#Phoenix: *clock ticking noises in head*

[jomamaofficial]

The Chronicles of A Hero's Daughter pt.2 (Father!All Might and Daughter!Reader Angst Oneshot)

A/N: SO, THIS WAS ASKED IN MY ASK BOX. BUT I STUPIDLY REPLIED TO IT SO I DON'T KNOW WHICH ANON ASKED FOR IT SO I'M JUST GOING TO TAG EVERYONE WHO LIEKD THAT POST HERE AND HOPE IT'S THE BRILLIANT ANON WHO WANTED ME TO WRITE A PART 2. @dark-magic-phoenix @crystal-freak24 @observaureium @justtovi3w62. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Graphic descriptions of blood (coughing blood), graphic imagery of crushing a heart (doesn't happen, just explained) CW: difficult father-daughter dynamics. Taglist: @thatcatladywrites @smikys-stuff @kimberlyfletcher @dawnwriterimagines Masterlist Word Count: 1951. Summary: One argument led to another– the foundation of your family was built upon suffering and sacrifice. Secrets were unveiled, revealing the true intentions of your father, the lingering wounds of the past stinging harder than any cut has ever. With tension reaching a breaking point, what happens when you confront your father, searching for the harsh truth, even if it leads to a devastating decision– you will never be the same again. He will never be the same again. 

——————————————————————————————————

Toshinori’s chest rose and fell. 

“You don’t mean that…” 

A pang struck through your heart as your father’s laboured breaths increased, tailing off in steady wheezes that only grew louder. 

“Dad…” you whispered, closing your eyes. “Dad, I didn’t m-”

Your voice cracked, succumbing to the hot tears which burned against your cheeks. Emotions flooded your head, as though they had been waiting to escape from the dam of truth that you had to silence to protect the peace in your family. The pressure had built up and that dam had finally broken in the most irreparable way possible. 

Shame hammered your mind, delivering blunt throbs as you watched your dad clutching his frail chest in agony. 

Guilt drilled poison into your veins as your father struggled to stand up– his sickly body unable to bear this pressure. His airways had been restricted, thus his once strong and proud chest had nothing to show but a vacant cavity, struggling to hold itself up. 

This living room had always been small– enough space just for the two of you. Dad and his little hero. It had always been you two, but today, this room was longer and narrower, as though mocking your sanity which had become a battlefield. 

Would you protect your father and carry on living in this dollhouse family, of which the  foundations were built off of your suffering.

Or would you protect yourself and destroy your relationship with the only family that you ever had.

The struggle had refused to forsake– silence had become your greatest enemy. It had left you alone with your screaming thoughts of doubt that deafened your conviction, leaving you straggled, naked, and vulnerable in the vast depths of your fears because what if. 

What if Midoriya truly was better than you? 

What if you truly were not worth it?

What if you had lost your rights to call yourself his daughter. 

Forever. 

You had lost everything to the ravenous beast which ruined everything you touched, and it wanted more. It wanted more, so it began making more noise, howling over the whispers of the wind, it howled over the ticking of the clock. It howled until nothing could be heard. 

Silence. 

Silence. 

Silence.

It had become silent. 

As though you were the only person in the room. 

A sudden thud drew your attention to the floor. 

Toshinori collapsed on the ground, and his eyes had gone blank, jaw slack. His ribs stuck out from under his skin, showing through his thin white t-shirt as his brassy cough filled his mouth with blood.

He urgently covered his mouth with his hands, forcing it shut but to no avail. It had already slipped past his hold, travelling down his neck, staining his shirt. A constant offender.

Your father began developing bloody coughs over three years ago. Yet every time you saw his chest heave and bleed, surges of nausea would creep up your veins, forcing you to leave. 

“Dad!” 

This was too much blood. It wasn’t meant to be like this… The doctor said a few drops or so, maybe a teaspoon, but that was ‘highly unlikely’. You watched as his white shirt became saturated, dizziness threatening to blur your vision.  

But you could not see him like this. You didn’t think twice before rushing to help him– but you were stopped. 

Toshinori raised his shaking hand immediately. You were halted, frozen in disbelief. 

He put his hand back on the floor, taking a few breaths before pushing himself, warranting another step forward from you, another cry, but he just stopped you again. You could only watch as your father relied on his bony wrists to push himself up. 

You could hear his shallow gasps for air, and his repressed coughs– and all you could do was watch your father’s face contort in fatigue and ache. Toshinori had finally gotten up, but that look had not left his face as he pushed past you. You watched the limp in his leg as he hobbled towards the couch, slowly lowering himself onto the cushioned couch. His head slumped onto the head rest, limbs unfurling in exhaustion. 

You were suspended in your head, unable to move past the questions which rung bright sirens. 

You shouldn’t have raised your voice at your own father– the doctor had told you. He’s injured, he’s getting older. He can’t process such shocks like this anymore.

What was wrong with you? 

But it couldn’t have been just your fault… right? But then he pushed you– maybe he didn’t just notice– but what if he did it on pur-

“Y/N”, your father had called for your name, but his eyes did not meet yours. 

Instead, they looked past you. 

Toshinori Yagi adopted Toshinori Y/N when she was five years old. 

A decade after the first quirk was discovered, many adoption agencies in Musutafu began sorting children based off of a ‘ranking system’. 

Official documents stated that this case was first brought up in the Supreme Court due to an incident that had occurred in an orphanage near Musutafu, 26 years ago. It was a heartbreaking case of manslaughter that had taken place when six year old Chihiro Onodera– Quirk: Lava, accidentally murdered eight year old Honoka Sugo– Quirk: Bubbles, during lunch time as they were play-fighting. 

It did not take much convincing as this case had reached international news, thus the court immediately passed a bill on the separation of quirks preliminary based off of their strength and danger levels, which were to be evaluated on a scale of 1 to 5. 

Nevertheless, this bill had struck a controversial match, becoming the largest contemporary topic that was disputed over in the past years. 

Demonstrations, protests and violent public outrage reached its peak when leaked intel revealed that a lot of children began to go missing from Adoption Agencies under the radar– they no longer had papers, as if their identities had been erased off of the face of this Earth. 

Nanami Tomoda, Sae Ojima, Makoto Kanezaki– these were some of the household names that had garnered petrifying national and international headlines: 

Heartbreaking Tragedy Strikes Japan: Devastating Attack Leaves Communities Reeling 

Japan in Shock: Deadly Assault Rocks Nation's Sense of Security 

Aftermath of Brutal Assault Leaves Nation Grieving Chaos and Carnage

Not much was known about these young adults. 

Apart from two things. 

First. 

They were not independent contractors. All of them could be traced back to some of the very few established, powerful, underground organisations. 

And second.

They were all orphans, rated 5, who had been declared missing for ten or more years.

Toshinori Yagi adopted Toshinori Y/N when she was rated 5. 

Toshinori Y/N lost her quirk at age ten. 

You are rated 0. 

Zero.

Toshinori took a deep breath before he spoke. 

“I have raised you since you were five years old.” He still did not meet your eyes. “I raised you in hopes that you would become a strong, and powerful young lady.” 

He drew a breath in– it was laced in disappointment. 

“But why does it feel, as though it has had no influence on you?”

Toshinori shifted both of his arms onto the couch rests, sitting tall. 

“One does not become a hero by winning every fight. Not everything is about a hero’s physical strength. A hero is made when they understand that retaliation only makes them the real villain.” 

Your father’s voice had deepened, and so did the dreadful pit in your stomach that sunk your resolve. 

“A true hero understands that strength lies in the ability to rise above the pain. Because those who focus on what has been lost”, he continued, lips twitching, as a faint, uncontrollable tremor laced his words in indisputable venomous contempt, “are either insane, or desperate for attention they know they will never get.”

Small muscles in your face began to twitch despite the heaviness that had been pulsed through your body, holding it in place, as you just stood there. Your eyes, once red and exposed, had no inhabitant, no focus. 

A ghost town. 

“A true hero is grateful. And recognises every bit of effort someone else put in order to get them to where they are now.” 

His gaunt eyes found yours, casting an unfamiliar chill in your body. They were sunken in, casting his gaze in dark shadows– an abyss impenetrable by light. 

“You got your quirk stolen, Y/N. But you cannot get that back anymore. But it’s been years, I expect at least some gratitude considering I did you a favour by adopting you.” 

He had left a clot that blocked your heart.

“Because no one else would have wanted you.”

It is always the one closest to you that hurts you the most. 

The man you called your father had waited until the last second to take the satisfaction of crushing your heart, flesh against flesh. 

Humans evolved to gain resistance and immunity against everything that threatens their survival.

Therefore, living with this man only meant that you had to gain immunity against pain and humiliation, because that was the only thing that could guarantee your survival. 

So when you shook off the heaviness in your lid and focused onto your father’s face, you could only lift the corners of your lip.  

“If you didn’t want me. Someone else would have adopted me instead. Like you did. No papers, no nothing– I’d slip under the radar, at least I’d still have my quirk, and end up on those headlines.”

“How dare you?” he uttered, face contorted in malice.

“I was five. That’s why you adopted me. Don’t deny it” 

Toshinori stiffened, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. His shoulders, broad and hubris, had become small and meek. You watched him contemplate: his eyes, vindictive and daring, were cast down, hiding amongst the Tatami flooring. 

“My child…” he began, his voice softer. “After your quirk had been stolen, I could not risk making you the target again. That’s the reason I don’t come to your events. It’s because you’ll become the target everyone goes for because they know you’re my daughter”.

“They’ll know?” your lips had pressed into a thin line. “Like how Midoriya knew I was your daughter? Like how the media knows?” 

In the stifling air, your dry laughter bounced off of the discomfort. 

“Don’t act like you aren’t ashamed of me.” 

Your face had settled into a stone. 

“It’s not about me being a target. It’s about protecting your image.”

“My daughter-”

“You have lost the right to call me your daughter. If I was such a disappointment after my quirk was ripped away from me, why did you keep me? You could have sent me back. Why did you keep me, dad, why did you keep me!”

Those closest to you, leave irreparable wounds. 

But there was a reason they were close to you. A reason that subsided in love, care, and hope. 

Your crushed heart was surviving on its last breath, waiting to hear something that could revive it. 

Toshinori lifted his head again, his eyes flickering behind you. 

It locked onto an object that somehow gained more attention than you ever had in your entire life. You risked a look over your shoulder, only to see the picture of your father and Midoriya, smiling–almost mockingly– back at you. 

You knew what the answer was going to be. 

“I’m beginning to question the same thing.”

A flat-line. 

“Well if that’s how you really feel, I have no obligation to stay here anymore.”

You drew your breath in, words suspended at the tip of your tongue. 

“I wish you and your student the best of luck, All Might.”

[captainschaos]

The third session ticks into play, and it's just Etho and Skizz at the Team T.I.E.S. base. They move around one another mostly in silence, organizing chests, gearing up for the day. To most, this would be awkward, uncomfortable. But these two know one another well, and know one another by looks across tables and peripheral guards on battlefields. Their comfort is shown not in chatter, but in resources wordlessly passed from one of them to the other. Small gifts, appreciated by the fae that counts all hindrances and slights. Small kindnesses, appreciated by the reaper that cannot get enough of the warm moments of life.

But quickly, of course, they are joined by their T and I, and camaraderie comes easy in the chatter! Jokes and jabs, stories and snickers, friendship is thick between words that flow freely. They share what Impulse and Tango brought from the nether, and plans are fully formulated for the week now that they're all together. But behind it all, there is a sound the most pleasant of noise can't drown out.

The ticking of the clock continues.

They all split off to their business quickly to make the most of their quickly draining countdowns, and Skizz finds his in the sky. Skizz's clock is the loudest, his pull toward death the strongest, and he knows it well. The reaper's wings may not keep him safe as he begins to build SkyNet below his own feet, the pure white feathers thinned and clipped by this world that doesn't allow flight (an unfair advantage, particularly for a fighter of his caliber), but they bring him a sense of security anyway. A reminder, if nothing else, that he was made for this. He looks over the server with drained, yellowed eyes, and for just a moment he can hear every heartbeat in time with the persistent ticking. The reaper's senses remain with him, not enough to be unfair, but to keep him confident. He knows death. He does not fear it.

Well, until he takes a stupid fall to his stupid death. It was just one second, just one distraction as his foot slipped- it doesn't matter. He drags himself back from spawn, frowning and screaming his frenzied frustrations as Tango and Impulse laugh at his literal slip up. But he knows they're not really laughing, and they know he's not really angry. Not at them, at least. But he feels his time running out, and he feels the desperation beginning to well up. His yellowed time is beginning to rust toward red, and it rubs against the back of his throat. Impulse warns him that he has to look out, and he knows. Trust him, he knows.

(Down below, a different warning is uttered. Tango pokes at Etho as he passes the man by, giving a passing comment about thieves at the mob farm. Etho nods, and later, when the phoenix returns to find him standing with a red-handed Bdubs, he gives a quiet signal with a half-joke. A quip about killing Tango last, disguising acknowledgement that he's got his head in the right place. They don't have time to kill- it's come time to kill.)

They meet in the middle for a moment, a sweet moment. Etho is tired, his hands fumbling with the crafting materials and his mind jumbling the recipe. He tosses the materials toward Skizz, the reaper in need of his teammate's confidence and in need of his own, and a trade is made. Both spirits are boosted as Etho is allowed to let Skizz be the competent one for a second, and Skizz catches the knowing look Etho gives him as he's given this chance to prove himself useful, if mostly to himself. They give each other a smile before parting ways again.

Clock back in.

(Up above, a different threat is woven. Impulse passes Skizz on SkyNet, taking a handful of TNT from him. He makes no response to Skizz's questions, but his knowing look and barely-suppressed smile says it all. And he steps back, an acknowledgement that his head's in the right place. The reaper will help the demon with his silence. They are on the same timeline- time to kill.)

They're all milling about like ants at work, and Etho feels even more ant-like as he finds his work below ground. He watches his clock closely, his elevated senses twitching with every tick. No matter how far he is from death, he can never be far enough for comfort. So it's a boring task, threatening death by boredom for a chaotic soul like him, but the protection of diamonds is simply too powerful to ignore. His tail flicks back and forth, and though his connection to the world is different in this place that careens so quickly toward death, the fae is still grateful for the small hints he gets from his surroundings. Even if they don't lead him toward diamonds, they are a reassurance, the tremor of mob footsteps and shifting stone a comfort. He hears death. He does not fear it.

Well. Until his stupid death lands on top of him with a stupid fall. It was just one second, he didn't have time to dodge- it doesn't matter. Now all he can do is hear his death with the painful blast, and the even more painful taunting at spawn. He is silent against the noise around him as he steps into the water to escape the laughter, Tango and Impulse among the loudest of them. But they're not really laughing, and he's not really mad. At them. And yet there is an anger that he continues to carefully listen to within him, and it's getting louder. It's all he can do to keep it at a whisper as he tells the silent, watching Grian that the time to kill is near. And he knows what he'll do with it.

Trust him, he knows.

[There will be one of these for each week! This is 3/?]

First // Previous // Next

[raewritesfiction]

Part 2 - Scars To Your Beautiful

Warnings: Fluff. Smut - hand jobs, oral, ass play. Saliva. 

Word Count: 2,334

[[ Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed from tags; no questions asked ♥️ likes are amazing however I really appreciate Reblogs to help spread my writing further! Thank you 🌈😘]] Tag List: @jaseminedenisephotography @nikkitasevoli @iraniq @snewsome756 @vikki-rogue @amelia-in-w0nderland @pandaliciouz @crispyimagines17 @marie-is-blogging @bonniebird @nutinanutshell @louise-buchan @differentcatcat @madsadgenius @phoenix-is-closer-to-the-edge @azanoni @livingdeadblondequeen

Jesus paces in the large open space, trying his best to listen to the ongoing meeting but his mind going back to the fact Daryl was almost four hours overdue for check in.  Hearing Rick sigh and clocking him watching, Jesus decides to take his leave and go try and do something useful - Daryl will need more bolts and they were all low on 9mm bullets. 

~~

The sun was setting when the radio Jesus carried crackled and Daryl’s voice came through as a whisper of broken communications.  He was close enough to radio but only just. 

“I’m safe for now. I’m hiding.”

“We got caught up in a hoard and had to split up.”

“I need to get back to the bike…”

“…but I need to wait.”

“Don’t respond. I’ll be in touch.”

Jesus watched his radio waiting for more but ultimately nothing came and after half an hour waiting he grabbed it and jogged to Rick. 

“…so do we just wait now?” Jesus leaned against a doorframe. “They have to be close enough, right? I mean what’s the range of these?” Holding the radio in his hand in case anything else came through. 

“Since they’ve been souped up, at least two miles… Yeah, we have to wait.  Look I wanna go out there to find them as much as you do but we don’t have the manpower to search an entire two mile radius… especially with a hoard close by.”

Jesus stands and stares off, tapping the radio antennae against his lips.  He knew damn well Daryl and the rest of the team could look after themselves and the fact he had checked in was a good sign, but it didn’t stop him worrying about what could happen before the next check in. 

He phased back into Rick standing in front of him with a hand on his shoulder “…they’ll be okay. They all will and we’ll be ready to help them when they get back.” Jesus nods and sighs “okay, well I’m gonna go on watch tonight at the gate.” Rick nods and offers a soft smile, no words needed in response.  

~~

Luckily for Jesus the night was warm and he only had himself for company; the last thing he wanted was small talk or gossip about what was happening at the time.  He had made sure his radio was charged and the search lights ready, just in case.  There was a low hum, almost a drone, in the far distance and everyone was worried it was the hoard getting too close to their home.  There were plans to move them off but nothing concrete yet until the recon came back with information on where it was heading. 

Kal appears on the tower in Jesus’ peripheral and nods “I’ve just heard from Tara… she found Andy, Morgan, Rosita and Abraham…they’re heading in now.  They haven’t had contact with Daryl since you have but they think they know where he is.”

“Are they going to find him or are they gonna tell us where so we can go find him?” Jesus keeps his eyes forward, his words steady and to the point but not rude. 

“Abraham spotted a broken down windmill on the next border, Morgan and Rosita are heading out that way.”

Jesus nods and stands when he sees the lights of a car coming up the entrance road. Eduardo lifts and activates a search light to see Abraham’s car while Kal disappears to open the front gate to let them in. Jesus remains in his spot watching the road; noting how scratched up the rest of the team were and worrying about Daryl’s possible injuries. 

~~

The next three hours ticked by at almost a snail’s pace but Jesus stood at the watchtower looking out; tunnel vision had set in long ago and the drone of noise from the distance was almost meditative to him at this stage.  He was so far inside his own head that he jumped out of his skin when the radio crackled to life.  It wasn’t Daryl’s voice, it was Rosita. 

“We got him.”

Three simple words broke Jesus out of his thoughts and made him look across to the other watchtower; Eduardo had heard it too and was standing ready. 

“We need a med team.”

Jesus felt his heart drop to his stomach at the second transmission.  He sighs and swallows thickly before radioing back “they’ll be ready…”

~~

First, Daryl had been forced off the road by the hoard when it had changed direction; a loud siren had begun to wail and had directed it toward Daryl.  There was nowhere for him to go except into a ditch and on the run; by the time the siren had stopped he was so far off track he couldn’t double back without problems.  

While trying to find somewhere to hold up, Daryl had then been attacked by a raid group who had been tracking the recon group since they had left the Hilltop; he had managed to down three of the six but not without his own injuries.  The remaining three were taken care of by some lone walkers who were joining the hoard. Daryl had barely limped away and gotten to safety; he had managed to somehow scale the windmill and climb up into the top hatch, well out of the way.   By the time the hoard had passed through it was dark and Daryl couldn’t drag himself out of the mill.  

Rosita had brought back word that the hoard that trailed Daryl was small compared to what everyone could hear in the distance and that yes, they needed to direct them off away.

Jesus had stood outside the medical bay waiting to be told he could go in. There had been Daryl’s raised voice insisting he stayed away and then hushed exasperated whispers from those treating him.  Eventually Jesus had gotten impatient and had simply walked in without an invite.

Daryl was sitting on a hospital bed in nothing but unbuttoned pants and boots; he was trying to leave.  

“Daryl let them treat you…”

“Go!” He winced and grabbed his blood soaked shirt, quickly pulling it on. 

“No…” Jesus shakes his head “if you’re leaving here then I’ll come with you but I’m not leaving you to heal alone.”

“Just.. please!?” The normally tough man rubs his face and is clearly close to tears. 

“I’ll take care of him.” Jesus nods to the team, ignoring Daryl’s protests and walks over to help him stand.  “That shirt is gonna need soaking.”

Daryl attempts to push his boyfriend away but fails with his half-hearted attempt, deciding to just nod and stand silently. 

It was Jesus doing all the talking as they took a slow walk back to their housing. There were moments when he could tell Daryl wanted to say something and Jesus gave him the time to speak but he always backed out and just shook his head.

Daryl was exhausted by the time he was sat on their bed and had no more fight left in him when Jesus began to undress him and ready a wash basin for a bed bath.  

“Paul… please don’t…” he whispered. 

“Don’t what baby?” He gently started to wash Daryl from head to toe; he didn’t mind the grime but nobody should stay covered in blood - especially when you couldn’t tell whose it was. 

“You don’t… I mean… I can do this.”

Jesus chuckles “you can barely walk… let me look after you.” His hands cupped Daryl’s face gently. 

He knew Daryl had bad scars, he had never seen them before now.  Daryl had kept them hidden away from him, seemingly ashamed - though Jesus couldn’t work out why.

“They don’t bother me D…” he says softly. “…I know they bother you…”

“You don’t know anything.” He grumbles.

“Hey… hey baby this is me.” Jesus knees before Daryl. “You don’t have to be defensive with me. I’m not going to judge you.” He didn’t take Daryl’s comments personally; he had built up so many walls around himself to protect from hurt that Jesus knew he still had some bricks to break out. 

Daryl nods “Sorry…I’m just… I…” he sighs and shakes his head “I don’t want you to see me differently.”

“I don’t… you haven’t changed, you’re still you. They’re a part of you and I love every part of you.” Jesus strokes his thumbs over Daryl’s cheeks and pecks his nose lightly. “Let’s get you clean and comfortable so you can heal, okay?” He picks up the wash cloth and finishes washing Daryl down until his skin is clean; free of dirt and blood for at least a little while.

“I know what would make me feel a little more comfortable..” Daryl smirks and blushes instantly.

“Oh..?” Jesus walks back from emptying the wash basin. 

Daryl leans back on his bent forearms, tilts his head and moves his legs further apart, watching his boyfriend catch on and break into laughter “you’re working on asking for what you want from me, I see. Good boy.”

Daryl relaxes and smiles; those two words had multiple effects on him depending on their context. Regardless, he loved hearing them from Jesus’ mouth.  He wasn’t used to this kind of praise at all and it had taken some work for him not to tense at the words and to realise the praise was genuine. 

Anyone looking at the pair would assume Daryl was the more dominant of them. In reality it was Jesus who had slightly more experience in relationships than Daryl.  The biker found it hard to ask for what he wanted and often left Jesus guessing; he had promised to work on this and to Jesus it looked like it was working. 

Checking the door was locked, Jesus then walks over while sweeping his hair up and tying it in a pale green hair tie from a pack Daryl had found a while ago.  

Climbing onto the bed and helping Daryl sit up, Jesus smiles and gently runs his hands down the scars. 

“Paul…”

“Sshh..” leaving around to kiss him “trust me.”

Daryl tries to relax a little and closes his eyes when he feels Jesus’ lips on his skin; light kisses trail over every scar, finger tips follow the same paths Jesus’ lips make until every dark, raised line has been attended to.

Jesus lays Daryl back again, kissing him deeply with a hand on his cheek, trailing it down his neck and across collarbone. He kept his touch light and made Daryl break out in goosebumps following his fingers down his chest and ribs, stomach and stopping just shy of Daryl’s cock.  He leans up and slowly moves off the bed to kneel between Daryl’s parted thighs. 

They’d not had any prolonged time alone together to do anything since before they’d got word about the hoard a few weeks before and while this didn’t necessarily affect Jesus as such - because he was a teasing brat at the best of times - Daryl had since discovered his needs and very much enjoyed having them taken care of. 

