotten through a set of canines digging urgently into his wrist, as he hung solemnly off the side of the hospital.

“you’re all mine, you hear that? those frat boys can keep their pervy gazes off of my girl, otherwise i guess i’ll just have to pay you a visit, and fuck you loud enough for anyone to hear.” he began panting, flowing his breath down upon your lower back. “yeah, you like that idea baby girl, how about i take over in the lecture hall and bend you over that desk, drilling into your tight cunt in front of every one so that they know that you belong to me?”

his half conceived promises, his taunting of you had you rolling closer to the edge, backing your hips backwards as you urgently met with his thrusts, forcing him to hip deeper into your cervix, a light growl prowling out of his chest, as he leant against you, angling his waist lower as he thrust upwards, his chest flat against your back.

“yes- fuck! please daddy, i wou- love that. love for you to fuck me for everyone to see, fill me with your cum, make me cu-um.” his heated breath strained against your skin, as your eyes fluttered, feeling succumbed to a white flush inside your veins, your body halting with it’s stability, resting helplessly over the swing seat, a she kept you steady.

“all mine.” your boyfriend stated, as he made you fall over the edge, ravenously thrusting into you to chase his own high. “gonna fucking cum.” a minor roar yelped out of his mouth, as his eyes strung shut, his shoulders relaxing as he emptied his seed into the condom, pulling out of your sopping cunt, as he removed the layer of protection, throwing it successfully in a bin a few feet away.

hazily, you went to stand, liam helping you pull your bottoms up, as he did so to himself too. he held you up, as he hoisted a passionate kiss onto your lips, a satisfied smile on his face once he pulled away. “i miss you so much when you’re away, i love you y/n/n.”

an appeased expression faulted your expression, as you reached up to entwine your hands together at the back of his neck. “i’m all yours li, or should i call you daddy?” you teased, causing a blush to fathom the apples of his cheeks. he looked down, an embarrassed poise covering his face.

“shut up.” he jokingly prompted, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he began to walk you home, as you continued to tease him about his newly revealed kink, or multiple.

[chasing-classics]

Our Little Secret Sessions- Nate Jacobs x Reader

Pairing(s): Nate Jacobs x Reader

Warning(s): SMUT, language, toxic relationships, older reader, dubious consent

Requested: Yes, by @bokillylovesloki​

Summary: After landing a job as the high school’s new counselor you settle into your new home, unaware of what danger lurks just outside your front door.

 Part 2

 You blew the hair out of your face, managing to load the last box full of kitchen appliances onto the hardwood floor. You smiled, looking around triumphantly at your new home. It was spacious, far too big for just you, but it had been an absolute steel on the market. Once you had gotten the call from your new boss, Principal Hayes, that you had landed the job at East Highland High School as the new counselor you quickly packed your bags and jumped at the opportunity. You were fresh out of college, bright and intelligent, but still young for the job. You were saddened to leave your friends and family up North, but this job had been far too good to pass up. Now all you had from your hometown were two dozen boxes of mementos and furniture, your old yet faithful car, and a handful of missed calls from your friends/parents asking if you made it safely. You were so busy scrolling through the various texts and voicemails that you didn’t notice a lanky figure enter the doorway of your humble abode.

  ‘’Hey,’’ a deep voice caused you to gasp and nearly drop your phone onto the floor.

 You spun around to find a guy standing at the entrance of your new home, where you had stupidly left the front door wide open. Your eyes quickly analyzed him. Dark hair, brown eyes, pouty lips that were set in a cocky smirk, and a jawline that you were convinced could cut through glass. He leaned lazily against the door, his hand still held up from when he had casually been knocking against the wooden surface. He was tall, incredibly tall. He looked slightly younger than you, maybe twenty-one or even twenty-three.

 ‘’Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I live next door and noticed you were moving in, I wanted to know if you needed any help,’’ the guy chuckled a bit, eyeing your tense form. You laughed in relief, hand on your chest in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

 ‘’I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Thank you for the kind offer, I’m Y/n, Y/n y/l/n,’’ you offered a welcoming smile, stretching out your hand to properly shake his hand. He returned the favor and the moment his massive hand took hold of yours’ it felt like icicles had been thrusted into your back.

 ‘’I’m Nate Jacobs, it’s nice to meet you y/n,’’ he smiled back. What you assumed he meant to be a reassuring smile instead filled your insides with butterflies and sent your nerves into a frenzy. He was attractive, but you could vaguely hear the alarm bells going off inside your head.

 ‘’Well thank you very much Nate, but I think I brought everything inside already,’’ you referred to the numerous boxes and wrapped up furniture that was currently littering your new living room, spilling into the kitchen.

 ‘’No problem, just let me know if you need help with anything,’’ that crooked smile was a permanent feature on his face, you quickly discovered. You nodded your thanks, moving to close the door when the power suddenly went out.

 ‘’Great, just my luck,’’ you groaned, moving to find a flashlight somewhere.

 ‘’If you want I can check your electric panel?’’ Nate’s deep voice sent shivers up your spine.

 ‘’Are you sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble? I can call an electrician in the morning,’’ you offered, finding out that said flashlight that to your frustration was full of dead batteries. Candles it was.

 ‘’It’s no problem at all,’’ you could hear the amusement in his voice as he brushed past you to check the panel. The heat from his body filled you with a sense of longing, something primal. For a moment, you wondered what it would be like to moan out his name.

 ‘’It should be in the backyard, by the picnic table,’’ you called out, shrugging off the less-than-appropriate thoughts running wild in your imagination.

 You had successfully located a handful of candles along with a lighter. The cozy glow of the flames illuminated your house to the point you could now see where you were going without bumping into anything. Noticing that your phone battery was running low, you set it down on the counter and prayed nothing more would happen tonight. You had to be up early for the first day of school tomorrow and you didn’t aspire to look like an extra from the Walking Dead due to dark circles and lack of sleep. As you nervously tapped your foot while awaiting Nate’s return, you squealed in delight as the lights came back on. You turned your attention the French doors that led to the backyard, the smile quickly fading from your face when you saw Nate’s drenched form. You bit your lip when his blue hoodie clung to his toned form, the bulges that were his abs teasing you.

 ‘’Got a towel I can borrow?’’ Nate smirked, his hair falling into his eyes as he shook himself off.

 Your mouth still hung open as you quickly dug through a random box, successfully finding a fluffy cotton towel.

 ‘’What happened?’’ you wondered, eyes straining to remain on his face and not his muscular body.

 ‘’I turned the power back on, I must’ve accidentally reset your sprinkler system too and, well you can figure out the rest,’’ he scoffed, removing his drenched hoodie.

  Jesus Christ.

  ‘’See something you like?’’ Nate’s voice was low as he leaned down closer to you. You could feel his breath hitting the side of your face and shoulder. Your eyes instantly fell to the floor, your cheeks set aflame with embarrassment.

 ‘’Don’t look away, doll,’’ he whispered, hand gently cupping your neck to get you to meet his gaze.

 ‘’I don’t think I’m your type,’’ your voice was soft. Low, but vulnerable,  and Nate took notice.

 ‘’Because you’re a few years older? Come on y/n, we’re both more mature than that,’’ he groaned, taking one step closer to you, than another and another. Your back quickly met the wall, gasping at the rough contact.

 ‘’This isn’t right,’’ you whispered, trembling as Nate’s thumb stroked your bottom lip.

 ‘’What are you? Twenty-four?’’ Nate drew back, his thumb still pressed against your bottom lip as you nodded your head.

 ‘’So what’s a couple of years?’’ his husky voice groaned into your ear as he bent down, pressing open mouth kisses on your exposed shoulder, up the base of your neck.

 ‘’N-Nate,’’ you whimpered, clenching your fists until your knuckles turned white.

 ‘’Just give me tonight, you’re a beautiful young woman, let me show you what you do to me,’’ he grunted, rolling his hips against your clothed center. You could feel the bulge straining against his still wet jeans. He was big, you could feel it. And you were desperate for his touch.

 You craned your neck up to kiss his lips, throwing caution to the wind. It was just a few years, so what if he was just a couple of years younger? He clearly wanted you as badly as you craved him. His height, his arrogance, everything about him screamed that the age difference between the two of you wasn’t much, that you had nothing to worry about. He looked no younger than maybe twenty-one. The way he carried himself put your mind at ease. You allowed yourself to enjoy just one night with a handsome stranger.

 His kisses became rougher with each passing second, his hands running up and down your body in a frenzy. You moaned and mewled as his teeth nipped at your collarbone, your neck, and then your lip. His rough hands easily covered your breasts through your thin shirt. Your own hands stroked his bare chest and alternated from tugging his hair to clawing at his back in a teasing manner.

 ‘’I’m going to make sure you remember this,’’ he grunted, pressing his clothed erecting to your legging-cladded center, pushing it into you and further into the wall. You whimpered, kissing the column of his neck, tracing a vein that ran along the side of it with your tongue.

 You yelped when he moved away from you, dragging you toward the surface of your kitchen island. Your cheek collided with the smooth surface, hands sprayed out on either side of your head to cushion the impact. You shivered as he easily tore through the material of your shirt as if he had claws. Your skin broke out into goosebumps despite the hot later summer air.

 ‘’Look at you, all excited and needy for me and I haven’t even gotten started,’’ Nate groaned, hand pressed against the exposed small of your back, running upwards to the lacey material of your bra.

 ‘’Nate,’’ you moaned out as he began grinding himself into your backside. You could feel the heat emitting from his pants and felt the angry throbbing of his cock even through his jeans. His left hand cupped your breast underneath your bra while the right easily managed to unclasp it. You fidgeted as his fingers tweaked and rolled your sensitive bud, the other hand doing the same to the other breast. You whined as he gripped your tits, forcing you backwards to meet his thrusts as he grinded into you harder.

 ‘’Can’t wait to stretch that pretty pussy, make you ride this fat dick,’’ he grunted, tangling a hand into your hair and forcing your face upwards as he roughly kissed you. The kiss had you whining, panting for more. Your cheeks flushed as you felt the familiar sensation of your slickness coating your womanhood. You were quickly flipped around so that you were now able to look up and face Nate. His lips were red from the rough kisses, yours felt bruised and plump. He eyed your exposed tits as you slowly took off the lace bra. He easily leaned over, taking one bud into his hungry mouth as he began biting and sucking. You threw your head back, using your elbows to support your weight on top of the island, your legs trapping Nate between them.

 You stroked his hair as he fervently sucked on your sensitive nipple. You cried out each time his teeth yanked and tugged on the delicate flesh. Once he had his fill, he switched to the other and began the process all over again. You were so lost in the erotic moment that you didn’t even notice his hand make its’ way into your leggings until you felt him roughly pull your lace underwear to the side and forcefully plunged two digits into your tight canal.

 ‘’Ah! Nate, it’s too much!’’ you cried out, burying your face into his neck as he lapped at your hardened nipple.

 ‘’I’ll tell you when you’ve had too much,’’ he growled, resuming to thrust his fingers into your pussy as you whined and whimpered below him. All you could do was grasp his biceps and whine as he stretched you out to his liking. There was something completely carnal in the way he took control and used your body like an instrument. His breathing became more labored and intense as his hand sped up, the obscene squelches causing you to hide your face further every time he entered you. You both knew your release was quickly approaching from the way your pussy clenched around his index and middle finger. The way your nails dug into the skin of his arms as you moaned and squirmed under him.

 ‘’W-what?’’ you cried as he retracted his hand, Nate quickly shutting you up as he forced his fingers into your mouth. You gagged, taken back at his rough actions, moving to pull back your head in protest. Nate would have none of that.

 ‘’No, no. Be a good slut and suck on them for me,’’ he commanded, a heavy hand forcing you further onto his hand as he yanked your hair.

 You breathed through your nose, tears brimming the corners of your eyes as you tried not to choke on his slender digits. The sweet, tangy taste of your juices danced along your tongue.

 ‘’Good girl, now spit,’’ he growled, forcing his fingers deeper to the back of your throat. You coughed as saliva coated his hand, desperately trying to catch your breath the second he released you.

 You had no time to prepare yourself as he roughly picked you up, managing to shove your leggings and underwear down in one pull. He sat you on the counter as he hurriedly forced down his jeans. The hand that as coated in your saliva angrily jerked at his impressive girth. You began having second thoughts on sleeping with Nate at that point, his thickness and length alone were something to be afraid of. He was going to destroy you. You opened your mouth to protest when he forcibly grabbed your thighs, dragging them apart and pushing you down so that your bak met the cold surface of your counter.

 ‘’Scream for me, fight if you want,’’ Nate whispered before jerking your body forward, thrusting his entire cock into your cunt.

 ‘’Nate!’’ you screamed, body lurching back from the force of his thrust. You pulled and slapped at his chest as he began bucking into you, a firm hand pressed between your bouncing breasts to hold you down into place.

 ‘’Fuck, it’s so much better than I expected,’’ he moaned, jaw going slack as the sound of his balls slapping against the soft flesh of your ass echoed throughout the room. You continued to scream and claw at the counter, nails digging into the palms of your hands as your body bounced from his pounding. You had never taken a man as thick as Nate, and it hurt in the best way. You struggled against him, torn between giving into the pleasure and desperate for some space to relieve the burning feeling of your insides being stretched to accommodate him. The hand that was pressed on your chest slid down to firmly rest against your stomach.

 ‘’I can feel myself moving inside you,’’ he grunted, his cock throbbing inside your greedy cunt. You whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your lips parted in complete pleasure and need.

 ‘’Harder, Nate,’’ you begged, legs now wrapped around him as your hands gripped his forearms to have something to hold onto.

 You regretted your words as his thrusts angrily sped up to the point you worried your island would collapse from under you. A hand gripped your throat as he dragged your body back and forth to meet his brutal thrusts. You were a symphony of moans, cries, and nearly animalistic noises as he fucked into you. It felt like he was splitting you open with his cock, but it was one of the most divine feelings you had ever experienced in your lifetime. Lips crashed against yours as he forced one of your legs higher around him, the new position allowing him to his that sweet, sensitive spot inside the depths of your core.

 ‘’I’m going to cum,’’ you moaned out clawing at his shoulders as you gripped him in every sense of the word.

 ‘’Cum on my cock, baby. Milk me,’’ he snarled, hips snapping and bucking wildly.

 One particularly sharp thrust triggered your release as you moaned Nate’s name, quivering under him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your entire being. Nate’s thrusts slowed down only slightly to admire the view of your juices coating his member, the tightness in his balls alerting him of his own release. He gripped your jaw in his hand, forcing you to keep your eyes solely on him as his thick release painted the walls of your cunt. His breathing was hot, fanning your face as a thin sheet of sweet coated both of your bodies. For a moment, you just laid there as his dick continue to shoot cum deep inside of you.

 ‘’That was amazing,’’ your voice was hoarse, lips trailing along his jaw as he smirked above you.

 ‘’I’m not done yet,’’ he replied, taking you into his arms and leading you to your couch in the living room. He dropped your sore body onto the cushiony surface, towering over you as his dick stood proudly once more, your combined juices still coating it. His eyes fell onto your exposed pussy, where his cum began seeping out your abused hole.

 ‘’Get on your knees, turn around, and hold onto the back of the couch,’’ he growled, his cock bobbing.

 You hesitated, resulting in Nate forcefully turning you over himself, as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll. Your hands gripped the back of the couch as he kneed your legs apart. The air left your lungs as he buried himself to the hilt once more before he began rutting into you.

  By the time you awoke you hardly had anytime to get ready. You searched your memory for a moment before you realized you had passed out after Nate took you from behind for the third time last night. You hardly had anytime to shower and look presentable before dashing out the door lest you be late for your new job. You winced with every step you took, although you tried to pass it off as a smile to your new colleagues. You wondered if after work you should stop by Nate’s house, or if it had been a one-night stand. Either way, he was probably at his own job by now. If he wanted to see you again, he knew where to find you.

 You sighed in content as you sat down at your desk in your very own office. You smiled at your golden name plate and a welcoming plate of cookies left by the ladies who worked at the front office. A knocking interrupted your thoughts.

 ‘’Ah, Principal Hayes, good morning,’’ you beamed, pushing yourself to stand up and shake your employers hand.

 ‘’Ms. y/l/n I hope the office is to your liking?’’ Hayes grinned, shaking your hands in a firm but welcoming grip.

 ‘’It’s more than enough, truly, thank you,’’ you smiled.

 ‘’Terrific, I hope you don’t mind but one of our students wanted to welcome you to the campus.’’

 ‘’How sweet! Of course,’’ you smiled warmly.

 Your warm smile was shattered and the air was knocked out of you the minute the figure walked through your office door. Nate Jacobs.

 ‘’Hi, I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Nate Jacobs, welcome toe East High,’’ he smirked, reaching out his hand to shake. The same hand that a few hours ago had been finger banging you on your kitchen counter. The same hand that had wrapped around your neck as he came inside you. Nate fucking Jacobs.

 ‘’H-hi. I’m Ms. y/l/n,’’ you stuttered out, a cold sweat falling over you.

 ‘’Well I’ll let you do your thing, don’t be late for class, Nathan,’’ Hayes bid his farewells and before you could protest, was out the door. You turned your attention to Nate, eyes narrowed and lips in a firm line.

 ‘’What the fuc-‘’

 ‘’I’d watch your mouth if I were you, Ms. y/l/n. Wouldn’t want a pretty face like yours to end up behind bars. Dirty sluts like you don’t do well in jail. Especially if you’re locked up for sex with a minor. Pretty sure that’s statutory rape,’’ he grinned that evil Cheshire cat grin.

 You suddenly felt extremely nauseous.

‘’Y-y-you said you were just a few years younger,’’ you whispered, taking a step back as he stalked towards you. Out of instinct you closed your eyes when you felt his breath on your neck, hands sliding to rest on your hips.

 ‘’I didn’t lie. I am younger. You should’ve asked for specifics,’’ he whispered, one hand cupping your ass through your skirt. You pushed him off of you, devastated and terrified and disgusted all at once.

 ‘’What kind of game are you playing?’’ you snarled. The same grin was stuck on his devilish face.

 ‘’No games. Those are for children. I’m going to tell it to you straight; anytime I say so, you get on your knees for me. Whether I want you to blow me after a football game in the locker room, or bend your legs over my shoulders as I rail you in the backseat of my truck, no matter where or when. If I want you, I get you.’’

 You felt the tears begin to build up in your eyes as a shaky hand pressed against your mouth to muffle any cries that dare trickle out.

 ‘’Why are you doing this?’’ you sniffled, shaking as his hands roamed your body.

 ‘’I wanted you, so I did what I had to, to get you. And now-,’’ he bent forward to kiss the corner of your mouth.

 ‘’I own you.’’

[lady-o-ren]

Moonstruck

Chapter One (Here) // Chapter Two (Here)

Chapter Two 

The wolf wasn't beneath the trees.

But his big feet make him easy to track, leading Claire and Caspian out of the wretched wood to a sea of wild hills that look like waves under the heavenly glow of the night sky. As they near two rolling mounds where the tracks drag against the earth, she sees a lonely crofter house nestled between them like a little boat, abandoned and shabby looking, but it's roof is still thatched and the stone walls still stand. Good enough really for a place to rest one's tired head. 

Yet Claire wonders why a wolf would seek a place so out in the open.

Better yet why anyone would seek out a wolf. 

"Because you're an absolute nutter, Beauchamp," says Claire to herself. " Or very possibly you're suffering a concussion." 

Swinging a leg off Caspian, she tugs on his reins with a warning to stay put and gathers a deep fortifying breath before stepping into the shadow of the house where the door hangs open.

Inside, shafts of bright silvery light illuminate the room, seeping in through the only window. There are cobwebs and dead leaves strewn about the place, emptied of almost everything except for a wobbly looking table by the soot stained hearth and a stool that must've been made for a child tucked into the corner. . .

Opposite of the big red wolf, eyes bright as stars in the pale blue dark.

Claire's breath quickens and her pulse jumps at her throat but she manages to keep her voice steady. Somewhat.

"We still have that deal don't we? You restrain yourself from biting my head off and I don't shoot you between the eyes."

A miserable sound echoes from the wolf's maw and that's answer enough for Claire. The floorboards creak beneath her as she shuffles about the room, finding a bit of flint left behind from vagrants come and gone and makes a pleased and grateful sound when the sparse bits of wood in the hearth catch fire. She then kneels down in front of him, fist outstretched and shaking as she chants -

"Please don't bite me. Please don't bite me. . ."

It's only when Claire feels something hot and wet swipe against her knuckles does she realize her eyes have been shut and she recoils in surprise,flat on her arse with a shriek. 

The wolf however snorts heartily.

“You're laughing at me aren't  you?” 

The corner of his long mouth quirks wryly as his bushy tail swings back and forth and Claire finds herself cracking a smile. The first of this very long and preposterous night.

"Well, a sense of humor must mean you have a heart after all. More so than Caspian anyways.”

And she hopes it means he isn't too badly injured.

Claire comes closer again and tentatively runs the back of her fingers against the wolf's broad crown, his dark copper fur soft against her skin, slanted eyes gone to slits. Encouraged now, she scratches behind his ears and the wolf makes a sound of pleasure from deep within his throat and drops his head onto her lap, sighing with heart filled contentment. She laughs softly with growing affection, her fingers finding their way underneath his great maw that makes his head upturn and tail to swish, swish.

"I don't care what you say you're a puppy and a sweet one too, aren't you?"

She then impulsively imparts a kiss atop his head and the wolf bumps his nose against her chin wanting another.

“Cheeky lad,” she murmurs warmly, but gives him another anyway.

However, she came here for a reason and that wasn't to cuddle a wolf.

Stroking her hand along his neck, that has him kicking out a long powerful hind leg, she says -

"I know I don't look it, but I know more than a thing or two about broken bones and gashes. Will you trust me to help you, even if it hurts?"

A beat passes before he licks at her wrist and she takes that as a show of trust and extricates herself from beneath the red wolf. Gently, she probes his back and ribs first and is amazed there's only a few marks from the bear, hardly deep at all. But then her hands pass over a crisscross of scars beneath his thick coat and her eyes meet his, searching.

“Someone's hunted you, haven't they?”

A frightful tremor crawls over him that grips at her heart and without thought she presses herself against him wishing she could ease whatever horror he was remembering.

“I hope you tore the bastard apart. Slowly. Bit by bit.”

His sides lightly shake and she knows it must be laughter.

Pushing her wayward curls behind her ear, Claire then touches him gingerly over his injured shoulder. The muscle is swollen and a part of her wonders if it's just a bad sprain. But she remembers that odd angle of his leg as he walked and how he nurses it close to himself now. 

