#waiting to be made fun of only to see that look on caustics face hes only seen a few times before

[buckpaws]

I really can't tell if altar is gonna b my new nightmare in this game/fandom or sooo quirky that I die loving her forever. we'll see in a few weeks

(this post is now about brothers see the tags)

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Thirteen (Part 2)

“Well, couldn’t have let you starve.” He holds the door open for me and I slip through it under his arm. It’s snowing again, and freezing flakes start landing instantly on my face. I shove my hands into my pockets as we walk together, but I can’t help but marvel at how bright the sky looks. Even though it’s well past midnight now the brilliant white carpet laid over the city reflects back into the sky making it look the same way that it does in the middle of summer on those impossibly long days when the sun never quite dips all the way below the horizon. 

“It’s been nice to see you again.” Jude says. “You know, I’ve missed talking to you.” 

I dig my chin into the collar of my coat to warm up my face with my breath. “Yeah.” I say. “You know, I really didn’t think it’d be so easy to talk to you after so long.”

“Let’s not leave it so long next time. I want to be your friend again.”

I blink, taken aback by the directness of his words. “You do?”

“Yeah, of course, I always felt like we kinda clicked.”

I laugh with incredulity. “Okay, well, you’re going to have to email back this time then.”

He looks at me and his eyes crinkle up. “Oh, sorry, but I definitely won’t. I’ve already proved to you that I’m horrible with communication. You’re going to have to wrangle me with a phone call.”

“Oh, well now you’re just making this sound like too much work… Who calls anyone anymore? You’re like some relic from the nineties.”

“Come on, me, I call people, in fact, it’s probably the only sure-fire way to access me at all. At least then you’ll know when I’m coming back to Dublin and maybe someday if you wanted to you could visit me in Berlin.” 

“Hmm.”

“And you’ll love Berlin.” He swears. “You’ll love my friends and the things that we do, it’s not all about drinking all of the time, there’s so much else. And the restaurants, you can have any food you want, anything in the world…”

“You’re really trying to sell it to me here, I get it. Berlin’s the best…”

“Just, here…” He holds out his hand expectantly and I stare at it until he clarifies. “Your phone please, Evie.” I dig it out of my pocket and give it to him. He starts typing something, and when he hands it back to me I see he’s put two things into my notes app. 

“The first one is my German number.” He explains. “And if you don’t have a roaming plan on your phone, that second thing is my skype name. You can call me for free.”

“Okay, well, you know where to find me…” I give him a side-eyed glance “…unless you’ve already deleted my details.”

“Never.” He says. “I still have your number.” 

“Okay then, but I won’t be surprised if I never hear from you.”

“You will.”

I don’t believe him. 

We reach the bar then and head back inside where my face is flushed with a sudden blast of warm air. The private area is nearly empty now with  just a few stragglers left, including Shane, Claire and Jen waiting forlornly around the table. Claire perks up when she sees us. “Oh you’re back, finally.” She breathes. “We really wanted to leave.”

“Where’s Marnie and Dean?” I ask her. 

“He and his friends got thrown out by the bouncers, and then Marnie and the brown haired girl went with them. It was about half an hour ago.”

“It was fun to watch.” Says Shane caustically. “He could hardly even walk.”

I give him a tight smile, trying to hide the deepest shame I have possibly ever felt. I keep picturing his face, Claire’s face, and even Jen’s face when they saw Dean. The shock and disgust in their expressions. It feels like shock and disgust at my decisions, at the choices I’ve made and the people I’ve chosen to spend my time with. I feel a second wave of shame when I think of the things Marnie said to Jude, and the way he just laughed her off like she was pathetic, like she doesn’t have any power I’ve been allowing her after all.  As I look over the small group left in this bar, I realise that Marnie would never have waited for me to come back from the takeaway, she would have left me here on my own, but here are Claire and Shane and Jen who sat out their boredom just so they could make sure I wouldn’t be left alone at my own birthday party.

Then I take Claire’s arm. “Well, I suppose we better get going, so. Thanks so much for coming, this was really really nice.”

“Yeah, for sure.” Jen says to me. “I’d love to catch up with you again sometime.”

“I’d like that too.” I say. 

“Summer.” She says. “When Jude comes back again in June I’ll have you over for a movie, we can all spend time having a proper catch up.”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“Come on, let’s all walk out together.” And so we do, we all head out onto the snowy streets and when we’re ready to leave everybody starts hugging each other goodbye. When it’s my turn to hug Jude I try not to linger in his arms for too long, and I don’t know how to say goodbye to him again so I step back from him and raise one hand in an awkward wave. “Safe trip home.” I say.

“Don’t be a stranger.”

“You don’t.”

“I wouldn’t, not again.”

And then Shane, Claire and I walk away from him together without looking back. 

And that’s that. After a year and a half, we’ve run into each other again, we’ve talked, we’ve caught up and filled in the blanks and now it’s over, he’s gone, and my life will go back to the way it used to be. I have no hope in my mind that I’ll hear from him, and I wonder if it’s for the best that I don’t. He won’t call. The movie night at Jen’s house won’t happen, and maybe we won’t run into each other for a year, two years, maybe more. Or maybe, I think to myself as I trudge through the snow, maybe we’ll never see each other ever again. 

Prev // Next

[cyber-cry-baby]

Miasma pt. 9 "Trust"

Caustic x fem reader Words: ~900 Warnings: none Previous chapter | Next chapter

Feeling upset and disappointed, you wandered back towards your apartment. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions from moments ago that you couldn't untangle. It was probably around four or five o'clock, although you couldn't be sure since your phone was dead and there was no clock in sight. Not that it mattered; sleep was on the horizon.

A thought crossed your mind — maybe you should turn around and follow Alexander. But where did he go? Probably to sleep, but where? You didn't know where he was sleeping, only the location of his laboratory.

Besides, you were quite convinced that some higher force had just prevented you from making a life-altering mistake. It was a sign from the universe that you needed to stop your foolishness and regain your senses. You tried to convince yourself that you made the move only for the sake of a distraction, not your desires. But when you recalled how you were melting in that man's hands just minutes ago, you felt like banging your head against the wall.

You'd have given anything for Alexander to take you right now.

But maybe it was just the alcohol talking.

Not that these thoughts hadn't crossed your mind before...

You were almost at your door when you were snapped back to reality by an obstacle blocking your path. A figure stood before you, and then you recognized them.

"How's it going?" X's rough voice startled you.

"Uh, hanging in there”, you muttered, fumbling for your key card to open your door.

"You seem to be doing quite well in the task I assigned you. And I assume you've achieved something?” the man didn't move an inch to step aside. Your face flushed. Did he see everything that just happened? You sighed deeply and tried to focus. Your head was beginning to clear from the alcohol, and you gathered yourself. If you revealed now what you saw on the computer screen, you could stop thinking about the whole operation and, by extension, Alexander. You could focus solely on yourself.

"I visited his lab and saw something on his computer”, you stated. "It said he was actually planning to unleash a gas that would destroy the entire Solace City."

The man looked at you, raising an eyebrow. Your own words brought you back to reality. What on earth were you doing with a man who was planning something like that?

"And he left that information on his computer for you to see?" the man sounded incredulous.

You nodded, and he burst into laughter.

"We already suspected he might be up to something like that. We were waiting for some new information. Plus, didn't it cross your mind that this man is clever? He probably expected you to see it. He's playing some sort of game with you, testing you."

You looked at him dumbfounded.

"Especially considering what just happened. That man was just using you. It might be wise to reconsider whom you trust”, X grinned broadly, and you felt foolish and betrayed. Could that really be true? Doubt and a mild panic washed over you. You couldn't trust anyone now.

"This turned out to be amusing. But since you'd truly gotten close to Caustic, you could try fishing for more information. In case he was toying with you and knew you were spying on him... well, maybe we could still benefit from that. Let the operation continue”, X glanced at his wristwatch and stepped aside from your door. He gestured for you to go to sleep, an evil smirk on his face.

"I won't continue this any longer, I've had enough!" you hissed. There was nothing fun about this anymore, and now you didn't even know who was on your side and who wasn't. X smiled at you, almost pityingly.

"Well now, it seems you don't have many options, my dear."

*

Everything would be easier if you could just share your thoughts with someone. But you couldn't. X had reminded you of the rules. You were alone in this and did what you were told, or they could hurt your family. You replied to your friends' messages sadly. If only people on the outside knew where you had ended up. They admired your life in the game, and you actually had fans. Your family was so proud.

And what did you do?

Your weakness annoyed you once again. Did you really have options? Your new friends in the game, all of them had a tough life and tough events in the past, yet they manage to get through. Everyone has their battles to fight, and they are legends.

Would you be a true legend if you didn't have to prove it in a hard way?

Next morning you gathered your strength once again and decided to handle things gracefully until the end. You didn't need to rely on anyone else but yourself.

Your thoughts jumped from Syndicate to Alexander. Who was really playing with you here? You couldn't know unless you found out. For your own sake. Despite little sleep and a hangover, you felt stronger than ever. You knew yourself. You would show everyone what you were made of. And if someone took advantage of you, they would regret it.

Luckily, there were people here you could definitely rely on a hundred percent. You were happy about the real friends you had found in the Apex Games. And next week would be full of preparations for a new game.

[rcksmith]

Rules — Kaz Brekker

Requests: “Your works is incredibly good, masterpiece. Can you please smut with Kaz Brekker and prompts 34, 37, 47? Using your rules, they are wonderful. I will really wait))”

“could u do #39 with kaz???ignore if ur not comfortable with this!!”

“Hello, just binge read your kaz brekker smuts and they are amazing! Was wondering if you could do something with smut prompts 34,84,&72?”

Smut prompts:

34. “You’d better watch your fucking mouth.”

37. “I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use?”

“39. “You keep acting like a little brat and I’ll take you over my knee right here, I don’t care how many people are watching.”

47. “You look so good on your knees like that.”

72. “Fuck you.” 1. “I’m up for it if you are.”

84. “Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, NSFW,explicit heavy smut, dirty talk, dom!Kaz.

Word count: 2k.

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

Thank you so much for the requests and for all affection 💖 I decided to compile these requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. I hope you like it and good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are closed. Love you❤️

— — — —

There were two types of people in the world. The dangerous ones, with whom shouldn't play or challenge, people who are able to see and set your soul on fire with a single look, who exude power and domination with the way they walk. And there were people who loved to play with danger, with fire. People who felt the adrenaline pump in their veins and loved the feeling of being messing with something forbidden. Overcoming limits, challenging people on power.

Kaz Brekker was the first type of person. And you were second.

He was intimidating, dark and dangerous. An aura of mystery adored him like an underworld selvedge, and his caustic and intense gaze could very well be bought from what Lucifer cast around the world after The Fall. It was amazing how he hadn't left a trail of rubble where that gaze passed. People feared him, obeyed him, responded to his orders with astonishing precision. Everyone, but not you.

The surest comparison to define you would be to buy Jesper. Both with social personality, adrenaline addiction and seduction in their eyes. But you were a little more than that. More impulsive, more reckless, and more provocative. While Jesper knew all too well when to step back and keep your mouth shut, you refused to bow to Dirty Hands. Not because it was proud, but because it was fun, thought-provoking. Addictive. Every cell in your body felt extremely alive when you are under Kaz Brekker's dominant, angry, and dangerous gaze. He giving you a clear warning that you were swimming in turbulent water, but you were just plunging deeper into his waves.

You wanted to push him to the edge, the exasperation, to see what was really underneath that cold face and serious. Kaz could very well be the boss of the famous gang you were part of, but his rank wasn't enough to stop you. Never would be.

"Frankly, I just don't care." You told Jesper and Nina in one night, downing a shot of vodka.

"What?!" She looked at you dumbfounded. "Kaz is your boss and you argued with him about his plan!"

Nina looked alarmed, but all you felt was adrenaline and pleasure.

“Because it was a nonsense plan and…”

“What nonsense plan?”

And there was Kaz. With his height and his black underworld clothes, with his Lucifer gaze and mouth made for sin. You wanted him to sin. But you wanted l him sin with you.

Jesper and Nina soon stuttered trying to make up an excuse, but you weren't given to lies.

“Yours, in this morning.” Jesper looked like he wanted to stick his head in the dirt after your comment.

Then, once again, that fervent gaze was upon you, and every pulse in your body frantically pumped blood through your veins.

“Don't think I didn't notice your inability to follow rules, Y/n.” It was a warning.

“Oh I don't have a problem following rules “You rested your chin in your palm, with your elbow on the table, and held his fervent gaze, “,but only when they make sense. So that's the only way I can be very obedient, Sir.”

You heard Nina gasp, but your eyes didn't leave Kaz's. There was much more to that look than met the world could see. There was war for control, battles and ferocity. Kaz Brekker wanted to break you in half in that eye contact, but you wouldn't budge because a look. If he wanted you on your knees, you would be very happy to do it, but it would have to be the right way.

Kaz leaned toward you, closer enough for no one else to hear what he was going to say but far enough away that his mouth wouldn't touch your ear.

"You keep acting like a little brat and I'll take you over my knee right here, I don't care how many people are watching."

After that, the sexual tension between the two of you was suffocating, so thick it could have been cut with a knife. But nobody did anything to placate it, and you two just let it get bigger. Bigger and bigger. Until it's too late.

And in one night, it was too late.

"I won't do this just because you want to!" You crossed your arms over your chest.

Kaz wanted you to kidnap one of a mobster's kids to act as security when making a deal, but you wasn't going to kidnap anyone.

“You work for me.”

“No, I work with you.” It was a lie, but you didn't budge. “Don't think I'm here for lack of choice, Brekker. You need me as a vital member of this team and don't forget we're on an equal footing.”

His blue eyes turned almost black. Kaz Brekker rose from his office desk.

“Do you really think you're going to tell me how to act? Think you're gonna boss me around? Well, I don't think so.” His speech was slow and hot and dangerous, like that of a hunter prowling his prey and contemplating how pathetic you attempts to fight were.

“I don't give a damn what you think.” Your whole body was throbbing with life in that moment, as if fireworks had exploded in your chest. “But I won't do what you're ordering.”

"Fuck you." His voice was a growl.

A spot between your legs vibrated, and you gripped the taunt tightly. "I'm up for it if you are."

That seemed to be the pinnacle. The air crackled, the world shuddered, and Kaz's eyes roared with the flames of hell. He walked towards your with three long, purposeful strides, grabbed your chin in his gloved hand and brought you close to his mouth like you were just a rag doll.

Your breath burned in lungs, your unrestrained heart grew stronger and your entire body shivered. A low moan caught in your throat, but you could feel the warm, pulsing liquid stain your panties.

"You’d better watch your fucking mouth." Kaz's voice was husky, strong and gruff, like a boss. Your boss.

Pleasure invaded your body like waves of electricity, stealing your breath and making your blood burn in veins like scalding lava. Your whole body vibrated, screamed, begged. You wanted to disobey and be dominated. You wanted to fight and be defeated. You wanted to play rebellious and be demoted to a good girl.

And your desires must have been very explicit and pleading in your eyes, because Kaz let his lips curve into a cocky, smug smile. The smile of someone who knows he has power.

"You are such a hypocrite." He brought his body close to your. "Saying you're not easily obedient, likes others to think you're provocative and rebellious, but you're just a needy kid wanting my attention."

You moaned this time. A broken and delivered sound that gave away your entire game.

"I'm not one of the men you can challenge and get along with."

"I didn't think you was." You tried to rescue the last spark of provocation, your last fire of insolence.

“And yet you test me. Because you know what I can do with you.”