Jesus dipped his head and kissed his way up Daryl’s inner thigh, stopping just short of making contact with his cock and ghosting a light breath over him as he switched sides and kissed his way back down the other thigh.  Daryl’s breathing hitched as he felt Jesus’s hot breath on his cock and then groaned in frustration when his lips moved away. 

“God damnit Paul…”

Jesus smirked and nipped lightly, working his way back up the inner thigh.  He moved one of his hands slowly to mirror the path his lips had made and wrapped around Daryl’s hardening member, stroking slowly, feeling him get harder as his lips kept just missing where Daryl wanted them most. 

“Fucking tease!” Daryl hisses. 

“Use that language and I’ll tease you more… Who's the one in control here?” Squeezing his cock a little as he jerks him.”

“Please…” he breathes and closes his eyes. “Baby please..”

“That’s more like it.” Jesus smiles and flicks his tongue over the head of Daryl’s cock.  “Love hearing you beg.”

“Paul, baby… I want… I need your mouth around my dick.”

Jesus nods “good boy..” lowering his head and closing his lips around Daryl, sinking his head lower until he feels Daryl at the back of his throat, pubic hair against his nose. 

A low guttural groan fills the room and Daryl lays back fully on the bed, arms above his head.

Jesus hums and slowly pulls back to tease his tongue around the head; flicking and licking, pressing light kisses and then taking Daryl into his mouth again.  

Daryl was already breathing hard when Jesus stopped teasing and set a steady pace, making sure every inch of the cock was being praised by his mouth.  He swirled his tongue and hollowed his cheeks, a hand massaging Daryl’s balls as he bobbed his head along the length. 

“P-Paul… I’m.. I'm not gonna be able to…”

Jesus knew, he understood and instead of slowing or pulling away to prolong the pleasure and tease Daryl further he sped up and sucked harder; wanting to feel him release into his mouth.  It only took a few moments before Daryl was grunting and moaning with orgasm and Jesus swallowed around him hungrily, lapping to clean him up and smiling at the jolts of pleasure going through Daryl with every touch of his tongue. 

Laying on the bed gasping in breaths, Daryl swears under his breath and tries to steady his shaking legs; he always wanted it to last longer when Jesus gave him head but his mouth was pure bliss and it never took long for Daryl to be exploding into his boyfriend’s mouth. 

Jesus helped shuffle Daryl onto the bed properly and stripped himself down to lay beside him. 

“Feel better?” Pulling up the blanket to cover them both.

“Uh huh…” he nods a little, already falling asleep. 

Jesus chuckles and kisses Daryl sweetly “sweet dreams.”

[digitalstowaway]

Apollo Wright AU

Between Phoenix and Trucy, Apollo gets overstimulated a lot. Some nights he's already on thin ice from school and right before Phoenix goes to work, everything is like nails on a chalkboard. The apartment is so small, there's not much room for escape from the noise.

Phoenix doesn't really know what to do when Apollo suddenly snaps, but he knows punishing him won't do much. He just tells Trucy to keep it down and maybe give Apollo space.

So when they can, there's sleepovers with Uncle Miles. He understands Apollo better and when he's overstimulated, he walks Apollo into the garden and tells him to just sit outside for a moment. Or when Trucy has too much energy, he can send her out with Pess and they run around together until they're exhausted.

If all else fails, Apollo can sit in Miles' office or the guest room and read or play video games while Trucy and Miles are in the other end of the house.

[poppinisperfection]

Peter Maximoff x Reader // Hello, Monica // WandaVision // Part 2

Part 1

Post Dark Phoenix X-Men & WandaVision fanfiction. FemReader and Peter Maximoff dating when he suddenly disappears.

Xavier returns and a plan is formed.

Word Count: 1892

Warnings: Emotional distress, mentions of violence, blood, gun wounds etc.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

(Y/n) sat by the screen, her vision blurring and bags forming under her eyes. The analog clock ticked with each second as Hank fiddled around with some tech, and the others sat on the floor half asleep. They had eventually contacted Xavier, and he promised to travel back to New York as fast as possible. That was hours ago, and now it was the middle of the night.

There was nothing they could do, even discussion led to nowhere; nothing about the situation made sense. Metal crashed on the floor, causing Scott to Jolt awake and Kurt to bamf in surprise as Professor McCoy gave a frustrated grunt at his clumsiness. The disturbance didn't phase (Y/n) though, as she read the line for the thousandth time,

"Please stand by."

She was somewhere between breaking into tears and punching every wall she saw. In short, (Y/n) was desperate. After hours of thinking, she finally allowed her eyes to close for longer than a short blink. Her mind was crashing around like a restless ocean, and she found herself drowning inside endless possibilities. But at the centre of it all was his face, his smile, his voice... him.

Suddenly the doors opened with a whoosh, and (Y/n) turned her attention towards whoever was entering the labs. A determined looking man wheeled in, locking with (Y/n)'s blood-shot eyes. An alabaster-haired, umber-skinned, and confident woman followed him; shooting a look of concern towards the group.

"Xavier-" Hank exclaimed with some relief at the Professor's appearance. The bald man gave a small hum in response, but he continued to near (Y/n) instead of making conversation. He placed a hand out and gave her a kind look.

"May I?" he crooned in his English accent, as the (h/c) lady nodded and placed her head forward. Closing his eyes and placing two fingers on her temple, and another on his own - Xavier began to see the whole story, without anyone saying a single word. After a few seconds, his pulled back and gave a sharp sigh.

"(Y/n), I am so sorry." the wise man's voice faltered after feeling the gut-wrenching fear that swept through her mind. The worried girl said nothing, but just tried to keep the strength on her face instead of breaking down into tears. "You've got a location?" Xavier turned to the beastly professor, trying to solve the mystery.

"Sort of- I mean, it's unbelievable Charles." he grabbed some pages and handed them to his colleague, "It's like he's traveled to another universe; I've only heard about theories of multiverses, but this- this is more evidence than anything I've ever read..." Hank rambled on, as even Charles Xavier- telepathic mastermind- look on in shock.

Before anyone could say anything, the old computer screen buzzed and the image shifted. (Y/n)'s tired eyes widened as she sat on the edge of her seat. Even Kurt teleported closer in an effort to not miss a second of the developing situation. A lead guitar began to play, and the opening credits rolled...

The group we're unsure if it was the same show, as it looked completely different in style. But their doubts were cleared when that same woman showed up, slamming the door using some sort of powers.

"She's a mutant..." (Y/n) mumbled, as the others looked on in confusion. The opening continued to play on as more characters were shown - most of which they had never seen before. Then finally, a speedy friend appeared.

"As himself?" Scott added, reading the credits. (Y/n) stared at the title and mentally recorded it.

"It's like they're a family." Kurt noticed as Peter integrated himself so naturally with them. The pair of young boys started to monologue about halloween.

"Halloween? This just gets more and more confusing." Scott rubbed his forehead in bewilderment. Ororo stood beside them, barely comprehending what she was watching. She had previously offered to look after the students while the situation was being investigated, and that lost time had undoubtedly caused her to miss a lot of information.

"So Pete's on TV?" Storm questioned in a baffled tone. The silver haired fellow lay on a couch as the twin boys discussed him, and they referred to him as their uncle. "Okay, somebody needs to expla-" she began, but was cut off as Xavier placed a finger to his temple and transferred the information she had missed. Ororo gave a soft gasp, but ultimately was relieved to be filled in. Since the professor had learned about the situation from (Y/n), some of the grief in her mind was passed to Storm; so the loyal mutant placed a caring hand on her friend's shoulder in comfort.

Xavier chatted behind the group of young mutants who watched the show play out.

"She suggested that maybe Kurt could go in, I told her-" Hank whispered to his friend.

"That would be dangerous..." Charles finished his thought, "But dangerous doesn't mean impossible." the telepath looked towards the blue teleporter who stared at the computer screen.

"You can't be serious, Charles." Hank furrowed his thick brows and stared in disbelief.

"Kurt, (Y/n)," the professor called out, catching the pair's attention,

"Come with me."

-------

The small group trailed down the metallic hallway and approached the familiar doors to Cerebro. (Y/n) looked back at the room they had left, still hearing the distant sounds from the broadcast. Her mind travelled to what she was missing; was Peter still okay?

The circular door released and slid open, and the group followed Xavier's lead towards the machine at the end of the walkway. Kurt's tail wrapped around his leg in fear, as he fiddled nervously with his hands. Placing the silver helmet over his head, Charles nodded for the intellectual beast to flip the switch. Immediately, the room lit up and images of people flashed around. A million conversations ran through the professor's mind, but he was only searching for one person.

"Turn it up." Xavier requested as his eyebrows knit together in concentration. Reluctantly, Hank did as he said. Soon the voices faded and a only a muffled conversation echoed through the large room. "The whole way, Hank." the british man added.

"Charles that's too mu-"

"Do it!" Xavier demanded his face contorting with the amplification. (Y/n) gave a soft gasp as the voice grew clearer.

"I think mom and dad would've loved it."

Peter's words reverberated, as tears formed in (Y/n)'s eyes. Despite Cerebro being on full power, the only thing that Xavier could access was the detached audio of the mind he was connected to.

"Where were you hiding these kids up til now? I assume they were sleeping peacefully in their beds."

"Can you speak to him Charles?" Hank asked.

"Something's... Something's not right... It's too powerful to see..." Xavier stuttered out, trying not to loose his connection. Peter's voice continued, as the group wondered to who and what he was talking about.

"I'm not some stranger and I'm not your husband, you can talk to me."

"There's something... dark... clouding his mind." the powerful telepath explained, "but he's still in there, somewhere." he added. The group began to notice a purple hue clouding the entire room. The clearer Peter's disembodied voice became, the more the mysterious smoke descended. Kurt and (Y/n) stood back slightly, scared of what it could mean.

"Don't sweat it sis, it's not like your dead husband can die twice."

The sentence rang through their ears, before the whole room erupted in a blast of ruby red energy. It was exactly like the force that 'Wanda' had used earlier. Energy passed through the mutants, as images of terror entered their minds. Fragments of memories flashed; glowing stones, broken families, and piles of ashes.

Xavier groaned with pain, but he kept the connection despite the immense power that surged through his mind. (Y/n) grasped her head and panted heavily. The image of a young man lying cold, bleeding through bullet wounds, on a pile of rubble haunted her. She didn't know who it was, but he seemed familiar for some reason - and her heart broke at the sight of his lifeless form.

"He's slipping... I- I can't hold on..." Xavier cried out through gritted teeth, "I can't latch onto anyone!" the room filled with a booming static noise as the bald man searched though all the available minds in that reality. Hank writhed on the floor, clutching his ears with the horrible sound. Soon he gained the strength to pull a hand up towards the switch and slowly tune down the settings. The din faded, and the only noise that could be heard was the heavy breathing from the group that tried to recover from the experience.

"I didn't tell you to turn it off." Xavier pulled off Cerebro's helmet and placed it harshly on its holder.

"It would've killed you." Hank rebutted, standing on his feet.

"There was something forming, a gap in the reality, I could feel it!" Charles placed a hand on his forehead in frustration, "It's like all the minds were under some sort of deep control - but I could sense other ones... ones that were free."

"But what can we do about it!?" the beastly Professor retaliated, annoyed at his colleague.

"If I can find the free minds, I can see where they are; exactly where they are." Xavier began to ramble, "Then I can show Kurt, and you can get there." (Y/n)'s eyes grew wide at his suggestion. Even though she had considered it earlier, she now began to doubt her logic. If it were just her, then she wouldn't hesitate to risk her life for Peter - but she couldn't ask Kurt to do it too.

"Professor, what if... What if it doesn't work?" (Y/n) piped up, looking to the powerful telepath with concern plastered all over her face.

"We can't risk more of our lives, Kurt you don't have to do this." Hank tried to assure the German mutant.

"Nein." he responded, "Peter is my friend, I vill not leave him in danger. I vill do it." Kurt nodded his head as he stood confident in his decision. Despite the hatred that Kurt Wagner had received his whole life; he was always the most selfless person in the room. (Y/n) shot him a weak smile, thankful for his kindness.

"This isn't just about Peter. Somebody brought him there. Somebody, or something, has a power that could change everything we think we know." McCoy warned, trying to convince the group of the dangerous situation.

"Which is why we need to know more." (Y/n) interjected.

"I will be able to communicate with you, as long as you don't go under this person's control." Xavier explained, deep in thought. Hank looked at the trio, and finally gave a deep sigh.

"There's no talking to you people." he shook his head, "I'm sure travelling across the multiverse will be a cinch." his tone dripped with sarcasm as Charles placed Cerebro back on his head.

"Have a little faith, Hank." Xavier joked stiffly as he flipped the switch to the machine. McCoy reluctantly turned the power knob and soon the static noise returned, causing a grimace to appear on everyone's faces. The noise flickered as Xavier passed through more empty minds, searching for one that would work. The sensory overload build up in a crescendo, until everything stopped to a halt.

"Hello, Monica."

[the-evil-authoress]

GX Month Day 14: “Clock Tower Prison”

A man imprisoned by his destiny and hellbent on revenge. Seek justice today with the pro duelist vigilante Edo/Aster Phoenix!

I cycled through three different ideas before finally landing on this. Season three is what I know best.

Victoryshipping ahoy!

In which Zane is lonely and bad at coping, and Aster is very gay.

No seriously, this ain’t like Chazz day. This is 500 words of make out.

A part of Aster still thinks he should have expected this - been more careful, something - because he already knows Jaden never looks before he leaps and all his friends will chase after him. The rest of Aster is more concerned with surviving this nightmare until he can find a way home. Sartorius must be panicking by now.

Learning that duels aren’t just duels anymore had been the first challenge. ‘Sacred battles’ the monsters of this realm called them, where the rules of the game meant jack shit and participants fought for their very lives. Aster rubs his arm where he’d - thankfully - caught the broadside of a sword. It could have been a lot worse.

His nose slams into a broad back as Zane jerks to a halt in front of him. “Break lights would be nice,” Aster mumbles, rubbing his face as he peers around his travel companion - Zane is definitely not the first person Aster would have chosen to go on an interdimensional field trip with. A few meters ahead of them, some paces outside the gate to the fortress they’d been aiming to check out, sit for mounds of freshly turned dirt. A Duel Academy issue duel disk stands lodged into each one.

Oh.

Aster’s arm throbs, a very real reminder of his own mortality, as he and Zane wander closer. “These look like grave markers.” The calm of his voice surprises even himself as he bends down to inspect one of the disks. Perhaps he’s come face to face with death one too many times to get worked up over it.

Zane inhales sharply and Aster glances up in time to see the horror flash in his eyes before the man turns briskly away. “It doesn’t concern us. Let’s go.”

Yeah, Aster doesn’t believe that for a second. Zane sounded harsh, too harsh for someone who didn’t care. Anger always precedes another deeper emotion. Looking across the other three duel disks, Aster spies the blocky “10join!” sharpied between the dome and the back row activation buttons. He wonders which sibling was so unfortunate, or if they both were.

*

Aster notices things. He likes watching and analyzing and figuring out what makes people tick. It’s a great way to get under his opponent’s skin and throw them off balance; it’s a useful skill for interrogation. This is neither, but Aster still notices things. In fact, Zane makes it very hard not to notice things. The gap between them lessens with each passing day; Zane gradually sits closer and closer when the two of them make camp, until they eventually end up hip-to-hip and shoulder-to-shoulder. Aster doesn’t mind the closeness - he and Sartorius have had a skinskip going for years - but Hell freaking Kaiser is quite possibly the last person he ever thought he would participate in such intimacy with. Case in point, right now, in the dead of night, laying next to their campfire, Zane has his head on Aster’s chest.

Real talk, Zane isn’t unattractive and Aster is very, very gay. And getting frustrated. And he’s never really been the ‘wait around see’ type; he is very much the ‘act upon given information’ type, and Zane has given him plenty in actions alone over the past few weeks.

“Oi, Zane.” Aster taps the other duelist’s shoulder and waits for Zane to lift his head and look him in the eye. What happens next is pure impulse. Aster intends to question Zane about their current relationship, but somehow that signal gets scrambled on its way from his brain to his mouth, all he can think about is how much Zane’s eyes’s look like the ocean, and he ends up kissing Zane instead.

Sweet Destiny Heros, why?

Zane goes rigid against him, expression stiff with shock. Aster bites back a grimace. “Did I misread the room?”

Zane’s expression shifts minutely as emotions play across his face like some kind of internal debate between them. Whatever conclusion they come to, Zane relaxes against Aster once more. “No,” he says at length and kisses Aster back.

Zane is...rough, to put it mildly. This is by no means Aster’s first kiss - he did some experimenting during his time of self discovery - but this...this is intense. Zane brings the same ferocity from his duels, and Aster can’t even tell what their lips are even doing anymore; can’t even tell if he wants to know the details beyond the fact it makes his head feel fuzzy and light and tingly. His hands bury themselves in Zane’s hair - thick and coarse - as Zane shifts to kiss down Aster’s jaw and neck. Except it’s not really kissing anymore, there’s too much teeth.

“Ow! Stop biting!” Flinching, Aster tugs on Zane’s hair. With a small grunt, Zane smoothes the flat of his tongue over the offended skin and begins trailing soft, butterfly light kisses across Aster’s neck. Oh, that does funny things to Aster’s insides. Neck tingling, he arches and writhes, unsure if he wants to get away or get closer. Both? Ah, fuck-

With a tiny whine, he pulls Zane away from his neck to crush their lips together again in the confusing, intoxicating dance. Zane’s hands stroke down Aster’s sides and tease his hips through the fabric. Aster jerks, horrified by the tiny noise that gets muffled against Zane’s mouth.

“Stop pulling,” Zane murmurs, voice rough, and yet Aster recognizes it as a request rather than a demand. Still, he releases Zane’s hair to grab a fist full of black fabric, shaking with the electrifying feeling Zane’s touch sends across his skin.

And hand tugs his shirt from his waistband and Aster’s hand snaps down to grab Zane’s wrist. “Keep your pants on, Marufuji, I’m not legal yet.”

Zane snorts - Aster’s far too fried and tingly and wired to begin comprehending what the sounds means - but smooths his hand up Aster’s chest over the fabric regardless. Aster lets his hand drop to the ground as Zane fits his face snug against Aster’s neck and lies there, while Aster tries to regain control of his breathing. There is something insanely hot about having Zane’s full weight pressing Aster against the ground, but he wouldn’t be able to breathe like this for long.

“Hey.” He pushes Zane’s shoulder. “I need to breathe.”

Zane’s eyebrows furrow before he makes a soft sound and shifts his weight to the side, allowing Aster his first full breath since this...whatever this was began. One arm rests around Aster’s waist with Zane’s face still snug against Aster’s neck.

Idly tracing his fingers up and down Zane’s arm, Aster stares at a starless sky. His heart rate slows, his breath returns to normal, his skin stops tingling save for the ghost of Zane’s breath on his neck. Maybe one good thing came out of this crazy fieldtrip.

[ahgaseda]

phoenix | one

I’ll be the phoenix, leave it to me, we be flying, spread your wings behind your back, they call us phoenix, ride or die, ride or die...

summary : the clock is ticking as you recount your passionate affair with Jackson, the most wanted man in Shanghai, to the people trying desperately to catch him, but no one - including you - knows if he will risk his life to save yours.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, mentions of blood and violence, references to drug and alcohol use, graphic sexual content, self-destructive themes, potentially triggering elements involving kidnapping, arson, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

The chains rattled on the steel table. The cold cuffs wrapped around your wrists were anchored to the surface, looped through a bolt. You weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

It had been a quiet Thursday night. Nothing out of the ordinary to note. You left your apartment and went out for dinner. The steak was cooked just right. Your company of friends were lighthearted and buzzing from wine, but for once didn’t grill you about your relationship.

On the way home, you were ambushed. You put up a fight, of course, knowing all the while it was futile. The men had descended on you like thieves in the night and none of them were gentle.

Shoved into a chair and fastened to the table, you were read your rights, but by their tones, you had none. Five hours had passed since your less than legal arrest. The clock slipped past midnight a while ago. There was no telling when you would be reported missing, if at all.

Your closest friends knew you vanished from time to time. It was that good for nothing guy you dated, whisking you away to god knows where, they often jeered. Envy was ugly.

He was on your mind. He would notice your absence. Especially the empty space left in his bed.

The detective slapped a file in front of you, but the loud smack that echoed through the room did little to rouse you at this ungodly hour. He was middle-aged and the lines of his face were hard, furrowed. You wondered about the kind of people often in your current position. Gangsters, killers, and the like. You had done nothing to warrant the same treatment.

“Am I being charged with a crime?” you asked, poised and calm as you had been trained. You tossed the idea of trying to speak to them in their native tongue the moment you were booked. Your Mandarin was rudimentary and would likely get you into more trouble. “You have no right to hold me here, chained up like a criminal.”

He shot back, “You are at the center of a government investigation.”

Those words alone should have sent your heart somewhere to the pit of your stomach, but you knew better. All your life, you had been a law abiding citizen. But they treated you like you were wickedness personified.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” you replied, head held high. You dared not give them an inch. You couldn’t afford it.

He glanced at you over the rim of his glasses, eyes scathing. His reply was bitter, dripping with disdain, “Your lover has done plenty.”

You didn’t argue. It was abundantly clear you had no rights in this damned metal box. Lover; the word lingered in your mind a second or two. Yes, he was your lover. No man had loved you like him and no man ever would again.

Was he in love with you? Not even God knew the answer to that.

The detective finally took the seat across from you, in an attempt of appearing more diplomatic. His shouting and intimidation had gone nowhere.

“Tell me about your relationship with Jackson Wang.”

Your eyes fluttered. Just hearing his name made your heart spin. The boy owned you - mind, body and soul. Lacing your fingers together in front of you, you lied, “I don’t have one.”

The detective snorted. Then, he withdrew a photo from the file and placed it before you.

There you were in black and white, centered in a scope that for all you knew could have belonged to a sniper’s rifle, caught up in Jackson’s arms as he kissed you with abandon. Passion flowed freely from every inch of the photograph. It belonged on display in a gallery for twisted, ill-fated lovers.

You could still remember that day in the picture clearly, how it felt when he pushed you up against the window. The glass was frigid on your back, but did nothing to rival the heat of his body against yours.

Jackson always felt as if he carried the entirety of Hell inside him.

You lifted your gaze from the image at last and murmured, “A moment of weakness… a long time ago.”

The detective didn’t believe you for a second. He rifled through more pages in the file and fanned them out in front of you. “Phone records. Travel logs. Looks like you live in a constant moment of weakness,” he sneered. There was no doubt he resented having to share the same oxygen as you; a woman that willingly slept with the devil himself.

“I do,” you retorted, almost regretting the words when they left your tongue.

The detective raised his voice angrily, “Jackson Wang is singlehandedly running the underworld of Shanghai and is a major player in the open rebellion against the People’s Republic.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. One day you knew you would be confronted with what he was, what he had done. There were nights you lay awake, wondering if you slept in the arms of a murderer.

The detective tapped his finger on the table and the noise brought back your attention. His face was severe, red from stifling his rage. To him, you were a valuable pawn, but a pawn nonetheless. His ass was on the line. Perhaps you were the one and only chance he would get at piercing Jackson’s armor.

“I have no information to give,” you answered quietly. “I know nothing of that. Nothing.”

He had gathered that. From the months they had you under surveillance, you were never seen near any of Jackson’s businesses or his known safe houses. He went to great lengths to keep you at a distance from his work.

“Given the nature of his crimes and how viciously he runs his underlings, what would happen if we were to… leak that you were in here, singing like a canary?”

The first threat of the night. You knew it wouldn’t be the last.

You scoffed. He knows I would never betray him. It didn’t matter what Jackson did, you were loyal. Jackson had the ability to inspire loyalty in those close to him. He tolerated many, many things, but disloyalty was not one of them.

The detective lifted a brow, thinking your silence meant he had found an edge. “Have you seen what he does to his enemies?”

Your expression didn’t change. No, he made sure I never saw.

Jackson was ruthless when he took his pleasure from your body. Even more merciless when he buried his head between your thighs. You could only imagine how intensely he ran his underworld.

“Do you know nothing of what he is?” the detective exclaimed, incredulous.

He never wanted me to know, your thoughts wavered.