“If you were a man I'd set your shoulder and wrap it in a sling. I've done so before though it's no small feat. But I haven't so for an animal much less a bear-sized wolf . . .” She sighs. Upset with herself.  Hand at her brow, the cut throbbing more so now. “There isn't much I can do without another pair of hands."

She looks helplessly at the wolf.

But there's no way for him to express to her that it's alright, he's suffered worse. And would gladly do so again and again if it meant keeping her from harm. This brown haired lass like no other woman he's ever seen before. Sae bonny and brave. 

So he nuzzles her palm and mouths the soft skin like the puppy she says he is and feels his heart swell and the pain in his arm to cease when a smile softly graces her face lovelier than a moonbeam.

Aye, she was worth it.

Claire leaves him for a moment to settle Caspian for the night in the old byre behind the crofter house and comes back with blankets from the horse's saddleroll, a flask and a fold of her cloak full of bittie yarrow leaves she'd found growing between the stones.

The flask is filled with brandy (courtesy of her former betrothed) that she douses torn strips of her gown with to clean the wolf's wounds (murmuring sweet things as she does so knowing how sharply it stings) while the yarrow leaves are mashed between her teeth and applied carefully like a salve. 

For his poor shoulder however, she says -

“I promise I'll figure out what to do in the morning. I owe it to you for saving me. Thank you by the way,” she softly adds, and scratches behind the wolf's ears as he likes until his eyes begin to droop and a long winded yawn escapes her mouth.

She's exhausted. Body bruised and aching from being tossed around like a ragdoll but she doesn't think she can sleep in a gown that's been slobbered and bloodied. So while the wolf is fast asleep, Claire undresses down to her chemise and stays and quickly wraps herself in one blanket while laying out the other for a makeshift bed, leaving her cloak to dry by the hearthfire.

Her ruined gown however she grasps in her hands.

No longer did it shine with promise. 

No longer was she to be a bride.

At least not for him. 

“The bloody two-faced fucking bastard,” Claire mutters angrily, tossing the damn garment across the floor to gather dust as a tear rolls down her chin. She then curls herself into a ball by the fire, shivering beneath the scratchy grey wool, and wrings her heart out of any lingering affection she's ever had for Frank Wolverton Randall by remembering the last moment she saw him. 

That morning of their wedding behind the church. Swaying on his feet as he groped a woman she could've sworn was his cousin. And then keeled over, grasping his manhood right after she kneed him.

If only they hadn't been on sacred ground she would've kicked him too.

But just maybe he pissed himself.

Lost in that ever pleasing hopeful thought, Claire is startled to feel a deep huff of breath cloud down her neck like steam and looks up to see the red wolf looming above her.

"You absolute fool," she scolds, though it's spoken without bite as she sits up to cradle his face with both her hands. " You're only making things worse for that shoulder of yours."

The wolf doesn't care. He nuzzles her cheek where the brokenhearted tear had fallen, making a sad whimpering sound as he does so that endears him evermore to Claire's heart.

 "No use arguing with a stubborn wolf is there?" 

There isn't. He licks the side of her face making her softly giggle before plopping down beside her with a heavy thunk and Claire can do nothing more but sink down against him, his fur radiating a tender warmth that seeps into her tired bones.

//

Claire wakes with the morning light that floods the room and stings her eyes that immediately shutter close behind the back of her arm.

While embers have kept the room bearable, she knows the only reason she hasn't woken with a sniffle is because of the heavy, heated weight that engulfs her like a brushfire. Drowsily, she lets her hand wander to the furry head atop her chest that rises steadily with a deep inhale of smokey air and then strokes softly down until her palm oddly meets naked flesh. . .

Her eyes bolt open and through the sleepy blur she sees a stranger, big and naked draped across her, mumbling something hot-breathed and incoherent as he smothers his face between her breasts right before she screams.

[unsaidmar]

Call.

a/n: hello peeps! this is a request! thank you for liking what i write, it means the world to me. love y'all. requests still open. 

wc: 1.5k hehe

warning: mentions of death, curse words, sad stuff.

pairing: spencer x bau! reader.

plot: For the first time, you’re not where he is. It drives you crazy. 

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

You considered yourself quite the resilient person. Emotions got to you but never incapacitated you. Danger was a given in the career path you had chosen and the prospect of it was something you were used to, but never like this. It was always your own life you were worried about, but the BAU had taken the grasp you had on your job and your reality and completely redifined it.

Being guarded with your emotions and affections was a defense mechanism you had developed thanks to your experience in law enforcement. People always got hurt and you had to move on from it, that’s just how it was. But the BAU was the one to break the mold.

Those people had been through a lot together, the good, the bad and the ugly. They had seen it all and done it all, and now you were a part of it. They took you in and accepted you like you hadn’t just joined the team and you let them. Soon enough, Rossi was walling you “kid” and kissing both your cheeks when he greeted you, Morgan was fist bumping you when you made stupid jokes and you were going out to dinner with Emily, JJ and Penelope. Not one of them hesitated to put their life on the line with or for you, and it shook your world.

All of a sudden it wasn’t just yourself you had to worry about, because every person walking into burning buildings and hostage situations with you was your family. You loved every one of them and losing them scared you a lot, enough to feel like your heart was beating out of your chest whenever they were in danger.

And still, you had to go and fall in love.

Spencer had woven himself into your life, your routine, your work life and eventually your heart. It felt like he was marking his territory before he knew he was doing it, something resembling a person moving into your home, but the things he left behind were more than a toothbrush or a book. He left his mark in little things you incorporated into your life and it slowly transformed the both of you into a collage of each other.

He started drinking soy milk when you convinced him it was not bad and that subjecting himself to the pain of being lactose intolerant and still consuming milk, wasn’t worth it. You stopped leaving your windows open at night when he freaked you out about stray cats taking residence in your couch and potential burglars getting in. And those absolutely inconsequential things were forever going to be a gift you had given each other, no matter what came out of your relationship, even if you went your separate ways. Which, you never did.

Three years into working at the BAU, and two into your relationship with Spencer, you got married. The both of you figured that the wait was not necessary because you knew very early on that that was it, you were it. Next thing you knew, your fourth wedding anniversary was coming up, and so were many other things.

After getting kidnapped and shot, you were never the same. You had come to terms with dying, you wanted it to happen so you didn’t have to deal with the inevitable trauma that came with surviving, but you weren’t that lucky. Everyone had been worried about you and the living ghost look you were sporting. It looked like you were re living the situation in your head every moment you were awake, and that was indeed the case. It haunted you when you were sleeping and it consumed you when you were awake, so Hotch made you take a break.

Stubbornness was your thing, so he took away your badge any other form of ID that could get you into the building, he didn’t answer your calls and only texted your work cellphone to ask you to stop asking him to reinstate you. Being alone with your thoughts was hell. Having your family out there risking their lives without you was even worse.

“Hey Spence, it’s me again… um... could you let me know if you’ve been getting my texts? It’s just that… you never not text me back and I’m getting worried. Is that too much? I’m probably being ridiculous. Anyways, call me back. Or text. Just let me know you’re okay. I love you.” You sighed and put your phone down for what felt like the twentieth time in the last half hour.

This had never been the case. You were never the worried spouse that had to rely on phone calls or texts to communicate or to even know your husband was alive. It made you empathize with Will, with Haley. It made you want to ask them for advice on not going crazy. Your mind was already going rouge.

I can’t be a widow. I can’t mourn the love of my life, how does anyone? What happens if I lose him? How foolish of me to have dismissed this when we got married. We’re FBI agents, for the love of God. We point guns and have them pointed back at us for a living. I’ll have to take my ring off. Do I keep it? I can’t look at it if he’s gone. Who picks out the dress for the funeral? If I have to do it, I’ll go insane. I can’t bury him; I can’t go watch them lower him to the ground. I will just cremate him and split his ashes so his mom has him too. His mom. That woman won’t be able to bear outliving her baby. God, please pick up the fucking phone.

You: Honey, please text me back!!! Have someone text me for you, idc.

You: Spence, charge your phone.

You: Why is Derek not texting me back either?

You: Are you angry at me?

You: I’d rather you tell me if you’re angry. Don’t ghost me when you’re on a case.

You: Spencer.

You: I’m calling Penny.

Three rings it took for Penelope to answer.

“Hi my sweet, beautiful, ____. How can I be of assistance to you at this indecent hour of the morning/night?” She chirped, her tone already relaxing you. She would be the first to know if something had gone wrong.

“Hi Penny, do you have any word on the team? I keep calling and texting Spencer and he hasn’t gotten back to me. It’s been like three hours.” You said, holding back the tears.

“Oh, sweet stuff. Last I heard, they were delivering the profile. They’re in Kansas and there was a tornado warning. The power is out. Maybe all of their phones ran out of battery.” She tried to reassure you, like always, already knowing what was happening in your head. “Is everything okay? Have you slept?”

“Not really. Spence stopped replying and I got anxious.”

“Don’t worry hun, bad news travel fast.”

“Yeah, yeah… you’re right. I should…”

Before you could finish your sentence, the door creaked open and you saw a defeated looking Spencer hang his jacket and take his shoes off trying to be quiet, assuming you were asleep. You felt the color come back to your face and you dropped the phone on the couch without even making sure you had ended the call.

“Oh, thank God.” You ran to him and aggressively hugged him. Much to your embarrassment, the tears you were trying so hard to hold back were now streaming down your face.

“Hey, hey…” He took in your appearance and instantly worried about you. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

“What the fuck happened to your phone? And everyone else’s for that matter!” You said, letting go of him and raising your voice without meaning to. Spencer knew you never yelled, so he was taken aback by your words.

“It died, ___, four hours ago, the power went out and the generator wasn’t working. Why are you screaming?” He rushed out.

“Because you never texted me back and I thought you were dead!” Your voice was a lot calmer now, much more frustrated and tired.

“Honey, I’m so sorry, everything happened so fast, I didn’t even think about my phone. I didn’t mean to make you angry; I promise.”

“I’m not angry, baby. At least not at you. I hate being here and not out there with you. I can’t sit around and wait for you to give me proof of life. it’s driving me insane and it has only happened once.” You groaned, choking back quiet sobs now. “I can’t lose you. I can’t be the last to find out.” You fell to the couch like your legs had stopped working.

Your husband was looking at you like he didn’t even think about that, like the realization had just hit him. You couldn’t blame him, neither of you were used to that dynamic of checking your phones because the one person you would want to update was always along for the ride.

“Baby, you’re not going to lose me. I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll care more about my phone. I didn’t mean to worry you.” He said, crouching to be eye to eye with you and taking your hands.

“No, no..I’m sorry. I’m being ridiculous, I went crazy. You shouldn’t have to do that…” You kissed his knuckles and slid down the couch to sit on the floor with him. All you wanted was to be near him. You put your arms around his neck and whispered. “I love you, I’m sorry I yelled at you. I was losing it. I’m not used to this feeling of not knowing where you are or if you’re okay, I felt helpless.”

“It’s okay hun, I get it, I love you too. We’re both new to this whole being-a part thing. If I’m honest, I don’t like it.” He pulled you to his lap so you were tangled up like a koala.

“I hate it. It 's the worst. I’m done with this break”

“Hotch is just looking out for you, he wanted to give you your space after the accident. You can talk to him and see how he feels about you coming back.” His reassuring words were already lightening the mood, and you were grateful he was fine. Once the adrenaline died down, the sleep you had been missing hit you like a ton of bricks. You stifled a yawn and planted a kiss on Spencer’s forehead.

“You’re tired. Let’s go to sleep.” He took notice of your droopy eyelids and went to stand up. “Have you been awake all this time?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t just go to bed.” You replied, removing yourself from his lap and taking his hand.

“Come on, let’s crash. I’m off tomorrow, we don’t have to wake up early.”

Oh, thank the lord.

“I’ll go to sleep, but I have one condition.” You said with your best attempt at a mischievous grin.

“What is it?” Spencer asked, knowing that tone and that face all too well.

“Get a stupid portable charger.”

[that-one-girl-behind-you]

Illicio 17/?

Part 16

CW for: -self harm -mentions (implications) of police brutality -whatever the hell kind of self hatred Tim has going on

"Daisy, you're dying."

"I know. I've known for a while." Daisy's too-bony hand comes to rest against Basira's cheek, and she almost flinches at how cold it feels. "I thought you knew too."

"I'm- I was looking for a way to stop it. I thought you wanted to stop it!" It takes everything in her to not shake Daisy up, because this sounds like- "I didn't know you'd just given up."

"I haven't. I win, like this. I die as myself." Daisy gives her a weak smile. -everything in her looks weak, and Basira wants to scream.

Getting Daisy back was already not a part of the plan, but losing her again is- "Dying is not winning, Daisy."

XVII

"That was a nasty one," Gerry says, running a hand through his hair a couple times. An understandable reaction, given that the floorboards of the attic they were trying to bust open to reach the Corruption book ended up collapsing on him in a shower of termites.

Still, Melanie rolls her eyes, and her lips curl into a smirk as she comes to bump his arm with her shoulder. "No creepy crawlies, you're still pretty."

"Well, obviously." Gerry flips his hair back into place, and Melanie tugs on it, when a couple locks whip -on purpose, she's sure- against her face. "Whose turn is it to pick dinner?"

"You don't even need to eat!" Melanie groans, which is a pretty solid response to his question.

"It's about the bonding, firecracker." Gerry's voice is a slow, conciliatory tone carefully designed to rile her up, she knows from his teasing grin. "The human experience."

Melanie blinks. He blinks back.

"You're not hum-"

"What's that food your girlfriend loves and you hate?" He speaks over her, and she laughs. Definitely not her standard response to men interrupting her, but she'll let this one slip, she decides. "Hungarian? Yes. That's what I'm craving."

"You're an asshole, did you know that?"

They don't get Hungarian, in the end.

Instead, they stop by an ice-cream shop, which Melanie thinks is oddly fitting. It's what they got the first time they went out together; it only makes sense it's what they get on their last.

"You're quiet." Gerry sits next to her as she digs into her pint of caramel. She barely even gives him a glance, scrolling through pictures of herself and Georgie in her phone. "Are you okay?"

"I talked to Georgie," Melanie blurts out, because tact has never been her strong suit.

"...Oh." Gerry's heavy hand comes to rest at her shoulder, and Melanie reflects for a second on how casually he touches her, and how comfortable she is with it. "Uh- everything alright?"

She scoops another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. It's- as alright as it's ever going to get, she supposes. Georgie didn't like it, but she understood. She even offered to do it, but Melanie didn't want that to be something she associated with her.

Gerry's hand squeezes her shoulder, and she turns to look at him. He looks... incredibly dumb, looking at her with concern in his eyes and his mouth stained red, his cheek still stained with soot from the book they just burned.

This is- it's the face of a friend. One she made herself, all her own.

"You look like an extra in a cheap vampire movie." She smiles. It feels a bit weaker than she meant it, but... but she's maybe feeling a bit smaller than she planned. And maybe that's not a bad thing, to ask for help. To let herself be helped. "It'll be alright."

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

Basira's not blind to how Hunt-like her connection to the Eye is. She doesn't like it, but it's fitting, she thinks grimly as the trail before her lights up in a warm yellow hue that reminds her of her favorite hijab, of the smell of freshly baked bread, of the soft sandy hue of Daisy's hair.

Daisy's been hiding a lot lately, but it's of no use; Basira could find her at the end of the world if needed, even without- she hesitates calling them 'powers', because that feels like giving in, like accepting this metamorphosis that has been thrust upon her without so much as a by your leave. Still, they are there and they are hers, and she can follow the trail down into the tunnels, and around a couple bends.

It leads straight into a dead end, where Daisy sits balled up against a corner, like a sickly dog that crawled down here to die. She looks... small. Emaciated even, Basira's old t-shirt hanging loosely off of shoulders that used to be tight with well-marked muscle.

Basira stiffens when the Knowledge slams into her, clenching her fists by her sides. She won't be scared, she won't give it the satisfaction.

"You're dying." The truth slips easily past her lips, and Basira hates it, hates it like the world that gave her Daisy only to tear them apart again and again.

It takes a moment, but Daisy stirs and sits up to look at her with bloodshot eyes. "I have been for a while already. It's alright."

"It's not." Basira steps forward, coming to crouch before her. "I thought signing the contract had helped?"

"It slowed it down." Daisy leans back on the wall, her head dropping against her shoulder like her neck isn't strong enough to hold it. "But it would never have stopped it, I'm- I'm not you, or Jon. Beholding was never for me."

Basira crouches before her, and her shoulders feel even thinner than they looked, when she lays her hands on them. "Then you have to hunt."

Daisy's warm brown eyes fix on her, and Basira can read her next words in the slight furrow of her brow.

"I don't want to."

"Daisy, you're dying."

"I know. I've known for a while." Daisy's too-bony hand comes to rest against Basira's cheek, and she almost flinches at how cold it feels. "I thought you knew too."

"I'm- I was looking for a way to stop it. I thought you wanted to stop it!" It takes everything in her to not shake Daisy up, because this sounds like- "I didn't know you'd just given up."

"I haven't. I win, like this. I die as myself." Daisy gives her a weak smile. -everything in her looks weak, and Basira wants to scream.

Getting Daisy back was already not a part of the plan, but losing her again is- "Dying is not winning, Daisy."

"Isn't it what I deserve, though?"

"What?"

"You know," Daisy says, and Basira isn't sure whether or not she means it as Capital 'K' know, but she knows perfectly well what she's referring to.

"That wasn't yo-"

"Don't say that. Don't- don't try to make me a victim, Basira I- I hurt people. I wanted to. The Hunt only gave me the tools, but-"

"Well, I knew." Basira snaps. "I knew all that time, and I didn't do anything. Doesn't that mean I'm just as bad?!"

Daisy's warm, brown eyes pin her in place, full of love and resignation in equal measure. "Well... yes."

And maybe she's right, Basira thinks. Maybe this is penance, for all the bad they've done. Maybe they're just lucky it took so long to catch up to them.

"I'm- no. Fuck that." She grits her teeth. "You- you can spend the rest of your life paying for it, but you can't die. How is this justice? How-"

"It's not meant to be fair, I think." Daisy grunts a little as she sits up straighter. "But I get to die as myself. Not- not the thing I chose to be, the thing I let hurt so many people. I get to die choosing not to hurt anyon-"

"Well- hunt monsters then! Pay it back stopping them, don't-" Basira stops abruptly, when she feels her throat tighten. If she keeps talking, her voice will break, and she doesn't want-

She'd been so angry at Jon for feeding, but here she is begging Daisy to do the same like a hypocrite. Isn't that what has always boiled down to? Her morals unshakeable, until they come to this woman?

"Basira." Daisy pulls her down delicately, and Basira comes. "I want it this way."

"Don't hide from me," Basira whispers into her hair, holding her close to her chest.

"I didn't want you to see me like this."

"I will find you. Always."

"I know." Daisy chuckles. Basira is aware this is the slightest bit selfish. Daisy won't die in her arms, so maybe as long as she never lets go... "I'm sorry."

"Don't." Basira squeezes her harder. "I'm- I get it. But I don't have to like it."

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

"Are you sure you want this?" Gerry asks for what feels like the umpteenth time, and he's more than aware that he's doing it only to buy himself more time.

The entire scene is almost too relaxed; the two of them sitting on the floor next to Melanie's cot -a monstrosity of pillows and quilt that Gerry's willing to bet hosts at least one or two knives-, a tub of half-demolished caramel ice cream between them. Just two friends having a chat.

Gerry's life has never been that simple, sadly. The awl sits deceptively light on his hand, belying the weight of the request.

"I do. It's- I want out. Of the Institute, at least." Melanie's knuckles whiten as her fists clench over the dark fabric of her jeans. "If I'm going to keep helping, then I want it to be my choice."

"If you do this, I'd much rather you stay out of this for good." Gerry's voice is dry, because if he lets any emotion in it, it will probably be despair.

"That's nice, but you don't tell me what to do." Melanie shakes her head with a roll of her eyes. "Besides, you're going to need someone who's free of all this, if the Eye won't let us look into your boyfriend's marks."

"Melanie-"

Her grim smile is determined, and Gerry feels a fierce rush of protectiveness burn in his chest. For a moment he misses the dull pain of his existence in the skin book, because at least back then that was all he could feel.

It was a stupid oversight on his part, to think he would ever get to have something normal. Something for him, untainted by the world he was born in.

"Well... alright, then."

There's disbelief and gratefulness in Melanie's eyes, like she recognizes the hesitation was for himself, and not a way to try and change her mind.

"You'll do it?"

"What are friends for?" Gerry's smile feels stiff and foreign in his face. "Gouge your eyes out, call you an ambulance right after."

"Your typical sleepover." The edges of Melanie's grin are strained. For the briefest of moments, he thinks she might hug him. She doesn't, and he's both relieved and disappointed. Is their friendship even theirs, if it was born out of hatred for these things that took their will away? "Should I lay down?"

"...I guess so, yes." He sighs. "Don't you want to finish the ice cream?"

"Not really." Determination or not, Melanie's starting to look a bit green. "I'm... okay, let's do it."

She turns around so her back is facing him, before laying down so her head rests on his crossed calves. It's... Gerry had never considered her eyes, but now it's all he can pay attention to. Almond-shaped and perfectly contoured with eyeliner, her irises a darker brown than Jon's, so deep it's almost black.

They're good eyes; they've kept watch for him during their hunts, caught sight of monsters just on the nick of time. They watched over him while Jon was in the Buried. The eyes of a friend.

She deserves this, the choice, the freedom; he won't keep them from her, not even for his own peace of mind.

How does one go about destroying someone's eyes permanently? Just jam it in and swirl it around, try to cause as much damage as possible? The Beholding is of course not volunteering any tips; instead showing him in excruciating clarity the agony it will provoke.

He sees it like a movie, like a nightmare; Melanie screaming, her blood dripping down his hands. Is this how his father felt, did he try to fight the Watcher with thoughts of his infant son?

'No,' the Eye whispers in his mind. 'This is what your mother saw, when your father laid to sleep for the last time. Trusting, loving. Like her.'

The awl drops from his shaky hands, missing her face by mere inches as Gerry throws himself back.

"Melanie, I can't."

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

"Been a while since I've been here" Tim mumbles, giving a look around the office.

It becomes clear to Jon then that he's not the only one that's nervous, although he can't for the life of him figure out why Tim would be.

Why is he nervous, even? Does he fear Tim's barbed jabs or the dull ache of guilt? Or is it just that Tim is a loose cannon, an open flame in the Archives that- oh. Of course.

"The Eye doesn't want you here." Jon smiles tiredly as he says it, and to both his surprise and relief, Tim mirrors the gesture.

"That's just mean. It was so adamant on not letting me go before..." Tim taps his fingers in the desk, leaving little scorched marks on the wood after every touch. "Well, it's going to have to suck it up."