His husky words hit your skin, and Kaz pulled your chin more closer, until your lips were able to swallow his words. “Because you know I can break you.”

The moan came loud this time, desperate and needy. Kaz hadn't even touched you properly and you already felt ready to combust.

“Y-yes.” But if you were desperate, Kaz was burning with dangerous fury.

“I'm so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use?”

Then his hand slipped from your jaw and stuck to the silky hairs on the back of your neck, closing his fingers there and bringing you with him to the armchair Kaz had been sitting in seconds ago.

They weren't sweet, affectionate, or kind touches, but that wasn't what you were looking for. You wanted roughness, fury, raw and strength. You wanted something wild, wanted had marks on your body the other day to tell a story. You weren't a woman who settled for the basics and wanted someone able to show you what a real fuck was. You wanted to be broken. And Kaz Brekker could give you that.

He sat down in the leather armchair and pulled you to the floor, settling you on your knees on the floor between his long, masculine legs. The awareness of what was to come filled your mouth with water, with desire, with lust, and you found yourself already leaning your mouth closer and... Kaz pulled your hair back, not hard, but firmly, keeping you away from his dick. For a while.

“Are you so eager to get my dick yet?” His free hand, now ungloved, glided to your face, running his thumb across your cheek in a firm, possessive touch. “Of course you are. Greedy slut."

Then came a slap. It wasn't aggressive, but you could feel the heat on your cheek. Your panties have never been so wet as they are now.

“S-Sir f-fuck.”

It was a plea, a whimper or a moan, you didn't know anymore. All you could feel was your pussy throbbing, mouth salivating and the overwhelming desire to put his cock in your mouth. It all hit you so hard that you wanted to cry with the wait.

Kaz lowered his mouth to your, slamming their lips together in a rough, brutal, dictating kiss. He invaded with his tongue and conquered everything you had, rubbing the hot flesh of your tongue in an erotic, maddening dance.

"Let me show you what happens to little brats who don't follow the rules." It was his sentence after back away his lips from your.

Unbuttoning his black pants with one hand and pulling the waistband down along with the boxers, he released the throbbing cock that sprang out with glory and grandeur. Thick, streaked with veins and with a pink head swollen and leaking with pre-cum. Everything about Kaz Brekker was delicious. Your moan at the sight was an opportunity that wasn't passed up. Kaz pulled your head by the back of your neck toward his dick, sinking into the velvety, warm, wet cavity of your mouth.

You accepted it readily, almost in desperation, tasting its taste with his tongue and sucking on his head like your favorite lollipop. Kaz moaned loudly, letting his head fall back and loosening his grip on your hair. Your eyes lifted to him, and the sight made you clench your thighs to ease the arousal.

His broad chest covered by the black button-down shirt rose and fell faster, his smooth white neck was exposed, and his firm jaw was clenched with fury. Brekker looked like the god of the underworld. And you loved it.

Your mouth suck to his cock better, increasing the back and forth movements and leaving a trail of hot sage. One hand rested on Kaz's thigh while the other aided the movements, spreading all the saliva down the length of his cock.

“You look so good on your knees like that.” His voice was more of a growl, and his grip on your hair went back to being firm.

You brought your eyes up to his once more, batting your lashes gracefully as you let out a few broken moans, sliding your tongue across every inch of his warm skin you could reach. Kaz gritted his teeth with your puppy dog ​​eyes. Losing all control and letting out a loud growl mixed with an aggressive curse, he thrust your head at him, sinking his entire dick into your hot mouth and hitting the glans at the beginning of your throat.

You gasped and he moaned loudly, increasing the back and forth and building with the movements of his own hips, fucking your mouth like it was the most delicious thing in the world.

"Fucking hell, what a velvet mouth!" He locked his teeth into his lower lip, using his free hand to slide his thumb across your cheek and give you a reward in the form of a small caress. "That's right, good girl."

You moaned, squinting your eyes and relaxing your throat. His compliment has done wonders for your feminine ego and your vanity, you've sunk your mouth down to touch the tip of your nose to his pelvis, and the grip on your hair has become rough as Kaz moaned loudly in a session of swearing and gasping.

He held you in that position, his whole body shaking with pleasure and despair, blood pumping like boiling lava through his saturated veins. With one last moan mixed with growl, he cum in your throat. In hot, strong jets, making sure you take every last drop. He tasted like salt, man and lust. And it was a miracle you didn't cum right away. The best liquid you've ever had.

Kaz released your hair with a hot gasp, and the hand on your cheek gently pulled you back. His dick came out of your mouth with a 'pop', saliva and tears mingled in your chin, your lips swollen and as red as roses at their apex.

You've never been so fucking delicious as you are now.

Brekker pulled you into his lap, settling you on his thigh and locking their mouths in a kiss permeated with lust and desire. You whimpered, body sensitive, pussy throbbing and throbbing. Your hands went to his hair as Brekker pulled the hem of your skirt up.

"Now, you're going to keep showing me how much you regret being insolent."

You smiled with teasing and malice. The night was just beginning.

[mtreebeardiles]

WIP Whenever

Got tagged by @tiny-banana-time -- many thanks!  Uh, this is less a WIP and more a bit of voice testing, but I did wind up posting it. Never written in this fandom before so more testing is gonna be needed before I land on the cadence I want, but! Hopefully not too bad for a first effort into the Fallout Universe (and idr if you’re familiar with fallout, but hopefully this’ll be a fun read anyway?)

Let’s see! Tagging @theoriginalladya even though she’s already done it and i swear it has nothing to do with wanting more of a certain AU -- no pressure though! And anyone else who wants to share what they’re playing with!  ----

"Alright, I gotta ask."

 He waited until the other man set down his toolkit on the workbench behind him and peered up at him from where he was still kneeling behind his power armor. A tripped mine had torn through the plating, and RJ tried not to dwell too much on how badly it could've gone had Maks not insisted on wearing the hulking thing in the first place. 

 He doubted even someone with Maks's luck would have limped away from that one. 

 A thick eyebrow arched as Maks waited, the hint of a smile curving that irritatingly distracting mouth. Movie-star handsome, as Piper had put it. Classic good looks, or something adjacent to it, certain features too unique or too imperfect to encapsulate the men of Hollywood's heyday. Eyebrows a touch too thick, nose a touch too strong, the fine line of a scar tracing over the corner of his lips, and RJ hated how much he liked to look at the bast--the ass--the…

 There's no helping this one, Duncan.

 Especially because Maks kept wearing that ridiculous outfit.

 "I get why Preston wears the fancy hat and period clothing, but uh… kinda seems like a bit much, don't you think?"

 And Maks tilted his head, eyebrow arching higher and -- yep, definitely smirking now. 

 RJ wasn't sure if he wanted to wipe that smile off his face with caustic remarks or his own mouth. 

 "Maybe I like fancy hats."

 "You can't be serious."

 "You have a bit of fancy hat yourself, you know."

 "Uhh, okay, no, this is a good hat, alright? Not too eye-catching, not trying to make a statement. Simple."

 "My tri-corner hat isn't simple?"

 "It's a tri-corner hat and you're dressed like a godd-- a gosh darn founding father."

 "Nonsense," Maks scoffed. "I don't have a single powdered wig."

 "Maybe you weren't liked enough to get elected to government," RJ shot back, but this only made Maks laugh. 

 Which was a problem, really, because Maks's laughter had an annoying tendency to vibrate through his chest, warm and rich, like something you'd wanna curl up in on a cold night. 

 "I think," Maks went on after a moment. He hefted himself to his feet, brushing off those completely impractical pants and that equally impractical waistcoat. "The answer is actually pretty obvious."

 RJ scowled, folding his arms over his chest.

 "Yeah? Alright, enlighten me, hotshot."

 Maks straightened, adjusting his hat before turning to him. He widened his eyes for effect.

 "I'm a man out of time."

 RJ stared at him. 

 "I hate you."

 "And yet…" His eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled like that, and RJ tried his best not to notice. "You're still here."

 "Caps'll make you do weird things like that."

 "Uh-huh."

 He clapped RJ on the shoulder as he walked past. RJ fought not to turn around and watch him leave. 

 Certain views weren't going to help his resolve any, and he wasn't about to give Maks the satisfaction of knowing the stupid outfit did, in fact, look good on him. 

[redorich]

Hello! Can we get a little something for the hermit canyon AU? I was thinking something Karl centered, maybe they accidentally find his library or otherwise find out about his "travels". They're probably invisible for the whole thing, but do they do anything afterwards? Do they leave little notes and reminders? Would they try to help at all? Or would they push it to the back of their minds and try to forget about it?

Unlike most discoveries made by Hermits, Joe does not find a secret location on a normal surface run. When Etho found the Pogtopia ravine, it was a mystery to him, unsettling and vivid. When Grian found Technoblade's snowy cabin, it was on complete accident, just because Grian needed to explore, to get out of the canyon for a few hours.

When Joe exits the canyon, as he rarely does, he makes a beeline for Karl's library. Time is... not something Joe concerns himself with, but he prefers to constrict himself to the linear travel of the fourth dimension nowadays-- if such a thing as "nowadays" can be said to exist when tangling with time.

Where was he? Ah, yes. He moves quickly, because he dislikes spending more time away from Xisuma's side than absolutely necessary, even if the admin has been having a run of good health days and there are twenty-two other Hermits to attend to the admin in an emergency. He doesn't bother with invisibility, or walking, or other mundane things. Joe simply hovers in the air, flying toward his destination and perhaps fiddling with the tick speed just a little, just enough to get him there faster.

There's a residual feeling of familiarity, like a relationship with an ex-girlfriend which has long since turned sour, near the canyon. There's a whisper there of magic, of gleaming white spires, but all Joe can see is red.

"It's a shame, what they did to this library," Joe mutters with a tsk. Posters of hazy LSD-esque drawings of various time periods and locations line the walls, molding away as red vines climb on them, devour them.

He shrugs. Might as well move on; nothing of value remains here.

To the south is a place Etho has visited only briefly and in passing: Kinoko Kingdom. It's a hotspot of activity at times, and a ghost town at others. Etho didn't even know the name of the place until Puffy reported it. Joe doesn't care. For all that Etho likes to present himself as a cryptid, scaring poor innocent wood-dwelling folk who are just looking for a big fuzzy triclopean spouse, Joe is the one with experience as a cryptid. Let them see him. What are they going to say, "I saw Herobrine"?

He touches down, finally, in front of another library made from mushrooms and wood. Allowing his eyes to flash white for a moment so that he can ferret out the building's secret room, he is both disappointed and unsurprised to see it empty of life. Karl Jacobs, resident time traveller, is not there.

Joe closes his eyes. He doesn't want to have to do this. For decades, there was a place he called home, a place he built from the ground up. It was a place in between life and death, and so he called it the Inbetween.

He opens his eyes, and he is there. It's like walking down a street you've been down a hundred thousand times before; even with your eyes closed, you know where you're going. There are no longer dozens of imperfect copies of himself running around, brainless and waiting to be culled like lambs to the slaughter in order to fuel an affront against nature. Now, there are many iterations of Karl, all wandering aimlessly... save one.

The only version of Karl wearing color stands in an open-air corridor near the courtyard. Even from a distance, Joe can see his chest rise and fall far too rapidly for him to actually be getting any air. (Joe sees everything here, where his eyes are white and cannot be anything but white.)

"Why am I here?" Karl babbles to himself. "I haven't time-travelled-- or did I already forget?"

"You didn't forget," Joe reassures him. It does not have the intended effect.

Karl screams, turning around so quickly that he falls on his ass. He scoots away like a crab missing a leg, scrambling for some distance. "Your eyes--!"

"Come closer," Joe says. "I won't hurt you."

"You're Herobrine!"

Joe exhales slowly. "I was Herobrine. What I am is the only person who can help you."

Karl warily clambers to his feet. None of the other Karls dressed in white pay the two men any mind. "What do you mean?"

"You've got yourself stuck in a dimensional loop of Homestuck proportions, Karl," Joe says. "So did I, when I built this place. It took me decades to figure out how to get out of it, and I knew what I was doing. You don't have that."

"Am I stuck here forever, then?" Karl says mournfully. He waves a hand at the carefree automatons wearing his face. "Will I become one of them?"

Joe takes a few slow steps closer, keeping his hands where the stressed-out time traveller can see them. "I'll take care of things on this end. You won't ever have to come back here again."

Karl sags in relief like a marionette with its strings cut.

"Does the name Eret mean anything to you?" Joe asks. It's a name he's heard from Puffy's lips once or twice, and if her information holds true, things could get much easier.

Karl blinks. "Uh... Yeah? What about them?"

Joe continues. "Dark hair, tall, white eyes like mine?"

"I've never seen Eret without their sunglasses, but I guess, yeah," Karl replies. Of all the things he would have expected Herobrine to ask about, Eret isn't one of them.

"Imagine what Eret looks like," Joe suggests. "Think real hard about them. Imagine them here, in the Inbetween, right in front of us."

Karl has no idea why Herobrine wants him to daydream about Eret (even if their voice is very nice), but if the man is pulling his leg, well-- it's fucking Herobrine, he can do what he wants.

Speaking of that nice voice, Karl hears the voice in question scream out of nowhere. Karl flinches away from the sudden loud noise, before his eyes catch up to his brain and he realizes that he just magicked Eret into existence in the Inbetween.

"What the fuck," Eret says. "H-Herobrine, uh, long time no s-see..?"

"Sorry about that time I kinda tortured you," Herobrine says brightly. "I'm nicer now."

"I doubt--" Eret begins caustically, then remembers exactly who they're talking to and shuts their mouth. "...Why is everything so dark?"

"Take off your sunglasses," Herobrine suggests.

Eret grimaces, but obeys. This place is practically humming with magic, so they just know they're going to get blinded by it the moment they remove their glasses, but they remember what happened last time they pissed Herobrine off.

Wincing, they remove the sunglasses, expecting pain and receiving... nothing. The glint of light on quartz is a bit uncomfortable, but that's a normal human uncomfortable that Eret hasn't experienced since they were a teenager.

Herobrine smacks them on the forehead with his palm. "I take back what I said about 'living with this power for the rest of your life', and all that," he says. "You can turn 'em off now. I'd recommend not turning those eyes back on, though-- at least, not here. It's a little bright, magic-wise."

Eret gapes. All these years, they feared the day they'd meet this powerful man again, imagined what they'd say as they cursed his name or begged his forgiveness... and here he is, giving them exactly what they desperately hoped for but knew they'd never receive simply because he's 'nicer now'.

"Herobrine," Eret says, "why have you done this?"

"Call me Joe," Herobrine says.

Karl interjects, "Joe mama," under his breath. It is with the utmost shock on Eret's behalf that Karl does not in fact get immediately smited into oblivion, merely smacked on the forehead.

"Now you won't forget," Herobrine-- Joe says. "Anyway, I have shenanigans to be up to back in the canyon, so I'll send y'all back now. Those red vines are bad news, and so is their egg, so y'all better take care of that, please. It's really messing your server up."

Karl blanches. "The canyon?"

"Oh, look at the time. Have fun, be safe, bye," Joe says with affected mild disinterest.

Both Karl and Eret have so much to say, so many questions to ask, but they fade away before they get the chance.

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Thinking about which entities the Apex Legends would serve, or be associated with, in the Magnus Archives universe.

It revolves around a weird little fic in my brain i will probably never write. Technically most of them are a mixture, but I'm in between rounds and I dont have time for a full analysis.