The world didn’t exist when you were with Jackson. Together, it was just you and him, and everyone else be damned. Every moment spent with him was a lifetime unto itself.

A spontaneous trip to Maldives. An impromptu midnight ride on his yacht in the harbor of Hong Kong. A weekend in South Korea spent locked away in a riverside cottage with only the birds to witness your sins.

Jackson had money. There was no denying that. But so did you. You had made a fortune in your line of work and from then on, no one could buy your attention or affection. Jackson was different. He didn’t shower you with designer clothes or heavy diamonds. He paid attention. Learned your interests and kept you on your toes. He understood you to be like some beautiful mystery in need of solving.

You bit your lip, tears pricking your eyes. You wanted Jackson, wanted to be safe in his arms, hidden against his chest. You loved him. God, you loved him with every fiber of your being. He had taught you how to live again. He showed you there was still a soul somewhere inside you.

Even if his own had been burned out of him.

Clearing your throat and pushing back your emotions, you asserted, “For your own safety, don’t show me anything and don’t leak that you have me in here against my will.”

The man before you bristled with wrath, jaw clenching. “For my own safety?”

You frowned. It was not your intention to anger him. You just needed to keep buying time.

The detective stood abruptly, knocking over his chair and shouting, “Is Jackson going to come for his whore?”

You winced, more so at the screeching sound of his chair scraping the ground than the unsavory words. You weren’t surprised that was how they saw you.

They had probably sent women to seduce Jackson before. Find a crack in his walls to exploit. They must have waited years for him to finally have someone he could love, someone to ultimately break him.

The detective began circling the room, like a vulture spiraling around its next meal. You weren’t afraid. There were laws in place for situations like these. At least, you hoped they still applied to you.

I have to get out, you thought. You steadied your breathing and remembered what you had been taught.

Being held captive was something you had rehearsed many times. Jackson tried to chase you off once. He didn’t want you to live in a constant state of danger because of what he was. Then, Jackson realized he had been waiting his whole life to find you - the person who completed him. And that’s when he started preparing you.

In fact, rehearsing being in police custody was one of your favorite roleplays.

You remembered being led into a tiny room, no larger than a closet. Bound to the only chair, Jackson had stormed in and treated you like a traitor. But you knew how soft he was for you, and how bad of a liar he was, and had seen through the ruse all too quickly.

Nevertheless, he wanted you to be ready for whatever the dirty cops would throw at you should the day come you were in their clutches.

“Baby, had I known you were going to tie me to a chair, I would have worn something a little more seductive,” you teased, licking your lips.

With your hands overlapped and cuffed behind your back, your shoulders were pressed to the top of the chair rather uncomfortably. Jackson skulked before you, not uttering a word. His face was shadowed, dark and menacing. All it did was turn you on.

With heat in your eyes, rather than look demure or nervous, you spread your legs.

Jackson let his gaze fall to your parted thighs, clad in black pantyhose. He had bought you the red bottom heels you were wearing and fuck, if they didn’t make your legs look longer. Without a word, he bent down before you, taking your ankle in hand and slipping off the shoe.

You watched in surprise as he tossed both shoes to the wall where they clattered loudly. No distractions, you mused, wanting to giggle.

Jackson saw your little smirk and fought a grin. You weren’t fooled by him in the least. He stalked across the room, coming to stand behind you with a hand gliding up your arm.

You shivered when his fingers found your neck.

“We have ways of making you talk, sweetheart,” he whispered darkly.

“Mm,” you hummed, breathing heavier as his hands stroked your jaw and throat. With every pass of the rough strokes of his palms, they moved further south. You sucked in a gulp of air when his fingers grasped the buttons of your blouse.

Glancing down, you watched him unfasten one button. Then another and another.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked softly, pulsing with adrenaline.

Jackson traced the pads of his fingers down the lines of your cleavage, which he already knew quite intimately, and grinned at the sight of your blood red bra. Also a gift he had bought for you. Perhaps you wore the matching panties beneath your skirt.

It went without saying that red was his color.

You shuddered when you felt his breath hot on your neck, lips brushing your ear. Your hair stood on end. Electricity prickled across your skin. His touches on your breasts were maddening, drawing senseless patterns that only served to stir a fire between your legs.

“I want you to say,” he replied venomously in your ear. “That you’re going to give me everything I want.”

You gulped, shifting in the chair. That voice was lethal, drawing you into a heady fog that almost made you forget the purpose of this roleplay in the first place. And his hands cupping your clothed breasts were even worse. Jackson had godlike hands. Long fingers. Bulging veins. Your mouth watered.

“I’m waiting,” he taunted, taking a patch of flesh on your neck between his teeth.

You quickly asked, “What is it that you want?”

Jackson squeezed your mounds, tugging down the cups of your crimson bra to expose your nipples, pinching them between his deft fingers. With how badly you squirmed on top of the chair, it was safe to say his hands alone were doing a number on you.

“Jack…,” you started, about to tap out. You needed him to soothe the ache he had created.

Jackson caressed your nipples with his thumbs, smirking at the way your chest rose and fell for breath. “Where is the money?” he growled, trying to sound vicious.

You shook your head in defiance. “I never cared about the money.”

Jackson flicked his tongue over the blemish he had made on your neck, one of his hands leaving your chest to wrap around your throat. His next question sounded more like an accusation, “Are you saying you don’t trade him your body for money?”

You snickered. “I give him my body because I love what he does with it,” you purred, snapping your jaws as if you were going to bite him in retaliation.

“Good girl,” Jackson said with a chuckle, thoroughly pleased with you.

You smiled victoriously. Whenever he said those two little words, you melted into his hands. The man could play your body like an instrument. He could draw the devil out of you like poison to dance with his own.

Jackson pressed a single chaste kiss to your temple. Then his thumb and forefinger gripped your neck, suddenly pressing to your blood flow. Your vision clouded and thrummed. The room began to fade. When you felt a hand dip between your legs and settle on your clothed sex, you knew you had passed the test and would get your reward.

You found yourself back in the present, crossing your legs beneath the steel table. It did you no good to think of Jackson and the power he had over your body. Always leaving you satisfied, shaking and screaming. He took pride in making a complete and utter mess of you, ruining you for anyone else.

The detective resumed his threats, but his voice faded into static. He offered to toss you in a cell and throw away the key. But in your mind, you were back in Jackson’s bed, naked save for his dress shirt as he told you what to expect.

“They’ll try to scare you into talking,” he said levelly, sporting only a towel around his waist after a hot shower. “If you flinch, they’ll escalate. Find your happy place and don’t give them an inch. Never let them know you’re afraid.”

You nodded, distracted by the fiery tattoo that covered the full expanse of his back. Jackson was a perpetual distraction.

“Then, they’ll switch it up. Offer you a deal. They may give you full immunity if you give me up,” Jackson continued, focusing on your face to see your reaction.

You rose to your knees, shuffling to the edge of the bed and grabbing him by the hips. Pulling him close, you pressed a kiss to his lips and crooned, “Ride or die, babe.”

Jackson rewarded you with another kiss, but pulled back the moment you tried to slip him your tongue. His expression turned grim. “Then, they might turn off the camera. Might start threatening you with pain.”

You shook your head. Being with him made you brave. “I’m not afraid of pain.”

Jackson cupped your cheek, stroking his thumb over your soft skin, and whispered, “I won’t be there to protect you, but I promise on my life… something bad will happen to them when they least expect it.”

“Just get me back to you, back to where I belong,” you told him impatiently, carding your fingers into his damp hair and teasing your tongue over his bottom lip before kissing him again. At the time, you wanted him to hush this line of conversation, wanted him to focus on the precious time spent together.

What you didn’t know was that the noose had been tightening and Jackson was setting things in motion.

For a moment, he indulged you, sucked eagerly at your tongue in his mouth and kneaded your hips in his broad hands.

Finally, he stopped you, cradling your face and staring intently into your eyes. “You need to know this,” he whispered in hushed tones. “The cops are dirty. Corrupt, every last one of them.”

You nodded your understanding and made sure never to forget it.

The door opened and you snapped out of your reverie, the detective joined by another officer that had been one of the men to participate in your violent arrest. He strode in forcefully, a phone you swiftly recognized as your own held in his hand. The device was hooked to a number of wires and receivers.

“Here, talk to your bitch,” he snapped harshly.

The officer grabbed a handful of your hair and shoved the phone to your ear.

You groaned at the stiff tug on your head and answered confusedly, “...Hello?”

“Baby,” was all Jackson said.

“I’m fine,” you spoke like a well-rehearsed robot, looking up to make eye contact with the man holding your hair in his fist. “They are treating me very well.”

The officer shouted loud enough for your lover to hear, “She’s being a very cooperative cunt, Mr. Wang.”

You bristled, practically feeling Jackson’s wrath through the phone.

“Baby girl, rest assured,” he hissed under his breath and you had never heard his voice devolve into such a growl. “They are all dead men.”

You flashed your teeth in a grin at the man gripping you so roughly and sang, “Yes, Daddy.”

The line clicked dead.

“Damn it,” the officer groaned, releasing you none too gently.

The door swung inward again, causing the man beside you to jump. Whoever had just entered was clearly a superior, because the others bowed deeply.

“Out,” said the stranger with little to no patience, dressed in a crisp charcoal suit.

You watched the two shuffle through the door, metaphorical tails tucked between their legs. It was a relief to be free of them. Though you now had a new enemy to confront.

The interrogator spoke your name in greeting, offered a warm and somewhat reassuring smile, and introduced himself, “I’m Park Jinyoung.”

“Korean,” you mulled in surprise. “What are you doing in Shanghai, Mr. Park?”

He looked barely Jackson’s age, but you already respected him more than the others because of his kind manners. He wasn’t here to play any violent games with you.

“I was about to ask you the same question, Mrs. Wang,” he retorted, pointing at the ring on your left hand.

“I’m not his wife,” you were quick to correct, overlapping your hands to hide the piece of jewelry. It was the most precious thing you owned. You sighed in relief when they hadn’t removed it during your arrest process.

Jinyoung approached and withdrew a key from his pocket, unfastening your cuffs. You caught a glimpse of the gun strapped to his hip and decided not to cross him. Once you were free, he sat down comfortably across from you, unfastening the button of his coat.

You murmured a small thank you and studied him carefully. He was a far different entity than the corrupt detectives.

“I apologize for the unsavory care that has been given to you in here,” Jinyoung said, seemingly genuine. “From what I understand, this is hour five for you.”

You nodded. “Spent the first hour being read my rights. The only word out of my mouth was lawyer. Then, no lawyer in sight, hour two they left me in here to sweat,” you told him as you rubbed your aching wrists. “I didn’t sweat.”

Jinyoung bobbed his head as you spoke, as if he was well aware of all that, adding, “And as I saw, he has already been in contact.”

You sighed. “Not long enough to get a trace.”

Given the officer’s reaction when Jackson hung up, you gathered that much.

Jinyoung smiled. He was almost amused. Opening his notebook to a blank page, he tapped his pen and said, “We both know they won’t get anything from you. You’re not going to crack.”

You tilted your head. “Are you interested in finding a way to break me, Mr. Park?”

Jinyoung was a master tactician, highly respected for his intellect. He had been watching from behind the tinted glass. Your behavior with him was a stark contrast than with the detectives. You had been trained. You were more at ease with him. Jinyoung realized he didn’t put any fear in you. And that was an advantage for him.

Jackson’s words echoed in your mind, “If someone comes in from the outside, a different agency or a different country, he or she will be the real deal. They will have been hunting me for a long time and will see you as a key to finally bringing me down.”

Jinyoung’s delayed response cut through your thoughts, “I’m more interested in how someone like you became involved in this. Level with me. How did you meet the one and only Jackson Wang?”

You shrugged. “Why do you care? It won’t help you find him.”

Jinyoung uncapped his pen, ready to write, and pressed, “Some girls are drawn to men like him. Men with violent, dangerous power.”

“I never knew about his powers,” you shot back vehemently. Was he implying you were insane for loving someone like Jackson?

“I’ve spent the greater portion of my professional career in a cat and mouse game with him,” Jinyoung confessed, trying to smooth your feathers. “Help me get to know him better.”

“You’re the mouse,” you smarted.

Jinyoung glanced up through hair straying into his eyes. With a smirk, he scribbled something at the top of his blank page and said, “Whenever you’re ready.”

You exhaled loudly.

The last of Jackson’s warnings rang in your ear. “If they’re the real deal, buy time. Get a feel for them. Figure out what it is they’re after and how they want to use you. And then, whatever you do, don’t give it to them.”

Glancing down at your nails, noticing one or two had broken in your scuffle during your shady, back alley arrest, you began, “I met him at some ritzy, overpriced hotel. It had been a shit day. Another board meeting of senior partners where no one gave a damn what I had to say. As long as our stocks came out unscathed, they didn’t care if the rest of the world was about to go to hell…”

You had been sitting at the bar, manicured nails drumming on the black marble. The bartender kept a steady flow of red wine coming your way and you sipped your glass in an attempt to clear your head of all its moral conscience.

It was a wonder you had lasted this long and you pondered how much longer you could keep going. You never imagined selling your soul to a corporation, playing with people’s lives. It had all just been numbers and math, at which you excelled, and then the corruption steadily seeped into you.

“Another crisis, Luke,” you told the bartender.

He tossed a cloth over his shoulder and retorted, “Another Tuesday, madame.”

You chortled and put the glass to your lips. “That’s the truth if I ever heard it,” you mumbled bitterly.

You saw the numbers. Numbers were your expertise. The market would crash. Much, much worse than before. Hard-working people would lose their retirements, their livelihoods. Some would never recover. Meanwhile, you and your bosses would roll in cash and the government would cut the banks a giant check to fix the disaster they had created.

Looking at your hands, you marveled how clean they looked for being so stained and filthy.

Luke glanced at the television overhead, where you had asked him to switch to the financial channel. The bell was chiming. The market had closed, deep in the red. No surprise there.

You glared at the screen. They had no idea what was coming tomorrow morning. People worked hard, but greed worked harder.

Luke turned to you, pointing at the coverage, and inquired curiously, “That kind of crisis?”

You tipped your glass toward him for more wine and nodded. “Now is the time to pull out.”

“My pull out game has never been good,” Luke quipped after topping off your drink.

You nearly spat your wine with laughter and your stomach ached. Fuck’s sake, when was the last time you laughed?

“Dammit, Luke. How am I supposed to cut in now?”

You angled to the man who had been seated a few stools down from you.

Luke held up his hands in defense, smirking with satisfaction.

The first thing you noticed about Jackson Wang was his smile. It was warm, undeniably playful, yet something about it put you at ease. Most men in your field had smiles that warned of danger or bad intentions.

Your eyes met and Jackson could see right off the bat you were unimpressed. It had been a rough day and you were in no mood to flirt. So Jackson decided to finesse, which luckily was his specialty.

Turning back to your wine and tasting it on your tongue, you tried not to steal another glance or two at the handsome man at the bar.

“Should I unload my portfolio?” Jackson asked, wanting your attention.

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye and feigned disinterest, “What’s your pleasure?”

He cocked his head and joked, “I’m surprisingly vanilla.”

You rolled your eyes and deadpanned, “In stocks.”

Jackson recognized that icy tone of a woman who did not have a single fuck to give him and knew he would need to melt you a little. You had caught his eye at the bar, but beautiful women were a commodity in his line of work.

At first he dismissed your glowing skin beneath the bar lights and your big beautiful eyes glistening with unshed tears. You almost hooked him with that tight black dress and the way it hugged your every curve. And your legs, hot damn, keeping his eyes off of those had been even harder.

Then, he heard you speak. You talked with intellect and eloquence, and he was ready to hire you to narrate the rest of his life. He realized you may have some intelligence in that pretty head of yours and that snared his attention.

Because Jackson had learned long ago he was very, very easily bored. And the vapid nonsense that came out of the mouths of the girls he tended to attract with his money just didn’t cut it for him anymore.

The pursuit was on.

“Mostly gold, some silver. A few auto brands,” he replied, attempting to sound humble.

You answered expertly, “Gold and silver will bounce back in the long run. They always do. Some auto manufacturers may not survive, but just the American ones are at risk. And more than likely Uncle Sam will bail them out like last time.”

Jackson winced, but it was for effect. “Bye-bye, Cadillac.”

You chuckled.

Jackson sobered a little, frowning at the television. “Another crash, huh?”

“You didn’t hear it from me,” you whispered under your breath, sipping your wine and knowing every time you opened your mouth, you jeopardized your entire company.

In the morning, when the opening bell rang, your firm would unload all of its dirty, worthless stock to unsuspecting buyers, and the market would collapse like clockwork.

Numbers didn’t lie.

“I trust your expertise,” Jackson flirted, voice like silk.

You gave him a sideways glance, not convinced. More than likely he was just trying to get into your pants. “Most men get turned off when I speak with expertise in my field,” you said, running a hand through your hair.

Jackson shook his head and retorted, “I’m not most men.”

You giggled; how predictable. “That’s what they all say.”

But you knew now that he was right.

As the conversation went on, Jackson moved closer and closer. By the time he sat at your side, his presence was a welcome one. After another glass of wine, you started leaning into him.

You talked about everything. Topics shifted from the market to the weather to international travel and finally to your favorite subject, good food. You were never one for small talk. In fact, you hated it. But Jackson spoke like he could match your rhythm.

He didn’t shy away from more complicated discussions. He didn’t bat an eye when you challenged his opinions. He could keep up with a little verbal sparring and seemed to enjoy it as much as you did. And he never tried to dumb you down like so many men before him.

Finally, after you didn’t back away when he moved dangerously close to you, Jackson cut to the chase and teased, “Don’t act like you’re not feeling me.”

You laughed, but there was no weight behind it.

Jackson shuffled closer and murmured, “I see you.”

You blinked up at him innocently. “What do you see?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I can’t explain it, but I could try if you wanted me to.”

It had been a long time since you indulged a man to sweet talk you or romance you or even get you into bed with him. You had given up on the opposite sex not long after you began ascending the ladder at work and learned the vast majority of them were threatened by your success.

Jackson was not the least bit intimidated by you. At this point, he was a goddamn unicorn.

“Explain it to me,” you whispered slyly, realizing his lips were mere inches from yours.

Jackson moved even closer and whispered for your ears only, “You’re gravity. You’re a magnet. I can’t stop getting closer.”

You lowered your head, hiding the heat quickly rising behind your cheeks.

Jackson slipped his fingers beneath your chin and tilted you back up to meet his unwavering eyes.

It was the first time he touched you.

“I want you,” he said, a low rumble of a growl in his throat.

Your eyes flickered, faltering under how intensely he looked at you. You wanted desperately to hide how badly his words and voice affected you, and you sneered, “Does that line work?” You had to keep him on his toes in this little dance. You weren’t ready to surrender yet.

Jackson wasn’t going to let you have the upper hand anymore. He knew you were what he wanted and he was coming in for the kill. “You tell me,” he spoke, more aggressive. “You’re the first woman to hear that from me.”

You pouted when his fingers slipped from your chin, satisfied he had made his point. “You’re smooth,” came your reply, a little hesitant from the tension. “I’ll give you that.”

Jackson slouched comfortably on his bar stool and said, “I’ve flashed the watch, the rings. Most girls get very friendly once they’ve seen sparkly rocks.”

You clicked your tongue and snorted. “If you only knew how much money I make.”

Jackson tried another approach. “So I can’t buy your affections?”

With a shake of your head, you crooned, “Sadly, not for sale.”

“Fine,” Jackson said, noncommittal and rather abrupt.

You panicked. It sounded like he was about to throw in the towel. Your heart began to beat a little faster against your ribs.

Jackson gulped what was left of his drink and set the glass back down loudly on the bar. Adjusting his tie, Jackson rose to his feet and peered down at you, whispering, “Tell me you’re not feeling me and I’ll go. And you’ll never have to see me again.”

That was not a welcome thought.

At your silence, Jackson pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and handed it to Luke. “Mine and the lady’s tabs, pal,” he said, driving the last nail into the coffin.

You reached out and grabbed his sleeve without hesitation, gazing up at him with naive eyes. You had no idea then what you were getting yourself into.

“Don’t…,” you whispered bashfully, cheeks flushing again.

Jackson moved back to your side, a victorious smile on his face.

You saw his grin and chuckled, realizing you’d been beaten in the game.

Jackson cupped your cheek and leaned in with confidence, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

Your lashes fluttered. He smelled good, ridiculously good. You wanted to bury your face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in.

Jackson resisted the urge to slip his hands in your hair and kiss you like he really wanted. Your skin was soft; so soft he wanted to trace his lips over every inch of you and write his name with his tongue across your body.

You managed to hold onto some semblance of self-control throughout the elevator ride. The tension was thick. The air was heavy. No words passed between either of you. And you stood at opposite corners of the elevator.

Jackson led you down the hallway, your hand tucked inside his. The moment he stopped at door 309, the two of you were on each other.

“You’ve got some nerve getting me turned on like this,” you teased, panting softly.

Jackson’s lips were on your neck, his arms around your waist. He crushed you between his body and the wall, and you couldn’t be happier. After that comment, he pulled back to look into your eyes and smirked, nipping at your lips.

You took his face in your hands and smashed your lips on his. It went without saying that you really liked kissing Jackson. It was all you wanted to do for the foreseeable future. He tasted of liquor and really bad choices.

Jackson wedged a knee between your thighs and made room for his hips to fit between. You moaned into his mouth, tempted to lock your ankles behind his back, but rather conflicted about it. Were you going to hook up with him? Your first thought was an emphatic yes.

Your hands roamed over his shoulders and back, feeling taut muscles underneath his expensive suit. He was hard like iron, thick thighs bracing you against the wall. His hands wandered too, exploring your body, finally able to touch those curves.

Despite his hold on you and your tongue down his throat, Jackson managed to pull the keycard from his back pocket and swipe it over the panel. You heard the familiar beep of the hotel door unlocking, followed by Jackson pushing it open.

Mumbling against his mouth, you grabbed his wrist and pulled, blurting, “We can’t.”

“What…,” Jackson exclaimed, his lips red. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, letting your head fall back against the wall in defeat. “If I go in there, we’re gonna fuck.”

The words alone made a certain something twitch in his pants. Jackson fought a chuckle and gave you a glance over. You were already disheveled and breathless, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. “Is that so?” he taunted, expression full of boyish energy.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, still at war with yourself. Then, you leaned into his chest and collided your lips back to his.

Jackson smiled against your mouth, tightening his arm around your waist and meeting the rush of your kisses. He took them to mean you changed your mind and swiped the key card again.

Hearing the chime of the door, you grabbed the lapel of his suit with both hands and broke away. “No, we can’t.”

Jackson laughed, amused by you. “Okay. Okay,” he relented.

“Sorry, but…,” you trailed, still trapped in his arms. “I’ve never fucked anyone I just met.”

“Me neither,” he replied softly.

You cocked a brow. No one gave a damn if men had sex with every human that passed their sight. For that reason, you were inclined to believe him.

Jackson pulled the door closed and pressed the sweetest of kisses to your lips. When he stopped, your eyes fluttered open and you peered up at him.

“Gravity,” was all he said, chuckling to himself.

Yeah, you felt it, too.

Running your fingers into his hair and tugging gently, you ordered, “Keep kissing me.”

Jackson didn’t need to be told twice.

The rushed, hurried kisses were over. Now that the two of you weren’t sprinting to the bedroom, you could focus on how your tongues danced in each other’s mouths. Jackson stroked a hand down your thigh and hooked your leg over his hip, needing to be as close as humanly possible to you.

When his lips moved back to your neck, you rolled your eyes and the catch in your breath almost sent him to his knees.

“Can I take you to breakfast in the morning?” he asked between kisses.

“Yes,” you replied, fingers pressed to his shoulders.

Jackson proceeded to suck a mark of possession beneath your ear. “And dinner tomorrow evening?”

You were out of your mind, insane with lust and desire. Sweat was beginning to gather beneath your dress, courtesy of the fire burning inside him. “Absolutely.”

Jackson licked the bruise he was making, tasting your skin. “How about the day after that?”

You groaned in frustration. He was making it fucking impossible. “And the day after that. Just don’t stop kissing me,” you whined, bringing his face back to yours for another kiss.