Jon nods. "A pity. I suppose there is a reason you're here, though."

"You know? It used to make me mad, when you did that." Tim shrugs. "Well, everything you did made me mad, but that most of all."

"The..." Jon lets the word hang in the air, arching an eyebrow.

Tim scoffs. A puff of white vapor erupts from his lips and dissipates towards the ceiling.

"The whole 'not asking questions' thing." He doesn't look at Jon as he says it, and Jon tries to focus on something that is not him, because if Tim wants to tell him this, he deserves not having it revealed beforehand. He ends up Knowing the names of every single carpenter that worked on making his desk, but at least it takes long enough for Tim to gather his thoughts. "It felt- it was a reminder of what you had become. What we were all becoming."

Jon frowns, confused. "You weren't an avatar of the Desolation back-"

"Are we sure of that? I'm- I had been- I wanted destruction since long before the Unknowing. Elias', the Archives'-" Tim's eyes meet his, and it's only then that Jon realizes how long it's been since that has happened. They're their usual dark brown, no dangerous orange glow, thankfully. Jon has- he's missed them. "Yours."

"Ah." Jon sighs. This is how it is now, isn't it? How it's always going to be.

"Yeah."

Silence falls over them again, heavy like a wet towel. Jon doesn't ask why Tim is here again; he's aware enough to recognize the diverting from before, and where it brought them.

"I'm- thank you for-" Jon starts, stops, clears his throat. "You know. Gerry. The hunters. Watching out for him when Melanie's not around."

Tim looks about as uncomfortable as Jon feels, so at least they're on equal -if uneven- footing.

"It's- Martin wanted me to." Tim crosses his arms over his chest, averting his gaze. "What- is that a thing? Those two?"

Jon sighs. "Martin is this close to becoming a Lonely avatar, Tim." Who said Tim was the only one who knew how to divert from uncomfortable lines of questioning?

Tim's face whips back to him at that, scowling fiercely. "He is, isn't he? Why is that? Why the fuck didn't you stop that when it started happening, Jon?"

"I tried my best, but I was in a comma," Jon says dryly, his words followed by a tense, thick silence.

The snort that escapes Tim's lips surprises Jon as much as it does Tim himself, apparently. "Nice to know I did fuck you up."

"For a while, yes." Jon shakes his head a little, the corner of his lips curling up in a resigned smile. "I'm- I suppose Martin hasn't told you, then."

"I suppose not," Tim repeats in an affected mockery of his voice. It's something he used to do before, Jon realizes with a start. "About what?"

And really, it feels like a pity to weigh down the first civil conversation they've had in two years by bringing it up, but it's- Tim has a right to know. He deserves it.

"About the Extinction."

"Hm. Was that meant to sound as ominous as it did?" Tim arches an eyebrow, and Jon shrugs.

"I mean, it is called the Extinction; I doubt there's any way to give that title any levity." Jon sighs. This too feels like before, and it hurts just as much as the hostility. Maybe more. "Peter Lukas believes it's a fifteenth entity in the process of forming. The fear of humanity towards eradication at our own hands, towards dying out as a species, rather than individuals. The realization that we have brought on our own demise, and it's too late to change it now."

"And is it?"

"...Excuse me?" Jon frowns.

"Well, yes. If anyone could know, wouldn't that be you?" Tim asks again.

Oh. Right, of course.

Jon sighs. "It has been brought to my attention recently that there are some things the Beholder won't tell me about."

"Like your marks?"

"I'm- how do you know about that?" Jon frowns. Just how many people know about this thing the Eye is so adamant on not letting him see?

"I asked Martin about your safeword when he asked me to stick with your boyfriend." Tim shrugs. "Then I just did a quick head count. You're just missing one, aren't you?"

"The Lonely, yes."

"How convenient isn't it? Martin's sudden promotion." Tim mutters to himself, and Jon purses his lips.

"I'm well aware it's my fault, Tim, thank you."

Tim neither confirms nor denies it. He fidgets with his hands a little, squeezing his pinky finger flat between the pointer and thumb of his free hand, then rolling it back into shape.

"So he's trying to get information?" He asks quietly after a couple minutes.

"I- at first." Jon sighs. Isn't this the truth he's been trying to ignore for the past months, even though he Knows it's irrefutable? "It has him now, though. He- he just needs to choose."

"I hope you're right."

"Hm?" Jon looks up, but Tim's still not looking at him, instead focused on the scorch marks on the desk.

"If he can choose, he will choose you." When Tim's eyes raise to him, there's the slightest spark of orange in their depths.

"I'm- Tim, I don't know if that's an option anymore." The thought has been on his mind for weeks now, since Martin turned him away.

"He always finds a way to choose you, anyways."

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

"That's- that's something." Melanie exhales softly through her parted lips. They're back to leaning on her cot, and she's pressed tight to Gerry's side; not holding him by any means, but close enough that she can feel it when his breathing finally starts slowing down. "I didn't know."

It rains on her then just how painfully little she knows about him. They know each other like penitent ghosts, no past and no future, just a present, and a sum of festering wounds far too painful to look at.

Gerry's startled cackle is dry and pained, and it draws Melanie out of her contemplations. "I think that's the point."

"I-"

"I'm sorry I couldn't do it." He lets his head fall back against the cot, groaning. "I'm not being very useful lately."

It's a very stupid thought, but it does sound like something Gerry would believe of himself. Lives his entire life trying to save people from the entities, gets right back into it as soon as he's raised from the dead. Melanie sort of knew already that he measured his value on how much he could help others, but this is a very clear indicator.

Melanie sighs. "Don't. It's- I just wanted it to be you because- I trust you, I guess." She turns her head, even though Gerry's not looking at her.

"I- thank you, firecracker." It's such a dumb nickname, but it feels so different from stupid, stupid Mel. "Should- I can call Helen, if you want?"

"It's alright. I don't think she liked that I'm quitting; she seemed a bit sad when I told her. I'll- I'll do it myself." The awl feels foreign in her shaky hand, but she grips it firmly. "You should get out, probably."

He lets out a long exhale, almost sagging against her side. "I'm- I'll stay," he says in the end.

"Are you sure? I'll- you can just go outside and call the ambulance after."

"No." Gerry brings a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. "No, I- I prefer to stay. In case you need help."

"Yeah, that's- I might." Melanie takes a deep, wet breath to calm her speeding heart. He doesn't respond. When she looks at him out the corner of her eye, he's staring straight ahead, his lips pressed white in a thin line and a muscle twitching at his jaw. "Thank you."

A large, warm hand comes to wrap itself around her free one, and Melanie squeezes back as hard as she can. She's as afraid of the pain as she is of the prospect of freedom, but this at least is her choice, not Elias' trickery, not something feeding on her to turn her into something else. She won't be anyone's pawn anymore.

She thinks of the Admiral's orange fur. The bright yellow of Helen's door. Gerry's stupid lovesick faces. The curve of Georgie's lips when she smiles, and the dimple on her right cheek.

Melanie strikes.

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

Truth is, Tim should've left a while ago, after he got the confirmation he was looking for. That Martin isn't just another victim, that his efforts to bring him back haven't worked not because Tim himself isn't enough, but because Martin has a reason and a purpose to stay Lonely.

That said purpose isn't just the undeserving idiot before him.

It's- the familiarity's the worst part, in his opinion. Tim's stomach still burns whenever he looks at Jon and he's able to tell what he's thinking of just by the furrowing of his brow.

It reminds him of stolen glances and hugs that lingered for just a second too long. Of dragging his new boss out of the Archives for a drink, just like he dragged him out of Research every Friday. Of reluctant smiles and bitten off chuckles after Tim's jokes. Of being asked to check on a statement and knowing immediately that Jon was nervous, and that he would do whatever it took to assuage it.

"Jon?" He asks, and the way the name rolls out of his mouth leaves behind an aftertastes of bitter ashes. "Could I have found Oliver Banks?"

The green glow starts slowly, just a spark of neon in the depths of Jon's dark eyes, burning brighter and brighter until it's taken over his gaze completely.

"I- no. There- there were a lot of threads pulling you away from any real information about him." Jon sighs. He closes his eyes and rests his elbows on the desk, rubbing at his temples. "It makes sense, I suppose."

It does. Tim doesn't hold any love in his heart for the Desolation, but the fact that it has loosened the Spider's grip on him is most definitely something to be thankful for. It's ridiculous, that they live the kind of lives in which they have to be thankful for an entity at least being upfront about consuming their very being.

He... he often wonders if it might have been different, had he managed to find him. If they would've at least had a chance with some more information before everything went to shit. If maybe he's not as much to blame as-

"You aren't." Jon's voice pours over him like cold water over a fire, so abrupt that Tim flinches before looking back at him, and finding the green eyes fixed to his face with almost eerie focus.

It takes him a moment to figure out just what the hell he's walking about, and when he finally does Tim knows he should be enraged at the violation, but all he can bring himself to feel is exhaustion.

"I didn't know you could do that," he says, and every word bears the weight of the past four years.

"I'm sorry," Jon responds. Tim believes him. It doesn't matter. It hasn't mattered for a while.

The Desolation feeds on sorrow and loss as much as it does on rage, and there's plenty of both to go around in this office.

"I- Jon?" Tim frowns. Jon's warm brown skin has gone ashen, the scars in stark contrast to it. His eyes are still green and focused on something Tim can't see, and his entire frame shakes, his knuckles white around the edge of the desk. "Jon what-"

"Melanie, it's- she's-" Jon flinches and curls into himself, his face contorted into a rictus of pain that has Tim's stomach churning. "You have to go-" Jon's voice is strained now, like every word is being ripped out of him.

"Jon-" Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The lights in the office are flickering and Tim feels watched by a hundred thousand eyes, here in this place that despises him for coming back after he served his purpose. Static sings in the air around them, and Tim may not have the Sight for these things, but he can recognize an avatar about to lose control. What's- what's that shit he and Daisy tell each other? What- "Jon, the- listen to the quiet, listen to-"

A lightning-sharp pain pierces into his brain-

Danny's on the armchair- no, not him- was there ever really a Danny? And if so, isn't this him? Why are you so scared, Tim? It's just your little brother, aren't you just thrilled to see him?! Look at how well his skin fits him!

Look at how wide he's smiling -don't try to count his teeth-, he's just so happy to have you back! Why didn't you go see his performance at the theater? He was so excited to introduce you to all of his new friends, to show you just how it felt when his skin burst open at the seams-

Jon's eyes are lit up like searchlights now, no pupil and no sclera, just green fire at their depths, and the depths of all the other eyes boiling open like blisters along his arms, his neck, his cheeks.

"What are you doing? Cut it out!"

Jon opens his mouth, but it's the Archivist's voice that comes out.

"Isn't she beautiful? You've thought so from the time you first laid eyes on her. Her smiling lips, her knowing eyes, her face that fits just well on her skull. Her long, long, long fingers on your scalp as you tell her of all that makes you afraid, all that makes you Tim.

You love her in any and all ways she'll let you, what does she look like? What does she sound like? It surely doesn't matter as much as the fact that she loves you back, doesn't it? She lets you stay by her side, she listens to your woes, your suspicions. You mention the circus and she nods in understanding, but in her mind she's laughing, laughing, laughing. Do you hear it? Do you feel the caress of too long fingers as you lay your head on her chest? She was thinking of taking your skin nex-"

The door flies open, and Tim throws himself over the desk to keep Jon's eyes -all of them- on him when Basira appears at the threshold.

"What the hell is going on?! I- he's in my hea-"

"Get out!" Tim shouts "Find Melanie! Make sure she's done!" Basira whips around immediately, disappearing down the corridor. "Jon, calm down!"

He orders you to look- you're so angry, you hate him with the same fierce devotion you had for him. His face is an anchor amongst the chaos around you, you recognize those eyes, that nose, those furrowed brows and that mouth twisting around a plea.

This is his fault. He brought you here, he pushed you away when you needed him, when your fear burned like a furnace in your chest and you didn't know what you were becoming. Now he's here, and he has the gall to demand even more from you. What else could he take? Is there anything left of you? The worst part, you think, is that his face is his in a way hers and Danny's weren't. This is him -you can count the teeth if you want- and you were doomed to die here surrounded in boiling wax, from the moment you first laid eyes on this calamity of a man.

"Stop it!" he screams. His whole skin hurts, every inch alight in a flare of pain As it's torn from his body, and he can't- he can't remember his name, he- what does he look like? It hurts, everything- there's fire licking at his skin -his skin is not there- and he knows that shouldn't hurt anymore but it does and he can't remember his name. "Jon, snap out of it!"

Manuela Dominguez burns, and you were the one to set her aflame. You feel her pain, you revel on it, the taste of her terror finer than a five course meal. This is what you are now. You're destruction, you're pain, you're nothing but the fear you can cause. She would be disgusted at what you have become, and Danny would too. How could you ever think you could save Martin, when all you can do is hurt? Look at yourself -whoever that is, without your skin, without your name-, what have you got to offer? What-

"Jon!" he clings tightly to the monster -the man- thrashing so wildly in his grip that they both topple to the floor. The Beholding still spears at his mind, and he doesn't- what should he do?! Will they be able to get him back, if Jon loses control?

You do not care about that. All you are is pain, all you are is hatred, all-

"Come back, you idiot!" Tim shakes him. His hands are smoking, and so is the wooden floor around them, and Jon's skin boils with eyes and blisters in equal measure. "I will burn the place down! I will kill us both again!"

He can't- he can't let him go, he- Sasha's gone, and Martin's leaving, and- Tim can't be the last one standing, he just can't.

"Don't-" Tim From Before could've reached Jon, he has no doubt. The Tim that wasn't just pain, that loved, that laughed, that wanted to comfort rather than hurt; but that Tim is gone forever, and he can't reach him. "Jon please-"

"...Tim?" The quiet voice is barely audible over the roaring of the flames, and Tim flinches back like his name had been a blow. Jon's irises are dark again, and the dozens of eyes that opened along every inch of exposed skin are slowly, reluctantly closing. "Tim, what-"

He doesn't hear much more, as he rushes out if the office and slams the door shut behind him.

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

Melanie looks almost impossibly tiny as the paramedics wheel her away from Gerry and Basira, and up into the ambulance. Even from this far up, watching from the safety of his- of Peter's- of Elias' office, Martin can see two things.

The first is the carnage that's all that's left of her eyes, the blood strikingly bright where it's splashed across her face like a mask.

The second is the pained smile in her face, and Martin feels a stir of envy at his chest. She's free. There was still enough human left in her to walk away from this nightmare, from all of them.

Martin feels the Lonely before he hears the static of Peter stepping out of it. The fog curls around his ankles like a cat looking for attention, and isn't that funny, the Lonely wanting to be noticed?

It probably isn't.

"Looking a bit grim there, aren't you?" Peter asks. Martin merely inclines his head in acknowledgement, because he knows the man will only become more insistent if he doesn't answer. "Did you feel any of that?"

"Her leaving?" Martin asks

"And the Archivist losing control. He was trying to reign her back in, to heal her eyes before she could destroy them enough." Peter's gaze is heavy on his face, and he seems pleased that he can't find what he's looking for. "Your friend Timothy got quite reckless at the Archives, but in the end he managed to calm him down."

"Hm." What else is he supposed to say? Of course Tim was able to anchor Jon. They've always been close, even when they don't trust each other. Tim can pretend to despise Jon all he wants, but Martin knows him far too well. Both of them, actually. "Did you need anything?"

He feels Peter's smile more than he sees it, the man's smugness coming off of him in waves. "I was only curious as to whether or not you'd been affected, I suppose."

Martin shrugs. "I wasn't. I was recording a statement, the one with the mirror house." The tape recorder is still on his desk, the tape whirring softly inside.

"That's wonderful news, actually. It means we're ready."

He does turn to Peter at that. "Already?"

"Correct. We just need- I'm getting a map made for us right as we speak." Again, Peter's smug smile is palpable in his voice. "The tunnels are a bit of a mess, aren't they?"

"There's nothing in the tunnels. Jon searched them all." Martin arches an eyebrow, but Peter merely smiles wider.

"He didn't know much back then, did he?" He asks. "The device we need is at the center of the maze. You can't reach it unless you know where you're going."

"And you do?"

"I will. And you will too."

"...Will I be coming back?" Martin asks, almost as an afterthought. Down at the street Gerry has taken a seat on the Institute's front steps, and he too looks almost tiny in his exhaustion, his head hanging low and his shoulders hunched.

"Does it matter?"

Basira hesitates by his side for a moment, before she too sits down, and Gerry's head tilts a little towards her.

"I guess it doesn't."

"Excellent."

Martin waits until Peter has stepped back into the Lonely, until he can no longer feel his presence even when he reaches in with a tendril of fog.

The last statement of Adelard Dekker -a part of him aches in sympathy at the fact that Gertrude never got to say goodbye properly- looks almost innocuous when he pulls it out of the locked drawer and folds it carefully under the tape recorder.

He stares at the device for a couple seconds, trying to figure out what would be a good end to a story. To his story.

"Goodbye."

Click.

[depressed-sock]

First Meetings

A Fallen Hero fanfic

A short story with my sidestep Kiyo and @kruk-art ‘s sidestep Awan!

 Kiyo: 

  You take the steps two at a time, running as fast as your legs can carry you. You probably should have kept your mouth shut when you saw the very obvious mods on these people but when have you ever done that? Seriously when have you ever had the sense to stay out of dangerous situations?

  It feels like never and somehow you always seem to end up where you have to run for your life. At least the kid they had targeted had gotten away, that's about the only good news about this entire situation.

  You look back over your shoulder, your steps faltering just a bit as you catch sight of them bursting through the landing door. You can feel their thoughts, angry and seething and wow you really fucked up this time. These people really want you dead… and you're about to make this whole situation much worse.

  Tall, dark and balding looks up spotting you and a sneer spreads across his face as he spits, "Get back here you little cu-" only to be cut off by your shoe landing with a loud thwack as it hits him square in the jaw.

  "Watch your fucking language!" A cacophony of yelling greats your back as you turn and start running back up the stairs. You're faster than them for now...and only because you know they're modded to be heavy hitters and not sprinters. Which means that you really do not want to get hit by any of them… which is going to be hard since you ran into a building… fuck ….You really should have thought this through better.

 Awan:

  You sit quiet and still as the world moves beneath you. The sounds of traffic and muted conversation filling the air. You take a breath in, tasting the coming storm on the air and you feel yourself relax just a bit. 

  It feels like it's been months since you've had a chance to sit on the roof and take in a moment of peace. No attacking villains, no sudden chaos that needs your attention and help. Just this moment of-

  Chaos and anger that's climbing closer to your location. Mother fucker. You turn just as the roof's door slams open and a figure stumbles through.

  A mess of black hair that looks up and a shock of grey colored eyes meet yours, "uhhh fuuccckk…." he quickly looks over his shoulder before slamming the door shut behind him, pressing against it as he stares at you. "Hi…Sorry to uhhh bother you but…. umm you wouldn't happen to know if there's another way down would you?" 

  “Not unless you’re willing to jump to the next roof,” your eyes narrow on him as you hear muffled shouts from inside the building. Whoever is chasing him is out for blood, and they definitely intend to spill it over the entire building. 

  “...That is not the best option," he looks up as he mutters to himself before wincing at the sounds of bangs reverberating through the building, "it is however definitely an option." His eyes meet yours again, "You may want to also leave because I'm pretty fucking sure they're ready to take out their anger out on anyone nearby."

  "If that's the case why did you run into a building?"

  "....Lack of foresight?" He shrugs helplessly before jumping off the door as a blade pushes through, "Fucking hell."

  You don't bother waiting around, jumping to your feet and pulling the smaller man behind you. No one's spilling any blood on your roof today. 

  "Hey!" He lets out an indignant cry from behind you. A wave of confusion followed by a realization that you're trying to protect him.

  "Stay behind me," you mumble, falling into your fighting stance as the first person breaks through the door. They falter only a second before attacking you. 

  A punch that propels the blade sticking out of the top of their wrist towards your face. You follow their thoughts and pull the strings causing their aim to be too far right. Enough space for you to grab their arm and push them off balance as you kick their feet out from under them. They land with a groan that you quickly silence with a kick to their face. One down, more to go.

  You're given no time to prepare as a woman and man push through the door one after the other. Anger fully forming into a raging fire that makes them both stupid and dangerous. The woman's knuckles clack together, metal against metal as her fist drives forward with the power to break bones. You feel a rush of air as her fist passes just in front of you almost hitting but finding nothing to hit as you’re yanked backwards.

  "Hey, uglies! I'm the one you're after!" A flash of black hair and pink as the person you're trying to protect steps forward blocking the attack from the man and landing a punch against his jaw. "Mother fucker," he pulls back, bumping into you as he shakes his hand out. "Who the fuck is stupid enough to get a metal jaw?!"

  "Apparently he is," you comment, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him out of the way as a blade tries to strike his leg. Dammit, you were sure you had knocked them out. 

  This isn't going to work. Racing thoughts echoing your own. You glance down finding a snarl on the face of the person you're trying to protect. His hand reaching up and grabbing your wrist as you feel his thoughts make a decision.

  Kiyo: 

  You're not going to be able to take these people out by yourselves. Too outnumbered and most definitely too outpowered. You don't know why this man decided to help you but you're not going to let him get killed because of it.

  Only one choice left.

  Your grip tightens around his wrist tugging him towards the edge of the roof, "Time to jump."

  "Wait, what-" you're running, pulling him with you before he even gets a chance to finish as you let your instincts take over. Jump to the next roof, take the fire escape down and run towards the more populated areas of town. If you can't lose them then at least there would be a higher chance of a 'hero' stepping in and taking down these assholes for you. A strategy that you're probably a little too familiar with.

  You feel him fall into step with you as you both jump, thoughts following thoughts until you both land with a roll and a realization that your both reading each other's thoughts. Another telepath… Focus on getting away first.

  Neither of you stop moving, feet banging loudly against the fire escape and away from the angry shouts. You hit the ground running, not looking back as you navigate the broken streets of Los Diablos. It feels like hours before you finally feel yourself slowing.

  "I think we lost them," you pant as your steps falter and come to a stop in a shaded alley. You can't feel their anger anymore, so either you got far enough away or they finally gave up.

  "We could've taken them," the man beside you comments as he leans against a nearby wall to catch his breath. Blonde hair sticking to his forehead haphazardly in a way that makes you let out a breathless laugh.

  "Sure you could have," you shake your head with a smile, "Thanks for the save anyway... I'm Kiyo," you hold out your hand and he takes it roughly in his with a strong shake.

  "Awan." He leans back, head tilting as he studies you. Mind just as closed off and unreadable as you hope yours is right now. "Why were they even after you?"