Crypto - The Stranger. Loss of self, of identity, being something other to achieve your goal. To abdicate who you are in pursuit of a goal, smile as you lie to the faces of people who assume you are friends... and plan to fade away once you have what you came for. IS that not the Stranger?

Fuse - The Corruption. If Salvo is to be believed, then things are very apocalyptic wasteland there; imagine the things that he has seen, has done, has experienced. It eats into your soul until abhorrent is merely a practicality... what's an arm between mates, ay?

Bangalore - The End, she seems like the type who wants a definitive start and finish to things. Order over Chaos, at any cost. It might start out as good intentions, but you know how the avatars get twisted. If the world has to end so her squad can make it home together, then so damn be it.

Bloodhound - The Hunt, naturally. Only their unwavering adherence to the code keeps them from falling to the warping feral mindset of the Hunt... for now. For Boon.

Caustic - The Eye, and in the headcanon, an archivist. Because of the way the archivist needs fear to live, to observe things die, to extract every second of fear from the victims so that their every last neuron firing in exquisite agony is transferred to his patron. He watches, for the Eternal watcher. He is not quite human anymore, and it is unsettling for normal people to be close... but he is not the greatest threat out there amongst the fears.

Lifeline - The Stranger. Lifeline woke up to the world she was moving about in, as a living prop for her parents, and severed the ties that held her in place. She shed all the artifice of her former life and took on a role so different that old friends (bar Octane) would likely have trouble understanding. She uses her abilities to help, and to hurt based on her own judgements.

Gibraltar - The Buried. Gibraltar is such a loud, fun guy and yet we know he is utterly buried under the weight of his past. Certainly it is not the metaphorical burial that we would normally expect from this Fear, but it can be almost more effective than dirt. He carries the weight of the earth on his shoulders, and feels a sinking dread in his heart for every grain that slips from his grasp.

Horizon - The Lonely. Trapped in space for decades... away from family, knowing that the person who she trusted most placed her in this situation and now has full access to her son? Of course, there is comfort in the solitude. She feels out of time, out of place, searching for a way to get back and yet torn by the implications of finding a path. Will she burn down the future to see her little boy again? ...of course she will.

Loba - The Web. Loba thrives on collecting information, weaving it together into a complicated tangle of deceptions laid bare, truths hidden, and creates a narrative that she can rign over. The flies who tremble in her webbing mean little to her, only weak beings to be devoured. She can see what is coming, but will she tell the others? Perhaps only Bangalore, so that they may experience the apocalypse as one.

Pathfinder - The Flesh. Pathfinder is obsessed with his origin, with who his 'parents' were, with whom his purpose rests. With being human, like those around him, you could say. He has more sentience than other MRVNs, and wants to experience life as his friends do... does he dream os bones and blood and sinew? Of feeling another's flesh on his own when he gives them a hug? The Flesh would whisper that he could have that... and warp the morality in his code.

Octane - The Vast, endless space to run and be free from mortal tethers. Being the sole focus of the universe, with no one to expect things of you, or question you, or need more, expect MORE. He can be free, without thought or care for anyone else... except maybe Che, and he would let her into his domain, whenever he remembered.

Revenant - The Slaughter. Murder was his thing when he was human, and it never stopped. He feels delight in the conquests, in the bodies he leaves behind. The bloodlust pulses through his circuits; the tears of those he leaves alive sustain him.

Rampart - The Spiral. Rampart is a walking wall of complicated thoughts and contradictory actions, she spirals deep into thought about the most complex machinery... and then tells the friend she's half-listening to a bad joke to make them laugh. Layers upon layers of personality cover her like armour, and everyone has a different idea of who the 'real' Rampart is. They all see a fraction, they follow the path she leaves, and in the middle? Who knows. Not even Rampart. There is a delight in the confusion of others, strange but excellent, and not even deliberately malicious. After all, mates have fun, right?

Wattson - The Eye. This was a child created for Knowing, and she would love the intricacies of chasing down obscure mysteries or finding out how to reroute a potentially world-ending ritual with her scientific mind. She could easily be tempte by the Lonely... but her friends in the legends make certain she is never alone. Wattson can be cruel, but often to be kind... and really, sometimes the Truth Hurts. Does it not?

Wraith - The Buried. What is wraith but a person whose mind and memories are buried away where they cannot be reached? In a sense, she is gone but still breathing. Suffocating under the weight of not knowing who she is, was, should be.

Mirage - The Dark. Fear of being alone, of being forgotten, of being turned away from all you ever knew. The fear of being nothing and no one... is almost as terrifying and all-consuming as the fear of being surrounded by people whose attention is solely on him, watching and waiting for his every word. Baite breaths waiting for him to fall from grace so he can shatter before their cameras, so they can get notoriety. His mind wants, and rejects it. He fears the darkness of being in the shadows of others... and craves it.

Valkyrie - The Vast. She craves the emoty stretch of sky, where the world looks so small and speckled below her. Something she is aware of, but separate from. The tragedy of her father's loss made her seek solitude, and even in the midst of the other heroes, she has a sense of... other, of distance. She is queen of the air, and nothing can burn her wings.

[inkribbon796]

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

Summary: Roman and Remus have always fought, always. But this time they’re teaming up for something they both agree on. Getting their mentors together.

A/N: for @aimasup and @pixeldragon45 I might have taken some liberties with the story but I hope you guys like it. I wrote this after seeing this amazing post by aimasup.

Two brothers, royal born but divided in every single way. The elder twin strove for honor and chivalry, raised in the royal court around the other knights and the tales of rulers and knights from the kingdom’s history in ages past. Some stories were true, others had been exaggerated more than a bit. 

The younger twin had been mostly shoved into his elder brother’s shadow — a brother who was older by little less than an hour — and quickly began to act out as a result.

They quickly began to be divided on the battlefield. The younger prince had been kidnapped one day by a powerful shape changing mage when he was sixteen and just decided not to go back and the royal knights found him playing old maid with her in the tower, and he threw them out the door with a note for his parents and brother.

He had declared himself “the monsters’ problem now” and was not coming back.

It was Prince of Sanders Roman’s sword and “good” magic, versus Duke of the Dark Wood Remus’s pranks and illusions.

But that is not today’s story. The fight between good and evil is for another day.

On the edge of the city, bordering the untamable Dark Woods where monsters called home, there was a tavern. It was on a trade road that went around the woods and towards the neighboring kingdom. The tavern was a way stop before reaching the capital city of Roman’s kingdom.

It was absolutely pouring down rain when a cloaked young man ran into the tavern. He pulled down his hood after looking around the tavern. Prince Roman had come to this tavern frequently, it was considered neutral ground because the caravans that came through, the residents of the Dark Woods traded between each other and the merchants protected their clients.

Against a wall, Roman spotted his brother sitting at a table, a plate of food and three empty mugs of ale next to him.

Roman walked over and naturally turned up his nose at the magic keeping Remus from getting too tipsy. “You couldn’t wait until I got in could you?”

“Ahh, brother,” Remus smiled. “I got hungry, I got bored. There’s a very cute bartender over there.”

Remus blew a kiss and waggled his fingers at the young man in question.

“Focus,” Roman hissed at him.

Remus smiled, “So I take it you received my letter?”

“You contemptuous oaf,” Roman sneered at Remus. Roman was pulling out of his cloak a dirt speckled note that had a stick figure drawing of Roman’s fairy godmother and Remus’s mentor, the dragon witch, on it holding hands. The words: canon ship xoxoxoxo maybe?!?! Meet me at the Salty Unicorn at 10pm if you agree plz thx; were written, half scrunched into the left corner of the paper as if the second half was an unplanned addition. On the front it was addressed to: my horridly good brother, Roman; from: your bestest coolest brother, Remus.

Roman shook the note violently. “Did you write this in mud? Mother would have you raked over hot coal for a note this foul!”

Remus clapped in excitement, “So you’ll help me?”

“What type of cad do you take me for?” Roman scoffed, throwing the note down onto the table. “Of course I will.”

Shaking his hands, Remus just about squealed in delight, his smile widening. “The journey will be perilous, brother.”

“Oh please, it will be easy,” Roman scoffed. “It’s true love, and they are already smitten. Half of our job is done for us.”

It was, in fact, not easy. It was easy for the two princes to get back to their homes. But when they met back up at the border of the Dark Woods a couple weeks later, Roman challenged Remus to come out and fight him. The royal prince had to fight several goblins before Remus showed up, mace in hand and swinging it around wildly like a maniac. He managed to hit three goblins, who didn’t scramble away fast enough, in the face before he made contact with Roman’s shield.

Buzzing around Roman was a bright blue hummingbird, a little puffball of feathers and magic. She was fluttering around the royal prince, magic coming off her wings like glitter.

During the twin’s duel for honor and a bit of fun, a flash of shadow flew across as a large bat flew towards him and hit the hummingbird out of the air.

“You fiend!” Roman spat as the hummingbird seemed to glow and in an explosion of feathers a woman appeared in a billowing blue and white dress, the little jewel beads of the dress glittering and sparkling in the light. For a second or two she looked like she was covered in soft down before having more human light tan skin.

“That was a cheap shot,” Althea the fairy godmother reminded tersely as the Dragon Witch turned from a bat to a bony witch in a very dark red dress, her skin an ivory ash color.

“Please it’s almost like you wanted to get hit,” the Dragon Witch reminded. “Besides you two were gaining up on my sweet Remus.”

Althea swept her hair back, which frustrated the Dragon Witch because even in a fight it always looked flowing and fluffy.

“Give up,” the Dragon Witch smiled. “These woods are ours.”

“Never!” Althea shouted. “Your reign of terror is over.”

Lights and magic flew across the battlefield. In the end Remus and Roman had tied again as the Dragon Witch was thrown back by a gust of wind.

“Meddling child,” the Dragon Witch spat.

“Surly, caustic witch,” Althea snapped back. “Be gone and go back to your unhallowed woods. We are victorious.”

“I clearly won,” the Dragon Witch smiled smugly.

Althea made a little angry pout, crossing her arms in a huff, “You’ve done no such thing. Even if you two did win, it would only be because you both cheated.”

The Dragon Witch had some big gloating tirade of sarcastic insults, but seeing her little pout where she puffed out her cheeks a bit and looked like she was sticking her tongue to the inside of her cheek and . . . she . . . what was she going to say again? Something about her cute face? No, Althea would just make fun of her for that.

“Yeah? Well you . . .” The Dragon Witch tried not to look absolutely flustered. “. . . you’re just a poor sport.”

Althea looked angrier while the Dragon Witch was just internally screaming. Poor sport? Who says that? What are you five? Did you just get kicked out of the academy?

Remus was standing behind them, a huge toothy grin on his face that made the Dragon Witch want to have his face dragged in the mud or put worms in his stew.

Glancing at her student again she saw that both he and Roman had stopped fighting and the two of them were just watching the two mages arguing. The whole thing smacked of a trick of some kind and right now the Dragon Witch couldn’t figure out what type of trap that meant.

So she appreciated whatever the hustle was, even though she doubted that Remus had turned on her. He would be up front about it, and predictably violent.

He was a good kid so . . .

She looked over at Roman who seemed to be just as excited as Remus was, except he was staring at Althea . . .

“Wait a second,” the Dragon Witch realized.

“I will not be waiting any seconds,” Althea refused, not understanding.

The Dark Woods mage immediately remembered that the good witch had been talking to her and she had been ignoring her. But one look at her face reminded the witch why she had a crush in the first place.

“Yes or no?” Althea ordered, pointing at her?

“Uh,” the Dragon Witch stalled, staring at her, “no?”

Althea’s face got a bit fuzzy with her anger, the feathers around her face was almost a pinking color.

She looks so adora— no, don’t she’ll just turn you down.

“I can’t believe this, you’re so frustrating,” Althea huffed out. She stomped her feet a bit and grabbed Roman, “We’re leaving.”

“But you didn’t . . .  I mean, justice,” Roman sputtered as he was dragged towards a carriage that had been hiding up the road to stay out of the fight.

“Don’t say a word,” the Dragon Witch ordered Remus as they watched them walk away.

“Why Maggie?” Remus smiled, setting his hands and chin on the hilt of his mace.

“If you don’t, I’ll use your tongue for a gibberish concoction,” she threatened.

“Awwww,” Remus’s grin was particularly sharkish. “Someone’s just being a poor sport.”

The Dragon Witch whipped her staff around and lightly cuffed him on the back of the head.

Inside Roman’s carriage, the royal prince was just listening to his fairy godmother rant at him.

Althea was sitting with her face buried in her hands, her face red as a tomato. “That woman is so infuriating! Ugh, what kind of game is she playing?”

“Who knows with them?” Roman shrugged.

“Maybe if she wasn’t so cute, I’d know what to say,” Althea accidentally said out loud.

She blushed even harder with embarrassment and looked up at Roman. “Uh, I mean—”

Roman stared at her for a second before pulling apart the divider behind them and turning to yell, “Cam! Turn this cart around, we got a date to catch!”

“Roman!” Althea yelled, her face getting even redder. “She’s the queen of the Dark Woods!”

“And the Dark Woods is about to get themselves another fabulous queen,” Roman proclaimed.

The cart had stopped, the driver turned around in his seat to verify, “Are you sure you want to go back to the Dark Woods, Sir?”

“Oh yeah,” Roman smiled. “I know we’re only three minutes out. We could walk there. Oh, and you and Quil are about to cough up five pounds a piece.”

“Roman!” Althea shrieked as the carriage began to move back towards the haunted woods.

“It’s true love, my darlingest mentor,” Roman insisted, “and I have it on good authority that she thinks you’re good looking.”

Althea got even redder, “Who told you that?”

“Well Remus was cruder but I understood the intent,” Roman answered.

“He could be lying,” Althea accused.

“Please, my brother is the worst liar in all the kingdoms,” Roman defended, almost offended for the brother he fought on a regular basis’s honor. “He’s crude, rude, and violent, but he is no liar.”

“She really likes me?” Althea asked.

“How could she not?” Roman demanded. “Now, we have true love to prepare for my dear.”

“Let’s just start at a first date, Roman,” Althea insisted. “It’s a little soon for anything like that.”

“You’ll see,” Roman smiled, looking out the window. “She’s over the moon for you.”

Eventually the carriage stopped because Remus was standing in the middle of the road with the Dragon Witch next to him.

Roman opened a top hatch in the carriage, “Ahh, good, we were just about to go and find you two again.”

“I’d like your men to stop accosting my woods,” the Dragon Witch spat.

“When you get your marauding bandits to stop attacking my people,” Roman bargained.

“How about when you pay my woods back for generations of war crimes?” The Dragon Witch’s eyebrow shot up.

“We shouldn’t have to defend ourselves from being set on fire,” Roman reminded. “I’d be happy to start calling off the war if we could trust you won’t pick up arms against us the moment we have our backs turned.”

“Ugh!” Remus complained. “We’re not here to talk about politics! We’re here to talk about two lovely ladies getting freaky!”

“Ah, thank you Remus,” Roman clapped his hands, smiling. “Thank you, for once, for getting us back on topic.”

Roman waved his hands and when his hand came back up Althea in her hummingbird form was perched on two of his fingers. The royal prince exited the carriage with her, clearing her throat. “Queen Dragon Witch of the Dark Woods, I present to you the Good Witch of the Sanders Kingdom. She is as intelligent as she is brave and you shall be permitted to court her on the grounds that you vow to honor and cherish her, to treat her as the lady she is.”

“That’s it?” The Dragon Witch asked, clearly braced for more.

“Yeah, she has to vow the same,” Remus cut in.

“Naturally, my mentor is no brute,” Roman agreed.