You blinked your eyes rapidly, dismayed to find you weren’t in Jackson’s arms, but still caged inside the grey room. Grasping the ring on your left hand, you spun it around - a nervous tick, but it was vaguely comforting. The ring had been a gift on your first anniversary. Inscribed along the inside of the band were the words, never stop kissing me.

It was the closest Jackson had ever come to confessing his love for you. Slipping the ring on your finger, the finger generally reserved for wedding vows, Jackson had said, “So every man knows you’re spoken for.”

Jinyoung let his gaze fall from your face to your hands, noting how you turned the gold band around your finger to soothe yourself. It was human nature, to cling to something sentimental when under duress.

You noticed where his eyes had fallen and quickly covered your hand. His expression was one of scrutiny and belied interest, and you deflected, “Alright, I told you how we met. Makeout session included. Tell me what you hope to get from that.”

Jinyoung replied without hesitation, “I want to catch him. I want to put him away forever.”

A bitter taste filled your mouth. “I will never help you do that.”

“You already are.”

You blinked.

Jinyoung leaned back in his chair, at ease when he explained, “I can keep you here indefinitely. We wait for him to crawl out of his hole.”

You shook your head vehemently. “He won’t.”

“He won’t trade his life for yours,” Jinyoung questioned, seemingly shocked.

“He…,” you paused with indecision. “I don’t know.”

The cold, hard truth was, you didn’t. There was a part of Jackson’s life he never shared with you. The life that was centered around his powers.

But you knew Jackson took great pride in what he had built. He came from nothing, was told his whole life he would never amount to anything, and he had destroyed all the odds stacked against him. He not only beat the game, he changed it forever.

“You’re in here, ready to give up everything for him,” Jinyoung’s voice faded into the background.

“Am I?” you questioned, lost in your memories.

The first time Jackson made love to you, he revealed himself to you and said something that was burned into your mind forever. The two of you were naked, exposed and vulnerable to the other. So many little nothings had been spoken while endless promises and vows were written into each other’s skin.

Then, in a moment of stillness, Jackson cradled your face and drowned himself in your eyes. He called your name and you stared up at him, hinged on his every word.

“Do you know what they say,” he breathed, chest heaving. “About playing with fire?”

“Are you going to burn me?” you asked him innocently.

“I burn everything I touch,” Jackson told you, filling with sadness. “And only I survive.”

“I’ll be your Phoenix then,” you whispered, bringing your fingers to rake teasingly down his back over the tattoo of the immortal firebird inked into his skin.

Jackson smiled and shifted on top of you to take you again. “You are the closest I will ever get to heaven…”

And you watched in disbelief as the dark brown of his irises turned to scorching red.

Jinyoung called your name. He knew you were somewhere far away in your head.

You blinked through oncoming tears.

“Do you know what he is? Do you have any idea what he’s done? Do you even know what they call him?”

You heard the rumors and read the headlines, just like everyone else. He wasn’t the only one; these men with strange powers. Some said they were harbingers of the end times.

“The Phoenix,” you interjected.

Jinyoung frowned in contempt.

“Because he burns everything and everyone in his path,” you finally confessed. Whatever gets in his way.

“One day, he’ll raze cities to the ground.” Jinyoung’s tongue was a razor. “Did you think you wouldn’t get burned?”

I asked for it, you admitted to yourself. I fell in love with the villain.

Reaching down to pick up the photo still on the table of you swept up in Jackson’s arms, you sighed in acceptance of fate, “Moth to the flame.”

Somewhere out in the night, as Shanghai finally drifted to sleep, Jackson sat in the backseat of his tinted car, gripping the phone so tight he was sure it would snap at any minute.

There would be hell to pay for those that had taken you. Jackson already identified each of them. But in the meantime, he could only sit and think. Getting revenge was easy. Getting you back was considerably harder.

He had to stay ahead of the game. They took you for a purpose. You wouldn’t roll on him, Jackson was sure of that. You would never give them the satisfaction. But they would try to use you as leverage and Jackson couldn’t risk everything he had built. It would make the entire city fall down on top of him.

If he tried to rescue you, then the whole world would know he had a weakness and you would never be safe again for as long as you lived. If he didn’t, then the corrupt cops could put you in the hands of enemies that were much worse to make a bloody example of you.

Jackson grit his teeth. He knew this day would come, when he would finally have to confront his feelings for you. He swore to never let his heart out of its cage, but it had escaped and fled to the palm of your hand. There was a reason he never told you he loved you.

He couldn’t admit it to himself. Love was meant only for humans.

“What do I fucking do?” he cried out in his mother tongue, wringing his hands before hiding his face behind them. He needed you in his arms, needed to hold you again.

But he would lose everything.

The phone chimed and Jackson opened the text.

Call it off. Or she drowns first.

Jackson shook with rage and opened his hand, irises turning crimson as flames appeared on his palm. Then, he closed his fist, snuffing them out.

next chapter →

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[animeyanderelover]

Can you write number 20 to Pluto

Again the demon hound😏. I decided to make reader-Chan in here a witch because I felt like it. Hope you still enjoy!

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, clinginess, Yandere being hurt

Prompt 20: “If you leave me, I’ll die!”

“Pluto! It’s only for a few days! It isn’t like I’m gone forever, but you need to understand that I can’t bring you with me! That’s why I did this!” Reasoning with a demon hound wasn’t the most logical decision you realized. But how else could you try to make him understand? You needed to visit your family in town for a few days since your mother was very sick and your father needed help with all the magical stuff in the house. Your father was a normal human whilst your mother was a witch, an unusual couple in the world of magical creatures, but your kind was for that case opener than some others, for example angels or demons. You had of course some magic cursing through your veins and your mother had teached you personally on how to use it and you were proud to say that even though you were only a half-witch you were very talented with all of this. When you had been old enough to move out you had decided to buy a small cottage in the forest where you could be in nature so that you would be able to get all the things you needed for your spells. Some of them weren’t easy to find in town. You were very happy to see your parents again because it had been quite some time since you’ve seen them. You had to tell them so much.

But you were still arguing with yourself if you should tell them about your new “pet” or not. It wasn’t unusual for witches and witchers to keep a magical pet. When you had been younger you had wanted one too, but since you were living in town this had been impossible. You had heard stories from people who had unicorns, pegasus, phoenixes and even small dragons. But you had never heard of a magican keeping a demon hound as a pet. To be completely honest it wasn’t really legal to keep one. The reason was a very simple one. Different from other animals demon hounds were harder to control and tame and couldn’t control their shift from their human and animal form. Demon hounds were a often discussed theme under your kind because there were often arguments over whether they were magical beasts like dragons or counted to the magical community. The magical community was the generic term for all magical creatures who possessed some form of human traits. Demons, grim reapers, nagas, this kind of creatures. But all of this creatures also possessed the trait to have a more aware mindset whilst demon hounds acted more based on their animalistic instincts. But you could confirm since you’ve spent the last few months with a demon hound that they possessed intelligence as well because you had noticed that Pluto had often tried to form some sentences and even though his words were said in a mix of speaking and barking you were able to pick some words out of it. He wasn’t able to speak fluently like you, but it was a beginning.

You had found Pluto whilst the attack on London, being able to save you from the flames with the help of your magic and had tried to locate the source of the attack. Like this you had found him. You still remembered the moment you had witnessed this majestic creature being shot up by some humans. You had instantly hurried over to him, feeling shocked by all the wounds that the humans had caused him. But he had still been alive. You had been able to pick up his faint heartbeat and in that moment he had suddenly opened his eyes and locked his gaze with yours. For a moment both of you had just stared at each other, the only noises around you being the screams of the dying people and the crackling of the fire. You had been overwhelmed with emotions that moment. Some from your kind looked down on demon hounds, saying that they were just savages and that was it. But in that moment you didn’t see some savage animal, you saw an equal being who had begged you with his eyes to help him, fearing death. That had been the reason why you had taken him with you, using a teleportation spell to quickly leave the burning city and had taken him in your house, determined to save him and fix him back to normal.

But you had forgotten how quickly demon hounds got attached to a person. Originally you had planned to keep him until he was healthy again, but when you had tried to send him back into nature he had just clinged to your hips, whimpering and whining, making it clear that he wanted to stay with you. No matter what you had tried, he hadn’t left you and when you had gone as far as putting a shield in front of your house so he couldn’t come in anymore he had gone wild and had nearly burned down the whole area around your house. Only when you had rushed to him and had yelled his name he had stopped, immediately jumping on you and licking your face. That’s when you had decided to take him permanently in to prevent him from burning everything and gaining attention from humans. Since then Pluto had been living with you and it had been... Let’s say it was a new experience for you to have a demon hound as your roommate. You had created an own room for Pluto, but this guy refused to leave your side and when you had locked the door to your bedroom up he had just broken in, quickly jumping besides you and cuddling you. You had nearly freaked out. That had happened every night since then and it was by now pretty common that you often woke up at night with him licking all over your face. Another fact that had been a bit awkward for you had been that he always walked around naked and at one point you had forced him to wear something. At least some trousers because even though you had seen some stuff that other people wouldn’t handle very well, this was even for you too embarrassing.

But now you needed to leave him for a few days and you could only imagine how terrible this must be for Pluto. To ensure that he wouldn’t follow you, you had given him a special collar to prevent him from transforming into a demon hound and had put the shield once again around your house with the only person being able to pass through the barrier being you. This should ensure that he wouldn’t leave the area around your house and wouldn’t burn anything down. You really hated to do this, but Pluto gave you no other choice. You couldn’t take him with you, his behavior would be too suspicious and you also feared that he would hunt down every male and female who he thought of as competition or a threat. You couldn’t take that risk. Not only were you scared of risking the secret of the magical world, you were also scared of what would happen to Pluto if the so called “rulers” of your kind would do to Pluto if they would hear from this. They would definitely take him away from you and that was something you refused to let happen. You hadn’t gotten that attached to him like he to you, but you still saw him as a friend of yours. “Please Pluto! I need to pack my things because my train leaves in only a bit more than an hour and I still need to pack my things!” You could have actually traveled with magic, but your father had asked you to travel with the train. Your father wasn’t too keen on magic and preferred it if you used more human ways of traveling, simply because your mother had told him once that if a teleportation spell isn’t done right limbs of the person can break or even being completely ripped off. So it was basically your mum’s fault. Why did she even tell him this?

When you had told Pluto about the news that you would leave him for a few days he hadn’t reacted very well. He had immediately jumped on you, tackling you to the ground whilst whining loudly, making it clear that he wasn’t happy at all that you were going to leave him and it had taken you a little fight until you had managed to put the collar on him. But when you had tried to leave the kitchen he had wrapped his arms around your legs, preventing you from moving any further. “Pluto! If you don’t let go of me in the next few seconds I’ll use a spell on you!” Pluto seemed shocked by this and you were surprised that you had yelled this at him as well. In all the 9 months since you had taken him in your house you had never used a spell on him, but today he had been really testing your patience. One glance at the clock told you that exactly 57 minutes reminded until your train would leave. You really needed to hurry. You gave Pluto a sharp glare and lifted your finger warningly, your magic starting to seep out from it as a shining, purple fog. “Pluto.” Your voice had a warning tone in it and slowly Pluto let go, tears streaming down his face. You sighed relieved and wanted to storm upstairs to finally pack your things.

“If you leave me, I’ll die!” You nearly slipped on your way up the stairs, barely managing to grab the railing to prevent your face from greeting the stairs. For a moment you just stood there completely frozen, not able to quite progress what had just happened. You slowly turned around, looking with huge eyes at Pluto who was still sitting at the end of the stairs. He looked with a begging look in his eyes, tears still dripping down his face and whimpered slightly. Had he just...spoken a full sentence? You knew that Pluto was able to speak the one or another word, but you had never witnessed him to speak a full sentence. You just stood there for a few moments, not knowing what to say. But another short glance at the clock quickly pulled you out of your paralyzed state. Only 50 minutes left! The time was ticking away! You decided to use magic to get everything done faster, but your mind was by Pluto the whole time, his first full sentence he had ever spoken to you repeating itself in your head. Had he been so desperate that his brain had resorted to your language since you didn’t seem to listen to his whining? You would worry later about that. Whilst you stormed down the stairs and passed Pluto you yelled a quick goodbye and explained to him that you had used a spell that would serve him food and drinks every few hours. You didn’t dare to look back, knowing full well that his face would make you feel unbelievably guilty. But his heartbroken howl when you left the house was honestly already enough to make your heart tighten painfully. “I’m sorry to leave you Pluto. I promise I’ll make it up to you...”

[fenandfield]

the breath i’ve taken and the one i must (to go on)

Chapter: 1

Word count: 2120

Summary: Miles’ eyes watered as the colours around him swirled together and his chest burned with fire at its center. Coughing, he cursed at himself as he rolled onto his back with the taste of copper on his tongue.

It wasn’t Wright who had been poisoned… no, it was him.

(Story, authors notes, and link to read on ao3 will be under the line)

“So, I’ll see you in the morning then?” Phoenix yawned, stretching far enough backwards Miles momentarily feared he would fall out of his seat.

He hid his smirk of amusement behind a strand of his shaggy bangs as he uncrossed his legs and stood as his partner rose as well. “Of course. I’ve arranged for the good detective to meet us at the forensics lab at nine a.m sharp.” He raised an eyebrow at the other man as Phoenix struggled to find the sleeve hole of his overcoat, barely concealing his exhaustion behind dark rimmed eyes.

Miles could sympathize. This case was really taking its tolls on all of them.

“You will be there, won’t you?” Miles pressed, testing to see if Wright had actually been listening to him.

Phoenix patted down his coat pockets, nodding lazily as he went. “Uh, huh. Yep, ten-“

“Nine.”

“Nine sharp, I’ve got it, I’ve got it.”

Miles shook his head as he chuckled lightly. Turning slightly, he grabbed the black briefcase full of evidence off of his desk and passed it to the shorter man. “Take this. Somehow I doubt it should remain in one place for long.”

Their fingers brushed as Phoenix grasped the handle with a solemn nod. Both men knew the severity of the situation and its potential consequences of involvement.

It was no understatement to call the current case they were grappling, huge. A lot of people had gone missing when attempting to look into the very same matters enclosed in the briefcase, and many had even turned up dead.

Lies. Blackmail. Murder.

Deceit of all kinds.

They knew the risks they were taking, and yet the quest for truth prevailed. Together, they would dissolve the darkness and solve the heavy weight of the mystery that fogged in front of them.

“Now, it’s getting late, and you need rest.”

Phoenix flopped a hand in the air with a chuff. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get going, and I won’t forget to tip the doorman this time.” He turned on his heel, a smile gracing his face as he made his way out of Edgeworths luxurious living space, Miles loosely following.

“You rich people,” Wright hollered from the entryway, “I swear, there’s a glaring contradiction between our salaries!”

Miles sighed and hung his head, fighting the tugging feeling on the corners of his lips. “Go home, Phoenix.”

A very smug mock salute was thrown his way and a moment later Miles heard the main door shut.

Phoenix Wright was gone.

Good.

Miles wandered into his kitchen and decided to make himself a quick cup of tea. He had a feeling he would be awake for a while yet. In truth, it was more so ‘good’ that the briefcase was gone, rather than his childhood friend.

The evidence they had collected thus far had been rather… convincing for lack of a better word, and it had remained in his possession for a portion of time longer than he would care to admit.

Damn, he was getting reckless these days.

Miles slid open his kitchen drawer that contained his tea leaves and grabbed the tin that sat on top.

He felt guilty about having to send his friend out into the cold night, but for the sake of the case it was ultimately better that way. Normally, when work nights with Wright became late, he would simply offer his spare bedroom (if Phoenix hadn’t already passed out on the sofa). Yes, the mornings were slightly awkward, but the more often they occurred, the less formal they became.

It was… it was nice.

As he mused his water boiled and with steady hands he poured his tea.

Earl grey was slightly sweet tonight.

Miles loosened his cravat as he carried his drink over to his desk and leaned against it, sorting through his papers and sipping carefully at the hot liquid. Yes, the briefcase would be safe with Wright for the night. Hopefully the man would have enough sense to keep its contents under close supervision whilst it remained in his care.

And it shouldn’t be there long either. Not long enough to ripple the waters of dangerous territory. At least, that’s what he hoped.

Because if anything were to happen, well… Miles would never forgive himself.

His phone rang.

“Edgeworth here.” He ground out upon answering the call, unbothered by the private number.

Silence met him.

Miles frowned and tilted his head backwards to check at the clock hanging on the wall. It was nearly midnight. Clients who had his personal cell phone number didn’t usually call this late unless it was extremely urgent. If this were some sort of prank Miles would be nothing short of thoroughly ticked off.

“I dare say, if you have nothing to speak of then I will be ending this call promptly,” Miles ground as he set his tea cup down on the desk with an oddly shaking hand.

More silence followed and Miles rolled his eyes, ready to hang up.

And then.

A voice.

“I have evidence.” The voice was male, that was unmistakable. Other than that fact, Miles found it to be unrecognizable.

He had to swallow before he could speak, “I hope that you know that I am a prosecutor and not the police, if you have evidence regarding a case I suggest you offer it to them.”

“My testimony is something you’ll want to hear firsthand.”

He raised his eyebrows, “And why’s that?”

“Because, Miles Edgeworth, this will be the only chance you’ll have to hear it.” Miles narrowed his eyes at the statement. “I doubt a death threat will sway you, so, if you don’t want your friend Phoenix Wright to suffer more than he will, I suggest you hear me out.”

Despite the building burning sensation behind his forehead, Miles felt his blood run cold. Anyone but Wright.

The man laughed. “I’ll take your silence as an invitation to continue... You two bothersome lawyers have been collecting quite a lot of evidence against a certain corporation have you not?”

Miles’ heart was thumping wildly in his chest though he felt no surge of panic in his veins that could attribute to the cause. He was calm despite the thunder behind his ribs. Silently, he began recording the conversation.

“This is about KersTech, isn’t it…” He tried to growl but found his usually threatening demeanour rather lacklustre.

What was wrong with him?

“...correct.”

His phone beeped loudly in his ear, causing him to pull away and blink several times to clear his vision enough to read the information. Another call on the line.

Detective Gumshoe.

Out of instinct he made to switch lines.

“Answer that call and your friend gets hurt.”

Miles was frozen as the phone beeped again. He could fix this mess, he could solve this whole case if he answered the phone and talked to Gumshoe.

But, Phoenix…

He declined the call.

“Testimony…” He took the last of his tea in a mad swallow to quench his swiftly drying throat. “...now.”

“My, my, what a rush you’re in. Almost like you’re just dying to hear...” The man paused to laugh again. Miles ground his teeth at the sound. “It would seem… that I saw someone breaking into your apartment earlier this afternoon.”

He felt his face go slack, “What-“

“Yes, yes, I distinctly remember them replacing some things in the kitchen with something much more… deadly.”

No.

Miles was on his feet in a flash but his limbs were heavy and uncoordinated and he stumbled across the room, colliding with the wall and using its support to hold himself up as he scrambled to get to the kitchen, almost dropping his cellphone in the process.

“It would seem that in reality it was of course, <em>I</em> who did this but who will be none the wiser when I tell the court that it was a dark haired man in a blue suit who did it.”

Miles pulled open every drawer, every cabinet he came across, blindly tossing things aside after checking for signs of tampering and simultaneously wracking his brain to remember if Wright had eaten or drank anything while he’d been over.

He couldn’t… couldn’t remember- couldn’t think…

He couldn’t breathe.

“Where- what… what did he take… what did you give him?”

“Oh you fool.”

His world began to spin and his knees suddenly cracked sharply against the tile floor. His wrist bent awkwardly as he attempted to brace his fall, barely preventing his face from making violent contact.

Miles’ eyes watered as the colours around him swirled together and his chest burned with fire at its center. Coughing, he cursed at himself as he rolled onto his back with the taste of copper on his tongue.

It wasn’t Wright who had been poisoned… no, it was him.

Someone was laughing, heartless and cruel.

“Why…” he snarled weakly, “...are you.. t-telling me… th-this?”

“Well because… you’ll be dead in a matter of minutes, and I quite enjoy the sound of suffering.”

Harsh banging abruptly echoed from the hallway, panicked shouting accompanying it. Miles recognized the voice immediately.

“...Phoenix?”

“Now drink up. I’ll be along in a little while to clean up the mess.”

The pounding grew louder and Miles turned away from the cellphone laying limp in his palm to face the racket. His body was on fire as it spasmed and twitched and refused to obey his commands and he whined in misery.

“Edgeworth, please!”

His lungs heaved and stuttered.

“Miles, p-please! Open up…”

His back arched away from the floor as he coughed and choked on the pooling liquid in his throat. That voice… could it really be?

One final burst of noise ensued and the frantic sound of multiple pairs of running feet followed suit.

“Miles!”

Miles was utterly speechless as none other than Phoenix Wright came sprinting into his kitchen, Detective Gumshoe hot on his heels.

“Shit, n-no Miles…” Phoenix dropped to his side, motions so swift Miles couldn’t keep up with him. He didn’t even have time to protest as Wright pulled him into his lap, propping his heavy head in the crook of his elbow.

“Where the hell are those medics, Gumshoe?!” God, Wright sounded utterly terrified.

“Should be here any minute pal.”

Miles gasped at the abrupt change in position, trembling limbs uncoordinated as Phoenix gathered them close.

“Phoe… nick…” Miles struggled for words as something warm spilled from his lips, something that made Wrights eyes widen horrifically. If he was going to die here and now there were things they needed to know. “L-leaves…”

Phoenix placed a gentle hand on the side of his face. “What?” He croaked. “Leaves?”

“Did he say leaves?” That was Gumshoe.

“Yes, he said ‘leaves’.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Miles would’ve rolled his eyes if he wasn’t currently dying from a dose of a mystery poison. Of course, his two closest friends were the most incompetent fools on the planet.

“Po-poison… leaves…”

Gumshoes brow furrowed. “He ate poisonous leaves?”

Phoenix went quiet as the two attorneys met each others gaze. Miles tried to beg him to understand, pleading with tears in his eyes but nothing could get past the barrier in his throat.

And then it clicked.

“Leaves…” Phoenix went stiff. “Dick, leaves, someone poisoned his tea leaves.”

Miles let his eyes slip shut as the conversation carried on without him. Phoenixs chest was cool against his smouldering face. Had they ever been this close before? Miles didn’t think he minded it so much.

But there was more he needed to say.

“Wright.” He mustered his voice but the loudest pitch it could reach was yet a mere whisper. It called his dear friends attention nonetheless. “T-take my phone… as evidence…”

Phoenix frowned as he shot the discarded object a glance. Whatever questions were forming in the brilliant mind of his, he didn’t ask.

“Please… tell ‘Ziska-“

“Oh stop, you dramatic idiot.” Phoenix objected rather rudely as usual. “Talking like you’re dying wh-when you’re going to be fine.” His face twitched with poorly concealed emotion as he laughed wetly.

“Nick..” Gumshoes voice was softer than he had ever heard it before. “I’ve seen this stuff before it’s… It’s Belladonna.”

Miles’ limbs were still. Phoenix shook them for him.

“You’re gonna be fine. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

The fire behind his eyes was becoming unbearable and he squirmed in Phoenix’s arms.

“Breathe Miles, please, hold on…”

Too much. It was too much.

He was drifting. Floating. Flying.

“No, no! Stay with me…”

Miles opened his eyes. Phoenix was there. With him. Holding his hand.

Wright, he was… he was crying.

Lips moving. No sound.

One thought.

One more thing to say.

I

Love

You

Authors notes: i hope you enjoyed! This was my first time writing for the ace attorney fandom, and so i hope i did these characters justice! Depending on the response i get to this, I’ll write a part two explaining how and why phoenix returned to edgeworths apartment and if our poor edgey survived or not... please let me know your thoughts!!

[hotel-japanifornia]

Sisterly Ties

Summary: Sister Iris receives an unexpected visitor in the detention center. Young Pearl Fey, who she believes to be the sister of the future Master of Kurain. The two have a discussion about their heritage and more importantly, their relationship to each other.