  "...Oh, I kinda pissed them off to draw their attention away from someone else," you rub the back of your neck with an awkward laugh,"... and stole a few of their wallets.. buuut they won't realize that until later." You shrug, a helpless smile taking over as you stuff your hands into your jacket’s pockets.

  "You stole their wallets?" He raises an eyebrow, arms crossing casually over his chest.

   "To be fair they did try to kill me so I think it's a fair trade."

  His laugh speaks of amusement and disbelief, "Right… I should probably be going." He looks up at the sky and you follow his gaze to find it turning a dark grey. The smell of rain becoming clearer with each second. 

  "I really hope that building wasn't where you're staying," you wince looking down and away. That would be bad… that would be really bad.

  "It's not."

  "Well, that's good news at least," you chuckle in relief. One less thing to worry about.

  "I do need to find a new spot though," he sighs loud and irritated, though it feels more directed at your assailant's than you.

  "....uhhh I can't give you a new spot but I can pay for lunch."

  "With stolen money?" A smug smile on his face.

  "With 'rescue' money. I saved someone and then you helped save me. So I think it's only fair to share it," you shrug as you make your excuses. Is it really stealing if was already technically stolen? "I also know a great place that serves pancakes all day."

  He hesitates a moment before he finally seems to give in, "Alright, but I fully expect the works."

  "Is there any other way to eat them?" You smile leading the way out of the alley, "Seriously though is there any other way? Because they keep telling me there's not."

  His laugh echoes down the alley and disappears as you both start making your way down the street.

[spectralmagpie]

Video Games: RappaXF!Reader

For the server prompt!

Some spicey Rappa content right here! Big boi doesnt ...exactly follow the rules, but that's okay since the reward is 🥵🥵🥵

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut, blood, death(?), face sitting, fem!dom, dry humping.

Word count: 1.5k

"Rappa! Smash Brothers is a video game!" You hiss as he drags you into one of  the back rooms of the club you were at.

Someone had jokingly said that if they won the Super Smash Bros. Tournament the bar had been hosting you'd be the prize, and you'd have to sit on their face. You'd been royally pissed; not a prize to be won; you had been about to lay into the guy when your big burly boyfriend decided to do it for you. Except...you were pretty sure the guy was dead based on the amount of blood on Rappa's knuckles and the man's eerily still body on the floor.

It's not like anyone would care that much, the seedy underbelly of a club that it was.

"Why play a game when you can do it in real life?" He boots the door closed behind you and you go to sit on the worn couch at the opposite end of the room.

"You didn't have to kill the guy!" You cross your arms, Rappa tilts his head and looks down at his knuckles.

"I just gave 'em a regular punch." He rolls his shoulders. You try hard not to focus on the rippling muscles, you were supposed to be mad at him.

"Your regular punches kill people Rappa." You reply coolly, trying to keep your poker face in check.

Your boyfriend pauses and looks thoughtful for a moment before grinning devilishly.

"Yeah they do." He says rather proudly, you sigh and sag further into the sofa.

"Awe babydoll don't be mad, besides he was being a sleaze." He gently presses, but doesn't approach yet. He knows he's in some sort of trouble.

"I can take care of myself well enough." You huff, you know you're pouting at this point.

"Of course ya can darlin'" he's trying his honeyed words now and. That just isn't fair…You try to ignore it.

“Besides, liked I’d EVER sit on his face.” you grimace at the idea of it.

“Especially when your thrones’ right here!” you nearly facepalm when he points to his face.

“Kendou…” you start, not sure if you should laugh, be turned on, or mad, damn him for making you feel so many emotions at once.

“Come on darlin’...” he moves to you, for Kendou it would be considered a slow measured walk, but he’s so large he’s at your feet in three strides. Slowly he sinks to his knees and God damnit, heat rushes through you and you can feel yourself getting wet at the sight of your massive lover bowing to you. “I beat ‘em right?”

“Not the way you were supposed to.” you try to be firm with him.

“Details.” with his size he can look you square in the eye even on his knees.

“Important details Kendou.” you shiver as he leans, his nose brushing along the pulse of your neck before he nips at you.

“Ya look so fuckin’ cute right now.” he rumbles, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“You’ve got blood all over your knuckles.” it’s becoming really hard to focus now, his breath at your neck, his teeth grazing your flesh.

“Ya like it.” he’s trying to whisper but nothing is ever quiet with him.

“Kendou…” you’re starting to waver, his massive hands rest just above your knees, his thumbs pressing, pads rubbing against your inner thigh.

“Fuck babydoll, I’ll beg for it, if that’s what ya want.” he growls, moving closer to you, sitting up further on his knees. You notice he’s slotting his hips against the front of the couch between your legs. “I’ll do it; beg for your sopping pussy.” oh and he’s gridding his hips against the couch.

You grab a fist full of his hair and yank him into a searing kiss, your teeth clacking against his own as you lay into him. He inhales sharply and then groans, you feel his hips snap against the cushion.

“Fuck...move.” you hiss finally, pushing him away, you scooch, leaving the spot you were sitting at bare. “Lay your head back against the cushions.” your stripping yourself of your panties, deciding to leave your skirt on...something about it made you hot and bothered.

Rappa looked rather pleased with himself as he quickly obliged, laying out most of his body on the gross backroom floor, broad shoulders pressing back against the front of the couch, his head and crazy mane of hair coming to rest on the seat cushion.You can see the tent at the front of his pants and fuck if that doesn’t make you even more wet.

Quickly your throwing a leg over him and hiking your skirt up as you straddle his face; he’s grinning up at you, golden eyes dark as he drinks in the sight of you.

“Fuck...just fucking smoother me darlin’.” his hands are at you thighs, pressing but not forcing you to move.

“I thought you said you would beg.” you say smartly and the look of pure lust that clouds his vision is so incredibly decadent you can hardly stand it.

“Fuuucckkkk, babydoll please, lemme eat ya out.” turns his head and bites at your thigh, fingertips pressing tighter against your skin.

“More.” you command, you hear his boots squeaking against the floor and you look over your shoulder to see him bracing his legs, feet firmly planted as his hips buck up into nothing.

“Please, please, please make a mess of me, just fucking cover me, you’re so fuckin’ good.” you watch as he bucks up a few more times before turning to look down at him. Your knees practically give out at the sight.

Your big bad Rappa, begging you, eyes hazed in lust, looking so dreamy you have to catch yourself.

“Alright big guy…” you barely have control left over your composure. "Since you asked so nicely.”

You lower yourself to him, squeaking in surprise as he pulls you down the rest of the way practically smashing you into him. But the loud groan he produces and the thick roll of his tongue against your folds has your noise of surprise morphing into a wavering moan.

“Rappa…” you keen, hands going to grip the back of the sofa, his nose bumping against your clit, as he laps broadly against you. You don't even have to do any work, his strong arms are moving you against him tighty, smearing your arousal up and down the lower half of his face.

He doesn’t have as much finesse as usual (if you could call anything of him finesse) but the way he practically devours you, has your head spinning, and the heat inside your gut coiling.   

“Oh, Kendou!” he thrusts his tongue inside of you eagerly lapping at your dripping essence. You you can hardly keep your bearings straight, you wonder if he can even breath at the rate he’s going.

You make a sound of displeasure as his tongue leaves you, but you're quickly whimpering out his name as one of his thick fingers presses inside you. And then he’s angling you just so and, fuck...His lips close around your clit and he gives you a harsh lick.

You’re practically vibrating as you look down, nearly coming then and there as Kendou looks back up at you through his bangs, face flushed, pupils dilated, to the point there is only an eclipse of gold around the abyss.

It’s all you can do to hold out for a few more deep thrusts of his finger and few more harsh laps of his tongue, before you cumming,crying out and covering his mouth and chin in your slick, your body shivering as he devours every last drop.

Your legs are shaky and the overstimulation is becoming too much, when you feel his hands move from your thighs to your waist and then he’s picking you up like you weigh nothing; over his head, setting you on his stomach.

You sag into him, you’re sure your juices are staining his shirt but honestly you don’t have the strength or brain power left to care. Slowly he lifts his head; if you had any decency left you’d blush at the sight of your slick on his chin and mouth.

“How was that princess?” he drawls looking rather pleased with himself.

“The throne was adequate.” you reply, lazy smile gracing your lips.

A bark of laughter escapes from him.

“Adequate enough that I think you deserve a little something in return.” he doesn’t see the coy look on your face as you turn, reaching around to palm at his staining cock through his pants.

You had never heard a laugh turn into a moan so fast in your life.

[samesongxox]

Savior: Chapter 3 (A Crack in the Stone)

Summary: (Hellboy 2019) AKA Turning a New Leaf AKA Good Samaritans Need Love Too. The B.P.R.D is tasked to infiltrate a black market creature trafficking ring led by a powerful warlock. Hellboy rescues Phyrra who is found being held hostage, a slave for her magic. He must protect her as she is hunted by her master and his gang of monsters. (AU where Broom isn’t dead/Abe wasn’t found)

It will be rated M, it will include violence, swearing, smuttiness, all the good things in life.

Disclaimer: Hellboy belongs to Dark Horse Comics/Mike Mignola, I don’t own anything except the AU and my OC’s.

The second the chopper landed, Phyrra was ambushed by agents. Binx the Pixie chimed in clear outrage as Phyrra was shoved around. Hellboy felt the same ire. The awaiting crew were less than gentle in their handling of her, even taking the extra precaution of cuffing her slender wrists to the gurney; the order wasn't given, but the nurses were taking no chances.

"Hey! Where you taking her?!" Hellboy grabbed at the male nurse who had his hand in a tight grip on Phyrra's shoulders, he could see the knuckles were white. What the hell were they told about her?

"She's passed out guys, could you be a little more gentle?" Hellboy attempted to keep the anger out of his voice, but still the question was posed as more of a demand. The nurse looked at Hellboy with bewilderment, however he did drop his hand from her shoulder, taking the metal bars on the sides as they began to move the comatose girl.

"Calm down son, they still need to take certain provisions." The Professor arrived unheard looking like the cat that caught the canary, this had turned out to be a very successful mission.

B.P.R.D headquarters was a large, subterranean operation; new tunnels being drilled everyday. When he had received the word from the Major about finding the cache of creatures, Trevor had never been so glad of it then when he saw the trucks pulling up, crate after crate of abused souls being dispersed with care to their temporary residences.

What he didn't expect was what came out of the chopper with his son. Trevor was only able to catch glances at the limp body with a womanly figure, surrounded by B.P.R.D members and Hellboy. His said boy hovered over the girl like a worried mother, Trevor was bemused at the sight.

Giving half his attention, the Professor listened as Ben gave him the report, the agents left behind in the skirmish managed to escape with little injury, most fortunate operation indeed. Trevor walked closer to have a better look at what was captivating everyone's attention.

Trevor immediately noticed her ears sifting through her long platinum hair as she was being transported.

An elven woman, how interesting.

Long ago, he had had the honor of dining with King Baldor in a rare show of peacekeeping between the humans and elves. Those elves in comparison to the one in front of him might of shared the pale complexion, but that was where the resemblance ended. They had not had her markings, nor her large obvious ears.

So a different race altogether, most fascinating indeed.

There was also the matter of the Pixie that flew aggressively around the girl, buzzing at the staff like an irritated bee. The Professor knew of the Pixie folk's loyalties, so was surprised to see the creatures attachment as it nestled itself in the crook of the girls neck, an undeniable protector of the Elf.

"Alright big guy, let the nice people do their jobs," Alice played peacekeeper, gently leading Hellboy towards the Professor and Ben, catching the forlorn expression her friend had at the sight of Phyrra being carted away. They were still at work but Hellboy's mind seemed to be on anything but the job.

"Well son, it is nice to see you finally bring a girl home." Hellboy glared at his father. Everyone was having too much fun at his expense.

"It's not what it looks like at all," Hellboy bluffed, this was unbearable. "Why the hell were they manhandling her like that? She's just a girl!"

"A girl that you found uncaged, we don't know if she's friend or foe"

"Bullshit! She didn't hurt any of us back there!"

"That's true Hellboy, but she can't trust her just yet. There was no other in a room as she was?"

"Well we didn't really have the time to find out. I stumbled onto her, she was passed out so I checked to make sure she wasn't dead. Then Alice found me."

"What of the warlock? The owner, Elias?" Hellboy opened his mouth to say he was dealt with, but then remembered the possessed way he had remained startlingly coherent while his body was no more than chum. No, he couldn't confirm the magical man was deceased. He told his father such and watched as he developed a quizzical expression.

"Yes, well we shall start interviewing our new occupancies. I'm sure something will turn up about their warden,"

"Alright guys, let's get her down to Med!"

At hearing that, Hellboy watched helpless as Phyrra was loaded into the elevator. She looked dead, unmoving and ghostly pale. The golden tattoos stood out even more against her pallor skin.

The doors closed, Hellboy's eyes turned down, he tried not to feel dismay at her being taken away from him. He had no right to feel that, he thought petulant as a child.

"You ever see anything like her dad?"

"Not sure Hellboy, let me go to the library and check out a few volumes that could help," the Professor spared a glance at his battered son.

"Please go down and see the doctor, you look like hell."

The Professor held the image of the book he wanted to look at first in his head, he felt the tickling sensation of remembrance, he felt as if he had read something in a text that could provide some answers.

Trevor left the trio still walking towards the entrances, Alice looked to Hellboy, a guilty countenance

"I apologize HB, it's just the way she clung to you made it seem like something else had happened before I came. You know I'm just having a bit of fun. I'd say this was a big win for us. Go Team!" Hellboy cracked a smirk at Alice holding her fist up, he bumped it only semi-begrudgingly, Alice gave Ben her usual enthusiastic salute.

"Well I think I shall head on over to my room, that place was muggy as a sauna. Make sure you tell me when she wakes up." Alice winked and the two men watched as the medium sauntered away, Ben turned towards Hellboy with what to an onlooker could be a displeased face, Hellboy could see the corner of his mouth turn up.

"I'll go down and begin to oversee the cataloguing. Feel free to join me once you deal with...This." The man whose job never seemed done gestured to Hellboy's overall terrible appearance, and hung a left at the elevators.

Hellboy entered the trolley, pushing the level for the infirmary without pause, that was where they were taking her. Finally alone, Hellboy sighed out in fatigue.

What was he doing? He was becoming too invested in Phyrra too suddenly, Hellboy stood there watching the floors ding by and attempted to reason with himself. He cared about her well-being for the moment, she was unlike anything Hellboy had encountered, and he prided himself on the crazy stories he told. This was going to be one of the ones he remembered for a long time.

In one day, he had seen a Centaur, fought a Warlock, won, rescued an Elf with a Pixie sidekick, and stole the Warlocks entire inventory of creatures he was trafficking in an auction house. It was an odyssey of a tale, one he would love recounting to anyone who would listen at the bar. His mouth felt particularly parched at that moment, he wished for his wounds to be dealt with quickly, he needed a beer or maybe a baker's dozen.

The elevator doors dinged open and Hellboy was once again a witness to a chaotic scene.

Phyrra was wide awake, holding Agent Hurse hostage. Pale arms wrapped around the larger man's neck. Hellboy could see him struggle in the little womans hold, face red with exertion, she was choking him. Hurse was a tank, the fact that she was incapacitating him with little effort stunned Hellboy.

Both of them were standing on a table, Hurse's feet scrambling to gain purchase on the surface. Hellboy never again wanted to hear her wild, furious voice boom in the small waiting type room. The nurses and doctors looked on in confused horror at the dangerous elf.

"Glenn- awaui! Im anír- i naru er!"

Ignoring the shouts from the people, Hellboy ran into the room, he pushed the panicking orderlies aside.

"Phyrra!"

Her eyes snapped to his and Hellboy gasped, her look pinning him to the spot. Her eyes held such fear in the crystal depths of them Hellboy felt breathless, the eyes glistened with unshed tears. Once he caught her sight, Hurse was immediately dropped. Hellboy vaguely heard him hacking in desperate breaths, the orderlies rushed to him, keeping their distance from the Elf that leapt off the table, in a breakneck speed running to Hellboy.

Hellboy heaved in distress as Phyrra flew into him, knocking her arms against his broken ribs in a desperate attempt to hug herself to him. Phyrra was insistent, molding her body to Hellboy's in a bold caress. Hellboy's ears hummed, she kept repeating something in a frenzy: Naru er.

Hellboy looked to all the staff, their baffling attention not helping calm her down, Hellboy shielded Phyrra from the crowd, raising a placating hand.

"Alright.. Just everyone relax," He tried to sound more in control than he felt. "What happened?"

"One second she was out cold, next she had me." Hurse rasped, pulling at his tie to relieve the pressure. Already Hellboy could see the bruises appearing on his skin and winced, Phyrra really did a number on the guy.

"You gonna be okay? Sorry about this," Hurse was one of the good ones, it would royally suck if he quit over this. Luckily the agent seemed to nod in acceptance, it was his mistake, the cuffs should never have come off.

The crowd parted as an elderly woman in a long doctors coat stepped into sight.

"Hellboy, I think you better bring her here." She gestured to an exam room, Hellboy thankfully accepted the doctors invitation, basically dragging Phyrra away from the prying, frightened eyes of the faculty.

"Show is over people, back to it!"

Hellboy liked Dr. Sorah. At this moment he could bow to her. For someone who sustained damage very often, it was a professional relationship that had to exist. She was reserved woman, a precise, intense, no nonsense taking kind of broad, Hellboy got along with her great. Her bedside manner was exceptional, she had a warmth about her, a damn fine doc.

"Quite the girl you have there Hellboy," he chuckled at the doc's statement.

"What can I say? I'm irresistible," Hellboy quipped with self-deprecation as he guided Phyrra to sit down on the cot beside him, murmuring to her it would be okay. He pried her fingers from his biceps, placing them in her lap. 

He felt quite vulnerable doing this with the doc's eagle eyes on him.

Phyrra remained silent through the whole examine. It seemed as long as she was with Hellboy, the girls temperament was sweet as sugar. She looked on with mysterious intent in her orbs as Sorah divulged Hellboy of his jacket, tossing the destroyed, blood soaked garment in the corner, she ignored Hellboy's protest.

"It's ruined Hellboy, I'll buy you another one for Christmas. I'll be right back, I gotta get the brace for your ribs."

Sorah sparred one more look to the mute elf. She watched as Hellboy sat on heavily on the cot beside him, and was spectacularly awkward looking as Phyrra grabbed at him, crawling boldly into his lap, eyes on the doctor the whole time.

The doctor couldn't be certain, but she was almost positive the way she was being looked at translated to: He's mine bitch. She shook her head as she walked out, having a good private joke at the half-demons expense.

Phyrra and Hellboy were once again alone together.

Well Hellboy thought, before he forgot about Binx, who flew out of the hiding spot Phyrra's robes pocket had provided, speaking her language in a most animated fashion.

"Binx!" Hellboy inhaled sharply at the dazzling smile that spread over Phyrra's lips. The Pixie flew into her owners hands and Hellboy watched as Phyrra laughed gaily, bringing the Pixie up to her face, she nuzzled her cheek against the Pixie. Hellboy felt unwanted jealousy at the moment between Binx and Phyrra, again he had to check himself for these foolish knee jerk reactions.

"Look Binx, is it? I don't speak fae so you're not gonna get anything out of me, but if you can understand me, I want you to know both of you are safe here," Hellboy felt pretty dumb talking to this Pixie, but whether she heard him or not, she seemed placated by Phyrra's attentions, she flapped her slight gossamer wings over to the corner of the pillow, settling herself comfortably, and all of Phyrra's attentions were on Hellboy.

She was being real clingy, Hellboy couldn't find himself bothered however. He was the one who carried her out of what could be described as nothing more than her prison. She was attached to him in an unknown place, full of people who were trying to poke at her in a vocabulary she didn't understand. Hellboy could recognize her panic.

They lapsed into a quiet consideration, as neither of them could actually converse. Hellboy was becoming uncomfortable in the position he was in. He could feel the broken rib poking most unpleasantly in his side, he hissed in irritation, silent in his willing the doc to hurry up. Phyrra pulled away at the sound. She inspected him as if seeing him for the first time, and Hellboy remained hypnotized once again by the sapphires.

"Cin thi- negr." Hellboy stiffened as she ran her fingers across the sizeable gash on his arm, her touch light and cooling across the heat of the wound.

It was quite sensual.

Hellboy sweltered at the way his thoughts were heading, as he realized the provocative way she was pressing herself against him. This was becoming too intimate a position, he attempted to pull away from her. Her eyes sparked with disappointment, pulling his arm back with the same strength he had seen her exert with Hurse, made even more pronounced by Hellboy's struggle to win, he was sure he was stronger than the human man. Phyrra had brawn, despite her slender appearance. She fixed him a look that spoke of her lack of intention to let him go.

"Dab- nin." Hellboy was startled, to say the least, when the swirls on her fingers began to gleam, moving up to her arms as the swirls began to rise above her skin, like ribbon they floated through the air and Hellboy was transfixed as they began braiding themselves across his injured skin.

He shuddered at the odd sensation, it was baking him from the inside. He felt as if the strands themselves were writhing inside the wound on his arm, somehow fusing to his ribs beneath his skin.

The pain was not too much though, in fact, it seemed like nothing he ever felt getting stitched up before; even stranger was the panting he was unaware of himself doing, whatever spell she was weaving on him pumping through him.

As nimble as the tresses of gold had flown over him, the enchantment was complete and the ribbons returned home, slowly Phyrra ran her fingers once again over the patch of skin on his arm, and Hellboy with glazed eyes looked down to see her running fingers over the smooth skin, not even a scar left behind. Hellboy woke up from the trance, running his hand down his stomach, feeling for the cracked rib, nothing. He took a long, deep breath happily; he was mended completely.

Using the sorcery drained her, no doubt. As Hellboy felt her become laxed in his arms, dropping her hand to his shoulder, her breaths deepening, slowing down as she fell into a deep sleep.

"You rest Phyrra, I'll be here when you wake up." Why he made that promise to himself in the quiet room, Hellboy didn't know; but if he wasn't intrigued by the elven girl before, the way he healed her gave him all the more questions. He had one answer nevertheless, why Elias wanted her in the first place, what had caused him such agony in the idea of her being taken away.

Hellboy thought back to the moment Elias had asked her to 'heal' him. She could of, but given the opportunity, she had been nothing but frightened of him. Not frightened of the hulking, demonic monster that she had woken up to.

He didn't want to, but the feeling of it gave him a jolt of happiness.

It wasn't often people looked at him with such… Need as Phyrra had, that was the only way he could describe it; he was half-man after all, and he did have a woman in his arms that seemed to enjoy being there. Even though it was all a lie, Hellboy couldn't stop himself from living the fantasy for a brief moment. This was an entirely different setting. She was in her right mind, this gorgeous creature was in his arms because she wanted him, not wanting to be protected by him.