“No I meant is he going to demand anything else of me,” the Dragon Witch told Remus.

Roman briefly ran over his speech in his head and ducked back in to grab the paper he had rehearsed with, reading back over it, “honor and cherish . . . no I got everything.”

“No land, no unfavorable terms?” The Dragon Witch seemed surprised and astonished.

The royal prince made an offended gasp, “My great-great grandfather’s petty squabbles have no bearing when love is on the table. Naturally if any deals for land and power are to be carried out, our courts should both be here for that.”

The Dragon Witch just stared at Roman for a bit before smiling, “You know, you’re a spoiled rich human brat, but I think you’ll actually make a good king one day.”

“Thanks?” Roman wasn’t sure if he’d been insulted or not. “I think?”

The Dragon Witch held out her hand and Althea transformed back, looking a little bit nervous. “You really are the most beautiful fairy in the lands,” the Dragon Witch told her.

Althea was just staring at her, “You are too.”

The twin brothers were standing close to the carriage and Roman’s driver, the three of them just watching the two of them talking.

“Janny owes me big for this,” Remus was almost cackling.

“Are you making deals with that snake?” Roman critiqued.

“How about you get off my ass and let me live my life?” Remus glared at him. “Besides his mother is happy, what could be better than that?”

“You do have to admit,” Cam said to Roman from his seat above them, “they do look happy.”

“Yeah,” Roman sighed, acquiescing on that front.

The two witches talked for a bit before they inevitably had to part ways. They would meet again on the battlefield, but next time it would be a not-so-quiet show of magic, designed to impress rather than harm.

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 2255 Summary: The one where you feel aroused whenever your soulmate does

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 223

Madara was halfway through the speech he’d spent hours preparing, in full view of the entire council of advisors, when his words stumbled and his entire body grew warm. From the other end of the table Hashirama and Izuna gave him looks of great concern. He avoided both of their gazes. After clearing his throat he cast around trying to pick up the threads of his carefully laid arguments and continue on but the stride had been broken, the careful build up he’d been relying on interrupted by an untimely wave of something he really didn’t want to think about in a room filled with stuffy clan heads. 

“We’ll have to think on this matter a little more,” Yamanaka-san told him when he stuttered to a halt for the second time. 

“Don’t give me that,” Madara snapped. He knew as well as everyone else in the room what that meant. It meant no. “I haven’t even gone over-”

The words failed on his tongue as another wave of heat washed over him. Whatever his soulmate was doing at the moment he hoped someone came along and interrupted their fun at just the wrong moment. If his day had to be ruined by their untimely lust then it was the least they deserved in return. 

At the very least a careful look around the room showed that no one seemed to have noticed exactly what was bothering him. Hashirama’s gaze had already fallen back in to a bored, empty look. Izuna was frowning with open concern. Most of the advisors were either drumming their fingers with impatience as they waited for their own turn to speak or jotting notes down on the papers in front of them. Out of everyone in the room Tobirama was the most likely to notice, his eye for detail surpassed by very few, but the intensity of his gaze hadn’t changed in the slightest and despite how closely he’d been watching since Madara stood up from his chair the man’s expression hadn’t so much as twitched. 

They weren’t exactly very close but Madara knew Tobirama well enough to know he would have at least some sort of reaction to seeing the head of the Uchiha clan grow hot with lust in the middle of addressing the council. 

“I have a few thoughts on this matter myself,” Hyuga-san piped up and that was when Madara realized that he'd lost this argument. It didn’t matter whether the points he’d been trying to make were good or valid or benefited the village as a whole. The Hyuga clan head would always stand in opposition to him and somehow the man had wheedled himself in to better graces with the others than Madara would ever be able to with his naturally caustic personality. They would side with Hyuga-san as soon as he finished speaking. Just because he already knew it would happen, however, didn’t mean he had to like it. 

For the rest of the meeting Madara slumped in his chair with arms crossed and jaw rigily set, doing his best to project as much insult and anger as he possibly could. Partly because he really was feeling that way and he wanted the rest of the council to understand how much he did not appreciate their favoritism. It was also partly to cover the gentle waves of arousal that continued to wash over him from time to time like the other half of his undiscovered bond were being continually distracted by something they found pleasing in all the right ways. If he wasn't so irritated he might have been grateful, actually. Shameful as it would have been to admit to anyone, Madara had been so busy lately that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a few minutes to take himself in hand let alone the last time he’d been able to seek out any form of relationship, temporary or not. Having the time to follow up on the echoes of someone else’s lust would have at least been a great stress relief. 

Unfortunately the hardness inside his clothing did nothing to make the mountains of paperwork on his desk go away. Madara adjusted himself as discreetly as possible before standing up at the end of the meeting, stomping his way out of the room in the hopes he could turn the fire in his blood to a different kind of energy. It sort of worked. He always had been quick to anger, though it was difficult to stay truly angry now that his mind had been thoroughly distracted, supplying him with all sorts of interesting images from the last relationship he’d actually had time for. They hadn’t lasted very long but by all the gods that man could bend. 

When he realized he was contemplating the risks of slipping down in to the archives and hoping no one would follow, Madara shook himself, determined to be productive. The village needed him to do his work and none of the papers on his desk were going to get done any faster if he was off somewhere indulging pointless bodily needs. He would have to soldier on. 

The first thing on his to do list was to pick up the information packet he’d been too distracted to take with him after the meeting, necessary to have with him if he wanted to get anything done on the academy project. His nose wrinkled. Fetching that meant going down to Tobirama’s office since he was the one who’d been handing them out and he was the one who would have gathered up any left behind. Madara was grateful they’d been getting along better over the past few months - it was surprisingly difficult to remember when they’d last fallen in to one of them infamous screaming matches - but he really didn’t want Tobirama’s attention on him right now. Of all people to need something from, of course it had to be the one who always wanted to notice the whole room. 

Several curses for bad luck were still spilling out of his mouth when Madara found himself pounding on the door. Tobirama’s voice rumbled from inside for him to come in, sounding entirely unsurprised. Either he’d sensed Madara coming or he’d made a note of who exactly left their info packet behind. Possibly both. 

“Do I get three guesses for what you need?” Tobirama asked in lieu of a greeting. His tone was almost dry enough to cover the hints at humor underneath but it was there just enough to stoke Madara’s temper. 

“Fuck you,” he snarled without thinking.

“Now, now, Uchiha, if you’re not polite to me then I don’t see why I should need to cooperate with you.”

“Fuck you with a sharp stick!”

Madara knew he had anger problems. Knew that he tended to let his emotions get the best of him with alarming frequency. Right now when his body was fighting off the heat of another’s thoughts was not the time to think about standing down and rethinking his approach. No, he was already too much on edge to even consider the idea of self control and as much as he would later very smugly point out that it all worked to his benefit, at the moment all he could feel was exasperation for himself when Tobirama lifted one of those perfect eyebrows and Madara heard his own voice explode. 

Several months of good behavior went out the door all at once with one great roar of temper. 

Contrary to most of the fights they typically engaged in, Tobirama didn’t seem very interested in fighting back. For some reason that only incensed Madara further, driving him to scream louder, as if the man had done him some terrible wrong by not providing him with a proper outlet for all this unwanted energy sizzling under his skin. No matter how he swore and raged and shouted Tobirama did nothing but sit with his chin resting on a cushion of long fingers woven together, mouth set in some enigmatic line, eyes dark and intense as they watched Madara’s every movement. It was almost creepy how closely he watched without ever engaging. 

Yet worse than being stared at like some freakish zoo exhibit were the constant waves of increasing lust. Madara wished he could say that his anger was burning it away like he’d hoped but it only seemed to make it worse. The more he let himself get riled up the more his belly roiled with fire, body almost aching to be pressed against whatever hard surface was most convenient and fucked within an inch of his life. It really had been too long.

If he’d been allowed to run the course of his little temper tantrum and storm off immediately afterwards the way he normally did Madara wasn’t sure he ever would have figured it out. The vicious snarl he let out when someone opened the door unannounced was accompanied by a sharp spike of want that absolutely did not match the face that stared back at him in surprise. Izuna blinked at him once, spared his best friend the same baffled look, then looked at the door he was still holding open. 

“Damn, I need you to add these seals to my office sometime. I didn’t hear a damn thing from out in the hall.”

Madara growled to have his beautifully crafted insults cut off when he was in the middle of a really good stride. His jaw opened to demand that Tobirama do no such thing only to snap shut when he caught sight of the man he’d just been abusing for who the hell knew how long. Of all the expressions he might have expected to see, shame was not one of them. He wouldn’t have guessed Tobirama even knew what shame felt like but there it was in the faint twist of lips and the guilty shifting of weight. It wasn’t until he realized one of Tobirama’s hands was out of sight under the desk that his brain made a leap from Point A to somewhere along the lines of Tab C, sub-paragraph ninety-eight, and then he was left standing just a little outside of his own body, entirely unaware of the world around him. 

By the time his unsuspecting brain had finally accepted the idea that just occurred to him he came back to himself to realize the door was shut, Izuna was nowhere in sight, and Tobirama was staring at him again with something like faint worry hanging between the creases of his brow. 

“Are you hot for me?” Madara demanded with every ounce of tack in his body - which was to say absolutely none. 

“I...beg your pardon?”

“You were watching me just like that while I was making my presentation during the meeting.”

“Failing to make your presentation,” Tobirama corrected him. 

And then he seemed to fall still in anticipation and Madara could only stare as the whole world crashed down around his ears. 

“You do it on purpose,” he breathed. “You make me angry on purpose because you like it! You fucker!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tobirama protested. His voice was steady enough to give the words credence and it would have been entirely believable if not for the sudden bright red color staining his ears.

Madara stomped a little closer to slam both hands down on the desk and shove his face right up to the other man. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You’re hot for this disaster, I can feel it. Every time I get louder you get hornier.”

Watching Tobirama’s eyes blow wide was satisfying but seeing him drop his face in to both hands with the mortification of getting caught was pure gold. Madara enjoyed it very smugly even as he raced to catch up with the true meaning behind his own discovery. In an effort not to flail his way through a moment he’d been dreaming of since the day his mother explained the concept of soulmates to him as a wee little preteen, he cast about for something else to say.

“The only thing I don’t get is what got you hot in the meeting of a fucking council meeting.”

“I like your confidence,” Tobirama’s voice admitted from behind pale fingers. “It’s competent. And attractive.” He could not have sounded more strained if the words had been tortured out of him. Madara chewed that over for a minute before deciding he liked it. This he could definitely work with. 

“Right. Well, I am going to get absolutely nothing done until I can think straight again so here’s what is going to happen. You want confidence? Good. Then you’re going to follow me home, you’re going to follow me in to my bedroom, and then you are going to follow every single order I give while you rail me in to the mattress. Are we in agreement?” 

He’d never seen Tobirama move so fast in his entire life. One second they were separated by the very solid wood of a sturdy desk and the next he was standing in a six foot shadow blinking at surprisingly delicate collarbones. He grinned to see the blush revealed now that Tobirama wasn’t hiding behind his hands. It had been far too long but it wouldn’t be too much longer. Madara freely gave in to the urge to cackle as he led his soulmate away to go work off a little energy before they could talk about this with level heads. 

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “The Pack.”

Apparently, I have been informed that I have been doing too much angst lately, and the crowd demands that I give the crew a rest. Fluff has been requested and fluff is what I shall give you. This is based on an few ideas I have been given, so I hope this is what you were looking for. 

It was warm.

She lay half asleep in the darkness with the familiar sound of mechanical humming that dominated her life these days. Familiar and unchanging scents filled the air painting a unique landscape known only to her. 

Despite there being no sun, her body told her when it was time to wake up, and she lifted her head, stepping onto the cold metal floor and stretching dangerously, yawning wide. The air was thick with one of her favorite smells, locked up here for hours.

She padded over to the other bed gearing up with a spring to jump onto the bed.

The covers were squishy and awkward to walk across, but the made it up to the head of the bed, where the source of her favorite scent was still lying asleep on his back, one arm behind his head, the other resting on his chest.

She stuck her snout into his face and began licking his cheek.

His sturred groaning before cracking open his single eye.

She did her best to lick it.

He made a snorting sound pushing against her with his hands. He grumbled at her, “Mumble mumble, Waffles, mumble mumble good girl!” She continued to lick at his face running her pink tongue over any patch of exposed skin she could fine until her pack alpha was desperately trying to cover his face.

“Waffles! Mumble mumble lay down!”

She did flopping down beside him and resting her head on his stomach. He rubbed her ears, and she closed her eyes happily, his warm heavy hand resting on her head. The smell of him filled her nose making her tail beat softly against the blankets.

He stroked a hand down her back and she sighed deeply.

“Sleep.” He ordered 

She was pretty sure it was well past when they usually woke up, but he was the boss, so she closed her eyes, her head still resting on his stomach feeling the calming movement of his breath, and listening to the calm beating of his heart. Waffles knew what her job was, and as a German Shepherd, she lived to work.

Her job?

Keeping this human happy and calm..

It had been a while since she had actually had to work hard for it, but she wasn’t unhappy about that. In fact, she saw it as a testament to her good work that this human was mostly calm and happy.

She napped there on his chest for a little while before another, familiar scent reached her nose. She lifted her head and sniffed a little. The smell was, not like something she had experienced for most of her life. It was a smell familiar to the rumbly metal box they spent most of their time in. It was a smell she recognized from strange places that sometimes looked like home but sure didn’t smell like it.

This smell was…. Hard to describe.

It was metallic, just a bit, kind of floral, but not really, and often tinged with a hint of something….toxic, but not really. The smell made her think of the color yellow, while simultaneously thinking of the smell of blood. Her tail thudded against the bed as the door slowly slid open.

The source of the smell walked across the intervening space turning its head down to make eye contact with her.

Waffles liked this smell too.

It was a smell that commonly lingered on Adam these days.

She liked this strange creature for a multitude of reasons, she made Adam happy, she was willing to sneak food to waffles, and best part: waffles rolled onto her back paws up in the air as the alien used all four hands, two to give her a belly rub and the other two to rub hands through the scruff about her neck.

She grumbled happily.

Above her Adam had sat up and was looking at her, she could see it based on the whites of his eyes.

“Spoiled dog.” He grumbled, turning his head to look up at Sunny.

Waffles sneezed and rolled back onto her stomach looking up at the two of them. The scents on the air had changed a bit. ONe of them was familiar, a sort of smell than both humans and dogs get when humans pet dogs, or hold babies, but there were some other scents too.

Waffles rested her head on her paws.

She was pretty sure that Sunny wasn’t a human based on smell, so her human’s interest was rather strange, but then again, she had once known a chihuahua infatuated with a great dane, so she supposed it wasnt THAT weird.

She listened to them talk to each other, closing her eyes again and allowing their voices to lull her back into sleep. She liked listening to them talk, it was nice. She liked being close.

Adam eventually moved, forcing her off the bed and back onto the floor where she lay by the door.

She could hear the sound of running water in the other room, and the caustic tang of chemicals.

She wasn’t the biggest fan of them, they washed away his natural smell and covered it up with smells that were wrong, but she could forgive him for that, it was ok.

When he came back out smelling of chemicals and dressed in new clothes, she dropped into step at his heels as he walked out the door. Sunny was waiting for them and together they walked up the hallway. SHe lifted her head as they talked smelling the smells and listening to the distant clatter of engines and voices.

Adam did not go up today, so that must mean today was a relaxing day, not as much movement as usual. She liked days like that because they usually involved popcorn or pancakes. Speaking of pancakes, she could smell them now wafting up from two floors down.