(can be found on ff.net and ao3)

It was the middle of February. About a week had gone by since the trial for Sister Iris of Hazakura Temple concluded. There, Phoenix Wright indicted Godot as the true murderer of the children’s book author, Elise Deauxnim, whose true identity was Misty Fey, the previous Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique. Though Iris was found innocent of murder, she was found guilty of being an accomplice to the murder, and trying to cover it up. Luckily for her, Phoenix insisted on getting Iris’ sentence reduced on that count. Though she didn’t believe that she deserved it after lying to him for six years, the nun felt a huge amount of gratitude towards the young lawyer.

Aside from Phoenix, two other people had visited Iris in prison. Sister Bikini went to visit her the day after the trial. She was worried about Iris’ current state and asked how she was holding up in prison. Iris told her simply that she was doing fine and that there was no need to worry too much. Her other visitor was the apprentice of Elise Deauxnim, “Laurice”, who came to talk to her about how he was doing, his upcoming picture book, and showed her some of his sketches because he believed that it would make her feel better. Iris noticed that there was a detailed picture of the new Master of Kurain that featured her sitting on a bench surrounded by nothing but plush white snow. She was wearing an expression that looked as if she was deep in thought; Iris thought it looked beautiful.

 Laurice gazed at her longingly the entire time and asked her at one point if he could draw a portrait of her in the detention center. She agreed, touched by the goofy artist’s kindness. He took out his sketchbook and went straight to work; for the next hour or so, the only sound that could be heard was the scratch of graphite on paper. When he looked up, he picked up his sketchbook and held it up so she could see what he had drawn with an excited grin on his face. It was beautiful, the young artist had gotten her likeness perfectly. Though he didn’t seem like it, Laurice was a gifted artist. Iris thanked him and the two talked some more before he left, sending a flirtatious wink in her direction.

 At one point when Iris was awaiting her new trial, she was woken up by the rattling of cell bars. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and turned to see that her jail cell was open. A prison guard stood by the cell. He called for her in a booming voice.

 “Prisoner, you have a visitor who wishes to see you!” He declared. Iris groggily got out of bed and walked towards the guard. He led her to the visitor’s room of the detention center and walked off. Iris sat down in the plastic folding chair and looked out the windowpane that split the room into two halves, only to see nobody on the other side. A few seconds later, the door creaked open and a little girl with light brown hair styled in the shape of a pretzel stepped inside. She bounded up to the plastic folding chair and hopped onto it. Iris instantly recognized her as Mystic Maya’s little sister, Pearl. Iris tried to be friendly and wave towards her, but the little girl just stared at her with a blank expression on her face; it was almost unnerving.

 “Um...h-hello,” Iris said, trying to make conversation, “How are you doing today?” Though Pearl didn’t smile, her face softened noticeably to Iris.

 “I’m doing fine, thanks.” She said, simply. The nun noticed that neither Mystic Maya nor Phoenix seemed to be entering the room after Pearl. In fact, it seemed as if she came to the detention center alone.

 “Where’s Mystic Maya and Mr. Wright?” Iris questioned. Pearl pressed her thumb to her mouth in thought.

 “They’re outside this room right now. They told me I needed to speak to you alone,” Pearl admitted. She rested her arms on the little desk in front of the window and sat her head down on the desk as she recalled, “Mr. Nick told me something interesting. She told me that you were related to my mother, is that right?” Iris looked taken aback and pursed her lips in thought. Sister Bikini was more like a mother to her than her biological mother ever was. Even so, she could not deny her heritage and so she nodded in affirmation to the little girl.

 “My mother was Morgan Fey. Why do you ask?” Iris questioned, tilting her head curiously. Pearl frowned in confusion and stared at her.

 “So... that would make us sisters...” Pearl confirmed, she studied Iris’ face closely and although she looked uncertain, she smiled a little at the young nun. Iris, on the other hand, was completely dumbfounded by this new revelation.

 “Wait, she’s your mother?” The nun stammered, “I thought that Maya was your sister!” Pearl laughed in a refined, amused manner and shook her head.

 “No, we’re cousins actually.” Pearl corrected. Iris nodded in understanding. She wasn’t sure what to think of being a sister again. Once she was dropped off at Hazakura Temple, Dahlia only ever acknowledged her if she needed something. Pearl, however, seemed different. She was lost in thought before Pearl sat up and continued, “I’m not sure how to feel about having a sister…” She said.

 “I understand.” Iris said. Pearl was silent for a few moments before she blinked in realization and her eyes widened in horror. Her expression turned grim and she gulped nervously before talking.

 “But, if you’re my sister, then that would make that awful woman who tried to hurt Mystic Maya my sister too....” Pearl said, looking downhearted. Iris felt a pang of sympathy for her newly discovered younger sister. She wished there was something she could do to help her.

 “Yes.” Iris said, simply. Pearl stared at the small desk blankly. It was completely silent and the only noise that could be heard was the ticking of the clock on the wall. Iris looked concerned for the young girl, but she made no movements. Until suddenly, her head shot up to face Iris. Upon seeing Pearl’s expression, Iris felt like her heart was about to tear apart and rip into shreds. It was a mix of pain, conflict, and heartbreak all rolled into one. Pearl’s eyes were filled with tears, and she took a shaky breath before speaking.

 “Ms. Iris?” She hesitated before asking, “Why did my mother try to kil- I mean, hurt Mystic Maya? I need to know!” Pearl looked at her pleadingly. She searched Iris’ face rapidly, as if she was expecting her sister to be able to produce all the answers. Iris wished she could answer this question with ease. But she couldn’t, after all, how could you tell a little girl why her mother wanted to kill her beloved cousin by using her to do it? Still, Iris felt that it was necessary to answer her little sister’s question. Though the truth might be hard to swallow, it was a truth that Pearl needed to hear.

“Pearl,” She started slowly, not sure how to proceed, “Your mother...wanted what she believed to be best for you, I’m sure. And because of that, she was willing to do whatever it took to make sure you inherited the position of Master. Regardless of the cost.” Pearl gazed at her as if she was speaking in an alien language. For a few more silent minutes, her gaze did not waver from Iris. Then, her body started convulsing and her teeth gritted as if she was in pain. Her knuckles turned white and she looked down so Iris couldn’t see her expression.

 “I-I j-just can’t believe that she would do something like that!” Pearl choked out. Then Pearl rested her head on the desk and sobbed. Iris sat there helplessly. She was unable to comfort her physically due to the windowpane separating them. Still, she felt the need to comfort her; so, she used a different method.

 “Pearl.” She started. However, her little sister couldn’t hear her over her sobs. She adjusted her sitting position and raised her voice as she continued, “I know we don’t know each other well. But I have felt the same pain as you are currently.” Pearl’s sobs gradually turned to soft whimpers and then hiccups. Iris waited patiently, as she gazed at Pearl softly. Once Pearl calmed down, Pearl looked up at her, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

 “Y-You have?” Pearl asked, her voice cracked. Iris nodded, looking solemn. Her face held a nostalgic expression as she began to reminisce.

 “I always loved and cared for Dahlia, though she had gone unloved by both of our parents,” Iris looked up at the ceiling, “She was a criminal, but she was so strong and intelligent. That’s why I helped her out so many times until I met Mr. Wright.” She trailed off.

 “What happened then?” Pearl asked. Iris frowned as she reminisced, and she tried not to meet Pearl’s gaze as she explained.

 “She told me to get a necklace back from him. She told me that it was important evidence. I tried and tried but couldn’t do it,” Iris choked up, “And then one day, she got sick of waiting and tried to kill him. She wasn’t successful, thankfully, but I felt betrayed that she didn’t trust me enough.” Iris tried to hold back her tears when she finished. Pearl rubbed her eyes and sniffled. She looked at her older sister apologetically.

 “I’m sorry that happened, Miss Iris.” She muttered, her voice cracking. Iris gazed at Pearl and her face softened. She smiled at her reassuringly.

 “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.” Iris said. Pearl sniffled weakly.

 “T-thank you, Miss Iris.” Pearl said, looking gratefully.

“You’re welcome. And please, call me Iris.” Iris suggested.

 “A-are you sure?” Pearl asked, looking uncertain. Iris nodded in affirmation. Her younger sister looked down at the desk again and pressed her thumb to her mouth in thought. Iris wondered what was going on, before Pearl burst out.

 “Iris! I-I’ve decided!” Pearl said, gripping her shoulder in determination, “Since we’re sisters, I don’t want you to feel alone. So, I’m going to visit you regularly until you get out of here!” Iris felt tears building in her eyes, and one escaped and rolled down her cheek. Pearl looked concerned but Iris sniffled and looked at her little sister surprised, yet happy.

 “I would like that very much.” She said. Pearl beamed.

 “So that’s it then! I’ll visit you later, and I’ll bring Mystic Maya and Mr. Nick with me too!” Pearl promised. Iris chuckled lightly.

 “Sounds good to me.” Iris said. Pearl hopped off from the chair and waved goodbye to Iris to which she returned. Iris got up and told the detention center guard that she was done with her conversation and another guard led her back to her cell.

 That night, she spent the night thinking about her new sister, Pearl. It was quite a shock to her that Pearl turned out to be her little sister. Sister… It had been a long time since anyone called her that; Sister was her title as she was a nun after all. But all the same, it had been a long time since anyone had referred to her as “Sister” and meant it in terms of intimacy, a sign of blood relation. Though she had loved Dahlia dearly, Dahlia never truly regarded her as her sister.

 Pearl, however, was different. Though Iris didn’t know the young girl very well, she seemed to have a kind spirit and was very closely attached to her older cousin. It was for that reason that Iris didn’t think the idea of being a sister again would be a bad experience. Though she had a lot to make up for, as she had been absent from her little sister’s life for so long, she vowed to do her best to be the big sister that little Pearl needed. When she went to sleep that night, she had one of the most blissful and peaceful dreams that she experienced in years.

[flowerslut]

The Hunted

It’s not so wise if you try to run.

Yet another #JaliceDisaster fic Rated T for language Chapter 1 of ??? inspired by G’s demonic ass

Sometimes, even for an immortal, time could pass too slowly.

Twenty minutes slowly ticked down to ten, their flight from Seattle quickly approaching the airport. Even without the arrival board informing her of their proximity, Alice knew that in exactly sixteen minutes and thirty-two seconds Edward, Carlisle, and Emmett would be rushing toward her location as fast as they could. An old woman short on patience would have a few choice words for the trio of men as they brushed by her to exit the plane first, but they’d be too caught up to pay her any mind.

Her attention flickered toward Jasper and Bella, noting how Bella wasn’t deciding on any of the restaurants Jasper proposed. It wasn’t surprising. Alice was discovering that Bella wasn’t one to actually take the initiative and feed herself. She also didn’t seem to be the type to worry about her personal wellbeing to any degree.

Alice had a lecture already mentally prepared to dish out to Bella once the girl was a touch more comfortable around her. And once this entire situation was behind them. As Alice’s best friend—her future, fragile, accident-prone, human best friend—Bella had a responsibility to at least attempt to take care of herself while she was still mortal.

Alice quickly pushed that thought away. It would do no good for Edward to pluck a thought about a potentially immortal Bella out of her head while he was under this much stress. She knew exactly which sharp words he would spit at her in reply. She didn’t want to hear it.

In a flash, a vision came over her, and immediately Alice felt every bit of assurance over Edward’s arrival rip itself from her mind. In its place, acute shock.

Standing up quickly, Alice left her bag in the metal-railed chair, entirely forgotten as she took five brisk steps forward.

She didn’t have time to hesitate. And she wouldn’t have time to run.

She heard him before she saw him. Heavy, even steps grew closer until his scent fell over her. For a millisecond she realized he’d even found himself a pair of shoes to blend in better amongst the humans. Hearing the hard, brisk clips that she knew belonged to him made a heavy feeling form in her chest.

“You can’t touch me here,” she spoke, seconds before he was in her line of sight. “If you make a scene, the Volturi will be here faster than you can say ‘hide and seek’.”

Alice could hear his amused snort over the airport bustle as he walked toward her. The sound of his voice, even the nonverbal noise, made her freeze up internally. Because instantly, she knew he would grab her there if she didn’t cooperate. He didn’t care about causing a scene. He didn’t think twice about the threat of Volturi interference.

His amount of confidence was astounding. And frankly, a bit terrifiying.

When he walked in front of her, she had to look up to meet his eyes. The red was so dark that it was nearly black. Even his presence in this airport unnerved her. All it would take was one child to slip, fall, and scrape their knee before a massacre could begin.

After a few quick flickers, Alice realized with dread that it wouldn’t even take that in order for James to rip into the first human that crossed his path. He would hold all these lives hostage as long as it meant he’d get out of there with her.

There was only one way to prevent the blood-bath that Alice was currently visualizing as their solid, set future.

“Go,” Alice spat coldly, “I’ll follow.”

James laughed again, looking down on her with a satisfied smile on his face. He paused for a handful of seconds, his eyes raking over her entire frame, and for the first time since she noted his presence, Alice wanted to run. Reaching forward he grabbed her wrist tightly. “I’m sure you will.”

He began pulling her through the airport with a grip so tight she wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t accidentally rip her arm clean off.

“I’m not going to run,” she spoke quietly as they reached the door to the stairwell. Suddenly, they were flying down the stairs, their feet barely touching the ground.

“Oh, don’t worry.” She could hear the grin in his voice as his grip tightened and suddenly she was yanked into the air. “I know that.”

With his left arm snaking around her throat and his right gripping her horizontally across her torso, he chuckled again. Alice attempted to swallow, his haunting laugh finally filling her with her first taste of actual fear since they found themselves in this situation, and found her airways cut off. Even an attempt at inhaling would be pointless. Without access to one of her vital senses, Alice's fear compounded.

“Finally.” He exhaled the word, a smile on his lips. Just before his action, Alice watched in her mind as he inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering closed, grinning wickedly.

Within seconds he was out the door, flying too quickly for human eyes to see. They were hardly a flash of bright, reflected light in the Phoenix sun that humans would merely blink their eyes and shake their head at.

Straight toward the desert, James ran.

The ticking red hand of the clock served no true purpose to Jasper as he stared at it across the corridor. He knew it had only been fourteen minutes since they’d left to go on this ‘human journey’. He didn’t need the clock to tell him how much time had passed. Every second was vital today, and he would count down every last one.

He also knew that Bella was running on fumes at this point. Letting her nerves keep her senses alit as they sat around and waited. He also knew that this food run was a pointless trip to burn more time. Bella hardly ate, even when prompted. For eating to be her idea wasn’t typical.

He let his eyes flicker toward the letters spelling WOMEN’S in big, white print and allowed himself a sigh. He should’ve volunteered to stay behind and let Alice accompany the human on her errand. Sure, he could keep her calm when she was beside him, but he was not going to be able to fetch her if she had some sort of breakdown in one of the bathroom stalls. He contemplated running back and fetching Alice to swap places with her, and suddenly hated the fact that they only had one phone between them.

A mother guiding a stroller pushed by him, apologizing to him swiftly even as he effortlessly moved out of her way. He watched as she turned around and used her back to push into the bathroom. It took her several seconds to align the large stroller and fully back herself into the room—an additional, larger child was wailing, yanking at her arm as the woman attempted to push past the door.

It gave him something to watch for a handful of seconds. But beyond the spectacle before him, he let his eyes wander into the large airport bathroom. Almost instantly his eyes found the sign across the room.

CAUTION: STAIRS AHEAD

In seconds, Jasper was moving. He felt like such a fool. Of course Bella didn’t want to eat. Of course she wanted Jasper to take her to the bathroom. Alice’s visions of Bella’s mother’s house and the old dance studio suddenly all made sense. The girl was making a break for it.

He was confident that she wouldn’t get far. She couldn’t. It had only been four and a half minutes since she’d entered the bathroom. There was no way she could’ve gotten very far. Not without tripping over her own two feet and injuring herself.

That thought caused Jasper to slow down, his run slightly more human-like now. It would be just his luck to be left in charge of Bella for twenty minutes and find her, bloodied up from an escape attempt.

It would be even worse if it didn’t end up simply being an attempt.

He caught her scent again on the second floor. He’d been running through the airport for almost two minutes and the second her scent crossed his path he was on her trail.

Unfortunately, the trail led directly out the door and toward the shuttle stop. No busses or vans (or Bella) in sight.

Shit, he thought to himself. Shit shit shit.

“Missed the shuttle by five minutes,” a middle aged man informed him, his voice far too chipper for Jasper’s liking. “Another one should be here in about fifteen minutes though. It’s not too—“

Jasper didn’t wait for the man to finish his conversational piece before he’d turned around and was making a beeline for Alice. He wondered if she saw Bella run. Maybe she was tracking the wayward girl already and they’d be able to stop her before heading wherever it was she was going. It was embarrassing enough that he’d lost the human. It would be asinine if Alice also had let her slip through her sight. There was no way.

Finally, exiting the stairwell onto the level where the arrivals emerged, Jasper’s feet skidded to a complete stop.

Without warning, panic erupted within him, and he was rushing forward again, only barely attempting to move at a human pace. He didn’t care that people were staring. He didn’t care about the fact that he’d lost the girl. He didn’t care about anything except the fact that Alice’s bag was sitting, all alone, on the chair he’d left her on.

And that James’ scent was everywhere.

Suddenly nothing else mattered. Not the human that got them into this mess. Not the charade that he’d been holding together for decades mainly for her. Nothing mattered except for the fact that James had been here, and now Alice was gone.

“Jasper!” It was Edward’s voice that called out to him across the room, momentarily pulling him out of his disbelief. There was no doubt that he’d also noted James’ scent. With the boy quickly approaching, Jasper turned to look at him. Maybe he’d jumped to conclusions too soon and Alice had went straight to the gate—no doubt she would find a way to do it. It was Alice, after all.

But the redhead was alone. He’d rushed ahead of both Carlisle and Emmett and was now barreling toward him. Looking every bit as panicked and confused as Jasper could feel off of him. And suddenly, Edward was the absolute last person Jasper wanted to see in that moment.

If you take another step closer, he thought loudly, pointedly, and angrily, this charade is as good as dead.

Edward stopped, eyes wide and taken aback by Jasper’s sudden mental declaration, and within seconds, Jasper watched as he flickered through Jasper’s volatile thoughts. As he reviewed the happenings of the last several minutes, his face fell, and then suddenly he adopted Jasper’s projected fury as his own.

“Where is Bella?” He snarled, his shaking hands clenching into fists as he took a few deliberate steps forward.

Baring his teeth, Jasper lunged.

Read on AO3 // FF.net

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

Months of conflict finally came to a head when the Phoenix possessed Cyclops and the White Queen made their way to the Nexus of all Realities to confront the young Marvel Girl and Scarlet Witch. Citrusville, Florida became the final battlefield. Heroes fell before the Phoenix was dispelled and banished once and for all. Amidst the tragedy a new decree was uttered, one to create more mutants. The age of the Phoenix has now, officially, come to an end at a very high cost.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL COMPLETE CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

WANDA: They had officially run out of time. The ever present ticking of the clock that counted down to the inevitable had nearly faded into background noise at this point. They were running on borrowed seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks. Every morning since arriving in Citrusville Wanda had awoken with her heart in her gut and a strange sense of foreboding. The Phoenix was coming for better or worse and she’d be unable to escape the blast radius. This is what they knew: five years before a madman had cleansed the Earth. It was on that day that chaos magic had met reality and altered the fabric of being that should have been far beyond its power. Wanda had said no more mutants without the words ever leaving her lips and the world had paid for it. Enter the Phoenix Force. Five years later both Wanda and the entity had crashed back into existence on Earth. Where she took it sought to give, but its price was fire and brimstone. It was not only rebirth but destruction. Doctor Strange had put it to her simply one morning when she had sat before him, trying to meditate and calm her nerves. The primal chaos of your magic. The fiery order of the Phoenix. Two cosmic powers, caught in some kind of crazy cycle, acting as contradictory forces. That was what Wanda had become. The antithesis to the Phoenix and now she had dragged Jean into the mess as well. Neither had asked for it but both women had found  themselves in close quarters, trapped by abilities too big to handle that neither was sure they wanted. Going out to take the Phoenix from Namor had been a lot of energy. Wanda was still lagging where Jean was bounding and the imbalance meant nothing good. They needed more time to reconnect, but as fire ate out the horizon the chances of that dwindled from slim to none. Red and gold rained down as the Phoenix demolished the barriers that had kept Citrusville and its inhabitants concealed. This time, she wasn’t alone though. Jean stood beside her and the formerly empty town stirred with the heroes who had been brought up as reinforcements. They had come as a last stand and now X-Men and Avenger stood side by side on the street as the horrible storm drew closer. “You can all walk away still.” Her eyes didn’t leave the sky. “This isn’t your fight.” It was, but not like it was hers  and Jean’s. Wanda didn’t want to fight alone but she didn’t want to see innocents die either.

CAROL: "We've heard that before." Carol muttered as she joined in watching the sky. The grand finale, the big shabang. Quite possibly could be the end for them, if they weren't careful. Two supercharged mutants that hardly needed an invitation to invade Citrusville. "Any last tips? The last few times we went against the Phoenix, we barely made it out."

PIETRO: Pietro looked over at his sister. She knew better to tell him that he could walk away. As long as she was there then he would be there and he wasn't leaving until everything was resolved. "I agree with Carol. This is something big. And we need everyone here to take a stand against it. And we aren't letting you do this alone." He knew his sister and knew she wouldn't want to go into this alone, which she definitely wasn't going to. "So, just tell us what to do and which way to go. And can we make it fast, because I am starving."

PIOTR: Piotr remained silent and towards the back of the crowd. What the Phoenix had guided Kevin into doing to his sister was unforgivable. His fists clenched as his arms dug into his chest. At Carol's words he could feel his nails embedding themselves into his palms as he ached for the feeling of beating the pulp out of someone.

JIMMY:  Jimmy was there and ready to listen. He stood with his arms folded over his short and chest as he bit at the interior of his cheek in thought. Thinking of what to do and how best to deal with those two with the powers he had. Despite how extreme their situation was and how ill-suited he was to take him on he wasn't scared. He knew there would be a possibility that they'd lose but it didn't scare him. He looked over to Jean who was standing next to Wanda as his gaze softened. His serious expression faltered as he gave her the faintest of smirks and a not before biting back down on his toothpick.

GABRIEL: Gabriel knew that his brother was caught up in this Phoenix shit... and despite their past, he didn't want anyone harming or killing his brother. He was lurking around in the shadows, listening to the other's teams. They definitely had terrible team planning, which could prove to be lethal against a force like the phoenix. But apart of him was enjoying this, because the phoenix and the chaos magic gave off some great energy, which only boosted his power levels. So it was a win win for him.

ERIK: “You know that’s not true.” As Wanda kept her eyes glued to the sky, Erik stepped closer to her and glanced up along with her after Carol spoke. “This is what we do-- we fight the hardest battles for everyone else that cannot. But I think we are past any last tips. Everything has a weakness. It’s our job to find out what that is.”

WANDA: One hand subconsciously reached out and intertwined itself through her brothers. As soon as skin met skin she found the strength to drop her eyes to the faces that stood around her. Her head nodded at Pietro’s words. Wanda had never been a leader. She had played many parts but leading the charge wasn’t one of them. It felt now like there was too much at stake for her to try. Her mistake was the problem they sought to fix. Her problem.  Yet they still looked at her with anything other than anger. She didn’t understand. “It’s scared.” As soon as Wanda said the words she knew it was true. “It wouldn’t be fighting so hard if it wasn’t. We start there if we want to know its weakness.”

ORORO: Ororo looked around, her glowing white eyes was perceiving the energy around them. She slowly frowned, because the perceptions she was picking up wasn't good. "And we have to find out the weaknesses fast.... because this battle will turn deadly for some if we don't." The vampiric mutant spoke. She then listened to Wanda and nodded her head. "So do we just fight back even harder?"

JEAN: “She’s right.” The younger Jean confirmed. “It wants something. I can feel it, but I don’t know what it is. This thing killed our friends and kidnapped others and played god in our lives. The Phoenix is a bully and I’m really sick of letting it - and Scott and Emma - push us around.”

PIETRO: Pietro's jaw clinched when he heard Erik's voice, but he wasn't about to start that right now. So he just looked up with his sister. "Do you think the phoenix can multitask? Can it handle attacks from all different angles? I mean, Scott and Emma are the host - so wouldn't it really depend on their weaknesses and their abilities to fight us? If that makes sense." He offered up, because he knew you couldn't do many things without a plan, especially against something like the Phoenix Force.