Hellboy chastised himself before reality became too painful, he was so fucking pathetic.

Fantasizing like some lovestruck idiot over this girl who was going through something traumatic at the moment, she was only using him as some sort of anchor, he had to face the fact that she would come to her senses eventually.

Phyrra, even in her sleep, grasped desperately at his hands as he laid her back in the cot, Hellboy had to focus on the important things. Hellboy had the impression Elias was going to want her back, if only to inflict punishment on his runaway.

He'll have her back over my dead body.

Posted himself up in the semi comfortable chair beside the cot, at least it's got a cushion, Hellboy's thoughts drifted, he felt the drowsiness settling on him. The half-demon had been through a lot in the last four hours or so, he could shut his eyes for a few minutes. She would be safe for awhile.

fin

A/N: So thoughts, comments, testimonials anybody?

Translations:

1) "Glenn- awaui! Im anír- i naru er!" Go away! I want the red one!

2) "Cin thi- negr." You appear hurt.

3) "Dab- nin." Allow me.

[cherryyharryy]

84! But maybe it's his baby and he's getting a divorce, so it can still be romantic.

Here you go, sorry it took so long!! Hope you like it!

Word count: 2,125

The best love is unexpected. The kind that comes out of nowhere and sweeps you off your feet. The kind that releases feathers in your heart and sends shivers down your spine. The kind that overtook your senses when your best friend walked in the room.

But the worst part about the best kind of love is when it’s dangled before your eyes everyday, so close but your not allowed to touch, and the most you can do is dabble in overwhelming fantasies before you finally fall asleep at night.

“Harry did you hear me?”

Harry, whose heart was not feather filled and was planted firmly on the ground, jerked at his desk from Daniel’s voice, knocking the mug of pens over.

“Uh, sorry. What’d you need?”

“Can you get me last month’s reports?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, scooping up the scattered pens and sliding them into the Friends mug—and wow— the word hurt. “Yeah I’ll get ‘em now.”

***

Harry set his leftover pasta on his desk, sucking in a breath past his teeth as he fiddled with the hot lid of the tupperware bowl. The steam hit his face and his mouth watered once he got the first real whiff, jaw already lowered but quickly realized he was missing one important aspect of lunch. So with a grunt he rose from his seat and straightened his tie before heading to the small kitchen towards the back of the office.

“So have you thought of any names yet?”

“Um, no not yet.”

Y/n’s eyes strained to stay focused on Emily. Had she any real power she would have bored holes in her co-worker’s face. But if she had any real power she’d probably choose invisibility. And God, could she use that now.

“Well what about the birth? Are you going natural? Or a home birth? My sister had a c-section, and—”

“I really don’t know yet, Emily.”

Emily nodded and grabbed the pack of crackers she bought ten minutes ago from the vending machine dispenser. “Well alright, I’ll talk to you later.”

Y/n stood at the counter, stirring her already cooled coffee with her lip trapped under her teeth. “I know you forgot a fork. I’m fine. Now go.”

“Should you be drinking coffee?”

Y/N sighed, shoulders slumping as she shifted her weight to her right leg. “I’m fine.”

“Y’know I...I…”

“You what?” She turned around, revealing the belly that seemed to have doubled in size since the last time he’d gotten a good look.

“Just want you to be okay. Both of you.”

“I know,” she whispered, “we are.”

Harry nodded. “Good. And uh, the ultra waves are good?”

“Ultrasounds?” She held back a smile. It wouldn’t be fair. “Perfect.”

“Good, good.” Harry pulled a drawer from the counter open only to close it and repeat his actions with the next drawer.

“Right here, as always.” Y/N stepped around him and pulled a drawer open a few feet away, taking out a fork and holding it out. “How do you even make it through your day?”

Harry took the fork and shook his head as he turned towards the door. “No idea.”

***

She was all alone. This thought overtook Harry more than he liked. More than Kaylin liked too, because whenever she came home and the dvd menu was frozen on the tv or the kettle was whistling loud enough to wake the dead, he had the same concerned look on his face despite him mumbling out a nothin’ when she’d ask.

“What about Olive Garden?”

“What?”

Kaylin sighed and reached over to turn the faucet off. “My parent’s anniversary. We can all go out to Olive Garden.”

“S’fine.”

“Yeah I know.”

Harry looked down at his wife as she finished rubbing in the moisturizer across her face. “You mad?”

“What? Mad? Of course not. Why would I be?” she scoffed, spinning on her heel and stepping into their bedroom.

Harry followed her a moment later. He pulled his shirt over his head and kicked the sweatpants off his legs before sliding into their cold bed. His hand was an inch away from turning the bedside lamp off when Kaylin’s voice broke the dead silence from beside him.  

“Really? You have nothing to say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

She huffed out, shaking her head. “You know what?” She yanked the covers over her body and thrashed until she was laying on her side, back to her husband. “Nothing. Say nothing. You’re pretty good at that.”

***

A new baby in the horizon was something Harry had pondered time to time. It really didn’t start until y/n was dancing through his mind more than usual, and more than a friend should. But what had started out as surprising thoughts of how cute y/n looked when she was struggling over their chemistry homework quickly turned into how pretty she’d look in a fancy white dress, and before he could stop himself the idea of looking for a house or arguing over whose turn it was to cook breakfast were more pleasing than finding someone to bring back to his dorm on Friday nights.

But now that baby would never have to grow up to his parents bickering over bacon and eggs. And Harry tried to find comfort in that. Tried.

“I want to go with you. Your next appointment.”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Y/N pressed the close button and settled into the corner of the elevator, bringing her tired eyes up to Harry.

“It’s my baby too. And you’re...well you’re my…”

“You’re what?”

Harry brought his hand to rub at his neck, straining his jaw as he searched for his words. “My, I don’t know but you’re my something. You have to be something for me,” he whispered. “We’ve been together too long for you not to be.”

She looked down at her flats toeing at the floor, trying her hardest not to let a tear slip at the reminder that she wouldn’t be in heels for a while. And there’d be a lot of things she wouldn’t be doing for a while. “Things are different now, Harry.”

“I know, God I know things are different.” He relaxed his tense shoulders and sighed. “I just want to be there.”

“What about Kaylin?”

Harry shook his head, watching the number above the doors stop at thirty. “She has to be okay with it.”

The doors opened and Harry motioned for her to go, following behind her.

“She doesn’t have to be—”

“Yes she does. She can’t keep me away from my child.”

Y/n nodded. “Okay. It’s next week, next Tuesday at three.”

***

“So, what happens exactly?”

Y/n set her hand on Harry’s bouncing knee, offering a small smile. “What do you mean?”

“The appointment...what goes on in there?”

She giggled, patting his leg before retracting her hand. “Well, first they probe the baby.” Harry’s eyes shot open and she fought against her lips trying to smile. “Then they hook me up to this machine that uses electro-magnifying radiation waves to turn the baby, y’know so it doesn’t come out with its head lopsided.”

His jaw was shaking, and his skin had lost all its color, but he nodded along to her words.

“And then, and this is the worst part, they put these suction cup things all over my belly so they can hear the baby talk, and God, he has your dreadful accent.”

“You little shit.”

They busted out in laughter, getting shushed by a few of the other women in the waiting room.

“You just wait,” he spoke between laughs, “You’re in for it later. Had me scared out of my mind, thought I was gonna pass out.”

“Your face was priceless, I loved—”

“Mr. and Mrs. Styles.”

Y/n raised a brow and drew her lips into a tight line.

“What?” Harry shrugged. “A man can dream, can’t he?”

***

“Is that cold?”

Y/n nodded as the doctor spread the jelly over her bare stomach.

“Can you warm that up for her? She’s—”

“Harry, it’s fine, I’m fine. I’ve done this before.”

He nodded and set back in his chair by her side, eyeing her hand that was toying with the belt loop of her jeans. Without another thought he reached over and pulled her hand into his, smoothing his thumb over her knuckles and giving a gentle squeeze. She kept her eyes on the monitor that was now lit up and dug her teeth into her bottom lip.

“Here’s your baby. Strong heart, everything looks great.”

Harry couldn’t stop it, the unrelenting sob that overtook his body. His head fell to his hands, losing his grip on y/n while his cries racked his body.

The doctor set a box of tissues by his chair and patted him on the back. “I’ll give you two a moment. Seeing the baby for the first time is emotional for most parents.”

Once the door clicked shut y/n pulled her shirt down over her now clean belly, running her hand over the growing bump. “Hey,” she whispered, “y’know if you cry I’ll start. And I won’t stop, you know how I am.”

He nodded into his hands, releasing another strained cry into his grip. Her hand ran over his back, lightly scratching his shaking form.

After another minute or two he brought his head up, face a blood red with eyes to match. His cries slowed down and he took advantage of the tissues left by him. “M’sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. I cried the first time too.”

“Th-that’s it,” he struggled to get out, straining his jaw to keep the sentence going. “Y-you’re by yourself, and that kills me. And this baby...I should be jumping for joy right now but all I can think about is how much I’m gonna miss.”

“You won’t—”

“Bull shit. I’ll miss everything. This is all so screwed up. And it’s all my fault—”

“Hey now, none of that.”

“S’true.” He cleared his throat and tossed the handful of tissues in his fist into the trash. “I left you. Left you all alone. And now that’s what I’m gonna be. But it’s what I deserve.”

His body slumped over and his head fell back into his hands as his shoulders began to shake once more.

“Harry, Harry look at me.”

His head shot up, and he rose to his feet to stand before her, grabbing both of her hands into his. “Let’s move in together, wherever you want—”

“What? Harry no, that’s crazy.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because we can’t. We shouldn’t. You’re married and I’m pregnant.”

“Listen, I haven’t told anyone this, but I’m going to file—”

“Don’t say it. Do not end your marriage because you’re feeling guilty.”

Her eyes bore into his own but his grip on her hands tightened.

“I’m miserable, y/n. She’s miserable. I’ll never be able to give her all of me.”

“Harry,” she drew out, “you need to think about this. You’re married to this women. You promised her that you’d be there.”

“And I promised you that and look what I did. Ran away the second I found out your pregnant. S’not like she’s not expecting it.”

“Harry, sweetheart…”

“Marrying her was a mistake. A huge, stupid mistake. I don’t love her, a-and what kind of marriage is that? She deserves to be with someone who does, and as much as I wish I could, I’ll never be that person for her.”

Y/n closed her mouth. She could see it in his eyes. He was right, and she doesn’t want to push two people together who don’t love each other just as much as she doesn’t want to encourage a life commitment to end.

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” she sighed.

“I’m gonna talk to her. I really think she’s in the same boat as me. We’ll figure it out.”

Y/n nodded and slipped her hands from his grip, stretching her arms out. He wiped a stray tear off his cheek and stepped into her embrace, nuzzling into her neck.

“We can talk about us, right? Once me and Kaylin get everything together?” Harry pulled back, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I guess we’ll have to. I’m sure you won’t leave me alone once you do.”

A smile pulled at his lips and he tucked her hair behind her ear. “You have no idea, darling.”

Her lashes beat against her eyes as they lined with tears and her mouth wobbled around silence before her voice finally gained strength. “I love you.”

He nodded and kissed the top of her head. “I love you too.”

[lolabean1998]

Sweet pea fanfic. (Bambi part 1)

First ever attempt so don't kill me if its shit.

Warning- swearing and underage drinking but that's it I think?

Please let me know what you think- all feed back is welcome - hoping to add more to this so please tell me if its really awful!

First days at school were always pretty tough but when its your first day at Southside high, its terrifying! Em knew this and was determined to help her little sister survive the transition. Em was 2 years older than her and knew her way around the school and the gangs that run it. She had some how managed to slip under the radar and survived Southside High without being recruited or becoming a part of the small group of social pariahs that had grouped together instead of joining a gang. Em was too busy for friends, she had school work and jobs to keep her busy. Lily had chosen to follow in her big sisters footsteps and keep her head down, filling her life with the paper round she shared with Em and any other odd jobs they could pick up. They had just finished fixing up an old motorbike they had found at the junk yard and Lily’s exceptional artistic skills had given it a whole new life. Their mom worked the night shifts at the local veterinary clinic so the girls were usually left to their own devises.

The metal detectors screeched as Lily passed through, her hands trembling and her face went a deadly shade of white. Em sighed and looked at the guard who had began patting her sister down.  “Belt buckle Steve. She forgot about her belt.” The security guard chuckled and patted Lily’s shoulder nodding.

“ Its Ok kid you’e not in trouble your sister does it all the time. Off you go.” He waved Em through the scanners, giving her a fist bump as she passed, dropping a large pair of knuckle dusters and a blue switch blade in her bag. 

“Thank you Steve! You’re the best!” She called as she linked arms with her sister and wandered off. Lily looked at her sister, her face a mixture of shock and confusion. 

“Em what did he put in your bag?” She already knew the answer but she needed her suspicions confirmed. Em chuckled at her little sisters bewilderment. 

“Protection for you,” she said calmly, slyly handing her the knuckle dusters. “Welcome to hell Lily-pad, rules are simple,” she turned the corner and found her sisters locker, coincidentally next to her own (She had blackmailed the principle into putting them side by side) “Don't say yes to anything or anyone. The Ghoulies are to be avoided at all costs, if one starts to approach you,”  she looked at her little sister dead in the eyes, “you put those knuckle dusters on faster then you can blink and get ready to hit and run. I'm not joking Lily they are dangerous and reckless and have no respect for anyone especially girls.”

Lily nodded and turned to her locker, tugging at the lock when it refused to open. “So what about the Serpents?” she asked turning to her sister when she had given up trying to open her locker. Em smiled and punched Lily’s locker sending it flying open. 

“They don't care about you unless you’re blood or give them direct eye contact. You don't have to worry about them to much.” The girls shoved their books in their lockers and headed to Lily’s first class, English. 

“So is there any one I can talk to or am I doomed to become a lone wolf like you?” Lily asked, hoping that she could at least have one other friend. Em smiled and waved at a small group of people huddled by the door to Lily’s English class.

 “Lily meet the social pariahs in a school run by gangsters. I gave you permission to befriend them. These are the guys even the gangs don't want.” Em laughed shoving one of the guys playfully. The bell rang and Lily gave her sister a good bye fist bump before watching her walk to her class. “If anything happens to my little sister on your head be it!” Em shouted before heading into the girls changing room. 

She glared round at the JJ junkies in the corner and the 2 groups of gangster girls who had already begun changing. She laughed at the disgusted looks that had filled their faces the second she had entered the room.

“Jeez Em, what happened this time?” Toni exclaimed as she saw the deep purple bruises that ran down Ems side and right leg. Em looked up as she pulled her polo shirt over her head  and smirked. 

“Bike fell on me as I was completing the finishing touches. Only hurts if I touch it, move or breath. Otherwise I barely notice it.” An amused smile spread across her face as the look of disbelief flicked over Toni’s face.

“So does this mean we finally have a chance of beating you on the track?” Toni smiled as they made their way outside. 

Em laughed loudly before grasping her side and hissing slightly at the pain. “Not a chance Topaz, Your butts getting smoked as always. cant fall from tradition.” 

There was a loud scoff from behind them and a large mean looking girl waltzed over to them. “Not this time bitch, its turf races today. winner gets first pick of the fresh meat. Since your the only pariah... you race the guys and the girls.” she sneered as she headed over the to group of ghoulies that were sat at the edge of the fence line. Em growled as she waved good bye to Toni who had gone to join the Serpents leaning against the fence by the starting line. ~ Great so much for a nice easy start to the new year~ Em thought as she plugged her headphones in and began to flick through her songs until she found the perfect tunes for her races. She settled for some upbeat club music and began stretching until the coach wandered over signalling the start of the girls race and Ems face lit up with a wicked smile judging by the looks on the other girls they already knew they were doomed to fail. Em was famous for her speed and agility, it was how she had managed to survive her paper rounds on both Serpent and Ghoulie territory. 

They lined up and Em gave one last glance around her, spotting a particularly tall dark haired Serpent eyeing up her bruises and saying something to the boy stood next to him. She had a feeling her next race was going to be a lot more brutal than the first. 

The whistle blew and Em bolted for a few strides before settling into a nice steady pace several strides ahead of the other girls. She saw no reason in wasting unnecessary energy. 3 laps round the needle covered track and she had won with time to spare, her rib cage and legs burning at the sudden surge of energy  but other wise she was fine, barely breaking a sweat.

She had a 30 second breather before lining up for the last race. her stomach turning slightly at the thought of the pain she was about to endure. She was a tough cookie, stubborn and hard headed, so no amount of pain was going to stop her from achieving her goal once she had her target set. This was going to be no different. The tall, dark haired Serpent lined up next to her and gave her ribs a sharp jab causing her to huff sharply at the pain, her face twitched momentarily at the pain but quickly set back to the stone cold glare she had held before hand. 

“Tough one this... aren't you Princess. What’s the matter? That hurt?” The Serpent snarled at Em, she rolled her eyes and tried not to let him get to her, besides its hard to take threats seriously when they’re coming from some one called Sweet Pea.She smirked and looked up at the giant.

 “Whats the matter Flower, afraid your ass is gonna get beaten by a girl? Is your ego that fragile?” She mocked sending his friends into a fit of raging laughter. “Don't worry I'm sure your friends will forgive you for having to stoop to playing dirty just to beat me in a race. Short little 5 foot 3 me against what I can only assume is the cousin to the giant from David and Goliath.” That last comment was going to cost her dearly but it escaped her lips before she had a chance to stop herself.

The whistle blew before the boy had a chance to comment and Em bolted like a bullet from a gun. Her legs moving like their life depended on it, because it probably did. Her heart was pounding in her chest and if she didn't know better she’d have thought it was going to explode. The tall serpent was closing in on her side and she could see a cruel smirk flick through his eyes. 

“Whats the matter flower, know you’re going to lose if you don't cheat?” Em shouted over her shoulder as she passed the first mark post, 2 laps left and the Ghoulie was already down. ~One down, one to go. Don't do drugs kids~ Em giggled to herself. The Serpent boy on the other hand was keeping up, sitting uncomfortably on her tail. She had to step it up and soon but her legs were blazing and her side felt as though she had swallowed a nuclear reactor. The burning in her ribs was beginning to blur her vision. 

One lap left it was now or never, she reached deep to muster as much strength, power and determination as she could, kicking off into her last gear and thankfully leaving a good couple of paces between her and the Serpent. She glanced behind her for a split second and was relieved to see the Serpent struggling to catch up. She passed the finish line just as the boy had started to close in. She’d won. Her legs collapsed in a heap beneath her, tears threatened to appear in her eyes but that would mean showing a sign of weakness and that was not happening! She blinked them back and cautiously got to her feet pulling her headphones out and grabbing a bottle of water before heading to the changing room to tend to her sore limbs.

“Yes Em, you’ve just made me 80 bucks in that race.” Toni hollered to Em before leaping to her side and handing her a twenty. “Here you’ve earn’t it. There's no way I'm letting Sweet Pea forget this any time in the next century! Beaten by a girl is one thing, but a wounded girl...” Toni scoffed and grinned smugly, “Well that's just priceless!”

Em laughed accepting the twenty and nudging her friend, they didn't hang out much (there was the occasional girls night when she needed a break from the Serpents) and weren't super close or anything but Toni was definitely one of Ems closest if not only friend. 

“Well well well, rumour has it you kicked ass in track this morning!” Lily smiled to her older sister as she was escorted to the cafeteria by a very sore looking Em. 

“Not hard to beat JJ junkies and Goliath’s slow cousin.” Em laughed guiding her sister around an angry looking group of ghoulies and towards the queue for slightly edible food. Lily smiled and nodded towards one particularly sour looking boy who had been staring Em down since she had stepped into the cafeteria. 

“Reckon he’s got his knickers in a twist.” Lily smirked.

“I would too if I was a great big mobster that had just got my ass whipped by some scrawny black and blue girl with a limp.” Em smirked. Lily rolled her eyes in amusement at Ems comment,

 “You only got the limp after the race but I see your point. That scary Serpent lad over there hasn't stopped death staring you though” Lily nodded cautiously towards Sweet Pea who was glaring over his shoulder at Em whilst his friends reviewed the events of the morning. 

“Who Flower? He's just sassed ‘cos of what I said earlier.” Em shrugged grabbing the tray off her sister as she buckled over in a fit of giggles, tears of joy streaming down her face as she shuffled over to her chair.

 “Flower?! That's his name?” Lily wailed grabbing her stomach and gasping for breath. Em waited for her sister to calm down a bit before speaking in her usual cool collected tone again. 

“Don't be ridiculous Lily-pad. His actual name is Sweet pea.” That was the final straw, Lily was now hunched over the table laughing so hard she looked and sounded like a sea lion having a fit. But all this laughter hadn't gone unnoticed and they had now attracted the attention of all the Serpents who didn't look to pleased. But it was Sweet Pea who looked to be the most annoyed. His usual scowl had deepened into a terrifying look of pure anger. He stood up and headed straight for them sending anyone in his way flying. The crowds parted like the red sea and Em took an uneasy gulp. 

“Ah shit, we pissed off the been pole.” She breathed irritably, jabbing Lily in the ribs and leaning back calmly in her chair. “The key in this kind of confrontation is not to look intimidated.” Lily glanced anxiously at her sister, whimpering at the sight of the terrifying Serpent that was now looming over the table staring straight at her sister. 

“Something funny is it?” He growled. Lily looked at her sister worriedly, she knew this was only going to end one way if Em opened her mouth. The girl had no filter and very little sense of self preservation. But her reaction was too late, Ems face had cracked into the overly sweet and innocent smile Lily knew all too well. ~Well its been a good life and I've given it my all. Don't cry at my funeral folks~ Lily thought as she watched the sickening events unfold. 

“Settle petal, its nothing you need concern yourself with.” Em smiled before standing up and leaning on the table to meet Sweet Peas glare, “Even if I told you.., it’d take you long to catch up” She mocked smoothly.

Lily’s face fell as she dropped it into her hands. This was it, this was the moment she died a horrific death because of her sisters lack of self control. The table of Serpents erupted into a roar of laughter, soon joined by the rest of the cafeteria. Even Lily couldn't help but crack a smile at her inevitable demise. But Ems face was completely relaxed as she stared straight into the serpents eyes. 

“Cute, this isn't over princess!” He said coolly before leaving the crowd to their howling laughter. Lily breathed a huge sigh of relief before punching her sister as hard as she could in the arm. 

“Are you Mad?! You nearly got us killed.” She growled trying to hide the smug look of triumph growing in her eyes. Em looked at her sister and smiled her wicked victory smile. 

“Sit down and eat your salad, if he was going to kill us he’d have done it when you hit his bike.” Em said leaning back in her chair and taking a swig of water. Lily looked at her sister confused. “When did I hit his bike?” 