She wagged her tail and moved on ahead of Adam turnin to look over her shoulder at him.

He showed his teeth at her, in a good way, “I think she can smell the pancakes.”

Her tail began to wag furiously.

“Maybe you should have named her pancake.”

“Maybe I should have.”

Waffles didn’t know what ninety percent of that meant, all she heard was pancakes, and that gave her even more o a reason to hurry into the box that took them down to the pancake room.

Smells wafted into her face as the door opened, and she hurried inside. There were so many good smells, so many familiar people and faces and voices her tail wagged happily from side to side and she pranced around Adam’s feet looking up at him with an expectant expression.

When he finally hurried up and got food, and they sat down, he was joined by a group of others.

She recognized the smells of the different humans.

Ramirez 

Dr. Katie.

Maverick.

She sat under the table and rested her head on Ramirez’s knee. He was a sucker, and she could usually get something out of him. He looked down at her, to where her head was resting on his knee, and he saw the muscles in his face move upwards. The eyes were very important in humans. She watched his brows move up, and he looked over to where Adam was sitting, “I’m assuming she’s not working?”

Adam shook his head, “No, go ahead.”

He reached his hands down and began rubbing the side of her face and ears. Her tail beat against Adam’s legs. Granted this wasn’t a pancake, but it was almost as good.

Ramirez glanced over at Adam and then quickly look down at her.

Ah, there it was.

She opened her mouth wide, catching the pancake in her mouth before retreating under the table to eat it.

Overhead she heard Adam talking, “I saw that.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are such a sucker.”

Sigh, “I know.

Waffles would move back to Ramirez in a minute, but for now, she moved over to where Dr. Katie was sitting. Dr katie looked down at patted her head, “Good morning pretty girl.” Waffle’s tail thumped.

Maverick reached over to stroke her ears as well, “Best girl.”

She locked Maverick’s hand

Then she returned to Ramirez sitting on his feet and looking up at him with a pleading expression.

She was interrupted a moment later as another smell moved into the room. It was a sort of burning smell, almost like charred plastic with a hint of charcoal. She recognized that smell and poked her head out from under the table to watch the strange floating human move towards them.

Conn had scared her at first, but they understood each other quite well now.

Conn greeted her with images and feelings. Inside her head she remembered the scent of warm grass, and the sun on her back. She sighed softly at the memory and wagged her tail as he approached.

She crawled out from under the table and walked over to the strange human greeting him with a nose touch to his cold-hard skin. He reached down and patted her head with his overly long fingers, like being petted by a block of wood in the shape of a hand.

She received the image of Ramirez giving her another pancake if she tried again, and with pleasure she returned to him.

The strange floating human was never wrong about that sort of thing.

And accurately, not minutes later she was handed another one.

The new ship was full of smells, and she was happy to go around greeting them all day.

Everyone wanted to pet her, and she was happy to let them.

She went to see the marines first. They were rolling around on the ground trying to choak each other. The play fighting looked fun and she ran over to join in, barking and waiting her tail.

They broke apart making that revving noise humans tended to make when happy. She liked happy human noises and rolled onto her back so they could pet her.

Eventually she had at least six people petting her at once, and she was happy.

After saying hi to the marines, they went to go see the fluffy creatures that smelled like dear. To be honest, they sort of smelled like something she could eat, though she never would. She had smelled a Kangaroo once, and that seemed about accurate.

They looked a little bit like it too, though they never allowed her to get close enough to get a better look. She Could smell the fear on them which was a surprisingly similar smell to human fear. There were a few humans on the ship that were afraid of her too, or if not afraid nervous.

The new human, the one that smelled like chemicals and graphite, who spent a lot of time with Adam was one of those people. Waffles didn’t really like her much either if she was honest. She always smelled nervous and that made waffles nervous, Nervous and high strung people made her want to help them, but Simon didn’t like her getting too close,

It was sort of sad, she was pretty sure she could help.

After that, they went to go see the other things like Sunny. She liked being petted by them the most because each of them had four hands. She didn’t like when they fought each other though, because that didn’t look like play fighting. Adam had to put her away sometimes when he played with them because she didn’t like it when he got hit.

She could forgive the big creatures though, they were nice and gave her lots of belly rubs.

She wasn’t so sure about the new creature that spent time with Maverick. It smelled wrong, like a bug. And at home she at bugs out of the air like flies and wasps, but this bug was huge, taller than maverick, and it had wings like a butterfly. It was so different from the other creatures, that she had trouble smelling what it’s smells meant. She thought it was nervous around her, but not too nervous.

She had even allowed it to pet her once. It was strange, but she had decided it was no threat.

And then of course they went to the place that smelled very very heavily of chemicals. She had been in these places a lot. And they met one of her other favorite aliens. Adam had been very worried about her the first time she met this creature, though he shouldn’t have, he smelled like a flying cabbage, and waffles didn’t like cabbage.

The floating cabbage, Krill, floated over to them.

He looked down at her and she sniffed at him.

He was a vet, but mostly for humans, but also sometimes for her.

Waffles tentatively stepped forward and nosed the floating cabbage. Instead of backing away like he usually might, he pitted her with his thin stick arms.

“You better not be feeding her breakfast today after Ramirez slipped her pancakes. We want her to live as long as possible.”

“Yeah don’t worry, I am keeping track.”

“Good.” he patted her again and let them go.

They ran into another vet down a ways, though this one just liked to talk a lot. He had dark skin for a human and smelled pleasantly musky like damp forest bark. He reached down and rubbed her ears, “Always good to see a fellow therapy professional.” She wagged her tail.

She liked his voice, it was very deep and calming.

“Dr Adric.” Adam said.

He stood back up and the two humans looked at each other, “Haven't seen her wearing a vest in a few months now.”

Adam shrugged, “haven't needed her to work in a few months. I’ve been feeling really good, and if I have a bad day, she will be around.

Dr. Adric nodded and they were let go.

She was led back down the hall and into the popcorn room. She called it that because that's where the humans sat in the dark and watched the box with pictures on it. They liked to eat popcorn when they did that.

“What are you making us watch tonight?” Sunny said as Waffles sniffed under a pool table.

“That is for me to know and for you to find out.”

He sat down and waffles moved around the room sniffing at everything.

It was when she smelled the smell of something small and furry that she turned around glancing over to where the very strange creatures were waiting her. They were very small, smaller than her and very fluffy. They had very large eyes, and she hadn’t met them yet.

But she had smelled them.

She took a tentative step forward sniffing at them. They didn’t run away like she would expect of something that small, but eyed her. She took another step forward, her tail up and interested. They hopped forward close enough for her to smell. They smelled fluffy and sweet, but…. weird .

They moved closer, right at her feet now, and she stood surrounded by a small pack of the fluffies. They had tiny ears and little noses, kind of like puppies. She sniffed at the top of one’s head and licked it with her long pink tongue. Its hair rasped against her mouth.

I jumped back, but she followed it.

The others crowded at her feet.

She stood there confused for a moment and then lay down slowly with a grunt. Immediately one of them climbed onto her back like puppies or kittens might. She beat her tail against the ground, looking down at the one between her paws.

She licked it again, and when it didn’t move, she adjusted her paws and began to clean it, running her tongue up its brightly colored fur.

Two of them were on her back now, one of them resting against her side, and another one between her paws.

She was busy cleaning it when Adam walked over, a look on his face that he sometimes gave her, eyes wide and smiling. 

“What is going on here.”

“We have tamed your predator and are now integrating it into our clan.”

“I see…. She likes you.”

Her tial moved back and forth.

She liked the small fuzzies. Other humans began slowly to trickle in and Adam was busy with the other deciding what to see on the picture box. She was resting her chin against her paws face pressed up against one of the little fuzzy balls. The humans took their seats, and Ramirez vaulted over the couch to land on the floor where a stack of pillows had already been set up.

Adam turned around and frowned, “Marine what do you think you are doing in my spot.”

Ramirez nestled down further in the pillows, “What do you mean your spot, I don’t see your name on it.”

“I always sit there.”

“Well there is a first time for everything.”

He walked over and crossed his arms over his chest in a dominant pose to his inferior pack member, “You will move from my spot.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“I am not going to be ousted from my spot.” 

The marine just grinned, “Ok.”

“I swear marine I am not afraid to spoon you.”

The marine just grinned at him, “Would you like to be big spoon, or little spoon.”

“Bitch, I have a licence to cuddle and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“My evil plan comes together.”

Waffles watched from her distance. She wasn’t sure if this was dominance or just a social pack thing, but whatever threat Adam had made, he seemed more than willing to make good on.

“I hope you're comfortable, Ramirez.”

“Very comfortable, thank you for asking. You’re nice and warm.”

It wasn’t long after that Sunny showed up, stopping to stand over the two humans with her head cocked.

“Sorry Sunny, you cannot stop our love.” Ramirez announced 

She shook her head and stepped over them, “I wouldn't dream of it, just dont be startled when you learn about the marvin the martian tattoo on his left hip.”

Rmirez turned to look at Adam with a raised eyebrow.

Adam Pointed at him aggressively, “Do NOT read too much into that. Everyone has seen my tattoo. Do you want to see it, because I can show it to you!”

Ramirez laughed and then made a big show of resting his head back on Adam’s shoulder.

“Are you trying to get me to move by making this awkward, because you definitely can’t”

“Nope, just making myself comfortable.”

Waffles didn’t know what was happening, but got to her feet, two of the Celzex still on her back and made herself comfortable by lying down between the humans two pairs of legs. 

Adam and Ramirez both laughed.

More humans walked onto the ship.

The human named Jackie grinned, “Cuddle puddle?”

Ramirez motioned hre over, “Come join  us.”

“Sweet!” 

IT wasn’t long before waffles found herself lying amidst a pile of humans and at least two Drev on the floor.

Sunny had slid down on Adam’s other side, two of the Celzex were still on her back, and the other one had come to rest between her paws again. Jackie was to the other side of Ramirez Narobie was at their feet her head resting on Cannon’s chest, while McCaster was on his other side.

Maverick sat on the couch shaking her head at them, but with her teeth bared in a good way.

Simon sat awkwardly at the back of the room eyes wide.

A few of the new smelling humans walked in. A few of them just stared in shock and confusion. One of them in uncomfortable disgust, but one of the new humans shrugged and walked over.

“Is this like, just for old Harbinger crew members or is it open for anyone.”

The humans reached their hands up looking like a strange alien creature with many arms, “Come, Join us.”

The pile grew increasingly larger, until they lay as a carpet of humans, aliens and one dog.

Waffles thumped her tail against the ground. It was good to have the whole pack together.

It just felt right.

[whatsyourcolor]

Dragnet - Chapter 9 - Kingdom of Thieves.

Read on Ao3

Thank you to those of you that are still reading Dragnet! In previous chapters Kogami and Akane conducted a mission that resulted in technology malfunctioning, suspicions arising and Akane almost getting killed. Kogami broke up their short-lived (or so he thinks) association for reasons and emotions still confusing to him. Here’s Chapter 9:

KINGDOM OF THIEVES

Pliable, suspiciously warm, the sofa's leather cushions in the analysis lab sank underneath Kogami's weight, comfort suffusing his tense limbs like an anxiolytic. Undoubtedly, Kunizuka had made a routine pitstop here prior to heading to the interrogation room with Ginoza for another round of fruitless grilling. Which would explain the mellow, secret melody Shion was humming as she typed away on her keyboard. At least someone in Division 1 was having fun. Banished from the interrogation room and having severed the only connection he had to that other world, lulls of silent anticipation such as this had become nearly intolerable for him because, like a stray dog, his mind would go—insistently, shamelessly—back to her.

If only his ruminations had been centered in the pragmatic aspects of their relationship (what was her exact link to the syndicates? When did it start? And why?), he could have forgiven himself more easily. But it was the way his name sprung from her direct mouth, and how it meant she was not cross with him (as opposed to Inspector), and that furrowed brow each time she sermonized about things not unlike those he’d spend hours perusing in books—things he had strictly forbidden himself to linger on; things he’d never dream to speak about out loud. It was her scrutiny, never sub rosa. Not when she looked at him with unabashed eyes, not searching for a weakness or a fault—he suspected—but for something like a virtue, something that would warrant their unlikely partnership in her eyes.

So what did it mean for him to be sitting here while she was still out there, meandering in the dark? Stubbornly continuing this, insisting on this, and she would lose more than her hue. Kogami palmed the cellphone inside his pocket and then thought better of it because—what right did he have to care? To ask anything from her? Who was he in her life but an accident of chance? Or, perhaps, had his threats managed to compel her, and had she gone back to an ordinary life where she didn’t want to change the world? No, he thought sullenly. Even I know that about you. But it’s not like you’re alone either, is it, Tsunemori? Not that it makes you any safer.

On a large screen, a corner-side vantage of the dark interrogation room. Light spilled from a lamp above onto a table as a cuffed man swaggered in like a circus bear that's figured out the master's whip is made of hay. A braggart's smirk splashed across his face as he flumped on a chair. Kogami perched his elbows on his legs, interlaced hands under his nose to summon all his objective focus on the screen, but all he could think about was how much he'd love to pummel that sneer off again.

"A different species of inspector today," proclaimed the Arumajiro man, all affected bravado to Gino's bespectacled, sober professionalism. Still bearing the marks Tsunemori had gouged on his tattooed skin, he slammed his arms on the table, presumably to stir a wince from Ginoza, who only blinked with imperturbable disdain. "And you even brought a woman to protect you. That a habit of Sibyl's dogs?"

"The type of technology found in the interior of the truck you and your comrades were riding on is not something that can be built with metal scraps scavenged from Ougishima,” Gino said with no inflection in his voice. "Who is funding your association?"

The man acknowledged the question with a caustic snort for answer, a sort of growl. His eyes slithering over the less illuminated corners of the room—methodically, as if searching for something.

“He’s watching, ain’t he?” he eventually muttered. “He wouldn’t miss this.”

"You'll have enough time to look at walls when you go to the isolation facility. No need to strain your eyes so hard on these,” Gino spat back. “Answer the question. Your syndicate knew about the crackdowns by the MWPSB. How did you acquire a signal jammer? Who programmed it?"

"Inspectors in the blocks," the man began in a low voice. "You lot stick out like a pack of wild hens running around with your dominators. Of course, everyone always knows when you're there, with your holos and your drones. You’re not exactly low-key, you know? The eyes of Sibyl might see us only when they want to, but we’re always watching.”

"And so your syndicate figured they'd try to go undetected and invest on an illegal piece of technology impossible to acquire within the abolition blocks.”

"Impossible,” the man echoed as if mulling the meaning of the word. As if, Kogami thought, what a Sibyl detective would deem impossible, even preposterous in his world, was something that acquired a different value where he came from. A perverse grimace spread on the man’s face, a sort of smiling frown full of certitude. "Nothing is impossible in the abolition blocks. Not anymore.”

“Not exactly a charmer when he finally decides to talk, is he?” Shion drawled with a slow plume of smoke, her profile silhouetted by blue light in the haze. “What could he possibly mean?”

"At least he's taunting us now,” Kogami murmured dryly. “But I don’t perceive urgency in his behavior. No negotiation or surrender. If he’s decided to talk it must be for more than dull temporizing, though I don’t think his objective is to necessarily give us what we want.”

“Hmm. Who knows.” Shion gave an affected gasp. “Could it be he likes Ginoza better?”

Kogami chuckled softly, and Shion smiled, proud of herself. He figured he probably had been looking as dismal as he felt.