RIRI: The supposed science team had done their best but there were a lot of holes in their research. Riri had pulled an all nighter trying to see if there was anything they could engineer to pull the Phoenix from its hosts but everything was a dead end. “We’ve got one expert on the Phoenix and Jean’s been MIA for over a week. Unless baby Jean knows I think that’s just gonna be a trial and error sort of thing here.”

ODINSON: Thor had been a king once. It hadn’t last long, and his reign was full of reclusion and inaction, but the title had been his. Ever since Val had taken ill after fighting one of the Phoenix members, and after he had been freed, that responsibility had fallen on him once again. New Asgard was in shambles, burned in the fires of Emma’s powers the day she had taken him down. He had to preserve what he had left. But it was with an unsteady heart that he agreed to come and fight today. It was one hit after another and another, cracking and breaking him more each time. Still, he had to fight, and as he looked away from the glow in the sky and down to his own hands he watched the blue electricity spark between his fingers, hoping it would be enough. “It’s good that you’re here.” Thor turned to the mysterious woman next to him who held Mjolnir as he addressed her. “Two of us is certainly better than one.” A hint of a feigned smile crossed his lips but ultimately disappeared.

ORIGINAL SCOTT: The weight in his arms was heavier than anything Scott had carried before. It was merely a bargaining chip, he tried to remind himself, a way to meet the Phoenix's demands. Yet, as he cradled Jean's unconscious body he kept going back to their conversation, when Jean had almost pulled him out of himself. When Emma had instead pulled the location of Jean and Wanda out of her mind. His urging of Emma to not be cruel fell on deaf ears, but as the hum of the Phoenix grew louder and louder in his mind, he was overcome with resolve. They'd needed this location, and Emma had given it to them. Jean was, after-all, a bargaining chip. Reaching the edge of the barrier that protected the city, it was taking a full assault from Scott and Emma's combined abilities, both enhanced by the Phoenix's power. He could feel the heat radiating off him, hotter than ever before, and he dimly wondered why he wasn't burning. As the flames peaked, they began to burn through the barrier, melting it as if it were merely plastic. As the barrier fell away, he felt the Phoenix stir in him, and he could swear he heard it speaking to him. They were so close, he heard it say, so close to saving everyone. It reminded him, as they slowly descended on the city, that these people were not his friends. They never were and never could be, as they only chose to stand in the way of salvation. "It'll be easier if I start," Scott spoke over the slew of heroes that had gathered to combat them. No, not heroes. Enemies. "We're willing to offer a trade." They had remained suspended, the flames of the Phoenix burning around them. Since losing Namor, Kevin, and Clarice, they hadn't gone out.

GABRIEL: Gabriel continued to lurk in the shadows, but he could feel the connection towards his brother and smirked when he saw him descending down. Now this was the brother he could have ruled with. He liked Scott like this, but the Younger Scott... better watch out, because he was still on Gabe's shit list, along with Noh-Varr. He watched his brother, leaning up against the tree in the shade, wondering what the trade was. What the hell would he have wanted to trade with the 'heroes' anyways?

LOGAN: That was Jean in Scott’s arms. Even before Logan got a good look at who he was carrying, he knew who it was. And when Scott began speaking his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles burned white and the tips of his claws poked at his skin. ”What did you do to her?” Logan’s voice was loud enough to be heard by everyone around him as he glared up at Scott, teeth bared. Screw whatever deal Scott was trying to talk them into.

JIMMY: Metal coated Jimmy's skeleton at the sight of the two remaining Phoenix Phuckos. Seeing his father's reaction he drifted into the congregation and began trying to make his way behind them, or at least into a more tactical position.

ORORO: Ororo saw the body of Jean in Scott's arms and wondered what the hell did they do to her. Without much thought, thunder rattled throughout the air, vibrating the ground, and shaking buildings. They were close to being in a warzone and that thunder was sent as a warning and alert, while lightning decorated the sky. She was ready to go to war along side Logan and Jimmy.

EMMA: How beautiful it was to burn. Although diamond still encrusted her skin the chill had long since thawed. Whatever disdain Emma had once tossed towards the Phoenix with an upturned nose in the past was nearly impossible to remember. Now her days were composed of flames. When she closed her eyes she saw glorious potential and woke to the devil on her shoulder that spoke louder and louder each day. That day in the desert - it felt infinitely far away despite how recent it had been - Emma had postulated a truth about herself that she had always been reluctant to admit. In her right mind, Emma Frost was a determined woman. In a mindset tinged with power there was nearly nothing that she could do and that scared the woman who had considered herself to be above fear on her more arrogant days. It was hard to say what she had done and the Phoenix wanted. There surrounded by dirt and dust Emma had confided in the man she had once loved how scared she was of what she would do and he had brushed her off. On her own Emma had found out. Students kneeling and bodies falling to the floor as their souls left their beings haunted each step Emma took. She had no choice but to turn into the madness. It was that or let it consume her. Hovering in the air above the heroes with a proud smirk, Emma saw their thoughts separated from the minds and visible to her eyes. Fear, anger, disbelief. These people thought they could stop them and there were so horribly wrong. Flame concealed most of her form as it dripped off in sheets of sparks, but Emma’s face was in full view as she flashed a quick wink towards the Asgardian she had toppled off his alter. Erik stood there as well, clearly back into his right mind. It was a disappointment but he was insignificant and could be dealt with later. “She came to us.” Emma extended a finger out towards Logan, daring the animal to come any closer. “Foolishly, I might add. Although darling Jeannie always has had a flare for the dramatic. You want to know what I did?” Emma slowly dropped to the floor, feet already carrying her towards the crowd as the flames rolled like a cape in her wake. “I ripped your location from her mind. I did what I had to because we are saving the world and you imbeciles are standing in the way of your own salvation. We offer you a trade because our humanity isn’t lost.” Buried, perhaps, but a flicker of it still thumped in opposition to the crescendoing war that kept escalating in her ear. “A Jean for a Jean. You can have this one back and we’ll take the little one. The Phoenix’s not done with you, is it, darling?” A smile coupled itself along with the words towards the girl. “And then we leave. Jean was always meant for the Phoenix and you may have delayed it but you didn’t prevent it. That is, of course, you’d rather reject our gift and make this hard. Feel free to do so at your own risk, but what I did to the great Jean Grey?” One hand rose as power ripped Jean from her husbands arm and sent the body hurtling to the ground. It bounced there, remaining still. “I’ll make that look like child’s play.”

THOR: The woman now called Thor knew that she had to be there no matter how wrong it felt. She only knew these people from the life she lived without the hammer in her hand, and even then there were many new faces. Being around Thor Odinson brought forth a dull ache of familiarity and estrangement. He looked at her but saw a stranger. She looked at him and saw one who knew her better than nearly anyone else. Over the decade they had spent together he had seen her at her high and low, but none of that mattered now. They weren’t  here as friends or lovers. They were both Thor and that was all anyone needed to know. “Aye.” She instantly winced under the helmet. Mjolnir in her grip felt like it belonged, but the body and language it brought was still strange. It wasn’t hers. “’Tis true that there’s strength in numbers, but I didn’t think that we bartered with wenches who deserved to be put down.”

ERIK: “I am not making the mistake of letting you get your hands on her again.” Erik stepped forward to confront Emma, watching as the older Jean fell to the ground. His breath caught in his throat as he waited a few seconds for her to move and then she ultimately didn’t. He knew this ‘exchange’ Emma was proposing wouldn’t be the end of it, even if they agreed to the terms. “She stays with us.” From underneath his bright white helmet, a color that normally belonged solely to Emma, he stared the telepath straight in the eyes and planted his feet.

LAURA: Her decision to stay out of it had been deliberate. Laura hadn’t wanted to fight a war, but she stood beside her father, brother and fellow heroes anyways. One then two then three and four claws extended from her knuckles. She kept them at her side but there was a stirring in her gut that it was all about to go wrong and fast. Her body edged closer to her fathers, head shaking subtly. It was a small attempt to dissuade him from making a move. When you lived the life of predator and prey you learned when to hold back and when to charge. Right then, they didn’t have the upper hand.

ORIGINAL SCOTT: It was instinctual --- as Emma tore Jean from Scott's arms, he reached out, eager to return her to what he considered was safety. Yet as his body moved to extend his arms, he felt a touch wrap around him and pull him back. No person was preventing him though, it was merely the flames as they redirected him. His mind kept getting lost, torn between who he was and what he had to be. Jean, his Jean, the woman he married what felt like eons ago, urging him to reconsider. The memories that were brought up, the times spent together, the push for Scott to understand who he had been, what he had fought for, it was all splitting his mind in two as his current resolve sought to pummel his doubt into submission. For a moment he felt like his younger self had been trapped inside him this whole time, bright eyed and unaware, and so, so naive. But who he'd become with Emma and with the Phoenix stopped at nothing to snuff the slight bit of innocence Scott was holding on to. As he landed near Emma, he scanned the crowd, noting the amass of mutants and Avengers. "You weren't listening, Erik." the hum behind his ears was beginning to grow, crowding the negative space in his mind. "We will not wait for an answer much longer."

JEAN: The sight of herself hitting the ground broke the stupor that Jean had found herself in from the sheer force of the Phoenix and its last two victims. A strangled cry left her lips as Jean lunged forwards towards herself, the flames quickly pushing her back. “Fine! You win. I go. You leave all of these people alone. Deal?”

PIETRO: "He already gave you our answer." Pietro backed his father up. "The girl stays with us." He looked up at Scott with a daring glare stretched over his face. He knew Wanda wasn't going to let him live this down, for siding with his father, but they were just being ridiculous at this point. And he wasn't about sacrificing anyone to these two assholes. Pietro knew that they wouldn't stop at getting Jean either, so he was ready.

ORORO: "Jean, no." Ororo shook her head. "You can not trust them, by Goddess." Ororo looked up at the two of them and back to Jean.

JIMMY: Jimmy quickly side stepped next to Jean and whispering from the corner of his mouth. "Ororo's right. You're not thinking straight. You go with them now all your training goes to waste. We all lose."

WANDA: “No.” Wanda’s voice was a firm echo of what everyone said, but she was speaking directly to Jean itself. “I know it’s hurting you, but fear is a tactic that shouldn’t win.” As Jimmy began to speak to her Wanda left her hand fall away from the young telepaths shoulder so that she could face Scott and Emma head on. “Jean isn’t going to solve your problem. If the Phoenix could fix this it would have already. It’s not that you two aren’t enough. It’s not enough and you can burn the world down but you won’t be saved. You’ll just be alone with ashes.”

LOGAN: Logan had lost the ability to pay attention the moment Jean’s body hit the ground. That was it for him. As he stood there and the conflict escalated, his chest heaved under his harsh breaths and the metal blades slipped out between his knuckles. Everything in him demanded that he charge forward and do something-- but next to him, Laura caught his eye. It was subtle, but he understood what she was trying to say. He stayed put, but his rage grew as he stood there eyeing Scott down. He carried her here to make a trade. Jean, who Scott claimed over and over again that he loved, had brought her here and allowed Emma to do that to her.

ERIK: “I was listening, Scott. I gave my answer. She’s staying with us.” When Jean charged forward Erik felt a flash of panic, and if Jimmy hadn’t gotten to her so quickly he would have moved to stop her himself. But instead, Erik stayed put and gave them his answer a second time.

EMMA: The pretender. The traitor. She who had decimated and never looked back. A snarl pulled down the corner of Emma’s lips. She felt feral and untamed. Before makeup had perfectly concealed any flaws that may have cracked her mask but now the skin she wore wasn’t her own. Hair that flipped in an unseen breeze couldn’t be pinned down any more than Emma could. “Your opinion doesn’t mean much, darling. You’ve long outlasted your usefulness.” Although she had stayed still her chest heaved with lungs filled to the brim with smoke. Fire wasn’t meant to be contained. Emma wanted to burn even if it took down all around her in its blaze. They’d see that it was all for the best one way or another. People could live with scars. The fire reacted accordingly, spreading then to the buildings and around them. Tendrils snaked their way through the crowd to cut people off. She could make them understand. Her mind thrummed with the desire to invade those around her but a twisted smile filled her face instead as the Phoenix reminded her just what it could do. “Okay, darlings!” She clapped her hands in front of her. Long limbs and bare skin stood on full display as a woman warmed from the inside by the Phoenix looked on in glee. “Let’s make it fun. You’re all brave and virtuous. One by one come up and we’ll see just how strong you are. Like the Valkyrie, or Cable. No one can force you to see the light, but it be said that right now you have a chance to fight to defend those failures you refuse to relinquish. If you want to die with honor, don’t let me stop you.”

ORORO: Ororo looked up at the woman as she spoke. Glowing white eyes trained on her and every movement she made. She was never one afraid of a fight, so if that's what Emma wanted... then she was going to give it to her. Thunder roared. Winds spiraled throughout the area. The sky soon turned grey and tornadoes were soon going to drop. She wasn't going to let Emma and Scott bully their way through them. "I assume you all are warriors, so it's time to fight." Storm told everyone that was allied with her.

LOGAN: That’s it-- he couldn’t take it anymore. Logan gave Laura a look before making a break for it, and as he reached Jean’s limp body he skidded to a halt. His claws retracted back and his bloodied fists reached down to gently grab Jean, lifting her up off the ground. “Jean, hey--” He caressed her cheek, moving a few strands of red out of her eyes. “C’mon, wake up Jeannie, please.”

THOR: The world around them caught fire as Emma reached out past herself and touched it, building by building. Thor’s grip on Stormbreaker tightened as he lifted it up from his side and readied it in front of him. Even while feeling defeated, he was angry. Angry enough to charge into a fight that he was sure not to win. “You are right--” He commented to the other Thor next to him as his eyes began to glow white and blue. “This wench deserves to be put down.” Then, with ax raised, Thor let out a battle cry and charged towards Emma-- for Val, for his people and their new home. After a few running steps Thor flung himself up and aimed for Emma, his powers adding layers of thunder on top of the ones Storm has already created.

JEAN: She still wasn’t moving. Jean shouldered her way past Wanda to run to where Logan had broken free and gotten to herself. Her mind should have been focused on stopping the Phoenix but instead her knees collided with the concrete as pain rattled up the bones. “---she’s not moving. why isn’t she moving?” The words left her mouth in a flustered hurry. Trying to shove aside how dead she looked, Jean nudged Logan’s hand off her face and pressed her fingers to her older selves temples. Her eyes flashed for a moment as she delved into the mind of the woman she was on the way to becoming. Eyelashes fluttered and she stirred, but Jean didn’t have time or the energy to go all the way in and try to repair what Emma had ripped to shreds. “Emma did a number on her, but thankfully this mind is one of  the  strongest there is. So, uh, true loves kiss it or something.” An anxious laugh bubbled out of her chest. “No, just talk to her. Sit her upright. Keep doing what you’re doing. I have to -- I have to go.” With that she staggered back to her feet and moved back into the middle of the chaos. Pieces of buildings that had fallen righted themselves as she guided them upwards with one hand, all the while keeping an eye on where Scott and Emma circled still.

ORORO: Ororo watched as Thor went for Emma, deciding to be an adding factor in the situation. She didn't go after Scott, for obvious reasons, but her body effortlessly lifted up into the sky and many strikes of lightning blasted towards Emma in addition to the attacks that Thor was charging. As wind picked up, a soft howling came from the sky as dozens of tornadoes dropped down from the sky.

VISION:  From behind Wanda, Vision watched as Jean moved away from her and took a few steps forward to fill the space left behind. “This is escalating quickly--” He dropped a hand gently on her shoulder and moved slightly in front of her. “You remember how fighting the Phoenix affected you in Wakanda. Please, I know this fight cannot be avoided but be smart. You can only bear so much without breaking.”

EMMA: “Round two. How delightful.” The words were a soft purr despite the cacophony of fire and thunder. Lightening rained down from the sky like daggers but the blonde brushed them off as she focused on her target. As the god once again charged her,  Emma extended one arm out in front of her. Flames shot out to encircle the blade of the hammer before moving down the hilt so that they latched themselves onto his forearm and bicep. As the inferno drew him closer Emma ripped the weapon from his hands and weighed it in her own. The blade burned in  the heat but it didn’t sting her. As the flames danced around and wrapped themselves around the Asgardian the mutant allowed the two to drift closer to one another. “The Phoenix knows you. Or, your father at least and my does it have memories. It’s too bad that fondness doesn’t extend to you. I’m of the strong belief that the era of false gods has long since come and gone. Before I asked you, Odinson, if you would worship me. I now realize I don’t need the prayers or admiration of those who are unworthy. Unfit to wield your hammer and now unfit to wield this axe. I’ll relieve you of the obligation.” The axe left her hand, arm never having to strain to deliver the blow. Instead the blade slashed down with sickening crunch that severed sinew, nerve and bone. The limb hit the ground before the knees of the god did. The telepath let the axe fall to the ground, its blade resting just far enough outside the fire to prevent it from melting away. “And look,” the words were spoken with delight. “You’re finally on your knees.”

LOGAN: Everything between the two Jeans happened so quickly, Logan barely knew what was going on. He let the younger girl move his hand away and he watched with dread as she worked her way through the mind of the woman he held in his arms. When Jean was finished, Logan watched her stumble up and run away and he hadn’t said a single word to her before she left. But his Jean began stirring, and his focus was reattached to her in a split second. “Hey--” He spoke softly. “You’re gonna be okay.”

BLOODSTORM: Bloodstorm created thick fog around Thor, using her flight and super speed to pull him from Emma's path along with his limb. She moved with Thor into some bushes. "Uh.... stay here. keep pressure on that. And we can get that reattached soon." She looked at the God with hope. She sighed, because this was just getting out of hand and in annoyance of how overly powerful the phoenix force is.

WANDA: It had quickly dissolved into chaos. Jean slipped away and suddenly Wanda couldn’t find her as easily. Emma was attacking Thor and Wanda wanted to help but a part of her knew that she couldn’t. They needed her but not for that. She needed to find a way to stop this all, not just a part of it. Her body pivoted to face the Vision, her hand clutching his where it rested on her shoulder. It didn’t matter that he was the form of the man she fell in love with. Wanda still looked at him and saw home and right then it was what she needed. “I don’t have a choice, Vis.” Smoke made her eyes water. “I did it then and I can do it now. Jean’s with me. This is our only chance. Will you stay with me?”

ORIGINAL SCOTT: The tinge of his visor made the world such a deep glow of red, the flames that weaved through the city a bright shade of amber. It was a sight Scott was used to seeing, but in this moment, it felt so much more visceral. As his eyes finally left his Jean, he allowed Emma to serve as a distraction as he searched and searched for the younger one. The time displaced one. She was eagerly putting back what Emma destroyed, and she too seemed distracted. Like it had before when Jean had appeared on Krakoa, tendrils of hot flames dipped towards the younger Jean as he appeared in front of her, blocking her path. He no longer felt the guilt of what he was doing, the hum too loud for his mind to override. Although he remained in control, the Phoenix set the destination and he simply obliged. "It was supposed to be you, Jean." he made a few steps towards her, flames licking at the ground and surrounding them in a small circle. They were growing larger as he neared her, serving as a barrier to keep potential heroes away. The hum had grown so loud now that it started to shake his vision, making his view of Jean blurry and unfocused. It was getting more and more difficult to think clearly.

GABRIEL: Gabriel sighed, because this was becoming boring to watch. It was as if he was watching a fight, but one person was out of the other's league. So when he saw Scott making a circle around him and Jean, it only intrigued him to go out. He fought his brother at his normal power, which he still destroyed Scott. So let's see how well a Phoenix Scott fared against him. He moved slowly from out the shadows and towards Older Scott and Younger Jean. He moved to step inside the circle, but the fire shocked him some. He then smirked brightly and the fire that was the circle was soon absorbed into his body, charging him up some. Which could be very dangerous. Why don't you pick on someone your own size." He smirked over to his brother Scott. "Hey, girl. Go help your friends. I got him here." He told Young Jean, but then turned back to his brother with Golden Yellow glowing eyes. "Come on, Phoenix."

ODINSON: He wasn’t strong enough. Thor was perfectly aware of that even before charging headfirst into battle against Emma yet again. She had easily taken him down the first time, forcing him to watch as she set his new home ablaze. His head was filled with nothing but rage and humiliation as he ran for her, but all that emotion was wasted away once the Phoenix grabbed hold of him-- and Stormbreaker. In the searing heat he felt his ax being pulled away from him. He tried and tried to keep his grip around it tight enough to make it stay, but he felt his skin burn from the pressure and friction and ultimately it was torn from him. The Phoenix and Emma towered before him, and the God of Thunder was filled with fear he hadn’t felt for some time now. He had none of the power, and she had all of it. Thor watched in horror as his own blade came slashing down, and the pain overtook him. He cried out and fell to the ground, knees meeting harshly with the surface as his hand reached over and grabbed his severed limb. He was seeing red, not just because of the flames around them, as he looked up at Emma he blinked through hot tears. Words were not coming to him, but that didn’t matter. Nothing he could say or do now would matter. And then he felt a cloud of mist form around him and he was carried away out of Emma’s grasp by Ororo. He had no words for her either, for all he could do was look down at his arm and weep.

ORIGINAL JEAN: There was something wrong in her mind. It had been fractured on Krakaoa when Emma had forced her way in. Alone the blonde wouldn’t have been strong enough but the Phoenix had almost seemed to enjoy invading every inch of her and emptying out the contents of her mind. If it hadn’t been for the time displaced Jean, there was no saying how long she would have stayed a catatonic mess. There hadn’t been time to fix everything but her eyes fluttered and Jean found herself breathing over the pain in her ribs. Something sticky and hot had matted her hair on the back of her head and a throbbing pain radiated from the spot. It took a few times to manage to pry her eyes open and even then they kept falling shut. After her lips twitched she managed to get one word out in a choked voice that didn’t quite remember how to work: “Scott.” But no. She opened her eyes and Jean wasn’t on Krakoa anymore. Scott wasn’t standing in front of her. Instead the air was thick with smoke and the face peering down at her was Logan. Her mind started and stopped as it tried to form a sentence, teeth grinding against each other in frustration. “What did he -- do to me?”

BLOODSTORM:  It broke Storm's heart to see the man weeping. She wished that she could do anything in her power to fix this. "Hey, hey.... come on. You're Thor. You've been through worse." Okay she didn't know if he had, but she didn't need him to give up or quit on them at the moment. She needed him. They needed all the numbers to take down Emma and Scott right now. They were definitely amplified and it was going to be hard to stop them, but they couldn't do it if their number of allies dwindled down. "You can do this, Thor."

ORIGINAL SCOTT: His vision swung at the deep baritone of Gabriel's voice and the hum crescendoed into a screech. As Scott grimaced at the overwhelming noise in his head, he did his best to focus on his distraction. "You're in over your head, little brother," Scott spat, his molars grinding as the flames weaved up his spine. He too understood they were running out of time. He was running out of time. The optic blast he sent in Gabriel's direction was nothing like the mutant ability Scott had been born with. The Phoenix fire wrapped around the beam, supercharging it well beyond its means. They made his eyes burn, feeling as if they would burn out of his sockets as he didn't let up. The scream of the Phoenix wouldn't let him stop until Gabriel was down.

VISION:  “Of course I will stay with you.” The Vision was speaking softly but he was sincere. After the fight in Wakanda he had made sure she was safe. This fight would be no different. As they looked to each other, he could guess what she was thinking-- that he was different and yet still so familiar. They weren’t each other’s Vision and Wanda but they were all they had. They were an echo of each other’s past, but so much more than that. And he would stay with her. Vis glanced over his shoulder at the increasing action, moving his hand from her shoulder even though he relished in her touch, and his yellow gem began to glow. “You are right. This is our last chance.”