“When you were learning to drive and backed into it last year.” Em said trying not to choke on her water thinking back to that day. 

“Em that was our neighbours bike.” Lily corrected, looking at her sister, the look of confusion growing on her face.

Em smiled raising a knowing eyebrow. “Wait for it.”

Lily's face turned white and her stomach flipped. “OH Shit!” her face was practically see through by now.

“There it is!” Em cheered. “Took you long enough, how long have you been delivering papers to the Serpent side now? 3 maybe 4 years and you’ve lived next door to him for what... your whole life?” Em mocked. “Dude you need to open your eyes.” Em laughed clearing her tray. 

“I'm going for a smoke, I’ll see you after school, you’re good from here right?” She asked picking up her bag and pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. Lily nodded clearing away her tray.

“I’ll walk with you I've got art next and I want to get there in plenty of time.” Em smiled as they made their way down the corridor to Lily’s art class.

 “Make sure you stay away from the junkies, they get kind of stabby this time of day and I'm not giving you my switch blade. I'm gonna need it for algebra.” Em joked before heading outside, leaving Lily to the comforts of her new friends.

Em jumped onto the bench and lit her cigarette, her music playing in her ears and the sun on her legs. She hadn't noticed the dark figure leaning against the wall next to her until they kicked her leg, rudely awakening her from her daydream. She pulled her head phones out to growl at the figure.

 “Well, well, who’d of thought it, Southside High’s very own Bambi smokes!” Sweet Pea appeared from the shadow’s taking a drag of his own cigarette. Em sighed and slumped back to her previous position.

 “What’s up flower? Some one forget to water you? Or are you still pissed that I smoked your ass on track today.” Em teased coolly ~That's it poke the bear why don't you. Fucking idiot, This Is How You Die!~ Em thought but as always her mouth worked faster than her brain, leaving her self preservation floating helplessly on the side lines. Her face crumpled slightly as she realised what she had just said. Sweet Pea must’ve seen the look flash over her face, as he chuckled and turned to face her more directly. 

“Not one for knowing when to quit are you?” He smiled at the look of defeat on her face.

“Shut up. Flowers aren’t supposed to talk.” Em grumbled through her cigarette.

“Oh? What are they supposed to do then princess?” Sweet Pea asked raising an amused eyebrow. Ems face lit with the wicked grin that always appeared when she knew she had her opponent by the balls. She turned to look at him in the eyes raising a smug eyebrow. 

“They’re supposed to stand there in silence and look pretty, so since you are doomed to fail the second half you can at least try to do the first half successfully.” She grinned flicking her cigarette before waltzing smugly back inside, leaving Sweet pea standing speechless and annoyed.

“EM YOU SUPER STAR OPEN UP!” Toni hollered hammering at the door to Ems trailer. Lily swung the door open and leapt out the way before Toni ran her over.

 “Why hello Topaz nice to see you too!” She laughed closing the door. Em was in the kitchen dancing to the music blasting from the speakers in the living room. 

“What’s up Topaz?” She called handing her sister a 2 large jugs of Mojitos. 

“You’ve really done it now Em. He’s been yelling to Fogarty and Hog eye for the last hour about your music and blatant lack of respect.” Toni laughed taking a large swig of Mojito before handing Em a large bottle of whiskey. “Pizzas also on the way before you ask.” She said before opening up the doors to the balcony and admiring the large plant that was climbing up the side of Sweet Peas trailer.

“Oh great the big bad Serpent starts calling for our heads and you two decide to sit and smell the flowers?!” Lily yelled throwing her arms up in the air. “Has it not occurred to you that we could actually be in serious trouble this time Em? Sure Topaz is fine she’s one of them but we aren't. We’re defenceless and what do you do, POKE THE FUCKING BEAR!” Lily’s voice was shaking with a strong mix of rage and disbelief as she paced the trailer. Em smiled as she joined Toni outside lighting a cigarette as she sat down.

“How long until she calms down this time? Ten bucks says she chills the second pizza turns up.” Toni chuckled to Em. 

“Nah, she’s really pissed this time, reckon it’ll take her until her second slice and then another 2 slices to chill after she sees that we’ve been gambling on her again.” Em said thoughtfully, turning to watch her sister rant away to herself for a moment before turning back to look at the side of her neighbours trailer again. “Has he noticed it yet?”

“Noticed what?” Toni glanced at Em. “The fact that you’re growing Sweet Peas against Sweet Peas trailer or that you’re both secretly in love with each other which is why you insist on getting on each other nerves?” Toni teased pulling on the sleeve of her friends loose chequered shirt.

Em scoffed and shoved her friend playfully. “Topaz I love you but you’re off your rocker if you think that's what it is.”

“Oh really, I'm not the one tormenting the gang member next door.“ Toni pointed out just as Lily came strolling out carrying the pizza, still scowling at the lack of reaction in Em and Toni. She placed the pizza between them as she lent against the fence and took a large bite out of her second slice relaxing almost immediately. Em laughed at the irritated expression on Toni’s face as she handed Em her winnings. 

“Told you she was pissed.” Em said smugly through a mouthful of food. 

“Are your fucking kidding me? You placed bets on me ... AGAIN!” Lily shouted through a large bite of pepperoni pizza. Toni rolled her eyes as Em burst into giggles again. 

“I hope you choke on that you smug git.” Toni smirked.

They had just finished clearing away the last of the Pizza and were beginning to hit the drinking games with a few of the girls Lily had invited over when Ems phone started buzzing.

“Em your phones going crazier than a bees butt!” Lily slurred handing the phone to her sister, who had just finished mixing drinks in the kitchen. 

“Hello, you’ve reached the angel hotline how can I help you.” Em smirked innocently down the phone, causing a couple of girls to give her a concerned frown.

“If this is the angel hotline, you must be Lucifer!” The voice on the other end of the phone said gruffly. 

“That hurts FP.” Em mocked, clutching her chest acting offended.

“What’s this I hear about you growing plants on Sweet Peas trailer and generally being a pain in the ass. You’ve managed to piss off every one of the serpents at school.” FP sounded tired, It wasn't the first time Em had caused problems but he let her get away with it because he knew how hard she worked to keep her family a float. Picking up odd jobs when she could and not asking questions, she’d done work for pretty much everyone on Southside, even picking up work from the Ghoulies when times got really tough. That was when FP took her family under his wing, making Em his go to when he needed a set of eyes that wouldn’t look suspicious behind enemy lines.

“That not true, Topaz still loves me don’t you petal?” Em smiled handing Toni the phone.

“Hey FP, Em didn't mean to piss everyone off, its not her fault she beat Sweet Pea in the turf race on Monday.” Toni slurred through bursts of drunken giggles.

“She did what? Oh this is priceless,” Fp laughed down the phone. “Wait didn't she get crushed by that bike she was fixing up? Toni put Em on the phone now.”

Toni handed Em the phone giving her worried smirk, “Girl he sounds Piiiissssed.”

Em rolled her eyes and put the phone to her ears. “Before you say anything it’s only minor bruising to the ribs, nothing to worry about.”

“Fangs tells me your leg was practically black and he could see the bruising through your shirt. That doesn't sound like nothing to me kid.” FP was trying really hard not to shout. “You need to take more care of yourself kiddo.”

“Wow no you’re right that does sound bad, all those injuries and I still beat your fastest member. Standards are lacking there FP, sounds like you needed this recruitment.” Em teased.

“Em this isn't funny, you need to stop winding them up. There’s only so much I can protect you from before I start going against the code.” FP warned. “As for the flowers on Peas trailer... I'm impressed not a lot of people would’ve gone the extra mile but you just had to push your luck didn't you. Ah shit, i gotta go. Take care of yourself kid and keep your nose clean.” FP groaned before hanging up. Em laughed as she set her phone down inside before heading out to join the rest of the group in dancing and drinking their Friday night away.

Em woke up early the next morning, checking the time on her phone before turning off her alarm before it woke everyone up. 5am she had managed to get a whole 2 hours sleep after their drunken girls night, not bad for her. She threw on her usual black skinny jeans and blue combat boots before searching her room for a bra and clean shirt. Throwing on her favourite green bra, black vest and red flannel shirt after a few seconds of manic searching. She crept into the kitchen and took out the bottles of hang over smoothies from the fridge, leaving them for the girls ready for when they woke up. Lily and Toni had passed out on the sofa after playing a dangerous game of roulette with Em. She quickly whipped up some pancake mix leaving the bowl covered up  by the stove ready for her mum when she woke up and had just enough time to grab her cigarettes and phone before her phone went off showing her delivery route for the morning.

“You ever heard of sleep? Looks like you could use some princess.” Em had just managed to creep out of the house and down the steps when a low growl made her jump causing her to drop her lighter through the gap in the bottom step.

“You fucking idiot. You scared the hell outta.” Em hissed sharply “And made my drop my lighter!” Sweet Pea smirked handing her his lighter. 

“Here you go Bambi. what are you doing up this early any way?” He asked softly. This put Em on edge even more, why was he being nice? She accepted the lighter any way and began making her way to her pick up point. “Work, what about you? And why were you standing outside my door?” Em replied blankly.

“I was admiring my new plant.” Sweet pea replied lighting his own cigarette.

“At 5 in the morning, nice try. What’s the real reason?” Em questioned as she flicked her cigarette and lit another. 

“Always poking your nose in where it doesn't belong aren't you Bambi.” He scoffed.

“Fine be weird,” Em shrugged plugging her headphones in. “Oh and if I’m Bambi and you’re Flower, you realise that makes you the skunk right?” She mocked before leaping into a sprint and darting round the corner and out of sight. 

“Smug little shit” Sweet pea mumbled to himself as he head back to the door to his trailer.

“Cuss her all you want, doesn't change the fact that you waited to see if she was Ok after last night and got to work on time.” Toni called from Ems balcony, a smug, mildly hung over grin sprawled across her face. 

“Fuck off Topaz, you don't know what you’re talking about.” Sweet Pea growled before slamming the door behind him as he entered his trailer.

“Some ones touchy this morning aren't they?” Lily mumbled to Toni as she curled back up on the sofa.

“He’s just pissed ‘cos he knows I'm right.” Toni yawned before drifting back to sleep. 

Masterlist

[letmewritemylife]

Plan A, B and C All in One

You need the pain now just to feel anything…                                                                                      - Red

A/N Oh yeah, angst...

TRIGGER WARNINGS Restraints for magic (??), my baby being a self-loathing idiot in need of a hug

As soon as she can get out of bed, Lara starts wandering around her new house, inspecting every corner with a curiosity that Yngun can’t help finding adorable. Urill doesn’t complain either, happy not to be the only one using the huge library anymore. Days pass quickly and Lara finds plenty of opportunities to distract herself from everything that is going on outside of that corner of paradise.

It takes her six months of study and training to be able to visit Earth. Yngun and Urill, whom Lara often refers to as friends rather than simply colleagues, spend hours suggesting her what to and not to do in order to avoid SWORD, but finally they give in and Lara gets to meet her brother, Jonathan. At first, Jonathan is angry: angry at his parents for lying to him and telling him his sister was dead, angry at her for fighting Agency X - because of course Lara’s brother had to be one of their best agents, their relationship would have been too easy otherwise, - angry at whoever suggest her to portal herself in his living room out of nowhere and almost make him a heart attack.

It takes a while - and lots of purple portals in his living room - for him to accept the small, powerful witch who likes butterflies as his sister. He’s not sure when that feeling began, he just knows that one day he woke up, looked at her staring wistfully at a butterfly and realized that she was his sister. It all becomes easier from that moment on.

As a guy with the body structure of a wardrobe drags her down the many hallways of the Avengers Compound, Lara can feel Jonathan’s eyes glued to her face, searching for any sign of discomfort to use as an excuse to rip all those agents around them apart. She ignores him, just like she ignores all the Avengers and aspiring such staring down at her as if she was about to commit mass murder from one moment to another.

Hayward tells Captain America something and the super soldier throws her a look, but she doesn’t flinch, holding his gaze until his eyes move back to the man before him. They share a handshake and the guard who’s been holding her in place this whole time walks in front of her, reaching for her hands and pulling at the handcuffs. For a moment she hopes he won’t move them too much, hurting even more her deeply cut wrists. 

A voice gets through the wall of numbness in her head. It’s Jonathan’s and he’s talking with the guard. “Touch her anywhere but her wrists and you’re dead.”

All SWORD agents but Hayward step outside the room, leaving her with just the heavy collar around her neck reducing her powers to almost nothing. If she didn’t feel weaker than a blanket, she would move from her spot near the door, even just to hide away from all those looks.

Jonathan’s arm wraps around her shoulders and he leans closer to her. “Are you okay, Elle?” he asks, his voice low enough not to be heard by the super soldier approaching them. She nods absently, already imagining why the Avengers would bother to call her.

Steve - his name should be Steve if she remembers correctly, but she was never a big fan of Captain America so she isn’t sure - explains their plan, but she doesn’t catch all the words. At some point he mentions the greater good, the void that Thanos left inside all of them and a bunch of other stuff that she couldn’t care less about.

She interrupts him with a groan. “You want me to recreate the stones, don’t you?” she asks and her voice is much rougher than she remembered it.

“Well, yes,” he replies, halfway between surprise for her frankness and offense for having been interrupted in the middle of his speech.

She nods, her hands wrapping around her wrists and massaging the reddened flesh. “Great. How about you cut the motivational speech so I can try and then go back keeping the world safe by staring at a wall?”

A racoon jumps down the glass table in the middle of the room and makes his way to her. He quickly moves his gaze on her, barely hiding a disgusted grimace at a blood stain on the collar of her uniform. “Do all witches look dead inside?” His voice, unlike Steve’s, has a hint of worry that makes Lara’s stomach twist.

“I’m not a witch,” she cuts short, wobbly walking up to a glass case in the middle of the room, a red and golden gauntlet shining behind the thick glass.

Jonathan takes advantage of everyone’s sudden excitement to reach for Lara’s hand. “Are you sure? You don’t look exactly in the best shape.”

She nods absently, caressing the back of his hand with her thumb. “I’m doing great,” she lies.

Bruce gestures to her to proceed and she approaches the gauntlet, begging her hands not to shake. Purple magic forms around her fingers and she moves her hands through the air, a weak, barely-there discharge of energy coursing through her veins.

Hayward stands up from the wall he was leaning against and stares at her, his eyes studying her face for the tiniest sign to use as an excuse to tease her. As to warn her, he taps with his fingers against the teaser in his pocket.

Lara ignores him, completely focused on using the tiny spark of magic inside her to complete her task. She almost smiles when she remembers the Creator talking about the extent and intensity of her powers, now that her knees are shaking and her hands are getting colder by the second.

Her heartbeat increases, louder and louder in her head, and a discharge of energy, coming from her collar, runs down her spine. Her magic fades away almost instantly and she struggles to hold back a scream.

Bringing her hands to her head, she shuts her eyes closed, her breath heavy and shaking. Jonathan takes a step towards her, moving a tentative hand to her shoulder, but she steps away from him. “I’m fine,” she mutters before he can even say a word.

Tony looks worried at her and she has to strain herself not to insult him. She doesn’t need his pity, she’s fine, she made her choice. The fact that he doesn’t approve of it doesn’t affect her.

Steve is about to say something, but she walks back to the glass case and makes another attempt, this time more careful not to trigger her restraints. Her heart is loud in her head, bumping faster and faster as purple sparkles struggle to form those damn stones. She curses under her breath when one of the stones glitches intensely before her eyes.

And there it is again, a hundred times more intense than just a minute before. Another discharge hits her, shutting down her powers for the second time. 

This time she can’t pretend she’s okay. She bends down, gripping the edge of the glass case until her knuckles are white. A painful scream escapes her lips and she closes her eyes tightly. She can’t even think, her heartbeat so loud in her head that she barely registers Jonathan rushing to her side, his hands on her shoulders in a vain attempt to soothe her.

A man takes a step towards her, but Jonathan throws him a cold look that convinces him not to approach her. Steve holds him back, calling him with a name that Lara barely hears - Scott or something like that. Tony screams something at Hayward, the only word that Lara recognizes is a curse. 

The other man tries to defend himself. “It was not part of the deal,” he insists.

Jonathan helps his sister up, an arm wrapped around her shoulders and another around her stomach. She breathes out and slowly opens her eyes, the LED lights of the room hurting her sight.

Rhodey shares a look with Tony, before speaking for the first time since the beginning of the meeting. “Maybe we should take a break.”

Lara shakes her head, clenching her fists to stop the shaking. “I’m fine, I can try again,” her voice is hoarse, but at least she manages to keep it more or less steady.

“You’re not trying again.” Jonathan’s imperative voice makes Lara fume.

“Why do you even care?” she snaps back, suddenly angry. Even though she knows he didn’t do anything, she can’t help it.

Jonathan widens his eyes, letting go of her and staring in disbelief at her. “Maybe because I’m your brother and I don’t want you to hurt yourself ‘cause a self-righteous assh*le told you to?” Hayward furrows his brows at the comment, but judging by the way Jonathan has looked at the other Avengers, he isn’t sure if he’s talking about him or Steve. Maybe both.

Lara takes a step away from him and her brother can notice a strange glint in her eyes. “Would you rather everyone stayed dead?”

Thor gets up from the couch, lowering his sunglasses just enough to look at Lara. “I appreciate the witch’s enthusiasm, but there are other things we can try,” he comments, gesturing vaguely in her direction.

Lara laughs bitterly. “That’s not true.”

Jonathan doesn’t stop, shutting down the part of him that is telling him not to push his sister too much. “How do you even know? We didn’t try-”

She loses her patience, clenching her fists even harder. “Don’t you f*cking understand why the Creator sent them to us?”

Natasha narrows her brows. “How do you know h-?”

Lara ignores her completely and walks closer to Jonathan, raising her tone as much as her weakened body allows her to. “If I fail this sh*t, billions of people stay dead and it’s on me. If my magic doesn’t work, there is no plan B, no second outcome.”

“What makes you think that?” Lara can’t help hating her brother, so kind with her to the point of being completely oblivious to what is going on around them.

“Don’t you think that if there was another way Mr Jesus would go with that instead of calling a psychopathic murderer?” She’s practically screaming at this point, her voice shaking more than she would like to admit as her eyes water. Her knees seem made of crystal glass, not strong enough to hold her upright.

Tony moves his eyes from Lara for a moment to silently suggest Jonathan to shut up, but the other man doesn’t notice his hint and continues with his suicide mission. “You’re not a psycho and least of all a murderer.”

Lara can’t hold it in anymore. All the suppressed anger of the past weeks, months, maybe years is finally unleashed. Tears are streaming down her face, slightly stinging on her scars. Her heartbeat increases again and Lara prays with all herself that her collar won’t activate itself again, mistaking her almost panic attack for use of magic. “Stop acting as if I hadn’t killed my family!” she screams it at the top of her lungs and a minute later she’s storming out of the room, unsure where she is going but deeply eager to get out of there as soon as possible.

Hayward is about to run after her, but Rocket screams at him to stop. To content him, Tony asks FRIDAY to watch over her.

When she was just a child, Lara liked to think that someone up in the sky controlled the weather with their emotions. Every time it rained, she couldn't help feeling empathy for that person up there, grieving for God knows what reason. Years passed and she reached a point when she thought her powers could influence her weather and she was the person in the sky doing the good and the bad weather. Literally.

Now, she has decent proof that she was wrong, as the weak rain falling on New York doesn’t even come close to the thunderstorm inside her. The few raindrops occasionally hitting the glass and iron rail of the balcony fail to be cathartic for Lara and she groans loudly, leaning with her face on her knees. 

From time to time, someone walks in the hallway behind her, throws her a look and questions why she’s curled up under the only covered corner of the balcony, staring blankly in front of her. If she has to be completely honest, she’s not sure either. Probably in those two years of captivity she’s got used to doing nothing for prolonged time. For a moment she’s sorry that Jonathan decided to follow her, surrendering to SWORD with her in a stupid hope to be there for her. Or at least that’s why she thinks he did it, since she doubts he understood her real motives.

“Speak of the devil,” she jokes to herself when Jonathan sits beside her, squeezing his shoulders to fit in the tiny space empty under the roof, but still ending up with half a shoulder exposed. “How are you?” he attempts.

She smiles weakly, not convinced. “I’m okay.”

He nods and waits, not moving his eyes from her as her face darkens, a wave of melancholy washing over her. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

She sighs, leaning against his side and letting him wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I failed them,” she whispers, burying her face against his ribs.

He kisses her forehead before pulling her in a hug, something that he wished to do for a long time in that SWORD base everytime he heard her screaming in pain from the adjoining cell. “You did not.” 

She doesn’t fight him this time and sobs quietly against his shirt.

[jolteonjordansh]

Thoughts on Worlds Conflict Arc

The name of this arc was going to be wordy or confusing no matter how many different names I discussed with my boyfriend.

Supposedly this is considered the low end of the series but I guess I’ll ultimately decide that by the time I finish watching this? Either way I still have a lot to say about it. Below the break we go!

I don’t know about you guys, but much like Digimon Tamers I think this is one of those series that may get better as it goes on. There’s a lot of plot stuff to talk about in my opinion, so I’m going to try to keep this mostly about my opinions as much as possible because one of the biggest things that bothered me when I was writing my thoughts on Tamers is that I felt like I was just summarizing and regurgitating the plot more than I was giving my input and opinions on what happened in said arcs. Let me try to get it right this time.

This arc gets a lot more necessary and needed character and world development. Some might argue there was one character who got too much focus, but I kind of think it was also necessary to some extent. Thomas gets an episode that flashes back to his past and we understand why he became so emotional when spending time with Marcus' family since he lost his mother in a tragic accident. It was honestly a really heartbreaking episode with both wonderful moments of Thomas spending time with his gentle mother and the inevitable build-up to Thomas reliving his past, but this time he overcomes it. It really helps humanize Thomas and give him some depth, though I do wonder what happened to his dad considering he pretty much has no presence. Do we have an asshole dad on our hands? Or a dead dad? Either way, I have no idea if the show will ever cover it.

Yoshino also finally gets some much-needed development and backstory. She suffers from an inferiority complex since she sees a lot of talent in her family, but not herself. I could potentially see people feeling she comes off as selfish in this, but I don't think she does. Inferiority complexes are a very real thing and often times, shows and works of fiction tend to use them as a weakness for the antagonist. I certainly don't see it as a flaw on protagonists anywhere near as much, and I think this was a pretty good take on it. She wasn't necessarily just jealous of her sisters, she just wanted to have some talent in her own right. And really, don't we all want and need some form of self-worth? So really, I don't see what's so selfish about that. And I think it ties really nicely into how she met Lalamon with her Sing a Song technique and Yoshino's piano playing. Yoshino gains some much-needed confidence and does become more prevalent along with Lalamon from here, so it was a necessary episode that made her presence in the group stronger. Plus as the designated driver of the group, she gets some kind of hilariously badass car driving scenes.