“Definitely,” he acknowledged with a cool sigh, lifting himself up from the softness of the sofa, and starting to hanker for a smoke. He shoved the flaps of his navy windbreaker aside and thrust his hands in the pockets of his pants. “Gino can be a darling when he wants to. But I should head over there now. Might as well put some pressure now he’s talking.”

“I thought Ginoza said—”

“I know. I know he instructed all of you to keep me at bay. But this case might be bigger than we think and I can’t just wait idly by.”

Shion exhaled coolly, swiveling her chair toward her station again. “Very well. Just be careful.”

Freely, brashly for an interrogation, the man went on blathering on the screen. “But impossible things have been happening. People disappearing. Tunnels hidden behind holo. Miracles, even. The last of which involved a woman intercepting a truck in the tunnels, armed with nothing but a bat—so what I’ve been wondering is, how did the excellent and competent MWPSB get a double-crossing bitch to do their job for them?”

Doors glided open in front of him as Kogami’s step came to a standstill. Jaw clenching, he whirled round to face the grainy image of the man again.

“You’d do well to remember I’m the one asking questions here,” Ginoza retorted impatiently, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t an exchange of particulars between two commensurate parties. This is an interrogation, and your time is running out.”

The man leaned in over the table and Kunizuka’s back went upright, her hand circling around her waist as a warning. “You see,” he said. “I can’t help but be intrigued as to how a single woman gained the trust of the underground resistance and helped them against the syndicates, all while working with the police.”

Kogami stiffened. Was that the reason behind Tsunemori’s ironclad secrecy? Did the man not kill her only because he was working information out of her? Even if Kogami had entertained a similar notion before—with her overt spurning of the system and her criminal consorts—something in him refused to admit that she could be, for lack of a better word, his enemy. But if what was being said was true, then the accusations he’d hurled at her—the same ones that had been tormenting him since he’d said them—may have been wholly understating.

“Justice for traitors and informers, know what that is? That wretched girl hanging from a wire in the ports of Ougishima where anyone else with funny ideas can see. Or worse—No. Better—her chained to a bed in the filth of a brothel. See that pretty hue turn black.” The man spoke slowly but without pause, in his visage a pained expression that evoked menace in lieu of sorrow. “Imagine, if you can, in a place crawling with people both desperate to cleanse their sins and itching for something unsullied to defile, just what coveted merchandise a clear-hued Sib would be. Not just any Sib, no. A plant by the MWPSB. A traitor. Hell, for all we know it might be her own people that get her first.”

With clenched fists, Kogami made his way back toward the screen. It wasn’t that the man’s tirade didn’t incense him greatly, considering to whom his poisoned darts were being aimed. But there was something else: the fact that he spoke as if he wasn’t in Sibyl’s claws. In his claws.

“That brat is too smart for her own good. Messing with things she don’t understand. Stealing things that don’t belong to her. Out of all the crummy chumps the so-called resistance has produced, this one might be the trickiest one. Should’ve snuffed her out when I had the chance.”

“This resistance,” Ginoza cleared his throat, “is it an anti-governmental group?”

The man stared superciliously, almost amused. “You Sibs think the blocks are seedbeds of chaos where the scum of society oozes like a weeping blister in your clean world. It’s not for me to deny it. I’ve seen men rip out each other’s guts over a cigarette. I’ve slain many more myself, men and women, for less than that. Why? You worried the pus might spill onto your streets? You afraid hearing these things will make you catch that disease?” A spark of relish in his eye. “What if I told you there’s a cure for that?”

“A—a cure? A cure for what?”

“The illness of evil—the illness the Sibyl system diagnosed for the rest of us. In fact, I’ll prove it to you right now,” the man invited with an almost affable tone. “Point your dominator at me.”

“What? What are you talking abou—H-Hound 2! No one ordered you to withdraw your dominator!”

Kunizuka, arm fully extended next to Ginoza’s face, had her sights aimed directly at the space between the eyebrows of the Arumajiro man. “I’m sorry, Inspector. This is the only language men like these speak.” A heavy mute second was filled with Ginoza’s eyes flitting from the dominator, to the man, back to Kunizuka until at last, haltingly, she lowered her arm and her jaw dropped with shock. “Th-There has to be a mistake. We checked his hue this morning and it was—a-and besides, he just said—”

Kogami didn’t wait to hear the rest. He bolted out of the analysis lab and down the corridor in the direction of the emergency stairs. His mind raced. One victim found dead in a factory. A second victim mauling herself to death in Nona Tower. Disparate timelines and intervals in both casualties, as if the pill’s dual mechanism could be detonated at a distance, at will. It made no sense. He hurtled down endless flights of stairs many floors below, gnawing despair lodged deep in his stomach. He’d seen him strangling her. He’d tried to drown him. No doubt he was a murderer. It couldn’t be. Nausea and doom had overtaken him by the time he tore past the doors of the last hallway and turned the last corner, silvered walls bouncing all around him as he caught sight of his mark leaving the interrogation room behind Ginoza and Kunizuka. He couldn’t see or hear until his hands were on the man. Until he felt other hands trying to pull him away.

“Shepherd 2! Get a hold of yourself!” Ginoza thundered, forcefully jostling against him. “Stop this right now! Kogami!”

“You fucking bastard,” Kogami growled, both hands yanking the manacled Arumajiro man by his threadbare shirt. “You know about the pill. You know what it is. You’re gonna tell me everything even if I have to kick it outta you!”

“Seems like someone’s found the antidote to Sibyl,” the tottering man hissed back, reveling in Kogami’s stunned expression. “Whatever it is you want to call it.”

“Yeah?” Kogami’s grip was taut on the collar around the man’s neck. “Then you must know about its side effects. Does that make you smile also?”

“I’d be more worried about that hue of yours, Inspector. I’d even go as far as advising you to choose your friends and allies wisely. Before she ruins you.”

A sobering shudder ran through Kogami.

“Search for her,” he rasped with bared teeth, “touch her again, and I swear I’ll find you and kill you with my own hands!”

“That’s enough of that!” Masaoka shouted from somewhere. Next thing he knew, Sasayama was there too, shouldering his way between them, tearing Kogami off as Kunizuka and Gino pulled the man away. Still, Kogami shoved and kicked and cursed as the man crossed the threshold of a door shutting closed, and then his vision went askew as a sharp pain had him hunching down and looking at the ground, immobilized.

“You need to cool down, son.” Masaoka tightened his armlock and Kogami heard himself pant helplessly, his forehead beading with sweat.

“Don’t you realize,” Kogami grunted through the pain, “that’s the one lead we have in this case?”

“And what good will it do if you end up in a rehabilitation facility?” Sasayama’s shoes came into view and Kogami was just able to shift his head up to shoot a glare at him. “How is pulling this bullshit gonna help you catch him then?”

There was the slow squeak and hush of a door opening and closing again.

“I hope you know this is all your influence, Sasayama,” Ginoza roared. “And if you think I won’t have a few words to say about you in the report of this incident, then you’re awfully misguided.” Masaoka loosened the grip of his metallic arm, and Kogami yanked his own free. He straightened up to meet the withering, unforgiving gaze of his partner. “Masaoka, go assist Kunizuka in the discharge of the witness. Kogami, you and I need to talk.”

“Gino, we can’t let him go,” Kogami protested with a gruff voice. “You saw what just happ—”

“Would you rather we do this in the presence of the Chief?”

Kogami squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to steady himself, but rage still boiled inside of him. “Fine,” he grumbled with frustration. “Fine.”

---------

Outside of Nona Tower the sun had set but the city was blazing like it was the middle of the day. A shine as artificial as that of the abolition blocks, though sleeker, clearer, new. Not the dizzying red and yellow twilights that led the way through the narrower, angular alleys of the abolition blocks, nor the darkened hollows and crannies where eyes and knives glinted. From a holographic billboard the large face of a woman donned in traditional garb gazed at him, her pale face dissolving into a pink forest, carpeted with what looked like pink snow. The next thing he noticed was that there was no distinct smell.

He walked the stretch of the plaza. Guardedly. Drawing near to where another hologram had attracted a multitude, but still keeping a cautious distance, he stood to watch. Three large fish swam in a hoop, floating in sync until one of them broke the formation to playfully pursue the others, making a squealing sound similar to that of rats, but louder and full of delight. Something like a fog, a vague sensation taking form, disturbed him. A nebulous recollection from years ago, of childhood in the blocks. A discoloured picture of animals like these nailed to a cracking wall. A wrinkled old lady calling him evil before falling with a thud. He remembered her body being warm even after he’d withdrawn his knife more times than he could count. The eyes in the eyes of his first kill looking deep into him and then…nothing. It’s cold, he thought, and that’s why I’m shivering. He peered at the crowd. Oblivious onlookers and their marveled profiles. His gaze drifted upwards and behind the surrounding skyscrapers. They didn’t know a few kilometers from here people burned. Soon they would.

He pivoted to two pairs of gawking eyes pegged on him. Youngsters. They approached him with slimy passivity, before gushing admiringly.

“Woah, mister, you really went out of your way with that cosplay! See? I told you the tattoos weren’t holo!”

“Of course they’re holo! How do you think he’d show to work with those tattoos? But isn’t the convention until next February though? If it was today I’m sure he’d win first prize!”

He snarled at the two pests, which only seemed to excite them more. A flashing light blinded him for a second, and before he could curse them out, they were scuttling away. It was then he took notice of the woman wearing a red long coat standing beside him.

“Do you actually know where you’re going, Igarashi-san?”

Unblemished skin. Long, silky hair. Almond eyes evenly shaped with a strange green sheen to them, and a thin, pointy nose. An enigmatic smile that could’ve been wider but wasn’t.

“Choe Gu-sung?”

“I knew Makishima-san was right to put his trust in the Arumajiro.”

“Your holo is too perfect,” Igarashi answered with blunt disdain. “No one looks like that.”

“That may be true in the abolition blocks, but as you can see, people love illusions here.”

Minutes later they were driving through the elevated highways of Tokyo. A light rain fell aslant, pins of purple and pink hitting on the windshield of the driverless vehicle. Igarashi kept a wary side-eye on Makishima’s lackey sitting beside him, though underneath that stupid holo he was more unreadable than usual. Not that he didn’t understand how such concealment was necessary for serious matters, but it pissed him off that important work should fall on the lap of a foreigner out of all people.

“I hope your doubts about our plan are settled now, Igarashi-san,” said Choe Gu-sung as if reading his mind, the faintest hint of mockery in his voice.

“Our plan requires certain arrangements we’ll overlook for the moment, but I know the Arumajiro won’t be so sparing afterwards.”

“It’s precisely that ruthlessness that Makishima found so compelling for this project to start with. In this brave new world of Sibyl, few men are willing to go where the Arumajiro go, and so your clan is instrumental for what needs to be done.”

All the sickly ass-licking made Igarashi turn his face toward the city flashing past. “To think you’re the first person to

address me by my name since I was arrested,” he muttered with disgust.

Once they had arrived at the high-rise hotel, an elegant wooden door embellished with the metal knocker of a spider admitted them into a vast suite decked out with fine furnishings. A low gray sofa with plush cushions half-mooned around a glass table where a steaming cup of tea had been set. An open book rested onto the lid of a black piano, and above it, a strange light fixture glittered from the ceiling like a dancing bride. Igarashi was becoming acutely aware of the thick, green rug underneath his tatty boots, but unlike him, the silver-haired man contemplating Tokyo out of the ceiling-to-floor windows fit into the room perfectly. Deceptively.

“I’m glad you made it out safely, Igarashi-san.”

Obscured on the reflection, Makishima’s features betrayed his otherwise harmless semblance as a truer, more sinister face smiled at Igarashi from the glass. Long gone was his first impression of a wealthy, over-spoilt child uttering words of revolution because, where the pointless, clumsy violence of the blocks rose and fell with no consequence or significance, Makishima had given them the means to overthrow an evil bigger than all the gangsters of the underground.

“The MWPSB has an informer in the blocks. That’s how they were able to get us. It’s Lemonade Candy.”

Piqued by his words, Makishima looked briefly over his shoulder. “The mastermind of the resistance works with the MWPSB,” he said, turning again toward the city. “How interesting. It only makes it the more impressive for you to have survived such a predicament, being attacked, as you were, by both sides.”

“It was one of their own group who gave them away. An unregistered who’d worked for Bunzo.” Igarashi’s fingers trailed the soft fabric on the arm of the sofa without daring to sit. “Wanted to settle a score or somethin’. Went mad, and for a moment there I really thought we’d turned the tables on her.”

“Her, you said?”

“Lemonade Candy is a twenty-something woman. Small and thin as a reed. And still the bitch was able to take out our lights singlehandedly and then escape through one of their hidden tunnels. We followed, and for a moment I had her, until an inspector showed up.”

“She ensnared you,” murmured Makishima. “She used herself as bait knowing you’d follow her. What appeared like recklessness at a cursory glance, was a calculated gamble.” He turned around and ambled across the room, feathery and lithe, with hands in his pockets. “We’re not the only ones with the will to choose to bet, it seems.”

Again there was that mysterious smile on Makishima’s lips and, like an obedient disciple, Igarashi felt the irresistible urge to supply more. “The resistance is not our biggest problem. Getting the syndicate to get rid of her now that I’ve seen her should be easy. But there’s also the police. That detective, especially. He don’t seem the type to let go of things.” An ear-to-ear grin spread on his face. “And he’s a hot head for that woman. Nearly slugged me when I mentioned her to him. Threatened to kill me, even.”

“Are they not merely enforcers?”

“No,” Igarashi assured with a sharp shake of his head. “He’s the one who’s been interrogating me. Or trying to, at least. Today I heard his partner refer to him as Kogami. As for the woman…haven’t seen her since that night.”

“Kogami,” Makishima echoed with flash of eagerness in his amber eyes. “Are there still humans in this city who are not afraid of themselves, I wonder? And, if so, is it a coincidence that we happened to lure two of them out of hiding? Is this what the sentimentalist calls ‘destiny’?”

Across from him, Choe Gu-sung ambled over and sat on the other side of the sofa where he opened a laptop. He’d remained so quiet, Igarashi had but completely forgotten about his presence, and his appearance, now devoid of holo, glared like a sour reminder. He began typing something hurriedly.

“They’re vermin—that’s what they are,” crossing his arms, Igarashi commented while looming over Choe. “All those who can’t rise by their own strength deserve to be squashed like roaches. It’s the rule of the world. Eat or be eaten.”

“You know, Igarashi-san,” Makishima lingered by the piano, slowly turning over the pages of the book. “I’ve always admired men like you. The ones who agitate the whole world through the sheer strength of your desire. If the world sings blue, you’ll force it to sing red until it matches your vision. A common man in an uncommon world. Please,” his eyes rose from the page to watch him intently. “Understand that this is the deepest of compliments. You see, in this sterile, plastic world, that type of primal life force has been forgotten. The human animal domesticated, his soul depurated, sterilized, until he became nothing more than the ruins of what he once was—and ruins are only beautiful after a great war. Anything else is…mockery.”  

“Well, that’s the way of the blocks. The only way we know. And now, thanks to you, these things will be ours too.” Not until he said it did it seem true to Igarashi—that they would rule over this world just like they ruled over the underground. Dominators, cymatic scanners and drones could not stop them anymore, and the weak children of Sibyl would succumb just like their evil mother. “And even the enemies of the Arumajiro won’t mind it if it means destroying this system.”