THOR: “--Odin’s beard.” The goddess of thunder ( as she was getting used to being called ) had her hammer high in the air as she channeled some of the lightening that flashed in the otherwise darkened sky. She had been airborne when the cry rang out. The howl echoed in her brain for a moment before Mjolnir responded almost instinctively. Flying out of her grasp, the hammer slammed itself into the temple of the woman who had just felled its previous owner before it shot back to Thor’s grasp. Lightening charged up as the weapon called out to the storm that it contained inside before both it and the blonde blasted forward like a comet of energy. This time Mjolnir was driven into her gut before Emma was smashed into the concrete. The ground cracked around them but the blonde looked almost serene as she flung Thor off of her. Skidding on the ground, the not so Asgardian pulled herself to her feet and shrugged back her shoulders. God status meant that you still felt pain even if it was different. Her normal body was buckling under a different burden but this one stood tall. “I think that now be a good time to break Iambic Pentameter and tell you that thou art a real bitch.” Knowing that she couldn’t stand to get her arm cut off as well, a flurry of lightening strikes heralded Thor’s exit as she made her way quickly to where Thor had been laid out. “Let me see him.” She shouldered her way to kneel beside the fallen warrior. The arm was severed completely. The appendage lay on the battlefield still and the crying man in front of her was so broken it scared her. A part of Thor  wanted to remove her helmet and let him see who was underneath: a familiar friend. But Mjolnir whispered instead and she settled with resting the hammer on the ground beside her to rest a hand on his remaining arm. “Thor,” her voice still contained more of the goddess than she preferred. “I am so very sorry.”

WANDA: A part of her wanted to stay in that moment with him forever. The world burned around them but for a second Wanda had been transported back to Wakanda. He had never knelt on the soil and asked her to kill him. She had never watched him mouth those three words and then fall lifelessly. But that was then. This was now. The world had changed and so had they. “Thank you.” It wasn’t I love you, but the meaning coded itself through the two simple syllables. “I know I have no right to be, but Vis... I’m scared. I knew it was coming and I’m still not ready.”

LOGAN: Logan let out a sigh of relief, followed by a few coughs from the smoke, after Jean finally opened her eyes. But she was in bad shape. “He let Emma get in your head.” His reply was harsh in contrast to how soft he was just moments before. “Then he dropped you off to us like a piece of meat. Tried to trade you for your younger self and now--” Logan cut himself off as he glanced up at the battle and fire raging around them. It was horrifying. “Now we’re fighting.”

JEAN: Power corrupted. Jean knew that when she looked at Scott and saw the man he’d become. As he moved closer with flames entrapping her Jean wondered what her older self saw in him. What had made her go back to Krakoa at such a risk? He didn’t seem redeemable, but she had a lot to learn. “Said who?” Her voice was obstinate. “You? The Phoenix. Here’s an update, Slim, I don’t give a damn about what any of you think. My life is mine. Always has and always will.” Her pulse was still racing though as she tried to spot an out. Her relief came in the form of Gabriel - who she still wasn’t sure what  to think about - but Jean didn’t take the time to muse on the matters. Instead she launched herself upwards and over Scott so that she could run in the opposite direction. Running? Not her best look, but she was desperate. Although Emma had been getting bitchslapped by a goddess moments before, the blonde telepath spotted Jean and moved to intercept her path. “You!” Jean pointed a finger at the gold bird that adorned Emma’s chest. “You’re out of your mind. You could have killed Jean. And for what? We may hate each other, Emma, but you’ve always been better than this. What happened to you?”

EMMA: “I woke up.” The woman hissed in reply. She stared down at the younger telepath, blonde crashing with red. “It’s time you do the same, Jeannie.” This time she didn’t use her powers. She reached out with her hand and let it wrap around Jean’s throat. Phoenix fueled she lifted the girl off the ground as flames snaked between the two of them. “I’ve always thought you were overrated, you know, but I’m so glad you get to spend your last few moments with me. I took your husband. Seems fitting I’d take your life as well, doesn’t it?”

GABRIEL: Gabriel grunted as he threw up his hand, a small force holding back the optic blast. "Oh I see that brother... and I am fucking loving it." He smirked and shook his head. "But what you forget is that... that young beauty over there." He pointed to Wanda with his free hand, "let out sooo much energy in the fight with Fish Man, and that gave me a little boost too." Gabriel smirked and looked at his bigger brother. "Not to mention.... you haven't met my second mutation, huh." His elemental powers. Rocks around them lifted up into the air and turned into shards of glass, with darkness surrounding the two of them. "Come on, Scotty. You don't want to always get fucked up by your youngest brother, do you?"

ODINSON: Thor could not tell if the pain was beginning to fade or if he was simply becoming numb to it. His heartbeat pounded in his ears and he kept his eyes clamped shut for a few solid seconds, teeth gritted as he tried to focus again. What was he supposed to do now? This moment felt so final to him, like it was the last horrible thing to round off the series of horrible things he had been forced to live through. Thor survived losing him entire family. He survived losing his home, his eye, his friends. He had survived losing all hope. After battling Thanos a second time, he began to believe once again that he would learn to move forward. But the cracks in his heart never sealed. His hammer was gone. He couldn’t handle being king. His world was torn apart and flipped upside down and he was left to feel the consequences of it all. And now as he sat in his own shame, he wondered why he had been spared at all, and that his arm was all he had lost. A familiar voice entered the picture, but Thor did not look up. His breath caught raggedly in his throat but he managed to slow the tears. This was his low. The lowest he had ever been and ever wished to be again. “Keep your pity.” He glanced to the hammer where she had placed it next to her, and realized he would never lift it again. “And your sympathies. I do not deserve them.”

ORIGINAL JEAN: Emma. Scott. Emma. Scott. Krakoa? Right. She went to Krakoa and then Scott --No. Emma? It didn’t matter. Her head was pulsing and what Logan was saying wasn’t computing. All she could see was the smoke and fire and, somehow, Scott. He was like a flaming beacon and she found herself so incredibly enraged that even though she couldn’t get anything out of her mouth she still needed  to do something about it. Emma could face her reckoning later. They both knew who would win in a show-down normally. It was Scott who she kept giving chances to who angered her. Hearing Logan’s words crumbled Jean’s facial features into hurt and disappointment. Maybe he didn’t love her anymore and she was a fool.  Dropped you like a piece of meat. Traded you for your younger self. Before he even finished speaking Jean was climbing to her feet. She toppled back over before righting herself once more, steps unsteady as she stumbled her way to Scott. He was in the middle of a confrontation with Gabriel but she stepped directly in the middle, body blocking the two so that she could stare at Scott. One hand waved in the air slightly but fell, motion weighed down as it covered by lead. “You let Emma---” her mouth stalled, mind looping over itself. “You. How could you?” A step closer. Another. He was on fire and Jean didn’t care. Her mind ached where the holes had been cut into it. “I loved you.”

ERIK: After the majority of the fighting had started, Erik’s focus had been torn in many ways. The world around them was burning to the ground, people were being mutilated, and nothing was going in a direction that he could see turning around. He felt helpless, something that he didn’t feel often and it sat heavy in his gut. His focus tuned into Jean shouting at Emma, and as he turned to see what was happening he watched as the Phoenix fueled telepath wrapped her hand around Jean’s throat. Erik took off, flying himself over towards the two of them and landing only feet away. Smoke had tinted his newly acquired outfit grey, and as he lifted his soot stained arms he summoned every sharp piece of metal he could find. They emerged from the flames, ends burning hot red and white. It took a few seconds for them to align, but once they were all aimed at Emma, he set them loose. “Get your hands off of her!”

ORIGINAL SCOTT: The threat caused an eruption of flames to expand around him, working as an armor to shield him from Gabriel's abilities. "I am here to bring salvation, Gabriel, not to fight you." The Phoenix, being an almighty cosmic entity, was impressively unstoppable unless subjected to specific conditions. Unfortunately for Gabriel, even his secondary mutation would do nothing but leave a scratch. He was struggling to focus as the Phoenix raged on within him, but he forced his speech out regardless. "War with me another day, brother. Do not stand in the way of saving ---" his words suddenly fell short, his eyes dropping down to where Jean stood before him. For a moment, Scott quickly looked between Gabriel and Jean, centering himself in time and space. If he could think beyond the imminent threat - the roar of the Phoenix - the need to save his kind, if he could just think, maybe he would have responded, but all Scott could see was red.

THOR: “'Tis not pity.” The goddess let her hand fall from his arm so that she could rest her palm flat on the ground for additional balance. Despite crouching her thighs didn’t hurt, a tiny reminder of how much she’d changed. “I can feel pain for you. I know what it is like to lose yourself a part at a time.” Her illness ate away at her. Sometimes she felt like a shell of the woman she’d become. But this was not about her. It was about the man broken on the ground in front of you. “You’re being foolish, Odinson. Thou art worthy, just like you have always been. Do you see the woman who did this to you? You are brave.”

PIETRO: Pietro looked at his sister, who was protected by Vision of course. He decided to try to help his father save the girl. These two jeans were definitely a handful. Pietro speed up and used every piece of metal that his father conjured up and moved closer to Emma, so that he could try and grab the other Jean from her hands and get her back to safety. Or so he hoped.

VISION: Vis tilted his head just slightly to one side, then locked eyes with her. “I think it would be foolish of you to feel no fear right now. This is no simple battle. This is a fight for our survival-- all of us. To expect you to be strong and also free of fear would be an impossible thing to live up to. That is not how we measure bravery.”

BLOODSTORM: Ororo shook her head. "She's right, Thor. Let's get back out there and save the day." She gave the other a stern and serious look. They weren't going to be defeated today and definitely not going to let these two have their 'salvation' or whatever it was that they were trying to have. "All things have a weakness or something that would make them fall. We have to find what it is and knocker her on her ass." She nodded and tried to give Thor something that would give him the courage to get up and fight.

LOGAN: “Whoa-- hey--” Logan pushed himself to his feet as Jean left his side. She stumbled, and before he could catch her she was back up and heading towards Scott. This was not happening. No, no this was the worst possible thing she could be doing right now-- ”Jean!” He called out to her as he ran to catch up with her, ending up by her side and in between two feuding siblings. “You and Slim over there can argue later, let’s get outta here.” Logan gently tried to pull her away, but Jean wasn’t budging.

GABRIEL: Gabriel looked at the girl with a curious expression. "Uh... Jean.... I don't think know is a good time. Unless you have some Phoenix in you." Gabriel spoke to the girl, because Scott looked feral and out of this world. "And you don't think I won't kick your ass any day, Phoenix or no Phoenix." He pointed back to his brother. He definitely wasn't a weakling, he was a powerhouse, a cosmic warrior. He'd fight the hell out of Scott until his last breath, resurrect himself, and then fight him some more. Gabriel watched the scene and cocked his head. He still didn't know what to make of the love triangle that the three of them hand, but he found it best to stay out of it.

EMMA: A nuisance. That was what Erik had become. Emma had groomed her little pet but he had proven too hard to keep on a leash. The Phoenix had snubbed him because they wanted better and he failed to live up. Magneto was the leader of Genosha. He should have heralded a new and glorious race but instead he fought for a girl and squandered away all the potential they could have had. “You stupid old man.” Emma spat. For a moment her grip tightened on Jean’s throat, a scarlet handprint marring the pale flesh. As he made his move she laughed and allowed the young Jean to fall towards the floor. The child would be easy to catch once more. “You knew that I needed a wolf, but here you are once more a shepherd protecting sheep. Weakness cannot be eliminated, it turns out. There’s no room in the new world for your kind.” One hand clenching into a fist signaled the attack. The metal that Erik had taunted Emma with turned back on him. One by one the pieces caught his body as they momentum sent him backwards. As he slammed into the wall the metal pierced through the white fabric. When she was through he hung suspended with the soles of his boots dangling over the floor. Blood dripped to the ground from her makeshift army. Jean forgotten, she stalked to him as one finger dabbed at a drop of scarlet. “You always looked better in red. White is my color.”

ORIGINAL JEAN: “No.” Jean’s voice was firm. Her chest heaved but she found a way to spit out a few words. “--You did this to me. My mind --” The light around her powers flickered as her mind opened up. She extended it towards the Phoenix then, letting them see what they had done. Both of them. The effort caused her eyes to roll back in her head but before she could pitch sideways completely she regained control and staggered another step closer to him. A part of her didn’t care if he killed her. She was terrified of the way her thoughts jumbled around in her head with no rhyme or reason. “You - are - a - failure, Scott.” Disappointment lined her words no matter how much she struggled to get them out. “You are not saving mutant kind. You are destroying us. People you love who --” a second of grasping for words. “-- who loved you. You pushed them away. You pushed me away. You aren’t the hero, Scott.” Jean took a few steps back towards Logan, body sagging against his and drained from the effort. “You’re the villain.”

WANDA: It took a deep breath before she could speak. “I may not make it.” Wanda’s voice was quiet. “And that is okay. I don’t know if I deserve to, but --” Her words were cut off by a scream down the road. She turned quickly to see Emma lashing out, her father pinned on a wall and hanging limp. It was hard to say if she liked the man. She loved him even though it was hard. But seeing what Emma did hit Wanda like a jackhammer. Taking a running start, red propelled her in the air so that she could land in the vicinity. Where was Pietro? He hated the man, but she needed him. In her rush she hadn’t said anything to the Vision, but Wanda couldn’t stop herself from staring at what had happened. This had to end. The Phoenix was going to die.

JEAN: The scream belonged to Jean. She was crawling to her knees when Emma lashed out and there was no way she could stop the attack. Instead she just screamed. She would have tried to kill Emma herself but instead strong hands grabbed her and suddenly she was somewhere else entirely. Shaking her way to freedom, Jean ignored the pounding in her ears and turned on her heel to rush right back over to the scene.

ORIGINAL SCOTT: “Your ego proceeds you," Scott responded to his brother before the Phoenix snapped his mind back to attention. It wanted his focus on Jean, even as Scott saw the approach of Logan. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words were overrun by Jean's --- her scramble of thought, picking him apart, pulling at the threads of his mind. The ambers of his vision deepened, and Jean became even more out of focus. Her words faded as she collapsed against Logan and without conscious control, he willed the Phoenix with a simple set of words: get rid of him. A ripple ran through him, but he felt nothing more than a serene sense of calm. It would listen. It would obey. Flames burned higher as Scott was now in the open air, hovering over the burning scape. Jean just blended in with the rest, and Scott foresaw what would be their future. Burning. Reduced to nothing but ash. Jean was out of reach now, both physically and emotionally, and Scott had a job to do. It didn't matter what she said, but she had been right about one thing. He would be failure --- unless he obtained more power.

LAURA: None of her battles had much relevance. Laura had been working on the side to do what she could and keep people safe. Her presence still felt unnecessary, but then the real bloodshed started. It flooded her nostrils as her senses went into an overwhelming overdrive. Magneto was dead. She could hear the stillness of his heart. The scarlet that stained the streets was darkening to a copper color, sticky underneath her boots. She was in the middle of checking to see if someone was alright when her vision was blinded by white. For a moment everything went still before something snapped. A part of her brain heard the mission being inputted into her mind and animal instinct kicked in. A guttural sound left her lips as Laura lunged towards her father. Jean was propped up against him but she knocked the redhead out of the way as she jumped up to wrap her thighs around his torso, one arm looping around his neck as the other slid out two clothes that quickly slashed down towards his jugular.

SCOTT:  I'm sorry, Emma. The words should have been spoken aloud. Despite their differences, Scott, deep down, cared for her. In the time he spent with Emma over the last few years, he grew fond of her, even loved her. She deserved better than the fate he was giving her. But one thing about Emma that drew them together was how pragmatic she was, and Scott knew that this idea of saving mutant kind outlived both of them. Even if the Phoenix burned him from the inside out, as long as he accomplished his goal, it was all worth it. He had a feeling Emma would agree, even if that meant he would take her power for himself. As she confronted Erik's body, Scott flew towards her, lining up his optic blast until the beam blasted into her --- the speed at which he was racing towards her only amplifying his already supercharged ability. As he soared above her, his body became entirely encased in fire, the flames spreading to form the shape of a bird, before he crashed into her, driving her into the hot earth with so much force they should have crashed through the soil and into the core. However, Scott focused that energy into Emma instead. As the dust and fire began to settle, Scott positioned himself on top of her, understanding how the Phoenix worked. Until he was made whole, he had to keep going. His gloved hands wrapped around her bare throat and Scott began to choke the rest of her life out of her.

PIETRO: Pietro gasped painfully as he saw his father hanging limp on the wall. He rushed over to him and moved to hold up his face. "Dad.... come on, old man." Tears welled up in his eyes. Despite their relationship he loved his father and didn't want to see the man dead. "Hey... you're okay... okay?" he just wanted to hear the man speak. Say something. Anything. "We are going to be okay." He felt a tear trail down his face. "Wanda..." the elder brother called out to his sister with a heart wrenching whine. "Dad. Hey..." This couldn't be happening. Pietro didn't want to lose the man. "I'm here." He rested his head against his father's chest - where it was metal free. He couldn't help the sob that escaped. He never felt so powerless in his life, he couldn't even do anything to avenge his father. He looked around for his sister and watched her in the sky. "Wanda! What...." He was saying silent prayers hoping his sister wouldn't die.

LOGAN: He should have been paying more attention. His senses were overwhelmed and the only person he was tuned into was Jean. When she stumbled back after giving Scott one hell of a rundown, Logan was right there to catch her. Scott deserved it. He couldn’t deny that. But right now wasn’t the best place to work through a domestic dispute and Logan knew he had to get Jean out of there. Both arms worked to prop her up and support her the best way he could, but as he was adjusting his grip Jean was suddenly thrown from his grasp and he was sent stumbling back. It all rushed to him at once, and he was suddenly very aware of the fact that his daughter was wrapped around him and aiming for his throat. She was pure rage and strength, it was practically radiating off of her-- and 100% of it was directed at him. His instinct kicked in and one of his hands flew up, claws extended, ready to block her strike. He barely made it, and the force of her hand pushed his own blades into his neck just enough to draw some blood. But it wasn’t deep. “Laura, what the hell are you doing--?!” Words were strained, tension was high. With his other arm, he grabbed hold of her waist the best he could and tried to rip her off of him.

EMMA: “I can’t believe you.” The connection they shared from the Phoenix Force let Emma know something was off even though she could’t tell what it was until it was too late. Scott had been many things to her over the years. At first, he had been the forbidden fruit dangled in front of her. Jean’s husband, the leader of the X-Men. Classically handsome but not the type that Emma would bring home. She was silk sheets and caviar and he was morals and hard work. She wanted him because she couldn’t have him, and then one day she did. Jean was alive but she still found herself making a bed in his mind. Others wanted him and she had him. That was what mattered. He had moved onto Madelyne at some point as Emma had found herself caught up in dominating a world that didn’t want to give her any leeway. She had fought to raise her status to where it was meant to be. Nation-X and Scott reappearing in her life had just been the dash of excitement to break up the tediousness that crept in as you grew older. Having feelings for Scott had never been part of the plan, but she had learned to love him. Emma held others at arms length because it made them easier to control. She would be the one holding the deck, not the one being fooled. With Scott she had taken a chance and now here they were: two beings unlike any other. I can’t believe you. As in: I can’t believe that I came to you in fear about the thoughts plaguing my mind and you rebuffed me. That you were the one who didn’t want power because you had control. I can’t believe you’re going to kill me. Something akin to a shriek left Emma as he sent her careening into the ground. Bare hands rose to meet the fabric of his suit where it covered his arms. The white trailing pieces of fabric were stuck underneath her, limiting her range of motion. Beauty was pain, they said. Her lips were forming his name again and again, a silent plead. Emma felt a thin line of blood trickle out of her nose. Her head was tipped back in pain and it slowly inked its way up towards her hairline, leaving a scarlet streak in its wake. You don’t have to do this. Stop. Stop. STOP. She had been out of control, but she wouldn’t have killed him. Not Scott. They were going to save the mutants and the new world would be glorious. They were going to -- The Phoenix was leaving her body, rushing up like a vacuum as it entered Scott. She could see the light leaving her as it found a new home and for the first time in months Emma felt something real. She was scared.

WANDA: Something inside Wanda was hardening. She was sick of losing people. Two of the men standing near her had died and left her behind. They had come back, but the third was now gone instead. As Pietro cried Wanda looked on in a disattached horror, not the emotional one for once in her life. “Pietro.” His name felt hollow on her lips. “Vom încheia acest lucru.” She told him quietly. We will end this tonight. Light eyes scanned the now destroyed town as she looked for Jean. It’s time. She reached out telepathically, hoping the girl would hear. Jean was crying still over Wanda’s father. The two were closer than Wanda had ever been with him but that was fine. Jean was sad but they could use that. Wanda wouldn’t allow herself to feel the extent of her grief until later. Now she was too dangerous. As the telepath pulled herself to her feet with a shaking breath, Wanda waited for her to join her at her side. “When he is done with her, one Phoenix.” She spoke to Jean, Wanda, Pietro, Vis and anyone else nearby. “One. He is the last.”

LAURA: She had forgotten how to speak. You didn’t need words when your body could speak for you. The language of death had been the first Laura had learned. They had taught her how to hurt before they taught her her own name. When he moved to pull her off she retaliated by arching her body to flip over him, momentum driving them both towards the floor. Pinning one of his arms, her head snapped up as dark hair obscured her vision. Moving so that one boot could rest flat on his back, she slashed at him in blind rage. Get rid of him. That’s what they had said. One hand managed to sink into flesh, claws embedding themselves up to the knuckles. The location wouldn’t fatally wound though so there was a sound as the metal left his skin. Covered in blood, Laura didn’t bother to wipe them off as the red dripped to the ground. Get rid of him. Sensing movement, Laura let out another sound as she once again lunged at him.

ORIGINAL SCOTT: Scott expected the humming to stop once the Phoenix force became whole, but the hum only became a roar, and it was monstrously deafening. Against his own volition, his body raised in the air, leaving Emma's limp form in a crater in the earth. The flames extinguished themselves, but not for long. Thin tendrils of fire began to snake up Scott's skin, burning into his flesh and leaving glowing veins in their wake. The fire weaved its way into his eyes, the glow behind the visior becoming so intense that Scott was forced to remove it, expecting to unleash an incredible amount of power from his defected mutation. But as he looked around, there was nothing. The Phoenix force was taming his untamable ability. A smile crept across his lips, spreading into a wide grin as he bunched his hands into fists, for the first time truly relishing in the power the Phoenix brought him. This is what destruction felt like. Chaos. And soon, he would bring rebirth.

JEAN: “What’s going on,” Jean stared at the scene in dread. “Is that Scott Summers is a psychopathic murderer.”  Emma and Erik both were dead. Two mutants dead to protect the cause. It was all so wrong. Her younger self had recovered from being thrown on the floor but was in no position to stop Laura. Jean wanted to step in and help Logan but at Wanda’s call she turned to face the terrifying and beautiful image that was the Phoenix standing in full force. It was supposed to be her. In some world, it was. In this one she had to stop it. “Nobody else burns today,” Wanda had magic glowing at her finger tips. Jean matched her, pink and red both glowing bright. “Except for you.” The young Jean Grey finished before both witch and mutant let loose with chaos and energy on him.

LOGAN: Logan was holding back on purpose. This was Laura-- she was tough just like he was, tougher in fact, but that wasn’t what mattered. That was his daughter. Pain was pain, even when you healed just as fast as you got hurt. Trying to rip her off hadn’t gone to plan, and soon he found himself face down in the dirt with one arm pinned underneath her boot. “Kid, you gotta snap out of it!” His plea was muffled against the ground, and it was cut off by a scream of pain as adamantium claws dug knuckle deep into his back. He felt the blood spill over his skin as she recoiled back and then lashed out again. One of the Phoenix members must have gotten into her head, that was the only thing that made sense. Because this wasn’t her. Adamantium against adamantium was different than anything else he could go up against-- and as she stabbed him he knew he was in trouble. With as much aim as he could manage, Logan swept back his one free arm towards the ankle that was above his back. Claws were extended this time-- he had to get her off of him.

LAURA: No matter how trained she was, Logan was bigger and had more experience. He wasn’t helpless. They shared the same animal instincts and knew all the points you should hit to be successful. Originally getting the jump on him had given her an advantage but that window had closed. He was screaming but she didn’t care. Laura was focused on her target. His arm hit her and managed to knock her off balance. She fell, toppling to the side as his own claws grazed her leg. A part of her brain registered it should have hurt but she didn’t feel it. Instead she bared her teeth as she crouched low, ready to do this as long as he needed it. That’s when she charged forward with a shoulder bent down to connect with his gut, body lithely twisting to spin back in front of him with two hands raised. One set of claws found their way into his side the others aimed for his chest.