As for Marcus, he doesn't quite get a ton of development in this arc, mostly because he got more of it in the DATS arc and the focus isn't really him. If anything, most of his development bounces off other characters. But I'd say the most development we get related to him regards his dad, Spencer. Whether he's actually alive or not, we don't know, but he was part of the Digital World Exploration Squad who explored the Digital World ten years ago, along with others like Richard and the old man who we finally get to know. But apparently the reason Marcus is so crazy strong is because he inherited god-like powers from his father. Spencer Damon punches Digimon straight in the face just like Marcus, down to punching a SaberLeomon and having ridiculous jumping powers. He doesn't even have to have a Digimon partner, but he was able to befriend a Merukimon with the biggest and most epic of fist bumps. Some of these characters legit weren't kidding when they said they see a lot of Spencer in Marcus. It's almost hilarious how much of Spencer's superhuman strength Marcus inherited. Spencer apparently even invented the Digivices, but how he was able to make such technology in the Digital World with no real scientific resources, I have no idea.

The other two Digimon partners also achieve their Ultimate levels in this arc--Gaomon up to MachGaogamon and Lalamon to Lilamon. MachGaogamon is a pretty neat design, especially since I'm usually kind of bothered when more feral designs go to anthropomorphic designs, especially Garurumon to WereGarurumon for me personally. Maybe I've just gotten used to that being a norm in Digimon, but MachGaogamon just feels like a cool design with its own uniqueness, while WereGarurumon was basically just Garurumon on two legs with pants and iron knuckles. But apparently MachGaogamon's design is so complex that the Digivolution animation actually lags and drops in framerate. Remember what I said about the Digivolution animations being really fluid in this series? Not so much for MachGaogamon, as the framerate drops significantly for a couple of seconds. But to be fair, the design has a lot going on and also goes really fast, so I could see why it would stress the rendering engine so much. Lilamon doesn't suffer this at least and is just as fluid as the other animations. The animations themselves are still really impressive, and I like how they smoothly go from Rookie to Champion to Ultimate, all as if it were one animation. It makes it all very cohesive and just all the more pleasant to look at and for me to appreciate.

The Digital World in this arc feels much more like the one in the Adventure series, with its sort of wild nature unlike Frontier's Digital World. So far there isn't really anything that indicates how it was created, it just seems like another dimension much like Frontier's. But I think I really like the design of it. I know it has a very random nature and some might call it uninspired for the random computer parts thrown around, but I think I honestly like that about it. Computer data and the internet can tend to have junk data and excessive coding, and there will always be bugs in them, so the world having some bits of randomness in its nature makes sense. The Adventure series Digital World was a bit like this too, but I think Savers' Digital World does this more and I think I like it that way--it keeps its own identity like this.

The main focus of this arc is the conflict between the Real World and Digital World, as Digimon find ways into the Real World and cause problems there, but the Digimon feel threatened by humans because apparently there was a time a group of humans infiltrated the Digital World and went on a killing spree for a bunch of Digimon. I'm not talking about just reducing them to DigiEggs either. While Digimon Savers follows the usual formula of Digimon reducing to DigiEggs when they die, here the humans have found a method to actually murder them and destroy their DigiEggs when they've died. Merukimon, a Mega level Digimon who is basically one of many leaders in the Digital World, begrudges the humans--especially since he actually made a deal with Spencer to aim for a world where humans and Digimon could get along. But after the other humans come in and kill the Digimon, he thinks Spencer has betrayed him and the Digital World more or less declares war on humans. But Merukimon still doesn't want to blindly send out Digimon to the Real World. Others like SaberLeomon do, and this is why SaberLeomon inevitably dies when he decides to go to the Real World himself. Smart thinking SaberLeomon.

But the other main focus of this arc is Keenan--known as Ikuto in the original (the name I prefer personally, but I'll use Keenan for these for some consistency)--a child who was sucked into the Digital World through a Digital Gate and essentially raised as a feral child among Digimon. He becomes the Sixth (technically Fourth) Ranger of the series, with his partner Falcomon. There's a lot of focus around him accepting his identity as a human, deciding whether to side with humans or Digimon, accepting his blood parents and being treated as a traitor by many Digimon who didn't really like him to begin with, especially Merukimon's spineless and not-so-loyal henchman, Gotsumon. He suffers a lot of hate and inner conflict not only because he has to decide whether he wants to identify as a human or a Digimon, but struggles as he doesn't want to reject his Digimon mother, Frigimon, who also died during the Digimon killing spree. So naturally, he hates humans and has to deal with that conflict as well.

While Keenan is an enemy for the main characters for a while, once they help Falcomon find a vaccine for a virus that infected Keenan and Yoshino, the hostility begins to lighten up, and Keenan trusts Marcus especially after Gotsumon goes out of his way to kill Keenan and Falcomon while Marcus continues to protect and help them. Marcus ends up becoming like an older brother figure for Keenan, even letting him live at his house, and I really liked this dynamic. He really helps Keenan find some of his sense of humanity and while he is pushy, he never pushes Keenan to a point that would make him uncomfortable. Keenan meeting up with his biological parents for the first time is also rather heartbreaking considering they had just recently had a new daughter, which makes Keenan believe he's already been replaced and he believes he doesn't belong anywhere. But he eventually realizes that he really does care for his blood parents when he saves his mother from a Hagurumon. While, again, people argue that there's too much focus on Keenan and his development, I still feel it was all good development and he was a character who needed a lot more character growth to progress, so personally it didn't bother me and I do like him and Falcomon. But of course, despite finally reuniting with his biological parents after a decade, the government always sucks whenever they are involved with Digimon and Governor Hashima orders an arrest of Keenan and his parents for the opening of the Digital Gate that brought in the Hagurumon.

I hate Hashima and his strict government ass. Seriously, talk about a man with no freaking chill and I swear he's another one of those government officials who's out for himself way more than he is taking responsibility for his country. But no matter how much I hate this guy, he's basically just a Lawful Evil in this show. As of right now, nothing beats the fucking asshole known as Akihiro Kurata. I fucking hate Kurata. I am absolutely on Marcus' side when he says the man is just a spineless coward. He makes no attempt to understand Digimon and even from his first major encounter with a Digimon, his first and only solution is to kill. He's behind the Digimon killing spree with his artificial Digimon, Gizumon, and ultimately Frigimon's death, making him a big adversary for Keenan as well as the fact that he kills Merukimon in the end. This does lead to Keenan and Falcomon achieving Digivolution to Ultimate level to Yatagaramon (I'm sorry, Crowmon is just too lame of a name for me to use). Again, another great set of Digivolution animations. I'll admit, the artificial Digimon Gizumon is an interesting idea, but UGH Kurata is just one of those antagonists you can hate without a moment's hesitation.

Even when Kurata is defeated in the Digital World and he has to retreat, he still manages to be an asshole by getting with other asshole Hashima and dismissing DATS. They do this forcefully by utilizing DATS' equipment to erase Marcus, Thomas and Yoshino's memories of their Digimon. I always thought that DATS' technology was kind of convenient, but to use it against them is clever if not totally a dick move from Kurata. Conveniently, they decide not to erase Keenan's memories or the two maids of DATS--Miki and Megumi, and somehow everyone else who knows about the Digimon like Marcus' family kind of conveniently remember over time? Still, the whole memory loss thing and how Agumon has to make Marcus remember is still pretty well-executed--I just wish we could have seen more of Thomas and Yoshino's sides. Though, one random plus of this episode was seeing Kudamon not on Richard's neck and acting on its own.

I don't think I talked about this enough in my last post, but the fights in Digimon Savers are really good and I think they manage to hit just the right balance with the fights. We have the traditional fights of Digimon fighting Digimon, but now with multiple attacks. Even Rookie levels have multiple attacks, and it makes them more dynamic kind of like what Digimon Adventure 02 tried to do, but pushes it even further. Plus, with Marcus punching around Digimon, even a freaking Mega level like SaberLeomon and breaking one of his teeth, they're just more interesting. Believer doesn't even cue every episode in this arc like most of the other Digimon shows, so I think that makes some of the instances of its use such as Yutagaramon's debut all the more impactful.

That's about as much as I can say about this arc, and I think it's more of a middle establishing arc of things to come, kind of like the Crest arc in Digimon Adventure. So for what it is, I do like it and I don't think it's a bad arc at all. I am looking for things to go up from here and for Kurata to be utterly destroyed so I guess I'm off to go watch even more and hope for even better. Also, there's a scene in this where Spencer takes photos of bouncing Gomamon. Even if Savers were to somehow turn into a disaster in the next two arcs, it was totally worth that kind of adorable scene.

[caepaecaesurae]

> Psii : Blow a fucking gasket (2/3)

Seeing as a crack skitters across his phone screen, it would be correct to say one has been blown sky high. Ampora thinks he is broken. It all makes sense now, and he scrolls up just to make sure. He thinks him incapable of telling him to shove off. He thinks he tolerates him due to outside influence, probably Kankri. He thinks Psii is so afraid because of what Ampora put him through… He thinks he is afraid of him at all- The crack skitters a little farther. How quickly Dualscar forgets who was afraid of whom on that fucking boat.

The slowly breaking phone goes through one more task before being thrown aside into Psii’s pile. Ampora may have blocked him but that’s a mere bump in the road towards pulling his coordinates. Look at that, how convenient, he’s on the roof. It won’t be long at all before Psii’s knuckles will meet an idiot’s jaw.

He doesn’t bother with hallways and doors, opening a window out to the crisp winter air and stepping out into the sky. Psionics will get him there far faster, and it’s not like he’s not sparking with them already. Not so much that he’ll give away his arrival, not until he’s much closer, so Ampora doesn’t think of running so quickly. Boots touch down on stone and thump a few steps forward, sparks arcing between horns now that he’s not focusing them. “How rude of you to scamper off so quickly, Ampora, after making such a guess.” His voice is sharp with anger, loud enough to be heard through a smile with far too many fangs. “Don’t you want to see what’s under that mask, to see if you’re correct or not?”

A crimson troll in a leather jacket and a magical amulet turned his head quickly at the sound of footsteps, and then froze absolutely dead still, his eyes quietly tracking the enraged psionic's progress.  ...was this how he died?  He'd learned at least one vital lesson from his friendship with another Captor, one that had started out less than brightly, and so his thumb shifted the fraction of an inch along his vaporiser, away from its button, but he didn't even dare lower the device away from its position halfway between his face and his knee.

Stock still, he was silent for a few seconds, watching the path of the sparks along Mituna's horns.  "... Howv rude of me," he repeated lamely.  A few pregnant seconds passed before he clearly and slowly enunciated his decision: "... No, I do not."

“Aww, that’s a pity,” the words have a stark contrast to that predatory grin, tone not changing an inch. “And here I was going to do you a favor and show you.”

"That's really not necessary, thank you," Cronus interrupted helpfully without moving.  Not even a blink.

“Oh no, I insist,” the sparks continue their arcing, and now that he’s gotten closer and closer, it’s easier to see they’re following the paths etched in his horns.

"No really, please, I don't wvant to trouble you,"  God he wanted to stand up.  Instead, his eyes stayed locked on Mituna, peripheral vision tracking the sparks along his horns.  The faint scent of ozone was starting to make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.  It was his absolute least favorite scent and experience.

“Whyever would it be a trouble? This fallacy should obviously be corrected. Can’t be having you think I’m trembling every time we speak.” That grin is getting less and less like a grin, and more like he’s considering tearing out Ampora’s throat with it. “How will we ever be friends like that.”

"... Shall I fetch Treasure for you then?"  Curveball, confuse, distract.  God Cronus needed to be anywhere but here, and had a sudden, sick sympathy for Ringleader and his Captor problems.  The line was delivered without a hint of motion, sounding completely serious, matter of fact, and conversational, as if discussing the weather.

Psii’s laugh is as awful as that not-grin is, amused in all the worst ways. “No, I do not need Treasure. I need you splattered all over this rooftop.” It’s like a lightswitch is flipped, the sharp smiles and laughing snapping directly into something more suited for a fight, boots finding purchase on the stone in preparation to launch himself Ampora-ward. But first, it’s his turn to throw a curveball, or rather one of his many hidden knives, to distract from the fact that he wants his fists on him.

The instant Psii said "splattered", Caesurae was in motion -- leaning suddenly forwards, planting his feet on the edge of the railing, and springing abruptly into flight downwards.  He needed to break line of sight and get somewhere enclosed, and that involved the courtyard, its bushes, and the hallways into the castle proper.  He just needed to make it down there.  The knife whiffed past him, and would find its way onto a parapet somewhere.  Psii had at least a second before Caesurae could reach ground level though.  This was unfortunate, due to telekinesis.

That knife would be missed, but later, when he was not so focused on his task. He had quite a few more after all, and Ampora was running. Fortunately, that second was all he needed to brace a foot on the rail where the other had just been, spreading out his psionics to aid in his ability to see and, of course, wrap around a fleeting ankle. He had said he wanted his blood on the roof, after all. Time to remedy that.

He isn’t quite concerned with Ampora remaining in one piece, so the tug on his ankle is not a gentle one, yanking him to a stop with a yelp before reversing his direction of travel back up towards where Psii waited. The landing wasn’t an easy one either, the grip throwing him bodily onto the stone, the psionic’s eyes following his path until that thump of contact made him release his hold. Yes, far better, a simple push off the rail and his charge was resumed, again closing the distance so he could get his claws and fists into Ampora’s flesh.

Cronus hit the castle hard enough to briefly stun, and wasted a precious second squirming in place before he managed to get his palm flat down and start levering up his shoulder.  By the time his head lifted, and his eyes refocused, Psii was far too close, and the abrupt rush of realisation on his face was magical, to a man in a spiteful enough mood.  He rolled hard, clumsily, trying to shield his face and get up into a crouch before the other troll was on him.  Somewhere far below, his vaporizer shattered against a walkway stone to the distant consternation of several chickens.

Lucky for Psii, he was, in fact, a man in spiteful enough of a mood to enjoy Ampora’s reaction, and that fang-filled grin of his spread dangerously for a moment. Ampora’s roll was successful but not unexpected, and easily compensated for with the right combination of twisting and skidding and a shower of sparks. That crouch catches his eye as well; of course, Ampora isn’t going to just lay there and take it, his poor ego would shatter irreparably. Which means, of course, that he has to help him get to that point. It takes practically no effort at all to rid Ampora of his metaphorical sword and shield; one snap of psionics shorts his sylladex, causing it to eject anything that could be used as a weapon along with everything else, while the other wraps around that blasted amulet and tears it from his neck, returning his color from Psii's brother’s to the familiar seadwelling violet that fits Dualscar's face so much better and is so much easier to smear across his knuckles.

Caesurae's sylladex had been chock full of random shit, and now so was the sky.  Cloaks, capes, garments silly and non, some partially-complete furniture, ornate musical instruments, a synthesizer, a shower curtain complete with rod, bottles of water and whiskey and beer, a few small knives and cloths, a few towels, a sandwich, a handful of stale cookies, little plastic bottles of strong-smelling herbal liquids, a few guns of the long and hand varieties, and enough jewelry and gold and tea and moon money to fill the air and overshadow the roof and start to rain down on the castle and its courtyard and at least one nearby street.

The Orphaner tensed visibly when the tingle of power touched his throat and yanked his caste back up to violet, a light dusting of color rising on his neck in patterns that weren't quite bruises but also didn't quite match the path the chain took as it snapped free of him, clasp breaking easily as if it had been designed for this.  His eyes were slightly wild when his attention snapped up to the cloud of belongings at the height of their arc -- and he spat a sudden curse when he realised the Crosshairs had been flung none-too-gently away.  Tendrils of white smoke phased into existence and abruptly launched themselves out from his back like frog's tongues, grabbing at the Two (2) copies of Ahab's Crosshairs that were headed out into the bay and across a nearby street respectively.  Apparently he could control the anomalous limbs, because they quickly started drawing the guns back towards him as he headrattled, backing away and trying to force himself properly up to his feet.

How curious. Psii wasn’t surprised at the sheer amount of junk in Ampora’s sylladex, the vast majority of it only registering in the back of his mind as something to brush aside as his path towards Ampora and their fall from the heights collided, but he obviously had some tricks up his sleeves. The Crosshairs themselves weren’t one, but the copy certainly was, perhaps some sort of decoy if this exact thing happened. The other were those tendrils, something he’d never seen before and an easy guess that they were part of Ampora’s godhood. Well, if he wished to arm himself with an extension of his mind, it seemed only fitting for him to do so against the might of the Psiioniic, the blue and red sparks wrapping around the weapons and determinedly attempting to keep them well away from Ampora’s trigger fingers.

Caesurae's teeth bared as the far-too-fragile guns were ringed in sparks, and sincerely hoped that Psii wasn't fool enough, or self-destructive enough, to snap them in half so very, very close to where they both happened to be standing.  He neither struggled against the grip nor let go of the guns, standing between them with his 'wings' stretched wide from one weapon to the other.  Tense with very wary concern, his fool mouth opened to speak again while the first and smallest of his belongings started to rain down across the castle roof.  "--Mituna, I don't knowv wvhat you think you're doing, but--"

The aura of sparks around Psii increases as his psionics rebuff Ampora’s possessions when they get in range, the tell tale chime of shattering glass punctuating successes. The roof’s gotten a touch more interesting now, and the thought of skipping Ampora over the shard littered stone is a tempting one for a moment. Not now, though, raw fists still hold the major appeal, an arm reeling back once he starts getting close. “Why don’t you stay fucking still and find out??” It’s spat out like an impulse answer that didn’t get cleared by every checkpoint. His focus is elsewhere, like finding out just how experienced Ampora was at keeping his tendrils doing what he wants while moving the rest of his body. That punch is aimed for his smug fucking face, and his grip on the guns began pulling them towards his direction. Not hard enough to break them of course, he wasn’t a moron, but enough to put pressure on Ampora to keep his weapons.

Caesurae's arms came up to shield his face, catching the punch on a bicep as he fell back another step -- and finally put his weight on his bad ankle, staggering visibly.  In a split-second decision he let go of one copy of the crosshairs, the three tendrils on that side darting back to press against the ground and stabilize him that way.  There was an impressive crash as very nice musical instruments started to rain across the battlements -- a guitar snapped in half here, a synthesizer cracked and badly dented there, deflecting off of this or that on their way to the ground below.  A shower curtain rod clanged into the edge of the roof and rebounded towards the water, trailing its slightly hole-ridden curtain behind it like a very eccentric flag cheering on gods-only-knew-who.

His fins pinning, Caesurae finally made a decision, surging forward (mostly through the miracle of flight -- why hadn't he realised that in time to keep hold of that copy of the crosshairs? Damn instincts) to try to shoulder the Psiionic to the ground.  The smoke tendrils apparently had a fair amount of stretch to them, still trying to maintain their grip on the Other crosshairs -- carefully -- while he tried to get Psii on the ground so he could do... something.  Run again??  He didn't even know.  It was time to work on instinct.

That grin is back, splitting Psii’s face in two with a jagged fang filled gash of a smile. It was a bit early for celebrations, but it certainly felt like a victory. Knuckles meet flesh for a moment before he jumps back, disengaging as Ampora’s leg gave out with a few steps, with the reward of a Crosshair’s firm in his psychic grip. And a second reward follows quickly, Ampora finally ceasing his stupid running and turning onto the offensive, kicking up quite the nostalgia. Yes, quite a bit was different, but Psii can’t help but think of the evening of his escape from Ampora’s ownership. Everything lining up perfectly, just as it is now, Ampora’s fury contrasting with Psii’s nigh giggly smugness. Back then, he had a table at the ready to defend himself, but the broad, sturdy stock of Ahab’s Crosshair’s is quite good enough.

His continued steps back almost seem like dance steps, that grin only getting wider, until the exact moment comes to crack the gun across Dualscar’s dual scars. He poured far more power into the strike that had given him them, but the table also wasn’t a potential nuke. Besides, it wasn’t the force that mattered, it was the poetry, the moment, the point he was making. He was not afraid, and never would be.

Dualscar saw it coming for just an instant, he had time to almost flinch, to start deflecting slightly away, and then got smacked in the face with the butt of his own gun. It was hard not to remember the evening of Psii's escape -- particularly since it had left him with a week-long concussion, a pair of gigantic facial scars, and a flinch reflex whenever things darted at his face too quickly.  More recently, godtiering had left him with the ability to subconsciously adjust reality to suit his expectations, intentional or otherwise, for better or for worse.  The two combined unfortunately, his dual scars splitting open as if they had just been made for the first time, his nose breaking, and a massive instant bruise starting to rise across most of his face.

The Orphaner deflected slightly in the direction of the blow, staggered to a knee, and blinked like a poleaxed steer.  His brow knit slightly, he swayed, and flumped face-down on the ground, his ephemeral grip on Ahab's Other Crosshairs weakening, before the tendrils evaporated into thin air completely.  A cloak drifted down from on high, flopping into a loose pile in a puddle of beer and broken glass.

That was not the reaction the psionic was expecting, steps continuing to dance backwards in anticipation of the fight continuing but slowing when Ampora’s knee strikes stone. He’s wary, and far from stupid enough to be tripped up by a ruse like this could be, the rifle finding a home hovering around his shoulders like a floating combination of a bat and a mounted cannon. It is not as if Ampora are not a dramatic line, and if this wasn’t the definition…

He winces as Ampora’s face meets stone as well, and ears perk slightly as his artillery count doubled. This isn’t an act. He wouldn’t give up his beauty so easily for this kind of trap, especially when he had nothing else to pull out. Even so, Psii hadn’t survived as long as he had by trusting his gut completely, especially when it takes next to nothing to grab an arm and flip the unconscious seadweller. Good lord, he didn’t think he hit him that hard, but his grin spreads again. It remains quite the good look on him.  The puddle of whiskey had probably even sanitised the gashes, and was starting to stain a thin violet.

While his initial desire for knuckles against jaw had not been fulfilled, this was an excellent substitute no matter what his adrenaline was saying. He lets the giggle that’s been trapped in his chest free finally, and slips out- ah, damn, that’s right, he left his phone on his pile. No matter, it’s not like he’ll forget what this looks like any time soon, and he needed to do a sketch of him anyway. How lovely it is when things work out.

The question of ‘now what’ had barely even started to form in his pan when one of Ampora’s various possessions finally landed, the distant sploosh making Psii’s ears perk with an idea. He could leave him up here, in the cold, to wake when he does, oooor. Or. Ampora, having regained his fishy bits, could go for a little winter swim while Psii goes through all of his stuff and decides what to take with him so Ampora will have to come get it. Or more likely, Kankri will frown at him on Ampora’s behalf until he handed it back over, but a troll could dream. He’s already keeping both Crosshairs, but there certainly had to be something else to make Ampora regret this more than he will when he wakes.