“You are correct. Anger has an interesting way of vitalizing people in ways no other need or cause does, notwithstanding how pure or lofty. That vein those spurned by the system share is what the Sibyl system has cut off and anesthetized, to the extent where the masses can’t even recall it ever being there. Their senses lay dormant as if they could truly exist as humans without them. Others even claim to want to live forever. But what value does a life have when it’s benumbed and protected from the knowledge of its own mortality? When it loses all primitive instincts in a beautiful cage where there’s no danger? As in the yesteryear, we need men like you to remind us what it means to be alive.”

In more ways than he could understand, Makishima’s words made Igarashi feel strangely satisfied. Comforted, even. Never before had he thought of his life in any aspect beyond, well, living.  What for was a question that hadn’t occurred to him. But for all the things he’d seen and done, he never would have guessed it’d be this man the one to weave meaning into his life.

“Do you know what intrahistory is, Igarashi-san?”

Choe Gu-sung’s annoying typing made it difficult for him to hear the question. “Huh?”

“Intrahistory,” Makishima continued as he ran his finger down a yellowed page in the book, “Is the history that’s left outside of the books. Think of it as the blank margins on the paper. It’s the story of the nameless people who made history but who are never mentioned. Without them, History with a capital H is unconceivable.”

Igarashi gave a sly smile. “Is that the people from the blocks?”

“Indeed. The men who wrought the world and thrust it forward through blood and fire. You can see why the system made sure we never hear about them. Those who dare to be the actors of their own existence have no need for Sibyl.”

“Like the Arumajiro in the blocks.”

Makishima closed the book carefully. “Like the gladiators who died devoured by the lions under the impassive eyes of an Emperor. Or the soldiers in the vanguard bringing us closer to victory with their sacrifices. The anonymous martyrs who enrage the survivors. The strongest within the strong.”

It was quiet now. Choe Gu-sung had abruptly stopped his noise. A bizarre, undeniable aura of expectation hung in the air. Igarashi swallowed something he’d not felt in years down his parched throat, his mind scrambling to decipher what Makishima was getting at with his incessant blabber.

“Violence can be captivating, even beautiful. But like any art, when it’s empty, it’s hopelessly corrupted and vulgar. You do not need to worry about that, Igarashi-san. I’ll be sure to make your sacrifice meaningful.”

Dread surged in Igarashi like a freezing chill. “What the hell are you talking about?” he murmured. He’d kill the two of them. He could take them both easily, rip them apart with his hands, bludgeon them to death.

With a flourish, Choe Gu-sung made a single clicking sound on his keyboard, and Igarashi felt his body drop and crash into the glass table. A hail storm of white particles infested his vision, followed by a green crooked line and a tea cup rolling on the floor. Beyond that, Makishima’s feet trod toward him with the precision of a ropewalker, and he felt fear.

“I know you don’t like this gruesome part, Choe. You may go.”

Igarashi’s wild eyes tried to meet the mechanical eyes of the hacker, but he couldn’t move because a rumbling began inside his body; his blood boiling and searing and cauterizing from the inside. He clenched his teeth and grunted, his body growing rigid as pain travelled through his veins like a jagged marble—excruciating pain that made it impossible to think on anything except on it being over. With what little mind he had, he started wide-eyed at a slice of a window visible between Makishima’s legs, wishing with all his rotten heart he could jump from it. Then he heard himself howl a beast-like howl over and over again.

“’Alas, what is good and what is evil?’” Makishima said looking down on him. “’Are they both one single thing with which we furiously attest our impotence and passion to attain the infinite by even the maddest means? Or are they two different things? Yes…they had sooner be one and the same…for if not, what will become of me on Judgement Day?’”

[creepy-crowleys]

[A security feed is uploaded.]

SSSSSsSSSssSSSsssSsSSsss ssS sss s - I am the empty fortune cookie - let me in.

Hiya, Chuck. It's John.

[Crowley takes only a few steps towards the researcher when they stand up suddenly, chattering to themselves about the ‘specimen not being fresh enough’ and rushing over to a console on one side of the room. Crowley shoot a flat look at the creature in the tank before following after the scientist in a vain attempt to get their attention.]

They have a fun house down here. Like looking at freaks and pickled punks for a nickle a pop, only it just costs you a little pain. Step right up, Chuck. See the sights.

[The door next to the scientist’s console slides open before Crowley can pull them away from it.]

RELEASING LIFE FORM N-651. BEHAVIOR PATTERN: POSTHUMOUS ROMANCE.

[A pair of spectres - once a man and a woman, now stretched and torn and distorted - emerge from the opened door, immediately wailing and calling forth ethereal flames on the two living humans in the room. The scientist ignores them entirely, returning to their place before still-captive creature and muttering to themselves once more.]

Lab Tech: The Whisper tells me the equation. The Whisper is the equation. It is the hypothesis. The hypothesis is God!

[The scientist soon turns once more to the console, strolling, undaunted or perhaps even unaware, through the fighting around them. It’s all Crowley can do, barely managing to exorcise the spirits before they can turn their attention to the unguarded target.

And, as it turns out, before that target can call something new into the room.]

Lab Tech: Releasing another... Oh god. Why am I doing this?

RELEASING LIFE FORM Z-719. BEHAVIOR PATTERN: INFECTIOUS BRUTE

[The thing that barrels through the doors this time is not unlike the creature Crowley faced only a few rooms back: skin coated in a black slime and tentacles bursting from its back.

This one was very clearly once human though.

The infection that has claimed its body and mind has forced its muscles to swell to unnatural size, leaving the thing bulky and slowed, but the impact of its massive fists dents the floor and scatters that caustic black sludge in its wake.

Crowley isn’t even able to get a hit in edgewise before the researcher is moving again.]

Lab Tech: The Whisper in the Jar says one more. Just... Just one more, just one? Okay two more.

Crowley: Wait! Wait-!

Lab Tech: I shouldn’t. I will! It’s funding. No results, and they cut funding. Funding is God!

[The hulking brute slams a meaty fist against the side of Crowley’s head while she’s distracted, sending her, head spinning, to the floor while the door opens once more.]

RELEASING LIFE FORM C-994. BEHAVIOR PATTERN: THE LEAN WINTER

[It’s a small mercy that the creature that creeps through the door this time sets eyes on the brute and decides it to be the better target. It’s another that looks almost human once, this time with oddly proportioned limbs that let it prowl almost spider-like, low to the ground, and with a skull warped to accommodate a maw full of razor-sharp teeth.

Those that have visited Crowley’s home and made the mistake of straying from the main roads may recognize the wendigo.

The wendigo’s fangs slice cleanly through the meat of the brute’s shoulder, pulling it away in chunks and swallowing it whole. Infection or no, food is food.

It gives Crowley a chance to recover from the brute’s blow and try to put a stop to the researcher already returning to the console. They stare through her as she attempts to tug them away.]

Lab Tech: I hear the Whisper... He says three more.

[They submit their request.]

RELEASING LIFE FORM C-390. BEHAVIOR PATTERN: HIVE QUEEN

[Crowley has shown pictures of the ak’ab before, but the little ones living in and around her house are different beasts than the queen that scuttles through the door with her coterie to join the fight. 

Crowley yanks the researcher hard away from the console just as the ak’ab queen collides with it at full speed, hissing and screeching she’s electrocuted by the impact. Her offspring are quick to join in, tearing and clawing at the offending device until the wendigo released earlier is suddenly thrown against it, finally pulled loose by the brute that now charges forward to bring its fists down on whatever happens to be in its path.

The PA system crackles to life as the console sparks wanly.]

RELEASING LIFE FORM X-667. BEHAVIOR PATTERN: FIXATING DEATH

[The researcher bursts into flames.]

[rcksmith]

Spring breeze — Spencer Reid

Sumarry: Spencer never thought about falling in love with someone, but he certainly didn't expect that he would fall in love with Gideon's daughter. — season 3 —

Part.2 Part.3 Part.4

A/N: I am marathoning Criminal Minds again and I can not express how much I loved the interaction of Gideon and Spencer!! So this idea came as an epiphany, and I love the conception of love at first sight. Maybe this becomes a serie...

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple:Spencer Reid/Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: nothing, just very fluff.

— — — — —

Something was different. Maybe it was the way the sun's rays cascaded down in an atypical way, maybe it was the breeze that carried a more lyrical intonation on its back, or maybe it was just the Earth that was adorned by an ethereal veil. Spencer didn't know how to point out what was really different, but he felt in his soul that something in the hemisphere had changed.

At first, when he took the subway to work, Spencer thought it was just an ephemeral sensation, just like those seconds when you feel the breath of the breeze more cold. But it didn't. The sensation accompanied him to work, to the plane, to the case, it stuck to him like a tattoo and Reid found himself looking around for answers that did not exist physically.

He considered all the theories that were possible to explain that destabilization in his subtly balanced world. But he found none.

“Are you feeling anything different today?” That's what he asked Morgan.

Derek shrugged, finishing packing up at the police station so they could go back to Quantico.

“No.” Then he looked Reid whit his obsidian eyes “Is something bothering you? Is the Genie feeling any peturbation in the Force? ”

Spencer chuckled through his nose at the Star Wars joke, but just shook his head in a 'No'. And the conversation died there. How could he explain something that even he didn't understand?

Trying to ignore the way his heart was beating fast, for no reason, in anticipation of something Spencer himself was unaware of, he wondered how long he was going to have that sensation. The feeling of euphoria, the taste of something, there was something exciting in the air, almost angelic.

But how long was that going to accompany him? One day? One week? Whole life? For the first time, Spencer didn't have the answer. And that was disconcerting.

When BAU's glass doors opened for agents to settle on their desks and Hotch and Gideon go to their respective offeces, a wave of icy breeze from the DC air reverberated through the enclosure. Spencer can see that Morgan shrugged in the wind, Emily looke for a coat in the black suitcase, but his own body didn't seem to be hit by the same breeze. For Reid, it had been a caustic, lyrical, almost spring, wave that carried the promise of something extraordinary on back. Almost divine.

In that split second, in a time as short as a blink, the feeling that his life would never be the same made him losing his breath. Spencer does not know what attracted his gaze to the BAU door, nor what made his whole body turn in that direction, like a magnet, like a wanderer in the desert who finds his Oasis. But he had been attracted, and as soon as a female hand pushed through the glass door and her figure came into view, Spencer understood the extraordinary thing that him heart was beating for in anticipation.

You.

It was as if the universe had been preparing him all day for that moment. As if the body itself tried to prepare it. Because if Spencer hadn't fell those feelings of euphoria all day, he would have drowned in his own reactions to seeing you.

In a burst, like a violin string popping, Reid understood what was different about the hemisphere, because why the air was ethereal, because why the night felt like poetry, and why the moon whispered swears of love. In that moment, Spencer understood the mysteries of the world, unraveled the riddles of life, drank from the wisdom of The Oracle of ancient Greece. In an instant, watching you enter, Spencer understood the reason for his life.

In an instant.

The world shuddered in slow motion, capturing all your movements, all your graceful gait, all your glory. An elegant black dress with thin straps modeled your body in an arcane, almost divine way, your legs were supported on black high heels, making your walk seem like a glide of honey.

You were not beautiful. You are gorgeous. You shone. Sparkled.

And, like an atrocious wave that broke over Reid and pulled him into the sea, that whole feeling that stuck with him all day came to accompany the female figure. Following in your footsteps like the tail of a long dress.

Spencer was sure that his life would never be the same.

They hadn't even sat at their tables when you showed up. Like the muse that came out of an action movie. And when you got close enough to attract the attention of Emily and Morgan, whose Derek opened his mouth when he noticed the female figure that was the personification of Female Fatal, Spencer felt himself letting out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. He knew that anyone with eyes and a little common sense would notice how overwhelmingly beautiful you were, so when Morgan turned his body fully towards you, Reid was not surprised.

“Hi." Your voice, to Reid, had a floral intonation “Do you guys know where I can find Jason?”

When his eyes met yours, Spencer felt his breath being stolen from him once again. Usually, girls like you didn't look twice at guys like him, Spencer knew that. Girls like you liked men like Morgan. Athletes, strong, Alpha Male. And because of that, it was an explosion in Reid's system when you took a few seconds longer in that eye contact and a delightful smile appeared on yours lips. As if you appreciate what you were seeing.

That was a shock. Was it true or was he misinterpreting the signs? Was him mind playing tricks on him, like the flickering shadows of furniture under the darkness and the flame of a candle? Spencer would not be able to say a word without stuttering at that moment even that him life depended on it. In fact, he was already starting to feel cheeks heating up. So he thanked any deities that might exist when Morgan and Emily responded to you and broke the eye contact between the two of you.

“Jason Gideon?” Morgan frowned slightly.

“He's in the office but...” But Emily couldn't finish the sentence before Gideon's voice came out over everyone's:

“Y/n?” It was in a tone that no one there had ever heard in Gideon. A sweet, loving intonation... paternal.

None of the three agents present there had time to express their thoughts in facial expressions before you said:

“Dad!”

Then the whole world took a turn and seemed to be terrified, making them feel as if they had been thrown out of the tenth-floor window. This time, Reid's eyes widened at the two friends, who also had puzzled expressions. Everyone knew that Gideon had a past, probably with divorces and children, a life he had left behind, but no one expected...that.

Perhaps Gideon's vision of a family was something that was only in the imagination, never something tangible. Until that moment. Until the most beautiful girl Reid had ever seen was the daughter of one of the men he respected most. Until him heart soared at alarming levels for him boss's daughter. Spencer had been in trouble before when it came to matters of the heart, but the trouble gained a position in the top 3.

“What are you doing here?” A rare smile appeared on Gideon's face, his brow slightly furrowed.

“We were going to dinner today, remember? In that new Japanese restaurant.” Your tone of voice was not resentful or hurt by the situation that was explicit there.

The life of a BAU agent take many things, some with a more atrocious force than others, and one of them was the availability of hours. commitments that count on presence.

“I totally forgot, I'm sorry.” Gideon's voice was always calm and controlled, he managed to speak from the most tender emotions to the most heinous crimes with a peaceful intonation. But to perceive traces of parental love was new. “The case was very complicated, my cell phone died and...”

“It's okay, Dad.” You smiled, making a casual gesture with your hand “I thought this happened, but I thinking it best to come here to see if everything was okay instead of waiting until tomorrow.”

Your smile, despite being the simple one, was the brightest for Spencer.

Gideon still had a fatherly look and a chaste and grateful smile when he turned to the other agents who were still puzzled.

“Y/n, these are agents Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss and Dr. Spencer Reid.” Jason introduced them to you “Guys, this is my daughter, Y/n.”

“Is a pleasure.” You smiled genuinely at them.

“I had no idea that you had a daughter!” Emily gave a low, slightly bewildered laugh that also made you laugh.

“Everybody says that.” You looked at your father again, having fun.

“I'm just going to go over some reports with Hotcher before I leave.” Gideon kept a chaste smile. “Why don't you wait here and then let's go get something to eat?”

“Of course, no problem, Dad.” You agreed, adjusting the thin shoulder bag that was on your shoulder.

As Jason went up to Hotcher's office, you turned to the agents again, with a gentle smile on your face.

“My dad said great things about you.” Emily smiled at your statement.

"I'm still chocked ." She laughed, and Morgan added:

“ I really need to know...” he looked around, in a playful suspense “Is Gideon really that serious outside the FBI?”

You laughed “Oh no! Definitely not.”

So you reached for your phone in the litlle bag, hunting for a photo on it and showing it to the three agents. It was a recent photograph where you and Gideon had their faces painted in easy ink. You had a skeleton mouth made with white and black paint, and Jason had a pink glitter butterfly covering his left cheek. You two were laughing in the photo.