LOGAN: His claws broke her skin this time. The force of his swing was just enough to knock her off and Logan clambered up to his feet, out of breath. All of his claws were sheathed as he looked to Laura, hoping she would stop but knowing she wouldn’t. He knew what it was like to feel locked in a rage like she was right now. The force that she was coming at him with was connecting with that primal part of himself, and it took every ounce of willpower to hold back as she yet again lunged for him. One hand’s set of blades embedded themselves in his side and he screamed again, but he managed to catch her other hand before it dug in too deep. Blood was pooling down beneath him as Laura’s claws stayed where they pierced him. The pain was there wasn’t going away, and his arm was shaking as his hand wrapped around her wrist that was positioned over his chest. The tips of her metal met with his skin, but he barely felt it. “Laura..” If he wouldn’t fight her, he had to try and talk to her. “I’m not gonna hurt you, kid. But you don’t wanna do this, huh? Someone’s messin’ with your head.”

LAURA: Her chest was heaving from exhaustion. Her leg was bleeding but it didn’t matter. Not when she was so close. He kept talking to her and something in Laura wanted to respond. Again and again he said Laura but it did mean anything. The name was disattached in her mind. He could say it all he wanted. He wasn’t walking away from this. “No.” The word surprised her when she spoke. It only took her a second to get over the shock before she shoved her hand forward, claws first pressing into his chest. The other removed itself from his side simultaneously, lashing upwards to embed in his throat instead. For a second she stood there with both of her hands hooked in his body before she yanked backwards and pulled them out. Gravity took a moment to bring his body back down to the earth, severed arteries and pierced organs unable to heal from the adamantium. The floodgates were suddenly closed as the roar in her ears faded to a whisper. Laura only looked at what she had done for a second before the Phoenix left entirely and sent her unconscious to the floor.

ORIGINAL SCOTT: The Phoenix matched with full force, the energy fusing with fire, both fueling it and suffocating it. It was hell keeping up, and as Scott felt each and every impact, his mind jolted to the past, the present, and the future. He saw the creation of the X-men, he saw his first big battle, he saw his marriage to Jean, his time with the Professor, his time with....and he saw his children burning in a world that didn't accept mutants. That crucified and ruined them. It was a battle within himself, even as the power of the Phoenix overwhelmed him. The red in his eyes suddenly burned a bright yellow and he finally let out the roar that plagued his head. Flames erupted around him, massive and destructive.

ORIGINAL JEAN: The second Logan hit the ground Jean found a way to get off of it. Erik, Logan, Emma. Three of the longest standing members of their mutant communities dead. With the battlefield Emma had turned her mind into it was hard to feel sorry for her, but Jean did. She knew what the Phoenix was like. Emma was a victim in this as well. Her younger self was clearly upset over Erik but still fighting and that was what Jean needed to keep moving. She saw Laura crumbled with her fathers blood still fresh on her knuckles, two more casualties of war even if only one had stoped breathing. They would deal with whatever the Phoenix had done to her mind later. For now, Jean moved slowly through the energy and magic. Scott was lashing out but he was lost. Broken. He could still be saved. The flames around him burned. Once again the Phoenix whispered to Jean in a slight tease. You could have had this. It told her. This could be you. But it wasn’t. Jean had considered herself weak for a long time. She had succumbed to the Phoenix and died. Now, she knew that she was strong. She always had been. Dying hadn’t changed that. As soon as she got to Scott’s side Jean reached up, one hand covering the slit of the visor. It felt like her hand was being seared off at first, but the Phoenix dulled the pain. “Scott.” Her head bowed towards him, Phoenix helping her piece together thoughts. Her tone was gentle but firm. It wasn’t a question or a demand. It just was the truth. “Enough.”

ORIGINAL SCOTT: "Jean?" his voice cracked as he said her name, sudden confusiion washing over him. Where was she --- he couldn't see her ---- but then he saw pieces, glimpses, before he could see nothing at all again. She was covering his eyes, and he wondered if it burned her as much as it burned him. "Jean, I-" Pulling in breaths, he tried to speak, but he couldn't form words. His body wasn't meant for the Phoenix, and it was burning him up inside fast.

ORIGINAL JEAN: “It’s all right. I’m here now.” The words began to flow out of her once more. The longer she stood there the stronger she felt as the Phoenix stitched her back together. “It’s time, Scott. It’s time to let go. I promise it doesn’t hurt.” And if it did, they would hurt together. Rising up onto her toes, lips met lips as Jean raised her face to his. Her hand slid away from his visor there as they stood locked against one another. Red and Slim. Scott and Jean. Beautiful and doomed. Jean knew the Phoenix and she knew him, even if both constantly changed and grew harder to understand. Everyone else was dying and it seemed only right that they’d go out together in a blaze of fire. With her arms wrapped around Scott, Jean kissed him into the world exploded.

GABRIEL: "I-...." Gabriel was confused.

WANDA: That was their in. Jean was foolish but she was brave. The time displaced version faltered next to her but Wanda didn’t let up and waited until her partner did the same. Earlier on in their training their powers had clashed, damages bigger than expected. They had wondered then what would happen if they were to work together and allowed their powers to mix. Chaos magic and mutation came together. It wrapped itself around the two figures that stood amidst the flames. Something about it looked too intimate to be viewed by others and Wanda would have turned away if she could have.

JEAN: “--Not like this!” The time displaced version of Jean Grey panicked as she watched the magic swirl up around Scott and her older self. It was working. Whatever they were doing, it was working. The Phoenix was rising up into the sky like a hurricane of fire around the two. Jean wanted to stop but Wanda remained composed and gentle as she shook her head. They had to finish. There was no choice. In unison both women drew back and then unleashed all they had. Scott’s body took the brunt of the blast, Phoenix glowing until it shot into the air above them. The two former lovers fell then, one on top of the other. Jean could see a flash of red hair under Scott and knew from the silence they were both gone. So many people were dead. She thought about Erik once more and tears welled in her eyes. Before she could mourn herself, the Phoenix reared in the sky as the light took over. Unable to look away, Jean glanced up as flames reflected in her irises.

WANDA: It nearly took everything out of her, but they did it. Wanda was trying to catch her breath when she noticed what was happening, mind reacting just a moment too late. “Jean, don’t look ---” But it was too late. Her body lit up and a moment later Jean was gone. There was a flaming trail left in the sky before she suddenly reappeared. “Jean, you have to let go.”

JEAN: “I fixed things.” Jean finally knew how it felt. In her seconds gone the fires around the world had been put out. “I’m not like the others. I know what to do to not fail. I feel like I’m on fire but I was born for this.”

WANDA: “No, Jean.” Her voice remained calm. “You’re right that you were destined to be the Phoenix, but not so you could use its powers. You’re here because you can do what everyone else has failed to: let it go. Everyone is  right about me. I started this and it’s not fair that you have to end it, but we can do it together. We’ve lost enough friends today.” When she extended her hands it took a moment before Jean accepted them. “No more fire. No more fighting. No more playing god.” Both women looked at each other and nodded. “No more Phoenix.”

JEAN: The light that was in her left. It wasn’t violent. The flame simply flickered out and died. When she held out her palm the last sparks danced there before fading out entirely. “No more Phoenix.” She repeated. “It’s gone.” So many things were gone. They were surrounded by bodies. Victory had been won but it was hard fought. Two of the people Jean wanted to celebrate with the most were still warm, their bodies not yet cold despite the fact that life had vacated them. “We won.”

VISION: This was a victory. It came at a high cost, but it was a victory. Vis knew what Wanda and Jean had to do, and it was only minutes ago that Wanda had told him she might not make it out. He knew that was a possibility. But the Phoenix was gone and Wanda still stood, and he floated over to her after she and Jean had finished. “You both deserve to know this--” As his feet met gently with the ground, he glanced between the two of them. “Your efforts have already changed things. Mutants are already appearing around the world. For now, I am uncertain of exact numbers. But it is substantial.”

WANDA: No more mutants. More mutants. It had been reversed. “We won.” She repeated Jean’s words then. It was impossible to feel like it with so many dead or hurt. Her eyes skimmed the destruction around them. The magical energy of the nexus felt still now as if they had drained it. Hopefully over time it would replenish itself. Her feet began to carry her away from the blast radius and towards where her father hung. It was disrespectful to say the least. “We need to take the bodies to Krakoa. There’s a place for them there.” It was only mutants who had died. With both hands raised she gingerly pulled the metal shards from his body and lowered him to the floor. There was a tear in her eyes for the father he’d never been, but she wiped it and instead focused on grabbing all of the bodies and straightening them out into a line. Others milled about the area assessing wounds and murmuring about what happened. “More mutants means this conversation about what to do is far from over, and we’ve lost some of the loudest voices.” She had never been a good mutant, but Wanda could try. Maybe she could help. “I will handle this, Jean. Go. Gather your things and leave on the first helicarrier out. I promise to take that it will be handled.” She waited until the young mutant turned and left. Wanda wanted a sheet to put over the deceased but there were none. Instead she carefully stepped around them to where the Vision stood. The bodies had to be loaded and new mutants had to be found, but in that moment she just needed to breathe. They had saved the world and the mutants. Her wrongs had been righted and she could atone now. “Tomorrow we solve our new problems, but tonight I think we reflect on what we’ve won and all we’ve lost.”

[floresdeldoza]

So I have a Jeresa prompt for you. Your take on the morning after THAT scene ;) and maybe your take on the 3x10 promo. Like James' reaction to what happened at El Santo's something like that

I got that hot-take on some “morning after the celebration sex,” (i.e., The Game Changer™, 3-0-fucking-9) comin’ straight at yer peepers. I’ll make an attempt at some James post-3x10 chaos in a separate post, anon! 

+ On her hypothetical list of things that should never be taken for granted (a list she had begun in her head when she was old enough to understand the necessity of being grateful for the most trivial of things), being slow to wake is most assuredly ranked as one of the highest. It might seem strange to some, but to a person who has been known to wake frequently upon a gasp—to a racing heart and a heated face, as if caught in the throes of a fever… well. It’s surprisingly difficult to effectively describe a comparative feeling of relief to the slow, calm awareness of returning to one’s body without fear. 

The morning following their first decisive win in Phoenix, Teresa Mendoza wakes up in stages.

 Stage 1: Silence. Marvelous, how the brain can register the absence of noise when it is barely cognizant of the fact that it is awake. Of course, complete silence is an impossibility. There’s always some form of noise which allows the silence to be observable at all. The silence is punctuated by a muffled wind beyond the windows; the soft, gentle ticking of a clock; slow, even breaths. When you wake at a slower pace, you are afforded the luxury of drawing an obvious conclusion from each observation as they arise. No need to panic. Your heart is beating, as it should, comfortably, inside your chest. Do you remember the wind against the windows? The wind against the windows means shelter—safety from the elements. The clock is ticking and time is passing, but you’re not worried about it moving from one minute to the next, because after the clock you could hear his breath, which brings you to—

Stage 2: Warmth. Smooth, warm flesh that leeches into your own skin, which is also bare. The body beneath your cheek rises and falls at an even keel, not unlike your own heart. It’s how you know he’s still asleep. There’s the hint of a hand against your back, and it’s warm there too. A feather light touch that reminds you of the evening before. How his hands had been… everywhere. How they had felt in your hair, around your waist, beneath your thighs and now, just—warmth and stillness. You wait, patiently, for his heartbeat to quicken, to have some sign that he’s waking up too, when you realize—

Stage 3: Pain. Not the kind of pain that throws you into a panic. Not the kind of pain you might feel waking up in chains, shackled to a ceiling. Just an ache or two. One of them pleasant, the other not so much. You focus on the more annoying sensation first, and realize that it is emanating from your hip, because your hip is digging into the floor, which is not carpeted, and therefore a bit harsh on the bonier parts of your anatomy. Still on the floor. Never made it to the bed. Flashes of briefly falling onto the sofa only to quite quickly tumble to the floor and onto his lap, with your pants shoved down to your ankles and his arms tight about your waist and that’s when you consider the pleasant ache. The memory of the top of his head between your legs and, oh, that would no doubt account for the slight twinge of pain where her thighs rest together—like a sunburn you can’t quite bring yourself to regret.

When she finally opens her eyes the room is still dark, and she smiles at the realization that there is still enough time to return to sleep. She doesn’t want to wake him, but as her hip is really starting to annoy, she does her very best to make it as enjoyable for him as possible. With a kiss to his chest, a hand brushing against his belly she feels his heart beat faster, and before he can awaken on a gasp of his own, she speaks—

“James,” whispering, her own voice swallowed up by the pre-dawn silence, “let’s move to the bed.”

He grunts, and despite the absurd fact that the sound of it seems to have made its way directly betwixt her legs as if it had no other place to go (of course, where else would it go), she laughs and sits up, trying and failing to move his dead weight with her.

“Please,” she asks again, doing her very best not to be charmed by the grumpy, tired man-child routine, “I promise you’ll thank me in a few hours.”

After a few more minutes of gentle coaxing they both manage to stand, stumbling towards her unmade bed, falling into the soft sheets with mutual sighs and groans of appreciation. Not quite so young as they used to be—one too many scrapes and bruises.

He manages to speak a few words into her neck, something that translates into asking after the time, and when she answers with, “A little after five,” he sighs again and pulls her closer. His knees bend to fit into the backs of hers, his arm wrapping around her waist as if it had never left. He presses a soft, barely-there kiss to her neck, and she can feel herself being pulled back into the blissful unawareness of sleep. She thinks, briefly, about that list she’s never put to paper, and considers including James’ name somewhere close to the top. 

[myselfinserts]

‘ honey… ’

Étienne hadn’t expected much when he arrived at the villa in the far off countryside. The ship had touched down a good fifty miles away, with two cars waiting for them when they landed. The first one was driven by Phoenix, who had been in charge of the explosion just the night before. The ‘contractor’ had been none other than Lord Alberi, who was visiting from his own home in Estmund. Inkwell had found it rathr enjoyable being able to ‘let loose’ as he put it. 

Étienne didn’t care to hear it. He just climbed into the car with Chris and remained quiet until they got to the safe house. 

And immediately, he was pulled into the arms of a tall, beautiful woman the moment he stepped inside. 

“I’m so glad you’re safe!” Blanche exclaimed. 

Tired and enraged as he was, Étienne felt himself melt in her arms, face practically buried in her chest as he let out an exhausted huff. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You poor thing. You must be exhausted” She smiled softly, slowly pulling away and leading him towards the dining room. “You’re all just in time. Lunch had just been prepared.”

Lunch. So it’s that late in the day. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather sleep.”

“No you don’t,” Marianne chided, following just after. “Everyone eats, then I do check ups. Only then do you rest.”

Étienne glared at her. “I don’t recall asking your advice, Gladstone.”

“Well, you’re getting it anyway.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with her, sunshine,” Blanche hummed. “Luci, dear, would you mind showing everyone to their rooms? I’ll have Mr. Matthews take deliver their food to them. After last night, I feel everyone needs a rest and privacy for their check ups, and I finally have all the rooms sorted. No more sharing unless needed now.”

Luci smiled. “Of course. Thank you, Blanche.”

“Your hospitality is too much,” L sighed, going practically limp as Phoenix lifted her into her arms. 

Without another word, everyone started following Luci out the room. Étienne turned to follow the others, only to be stopped and lead towards the adjacent parlor room by Blanche. He didn’t try to protest. He was too tired. He focused on the finery surrounding him. The grand clocks. The pipes that spread across the walls, bringing warmth through the entire room. He welcomed it. He made it very clear on the ship he would not tolerate freezing to death. The way the pipes bent and moved resembled golden vines.

The parlor itself was rather plain. A desk, coffee table, and a set of love seats and chairs in a simple blue velvet. None of the books were anything of note. Just a quick glimpse, and he knew that it was nothing but tech manuals and small novellas currently in print. Things easily replaced, so long as you remembered their names. The room made Blanche stand out, with her long, trailing skirt of gentle cream and plain blouse. 

Though what stood out the most was what was in the corner. A small bed, pink and fluffy. Holding inside it a sleeping kitten the color of-

“Honey...” 

The cat looked up, golden eyes widening in joy as she began to purr.  Étienne knelt beside her, carefully taking her into his hands and holding her close. Whispering softly to her as she mewed happily. He couldn’t help but chuckle just a bit when she started nuzzling his cheek. 

“She missed you,” giggled Blanche. “You wouldn’t believe how badly she wanted to see you.”

“Oh, I could believe it. I’ve been worried sick about her.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone, but I would have been destroyed if I heard any bad news regarding her.”

She nodded, walking over to the desk. “I thought that might be the case.” Swiftly and delicately, she slipped a key out of her pocket, opening up the top drawer and retrieving a letter. It was small, wrapped in a lovely shade of pale blue stationary, and sealed with wax. “Now, why don’t you both have a seat on the sofa and we’ll talk about something important. 

“I don’t see what could be more important than Honey right now.”

“Not more important, no. But just as much.” Blanche waited until they were comfortable before handing him the envelope. “Now, we all agreed that I should be the one to tell you this. The letter I just gave you? Honey was guarding it with her life. I’m sure you know why.”

Étienne set Honey in his lap, looking over the envelope in question. Immediately he knew. The wax seal was the same one that he had used back at the estate in the city. The stationary he’d carefully picked out. And the writing on the front. 

That lovely handwriting. 

“Ceri wrote this...”

“He did,” she affirmed. 

“Why do you have this?”

“Like I said, Honey was protecting it. Wouldn’t let anyone touch it until I picked her up.” She smiled fondly. “See the teeth and paw marks? She was very determined not to let anyone have it. 

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He shook his head. “Why are you giving this to me? He’s gone. There’s no point in dwelling on it. He’s...” Étienne took a breath. The words felt sour on his tongue. “Ceri is dead, Blanche. Why do I need the last letter he wrote to me?”

Blanche smiled, leaning forward and looking him straight in the eye. 

“Because, sunshine. I promised him I would give it to you.”

Étienne stood on the other side of the door, the sound of the old grandfather clock in the hall being the only source of noise through the entire house. He couldn’t sleep. There was no way in hell he could sleep after all that. The others could do it for him. 

He’d been told to try not to go into the room yet. Not because he was unwanted. No, far from it. What, or rather who, lay beyond that door ached for him. Yearned so deeply to see him again. But fear kept that desire from being fulfilled. Fear of how he mind react to seeing what became of him. 

So Étienne was told to try not to go in. 

Key word being try, of course. 

But the knowledge of what was on the other side had been too much. 

He had to see for himself. 

And so, Étienne slowly opened the door.

The room was mostly dark. Soft moonlight was the only thing keeping it aglow. There was a desk, a night stand, and a simple bed with curtains that could be drawn. The sheets on it were as white as winter snow. Aside from that, only one thing made the room seem any interesting. Across from the door was a grand window, with a nook that made it perfect for people to sit and enjoy the view. 

And in that nook, reading in the pale moonlight, was a person he never thought he’d see again. Muttering under their breath as they read through the last line of the book in their lap. 

“And so it was that the young god promised. The winter melted away into spring once more, and their vow of devotion renewed...”

“You always said that one was a favorite.”

The book fell to the floor as Ceri jumped to his feet. He looked vastly different from the last time they saw each other. Ceri’s eyepatch seemed drilled into his head, with small gears ticking and turning with every passing second. There was a metal plate barely visible under the collar of his unbuttoned shirt. His hair looked longer, and there were strange rings adorning his right hand. 

It was experimental, he’d been told. A way to extend one’s life through various forms of automation. No one had ever been successful in bringing someone back from the brink of death using this method. The closest had been mostly a hypothetical theory by a scientist back home in Paris, who proposed a form that took inspiration from old wind up dolls and clocks. No one had dared to attempt it before now. And somehow, it worked. 

Aside from that, however, there was the same vibrant red eye. The high cheekbones. The same look of shock that would appear whenever he’d been startled. There was the gentle curve of his neck, the same odd stance from when he’d first been injured all those years ago. 

It’s still my Ceri. 

Slowly, he stepped forward. 

“Étienne, w-wait,” Ceri stammered. “I-I know this looks bad. Please, I can explain-” Ceri let out a gasp as Étienne threw his arms around him. “Étienne-”

“Shut up.”

“- I wanted to-”

“I said shut up!”

Ceri went stiff and stopped talking. He didn’t dare move. Étienne could hear the faint tick, tick, ticking coming from Ceri’s chest. Could feel it against own. It was as real as the skin against his cheek. The softness of hair. The solid, present figure he couldn’t help but pull closer. 

“I thought I lost everything,” Étienne muttered softly. “My home, my life’s work, Honey...You...I thought I had nothing left.”

“Étienne-”

“Didn’t I say shut up? Just let...let me talk.” 

Ceri nodded slowly, his arms hesitantly moving to wrap around him. “....Okay.”

Étienne’s grip tightened. “Do you know how humiliating it was being locked up like that? To be accused of killing the person you love so dearly, and to have to listen for days on end about how ‘pathetic’ it is that ‘such a brilliant man couldn’t bear to be tied down to that mistake’? The number of times I wanted to make them choke on that vile scum they call words?” He could feel himself shaking. “I swore that if I ever managed to escape, I’d get revenge, somehow. Clear my name. Find your killer. Though I didn’t hold my breath. I knew my chances of escaping execution were almost zero. But as luck would have it, I had a Princess looking over my shoulder yet again. I escaped death. I was brought here. And now...now I learn that you’re here too...And that you don’t want to see me?” 

He slowly pulled back, just enough to see Ceri’s face. A soft pink covered him from ear to ear. The thin layer of glass that covered the gears on his patch. Fear clear in his remaining eye. 

“I...” Ceri swallowed thickly, trying to keep calm himself. “I didn’t want you to see me like this...I’m...I’m not human anymore, love...I can’t even cry now...”

“Do I cry?”

Ceri stared at him. “Well...I mean, I’ve seen it once but-”

“Ceri.”

“....No. No, you rarely, if ever.”

“Does that make me less human?”

“Of course not!” He stared at him incredulously. “You’re far more human than most, if you ask me.”

“Then why is that the baseline for you not being human?” 

“It’s not just that!” Ceri looked away in shame. “I can’t go outside in the winter anymore or my gears will freeze. I can’t enjoy the summer anymore because I could overheat. I can’t swim, and if I’m not careful I’ll shut down. I can sink, rust, and overheat. I could explode. I’m nothing more than an old clockwork doll. How is that human?” His voice went soft. “I can’t even leave the property...”

“Then I’ll find away so you can do all of that again. I’ll find a way, and I’ll show you that you’re wrong.” Étienne‘s hold on him relaxed as he raised a hand to cup Ceri’s cheek so he was looking at him again. “Even if you don’t see it right now. I still see it. You’re human. You’re alive.” He pressed their foreheads together, breathing in the scent of jasmine that clung to him. “You’re alive, Ceri. You’re here, and you’re alive, and like hell I’m letting you go again. We’ll find the person responsible for this, and we’ll get our life back.” 

“You...honestly still want to be with me?” he asked, his voice tight and trembling. “You still want me?”

“Yes, I do.” Étienne smiled. “No matter what, I’ll always want you by my side.”

Ceri held back a snort. “Didn’t even hesitate on that one...” Finally, he started to relax, practically melting into his lover’s embrace. “The moment I woke up, they told me what happened to you. I wanted to go on the rescue so badly....I’m so sorry, love....”

“Don’t apologize. Save it for the fucker who’ll be paying dearly. They’ll need all the ‘sorry’s they can get.” Slowly, he lightly pulled away just enough so that he was guiding Ceri over to the bed. “You can still sleep, right?” Ceri nodded. “Good. Then how about we both get some rest. We’ll talk about how I can help with your maintenance tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.”

The two climbed into bed and closed the curtains, burying themselves under the covers until they were as close as possible. They tenderly held each other, faces inches apart. 

“Ceri?”

“Yes, love?

“You do know I love you, don’t you? Truly, I do.”

Ceri smiled, moving in closer. “I know, love. I might forget sometimes in a panic, but...” his lips ghosted over his husband’s “I know better than anyone.” 

They fully closed the distance, and Étienne savored every kiss. 

Even now, they were still as sweet.