First things first, however. Someone needs to go for a dive.

Red and blue rings around Ampora, lifting him somewhat gracefully to trail after Psii as he makes his way to the water-side rail, leaning over and tilting his head slightly as he runs through calculations. He doesn’t want to kill Ampora, so just ragdoll tossing him over the side unfortunately won’t work, and water isn’t always as forgiving as it looks… but if he started him here, at this speed, and that angle… the only thing he should damage is his ego when he wakes in the middle of the bay, unless the cold or sea creatures get to him… Eh, good enough. The city waters were fairly safe, as such things go.  One more slice of nostalgia as he gives the unconscious seadweller a salute before letting go, leaning over again to watch his progress and the splash his body caused. Today is the best day ever.

He dribbled, he splooshed, and at least he wouldn't smell like a puddle of whiskey when he woke up.  For once.  A violet troll in a leather jacket flopped into the water, and started to sink into the relatively shallow depths, one burst of bubbles coming up to the surface and then falling still as he swapped over to his gills entirely.  He was in fact denser than water, by a fair bit, and quickly wound up on his side in the mud at the bottom.

The prince of the emerald basin forest had not been concerned when items had rained from the sky, although it had drawn his attention to the window, especially the larger crashes and clangs of falling instruments and furniture. The matter of seeing a familiar form, the sea dweller who had freed him, and returned the dead to his people, thrown from the castle wall and into the water was another matter entirely.

He could not call up clothes and armor with this fucking spell set on the place against his magic. So he struggled himself into a shirt, alarming his guards as he began to hasten out without his armor on, and losing time arguing with them over it.

It... Wasn't actually the worst nap Cronus had ever taken.

That bit of satisfaction obtained, Psii turns from the rail to examine the loot spread before him, boots crunching glass and bits of instruments as he walks towards the scattering- a step misses the grinding glass or the snapping wood and instead mildly crinkles, and he looks down at a slightly damp letter addressed to Fex. Oh ho, yes, this has potential, a mystery letter tucked away in a sylladex unsent? It could be anything, couldn’t it? It’s scooped up immediately and opened without a hesitation, reading the letter with glee… that fades quite quickly into frowns and sharply dives off a cliff into horror in a fashion reminiscent to the dive Ampora just took.

Every single victorious feeling of smugness evaporates in an instant, and his ears plummet to his shoulders. Is that why Ampora ran? So he wouldn’t get tortured by Psii? To escape a revenge he can’t properly think about without getting nauseous? He thought he didn’t want to face consequences again, that he didn’t want his face damaged, not… not this. Somewhere something has gone as wrong as it could, and he has only made it worse. Fuck. Fuck how does he fix this. How does he make him understand he wouldn’t do that-

> Narrative Perspective : Start being Mituna Captor.

You can do that, probably. And the rest of things. Step one. Okay, step one, Cronus waking up in ice cold winter water with no belongings is not helpful. Split step one into two steps, get belongings and get Cronus. Get Cronus is second, it’s not like he’s going to freeze or drown, and you can shove as many things in into your sylladex as you can see. Alright, start there, maybe things can get fixed later or something.

It’s nowhere close to everything, between bottles shattering and things fluttering off into the distance, but it’s as much as you can do for now. You might be able to get some later, once you’ve fished out Cronus and made sure he isn’t dead or something, but now is when step two becomes step one, and you head back to your mocking spot to fly down after him.

> Be the faerie prince

Prince Sunfall ran, sword belted to his hip, and the moment he stepped out of the embassy tower armour wrapped around him again. He was too late and the troll- bizarrely he recognized him as the gently spoken twin to Twoblade he’d seen just the once- went in after Caesurae, and took him from the water. He followed the path of their flight back where he could not follow and cursed softly.

Something white caught his eye and he approached across the wet rocks to gently tug a white cloak, magically clean despite the filth it was laying in, up and look at it. He glanced back the way the four horned troll had gone with his victim and his jaw set. He headed quickly back inside the building.

If luck was with him Twoblade would receive messages in time to- to do something about his people attacking the church representatives.

PART 1 : PART 3

[areswriting]

a x e : xli

The silence in Helene’s foyer is broken by shattering glass. I look up from the onesie to Cerise, hand still cupped like her champagne flute hadn’t just fallen from it. Her jaw hangs slack, face vermilion, before her lips stretch over her teeth.

“You foolish girl,” she says, hands falling to her hips.

Cerise makes the connection for me—and it hits me so hard that the breath is knocked out of me.

“Boy or girl, it will be a Dyer” says Elise, forcing a smile while wringing her hands. “Abram, please say something. Anything.”

“You’re pregnant?” is all I can manage.

“That much is apparent,” snaps Cerise. “Can’t you see her stomach? Even in that, it’s noticeable.”

“Cerise,” says Simon, moving to his feet.

Anais is quick to follow behind him and stand in his way.  “Don’t give her any power over you, my love,” she says, squaring up to the older Allaire. “Elise’s baby bump is cute and flattering, unlike your jealousy and insane desire to control her. Tell me, Sœur, is it your that your eggs are hard boiled and useless or the way your cellulite shows in that dress that makes you so bitter?”

Ellie drags Elise out of the room and Brody and I are fast on our feet after them. I slide through the door as Ellie begins to close it, letting it shut in Brody’s face.

“Anais is right, Elise,” says Ellie, “Cerise is jealous of you—she’s a manipulative—Brody, get out.”

“I’m not being out there with those animals,” he says.

I grab Elise’s hands, forcing her away from Ellie and to the other side of the guest bedroom. “How long have you known—how far are you?”

“If you’re asking if I can get an abortion, I don’t want one,” she sobs. “I want it. Even if you don’t.”  

“No,” I say, letting go of her hands to hold her face. I wipe her cheeks with my thumbs. “Elise—I want you to be the mother of my children. You’re it for me—you always have been.”

“You—you want this?”

“I want everything with you, baby.”

Her shoulders slump as a loud sob comes out of her, lips pulling into a smile. “I’m twelve weeks, and I found out a few weeks ago. I didn’t know how to tell you—”

I silence her with a kiss then drop to my knees. Slowly, I pull up the front of her shirt. Her skin is milky-white and her stomach looks no different. I don’t know how aware it is, but I kiss it regardless.

△ △ △

Febuary

“I knew Brody would pull this shit!” says Ellie as she aggressively peels back a banana. “The paternity test was insulting enough—now he wants to file for full custody?”

“You need to try to stay calm,” I say, knuckles kneading into the bottom of Elise’s foot. “It isn’t good for you or the baby when you stress out. I was reading about how high blood pressure can—”

“—you know what’s not good for me or the baby?” snaps Ellie. “Fruit. I want fried chicken and a baked potato!”

“Oh!” says Elise, “And rolls from Texas Roadhouse.”

“That does sound good, with the sweet butter,” says Ellie normally.

“So, I’m going to get food?” I say, looking between them.

“No,” Elise whines, “not yet. You have to do my other foot.”

“I need one of those, too, when you get back,” says Ellie.

“You know, he has no chance of getting custody,” says Elise as she files her nails. “If Cerise Allaire was allowed to keep a child, any woman is.”

“It’s the fact that he’s threatening it,” says Ellie, her ravenous tone quickly returning. “After demanding a paternity test!”

“It’s Natasha, not him,” I say quietly, scared that if I even breathe the wrong way, one of them will throw something at me.

“He hasn’t even been to one doctor’s appointment, Abram,” she says, eyes glossing with tears. “He promised he would be here, but he couldn’t be any further away.”

△ △ △

March

It’s two in the morning and there isn’t another inch of the apartment that I can baby proof. All the sockets have been covered with plastic, gates set up, and locks on the cabinets, toilets, doors and refrigerator. I consider starting on the nursery, but find it smarter not chancing waking the beasts from their slumber.

Instead I sit on the sofa, arms folded and eyes closed. I want to sleep—but my mind won’t let me. It isn’t buzzing with thought, but a blank slate, a reminder of how unspeakably lonely I feel. When I thought of depression, I thought of sadness. But I don’t feel sad; I feel nothing. The sun doesn’t shine for me anymore—and it’s not that I want to die, but that I am tired of living.  

What a strange moment, realizing you don’t care to be alive anymore.

Depression is the impression on the couch my body has made, lying so still for so long. Depression is isolation. It’s hidden at the bottom of a bottle and it’s the only thirst I care to satiate.  Depression

And this me surviving the only way I know how.

△ △ △

“Who are the guys in the suits?”

“Don’t worry,” says Brantley, “they aren’t here for us.”

I make eye contact with one of them, but he quickly looks away, pressing a pen to a notepad. Just behind him I see Elise and Ellie, sharing a large sign that reads: WE SPENT THE NIGHT WITH DYER BUT ALL WE GOT WAS PREGNANT.

Now the look the suited man gave me makes sense, and I put my head down and look away as I glide to the bench, Brantley climbing over the boards behind me.

“They’re scouting Washington,” he says, chewing on his mouth guard. “And of course they’re beating the shit out of us.”

I look at the scoreboard, jaw tightening at their three goal lead. “You think those are Kings scouts?”

“Either that or the Ducks,” he says. “Oh bullshit! Where did that penalty come from?”

Coach taps both of us on the shoulder and motions for us to join the ice for the penalty kill. Our fifth of the night and third from our useless goaltender. A linesman calls me to the faceoff circle and the Washington forward laughs in my face.

“Of all the girls in LA, you managed to knock up two of the ugliest?”

He is at least five inches taller and fifty pounds heavier, but all I see is red.  My gloves and stick fly across the ice and I pound my right fist into his face until my knuckles are covered in crimson and I’m being pulled away by Brantley and Thierry.

The ref grabs me by the elbow and announces, “Number thirty-nine, Abram Dyer, ejected for unsportsmanlike conduct.”

△ △ △

(texts—Brody 8:58am)

Hey where are you? Ellie said you haven’t been home in four days.

Seriously, we’re worried about you

Im fijne. texttt someone who givex a sh*tp

Are you drunk?

wast it to you?

It’s nine in the morning. Go home, Abram.

step up anD be a dad, BRody you dead bate peeice of shift

ya its me rasing your kid nt you. Youre jusd liikke malachi

(message read 9:04am)

April  

“I still don’t see a baby,” I say, head tilted.

“Me either, honestly,” says Ellie as she takes the sonogram from my hands. “But apparently somewhere in that blob is a girl.”

I take hold of Elise’s hand. “Are you nervous?”

She shakes her head. “Why would I be?”

I shrug. “We’re finding out the gender—it’s a big deal, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Ellie answers for her, “I mean, for me it was—God knows I don’t want to carry an actual spawn of Brody, but you two don’t hate each other.”

“I don’t mind either way,” she says, shrugging a second time. “I just want it over with, it’s cold in here and I’m tired of showing everyone I meet my vagina.”

“Oh, they don’t probe you,” I say, beaming. “They just used a regular ultrasound machine on Ellie.”

“Yeah, and the lube is warm,” Ellie says, leaning against the wall.

“It’s actually called jelly,” I say.

“Right,” Ellie says as she rolls her eyes. “I forget that you’re Abram, MD now.”

There is a quick knock on the door before it starts to open and the doctor steps in, all smiles. “Miss Allaire, Miss Hughes, Mr. Dyer. Are we excited to find out the gender of baby number two?”

Ellie and Elise snort, while I bury my face in my hands.

“I know I am,” says Ellie. “Imagine their matching outfits if you’re having a girl.”

“Mm,” says Elise, smiling weakly. “They would almost be like twins.”

The doctor straps a heart monitor across Elise’s stomach and within a few seconds a fast thumping noise echoes in the dark room.

“It has a good, strong heartbeat.”

If there’s any reason worth being alive—it’s that.  

“So there’s the head,” Dr Morgan says, maneuvering the end of the ultrasound wand. “And it’s face.”

“It has your nose,” I say, squeezing Elise’s hand with excitement.

“I’m counting ten fingers,” the doctor says. “See that in its mouth? That’s its thumb.”

“It has your lips,” Elise says. “And chin.”

“That’s unfortunate,” I say.

“Miss Allaire,” Dr Morgan hesitates, moving the wand over nothing that makes any sense to me, “You’re twenty weeks?”

“That’s what I was told,” she replies.

“Is something wrong?” I say.

Dr Morgan shakes her head. “No, the baby just looks a little small for twenty weeks gestation. It’s nothing to be concerned about, your due date could have easily been miscalculated. If that’s the case, we may not be able to tell the gender for another couple of weeks.”

“That’s fine, right?” I say. “It just gives us more time to prepare…Can you still try to tell if it’s a boy or girl?”

She nods and smiles, continuing to move the wand. She stops, presses a few buttons and freezes the screen.

“Congratulations,” she says, tapping her nail against the monitor. “It looks like you’re having a boy.”

[salty-dracon]

SAFuture- Unstoppable in His Fury

A visitor arrives at Genetika’s base in Chromesfield, and proceeds to start a fight. Bridget has to escape the base or risk being caught.

“Right on schedule.“ Genetika smiled at the man at the door. “Always such a gentleman, aren’t you?”

“Always.“ The man laughed quietly. 

“Well, come on in. My subordinates are always such good cooks. I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to lately! Any progress with those wings of yours?“

“I’ve been doing quite a bit. Come, let’s talk over dinner.“

—-

Piano music reverberated throughout the lounge. Larkspur’s fingers tickled the keys. His eyes intensely followed a page of sheet music in front of him. Thaumas was creating and stacking little cards of ice. Typhon was reading a thick novel. Brid sat in place, fiddling with her staff. 

Bridget sighed. Her stomach rumbled. “So, let’s grab dinner-“

“No.“ Typhon interrupted her. Behind her, she heard Larkspur’s music stop. He sighed, and then began playing again.

“Why not?“

“She has a guest.“

“And we can’t disturb guests?“

Typhon shook his head. 

“Gotcha. Who is it?“

“Met him at a party.“

“Gotcha… “ Brid yawned. “God, I’m hungry, though… can’t we get, like, Bun Bun’s? Do they have those out here?“

“We’re out in the middle of nowhere,“ Larkspur grumbled. 

“How long until the guest is gone?“

“Few hours.“

“I told you to eat,“ Typhon said, turning his head towards hers. 

“Sorry I’m never hungry at convenient times.“ Bridget stood up. “That’s it. I’m driving to downtown.“

“I’m not letting you out of my sight.“ Typhon glared at her. 

“Ty, lay off.” Thaumas bumped Typhon’s head. “Envy, I’ll cook you whatever you want. I’m a really good cook. Right, Larkspur?”

Larkspur stopped playing again. “He’s not bad.” He resumed, with a different song. 

“Besides, every man needs to know how to make himself taste good.“

“Smooth,“ Brid conceded, after a short, confused, pause.

—-

“Rubicon City, then?“ the man asked, with a hint of curiosity in his voice. “The city of no return?”

“Of course. Rubicon City’s lost its old splendor, but there are far too many who don’t want it taken away from them. I think it would be a perfect debut. Besides, the irony of the city of no return… never returning? Oh, wouldn’t that be just perfect?“

“Your devilry knows no bounds, Empress.“ 

“Oh, you flatter me!“ 

“What do your subordinates think? I’m sure at least one of them has ties to the city.“ The man stood up. Behind him, a woman with dog ears took his empty plate away. 

“They don’t care at all, really. The cities were cruel to them, and they’ll be happy to see it all crash down.“

“And what do you plan to do with your prisoners? They certainly can’t be a true part of the Empire, can they?“ He slowly walked over to her, tracing the tablecloth with his finger. 

“Maybe. You’d be surprised how many ex-superheroes there are these days. I can offer them life in exchange for their service.“

“You only deal in the most precious of currencies, don’t you, Empress?“ The man laughed. “Quite frankly, I’m jealous.“ He sat on top of the table, tracing Genetika’s chin with his hand. “You absolutely irresistable beauty.“

“You flatter me too much, Angel. How many have you seduced with your silver tongue?“

“Men, women, and children, beyond your wildest imagination. Come, I’ll give you a demonstration.“ Angel motioned for a guard to come closer. He whispered a command into the guard’s ear. The guard walked behind Genetika, with a stern look on his face.

“I have a daughter, you know,“ he said, with a smile on his face. “A beautiful girl of twenty-eight. The light of my life. The day she disappeared, I promised myself something.“

“What did you promise her?” Genetika asked, gazing at him. 

“That I’d kill anyone who stood between us.“ He snapped his fingers. 

“You’d- gh!“ Genetika’s eyes bulged as the guard shoved his spear through her body. A few seconds later, he pulled it out. Genetika’s body dropped to the floor, dead.

“Kill yourself to hide the evidence,“ he commanded to the guard. Without hesitation, the guard stabbed the spear through his own neck. 

“Where are you, my little rose thorn?“ 

“You traitor!“ Angel heard a door slam open. Another clone of Genetika entered, with a scowl on her face. “For someone who calls life ‘precious’, you’ve got some nerve taking mine.“

“Don’t get me wrong, Empress. I appreciate life. I don’t appreciate fiends who toy with it.“

“I thought you loved me!“

“Of course, Empress. I just love my Swan more. Now, where is she?“

“And why would I tell you?“

“The foundation of your power is life. As long as you have another body to transfer your memories into, you cannot be killed. However, your bodies die off quickly, requiring you to prepare a new batch every month. Each generation is grown in a circulating gel medium that is shared among all clones of that generation. If one were to poison the medium, well… “ Angel smiled. “You’ve seen my ability to turn your guards traitor.“

“You silver-tongued asshole. Very well.“ Genetika pressed a com in her ear. “Ty. Bring the girl here. Someone wants to see her.” 

—-

A delicious smell was emanating from the residential kitchen. Thaumas was stirring a frying pan of rice vegetables, while Brid was cutting up cilantro.

“Okay, now add the black beans to the rice, and a pinch of salt… Brid, add the cilantro.”

“Got it.“ Brid dumped a fistful of chopped cilantro into the pot. Thaumas stirred the mixture, added some red-colored spice, and then put the lid on top. “There. We let that cook for a few minutes, and we’ll have dinner.“

“Sweet.“ 

“It’ll taste good, I think.“ He laughed. “But not as good as I do.“

“Now you’re just overdoing it.“

Thaumas laughed. “You know, that offer’s still open. We don’t usually get human-”

Suddenly, Typhon walked in. He sniffed the air loudly. 

“Smells good… Envy, we need to leave. Someone is here to see you. They murdered the Empress and claim they’ve poisoned a generation of clones.“

“The Angel?“

“A man. He was looking for his daughter.“

“That’s him, yeah.“

“Thaumas, help her escape into the north woods. I’ll handle the rest.“

“Come on.“ Thaumas grabbed Brid’s wrist and pulled her into the staff kitchen. 

—-

“Typhon, what has taken you so long?!“ Genetika shouted. Around the ballroom, three of her bodies lay dead. 

“I apologize. I can’t find her.“

“What do you mean, you can’t-“

Angel smiled. “Where is she? Is she hiding?”

“I believe she’s escaped.“

“You believe? How and where?“

“She was cooking. She must have been alerted to your coming and-“

“What was she cooking?“

“Pardon?“

“What was she cooking?“

“Fried rice.“

“My Bridget’s a terrible cook. She tends to burn rice. Either you’re lying, or she had assistance with the meal. Is this assistant helping her escape?“

“And if he were?“

“Then I search for him. Assuming she’s on foot, she won’t be hard to find.“

“You’re forgetting that I’m your obstacle.“ Typhon cracked his knuckles. “She told me you were afraid of fire.“

“Typhon-“ Genetika shouted. “Typhon, just tell him where the girl is! Who’s with her?!“

“Empress, I think you should take care of your clones.” Typhon twisted the dial on his harness. “I’m not willing to lose a valuable member of the Ascended Empire.“

“Typhon, listen to me. Tell him where the girl is, and who’s with her.“

“You can figure that out yourself.” Typhon clenched his fists. Red scales began to protrude out of his skin, and his face changed shape. A few seconds later, he lunged at Angel with a roar. 

—-

“You’re not cold, are you, Envy?“ Thaumas asked. 

“No, I’m good, thanks.“ Bridget’s body was covered in a light frost. They both ran through the woods, Bridget a little ahead of Thaumas. “Just get me to the highway, and I’ll figure it out from there.”

“Where are you headed next?“

“You said Val was holed up in Cricket Springs, right? That’s where I’m headed.“

“Val? Who’s Val?“ Thaumas asked. “Ohhh, your friend!“

“Here we are.“ Bridget burst out onto the lawn between the forest and the highways. The frost around her body dissipated. 

“Do you want me to go with you?“ he asked. “Just in case he comes after you?“

“He’s stronger than you are. Believe me, he’d kill you.“ Brid walked up to the road and stuck her thumb out. 

“You sure? I make a great traveling companion.“ He touched her shoulder and traced it up to her neck. “What’s a road trip without a little fun, right, babe?” 

“This is serious, but thanks anyway.“ Brid flashed a smile at him. In front of her, a car moved into the breakdown lane. 

The driver lowered his window. “You two looking for a ride?” It was a muscular-looking woman with a furry dog in the passenger’s seat. 

“Just one,“ Bridget said. 

“Where you headed?“

“Cricket Spring, Kentucky.“

“I can take you as far as Gloryville, West Virginia.“

“That sounds good.“

“Hop in, then.“ The woman glanced at Thaumas. “You aren’t coming?“

“Nope.“

“All right then. Hop in, and let’s go.“ 

Bridget climbed into the backseat of the car. Immediately, the dog jumped onto her lap and began licking her face. She waved to Thaumas as the car drove away. 

—-

With a mighty yell, Angel charged at Typhon, holding his sword up. Typhon raised his arm up and stopped the blade from hitting his face. He grabbed Angel and threw him into a wall. 

“Not strong enough.“ Typhon cracked his neck. “Come at me again. I won’t hesitate to burn you down.“

“You’ll go to any lengths to keep her away from me, won’t you?“ Angel croaked. 

“She knows you’re dangerous. The Empire has enough power to destroy you if they want. Besides, you’re an old man who refuses to get with the times. That’s what she called you.“

“I may be an old man, but I willingly defend my children.“ Angel stood up and smiled. “Why should I fight with you when my little angel isn’t under your direct protection? By the way, don’t you have a boyfriend? Where is he?“

“Your business is with me, Angel.“

“Oh, I see how it is.“ Angel’s eyes burned a hypnotic red. In a flash of red light, Angel burst through a glass window on one side of the mansion. A sonic boom sent the glass shards flying against the walls of the room.

—-