Morgan was the one who let out a loud, dripping laugh, with a few tears accumulating in the corners of his eyes.

“How is this possible?” Morgan was trying to catch the air.

“It was at the last Halloween, he and I bet that whoever lost in the snooker that day would have to paint a butterfly on their face.” You laughed.

“And did he lose?” Spencer found a voice for it, his mind failing to process the image of Gideon losing any game.

“I have my suspicions that he let me win” You joked “But I enjoyed the victory just the same.”

The conversation was light after that, Spencer refrained from much of the dialogue, a little fearful that you could hear him heart beating loudly whenever you smile in his direction. As the minutes passed, Derek and Emily had to go back to their duties and finish their reports, while you were sitting in one of the chairs at an empty table.

It was one of those moments when Reid tried to focus on the files in front of him to exorcise what was going on around him. Paperwork had always brought the lull needed to make Spencer meditate. It was almost like relaxation. But in moments like this, when something in the environment around him pulled his attention so much, he stayed on the same page for long minutes.

That must be why he didn't hear the wheels on your chair approach, and he didn't even notice that you were so close until you said:

“Are you really a doctor?” Your voice was low, soft, as if you didn't want to disturb the other agents who were working.

Spencer turned his head towards you, only to find the modern personification of what would be the Athena de Troia. You were close, not close enough to touch, but close enough that he could smell your perfume. You smelled like the night, the excitement of nights and the brightness of the stars. And if Spencer looked deeper into yours eyes, he would sure they contained shine moonlight.

He swallowed, the mania for blinking compulsively returning a little.

“A-ahm yes. Not really a doctor, but m-my 3 Phd’s make me a doctor.”

He might be mistaken, but the smile that spread across your face was not just friendly, it wasn't curious, it was… delighted. As if the roles were reversed and he was the most fascinating thing in that room, not you.

The glow that was adorned in yours eyes had something lyrical, ethereal, wonderful. As if the brightness of all the galaxies were inhabiting your irises, moving in your orbit. At that moment, Spencer was deeply grateful to have eidetic memory, because 10 years from now he could still remember how you looked like a muse over there. DC night came in through the big glass windows, and if Reid had to describe that moment with the five senses, he would say that the world had turned the light down to a rose tone, the smell was heaven and your smile promised to contain wonders of the world.

Holy Mother of God, you are so, so beautiful!

“My dad said there was a genius on the team.” You said, your attention on him is always tender, adoreble. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

Your perfume invaded him sense of smell once again, and he felt his heart beat faster once more. Spencer would have told you all the secrets in the world if you asked. He would have told all own secrets.

“No way.” He sat back in his chair to look at you better, oblivious to the exchange of looks that Emily and Morgan gave.

You rested your arms on Spencer's table, the chair next to his.

“You never thought of being like... the wizard Doctor Strange?” You hoped that Spencer knew Marvel “Before he was a magician, of course. But why didn't you want to be a surgeon or something?” You laughed “There is a phrase him says: I have a photographic memory and this is what made me ..."

“ ‘Get my diploma and doctorate at the same time’ " Spencer completed you, laughing softly “I know the HQs. Did you know that the Doctor Strange character was created during the Silver Age of American comics to bring a different type of character and mystical themes to Marvel Comics? It him has an intellectual coefficient close to 177 points and I have… ”

The more he rambled, the more a stunning smile spread across your face. As if you were enchanted with him. And you were. Everyone was noticing the way Spencer seemed to have you curled up on his finger, your eyes sparkling and a silly smile twinkling on your face, paying attention to every word he said. It was an overwhelmingly lovely sight to behold.

But just as everything had a time, an hourglass, your time had reached the last grain of sand.

“All right, Y/n.” Gideon went down the stairs, cutting the end of Reid's sentence “Ready?”

You stood up, agreeing with your father and smoothing the dress. When you put your hands on the chair, ready to take it back to place, you turned to Spencer once again:

“I'm going to bring my dad to BAU tomorrow, do you think me and you can meting and you give me the answer to the question tomorrow?” Your smile was able to light up the whole of Washington.

“S-sure!” Spencer's voice went up more high notes than he would like to admit.

And, even when you left, even when Morgan and Emily jokes him about it, and even when he finally lay down on his own bed, you were still the only thing that occupied Spencer's mind.

[jaffefuneralhomes]

The Way You Feel

Fandom: Apex Legends Pairing: Caustic/Fuse/Reader Rating: HARD E. THERE IS NO PLOT HERE.  Summary: When you get home from work you’re surprised to find not one, but both of your boyfriends home. And it seems like they have both started some fun without you.  Notes: I LIVE. Also up on AO3

             By now you were used to coming home after a long day to an empty house. With the chaos that was the Games, the time-consuming scientific experiments, and the overall requirements that being a Legend entailed, you were more often than not eating dinner by yourself until someone ended up coming home. That’s why when you got home and saw two pairs of boots already in the entry way, your heart skipped a beat. There was no reason one of them should have been home, let alone both of the men that you lived with.

             “Hey, I’m home!” you called, heading toward the living room.

             “In here,” came a slightly strained response from Alexander. You headed toward the bedroom where his voice came from. As you entered the doorway, a huge smile ran across your face. It seemed like you had caught your boyfriends enjoying some quality time together. Alexander was leaning back on his elbows, pinned under Walter who had his thigh wedged between Alexander’s thighs and a hand gripping the scientist’s hair just how he liked it. You could tell by the shit eating grin on Walter’s fact that he was enjoying being caught like this.

             “Don’t stop on my account,” you said with a smile, leaning against the door frame and crossing your arms across your chest.

             “Ya see mate, they don’t mind,” Walter joked, pulling Alexander’s hair a little tighter before pulling him into a sloppy kiss. Walter always liked to take charge in bed. It was one of the many qualities that you liked about him. Sure, he was dominating and liked being the one to initiate something, but he also knew when to be gentle and how to listen to his lovers. And by the faint moan from Alexander as his hair was pulled, you knew that Walter was having a blast.

             “There is a high probability that they are just saying that…” Alexander said between heavy breaths. He didn’t want to seem like he was enjoying this too much. It would give Walter too much satisfaction, but you knew in the end Alexander always submitted.

             You chuckled and pushed yourself off the doorframe, going into the room proper and starting to change out of your work clothes. “I’m just upset that you started without me,” you said with a smile. Tossing your shirt and pants aside, you sat down on the bed next to Alexander, gently running your hand along his arm. He wasn’t buff in the traditional sense. There were no bulging muscles or defined lines on Alexander, but you knew that he had no trouble picking you up and throwing you around. He was solid, and the fact that he was so solid came in handy a few times when you were weak from being completely wrecked by your boyfriends.

             Walter pulled away from Alexander’s lips, moving along his neck and shoulder. Seeing the opportunity, you leaned in, taking his place and kissing Alexander deeply. You could tell that he was already starting to get worked up. His kissing wasn’t as aggressive as normal, and every time you heard Walter shift, Alexander would gasp a little against your lips. As you pulled away and went to go pay attention to Walter, a hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, perhaps a little too tightly, and pulled you in close again. You smiled and kissed Alexander again and again. He would never admit it, but he was a little needy at times.

             “Hi,” you said quietly as you pulled away from his kiss, looking up into his eyes. “Are you okay?” you asked, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. His breathing was already labored, and by the wheezing you were afraid that the excitement was going to send him into a coughing fit. Even though he nodded, you were still worried. You always worried about both of your boys. You kissed Alexander deeply again, only breaking the kiss as Walter tried to push his shirt off. As soon as most of Alexander’s chest was exposed, Walter left the rest of the removal to you, instead going to press more open-mouthed kisses along his chest.

             You pulled Alexander’s shirt off completely, tossing it aside, probably to his chagrin. Still, he didn’t have time to criticize you for just tossing clothes aside and making the room dirty as Walter reached his nipple and bit it gently, causing Alexander to actually moan in pleasure. You smiled and reached over, running a hand through Walter’s hair as he started to suck and play with Alexander’s nipples. You smiled at the soft sounds that Alexander was making. He always tried to deny the little whimpers and moans that he let out, but both you and Walter knew exactly what to do in order to get him to be more vocal.

             At one point you tugged on Walter’s hair gently, making him look up. He smiled and leaned in, kissing you deeply. You used his hair to keep him in place, feeling a little neglected by him. As the two of you kissed, Walter’s hand moved from Alexander’s chest to the very obvious bulge in his pants. Walter started to palm Alexander through his pants, causing him to gasp out. Walter and you both smiled at the same time. It used to be a game to see who could finally break Alexander, now it just was something that we both reveled in. It meant that Alexander was actually comfortable with us. “You say somethi’ Alexander?” Walter asked, turning to look up at the scientist.

             Alexander just grunted and rolled his eyes, obviously trying not to let Walter revel in the satisfaction too much. In response, Walter palmed him again. He smiled and turned his attention back to you, kissing you slowly again, biting your bottom lip and causing you to moan softly. As you moaned into Walter’s mouth, you felt Alexander’s hand run up the side of your arm. You smiled, looking out of the side of your eye at Alexander to acknowledge the hand on your arm.

             Walter pulled away from you after a moment, going pull Alexander’s pants and boxers off, finally releasing his erection from it’s confines. You bite your lip slightly, resisting the urge to immediately take Alexander in your mouth, mostly because it looked like Walter was already going to take care of that. He moved away from you and positioned himself in between Alexander’s thighs, his real arm going to wrap around the base of his cock. You watched as the older man licked a stripe from the base of Alexander’s cock to the tip, actually eliciting a moan from Alexander. You bit your bottom lip again as you watched Fuse repeat the motion again. Walter was mesmerizing to watch sometimes, especially when it came to taking care of Alexander.

             The only reason why your attention was drawn elsewhere was when Alexander tugged on your arm slightly with a commanding, “Come here.” As you turned back to Alexander, you moved closer to him, kneeling by his head. You were waiting for another set of instructions while he let out a soft moan, his hand running up your thigh, stopping at the dip in between your thigh and your hip. “Take these off,” Alexander commanded in between strangled moans, his fingers snapping the elastic of your underwear.

             Immediately you complied. If Alexander told you to do something you complied. You quickly removed your underwear before going back to kneeling near Alexander’s head. You didn’t have much time to get settled before Alexander was pulling you closer, his hand going to rest in your thigh once more. You could feel his prosthetic fingers laying heavily on your skin, the feeling familiar by now. As his hand ran up your thigh, you couldn’t help but part your legs slightly, giving Alexander a little more access.

             Not to be outdone by his partner, Walter reached up, his metal hand resting on your opposite thigh. You knew that Walter wouldn’t use that hand too much – he was afraid of hurting either you or Alexander – but he still wanted to make sure that both of you were taken care of. The cold metal on your thigh made you moan and shudder slightly, only allowing your thighs to spread slightly more. Alexander took this as an opportunity to dip his hand toward your inner thigh, his fingers getting dangerously close to your arousal.

             Your eyes turned to Walter, watching as the older man took Alexander into his mouth completely. It wasn’t much at first, just past the head of Alexander’s cock, but it was enough to make Alexander’s fingers dig into your inner thigh, eliciting another moan from you. Obviously not wanting you to be left out of all the fun, Alexander’s fingers dipped lower on your thigh until he ran two fingers lazily along your slit.

             You moaned out, biting your bottom lip and tilting your head back. Alexander took this as a sign to do it again, this time in fingers pushing past your outer lips to tease you. And dammit, it worked. You wanted nothing more than for Alexander to lay you flat on your back and just have his way with you, but with Walter in between his knees and distracting him, you knew that you would have to share tonight. You moaned again and rolled your hips against Alexander’s hand as his fingers curled into you in a way that he knew all too well.

             At the start of this relationship, he had taken his time. He studied you. Made notes on what parts of your body reacted to different stimuli. He devoured you in those first few days, both literally and figuratively. And now he used that information to make you turn into a writhing mess in bed. The only time his fingers would pause was when Walter did something with his togue that made Alexander moan out. Soon you and Alexander, both found yourselves settling into a rhythm. Your hips would roll against his fingers, urging him to go faster or slower. A familiar feeling settled low in your stomach, threatening to release faster than you expected.

             Just as you were at your edge, the knot in your stomach threatening to come undone, Alexander removed his fingers. You whined softly, upset at the sudden loss of stimulation. “Come here,” came his demanding tone, slightly strained by the fact that Walter had started to bob his head up and down Alexander’s cock at that point.

             You reached down and removed Walter’s metal arm from your thigh, just now noticing how tight his grip was on you. Instead of holding onto your leg he moved his hand to Alexander’s thigh, running his thumb across the sensitive skin there. As you moved to get up on your knees, Alexander’s hand pressed flat against the back of your thigh, right under your ass, and guided you to where he wanted you. “I would like to… taste you,” he said simply. Hearing the monotone way that Alexander said his request, Walter snorted, obviously trying to stifle a laugh. You smiled and laughed at his reaction. Alexander obviously had chosen to ignore Walter for the time being, but you knew that there would be an extensive conversation about it later. Instead, Alexander returned his attention to you.

             He pulled you close to him, keeping on hand on the back of your thigh. Looking down at those piercing green eyes you moved to straddle his chest, trying not to put any pressure on him increase it triggered a coughing fit. As you settled against his skin, your legs spread almost impossibly wide over his shoulders. You took a few moments just enjoying the feeling of his hands on your thighs, his nails digging into your skin whenever Walter would do something that he liked. Alexander’s fingers dug into your thighs again, pulling you forward roughly. Before you could really process what was happening, Alexander had you straddling his head, his hands gripping the inside of your thighs. Without warning, he tilted his head up, running a tongue along our slit.

             The motion was enough for you to arch your back, your hands going to plant themselves on his chest. As Alexander repeated the motion you moaned out, closing your eyes and rolling your hips towards him. It wasn’t fair that he was this good with his tongue. When Alexander’s tongue pushed past your outer lips you moaned and rolled your hips forward again. He started to speed up, his tongue darting in and out, occasionally going to circle your clit. You could tell whenever Walter did something that he like because Alexander’s tongue would stop for a second before continuing.

             You kept rolling your hips against Alexander’s face, moaning out every time. As you arched your back, your reached down, groping blindly for Walter, smiling when you found his prosthetic arm, linking your fingers with his. You could turn your head enough to look at Walter. He was bobbing his head up and down on Alexander’s cock, taking most of him in his mouth. At one point, Walter pulled back, hollowing his cheeks around the head of Alexander’s cock, which made him moan out against you. You didn’t let him revel in the feeling too much before rolling your hips again, smiling when Alexander huffed against your skin.

             Just as you were starting to work up a rhythm with Alexander once again you could feel his breath hitch in his chest and immediately got up as a coughing fit took over the larger man. Fuse pulled away as well, letting Alexander sit up completely, letting him try to catch his breath. As you sat up on your knees and watching Alexander catch his breath, you could see your own slick in Alexander’s beard, making you smile a little. While the coughing fit overtook one of your partners, the other stood up, his real hand going to rest on Alexander’s thigh and his prosthetic going to cup the side of your face, pulling you in for a deep kiss once more. Just as you were going to melt into the kiss completely, you felt a hand on your thigh once more.

             Alexander was sitting up, watching you and Walter closely. You smiled as you leaned in, kissing him again. You pulled away to kiss up his jawline to his ear, licking at the soft spot behind his ear. “I want you to fuck me,” you whisper softly before nipping at the skin there.

             That was apparently enough to get Alexander going again. He reached down, grabbing your ass in his hands before basically throwing you on the bed. The fierce look in his eye made your heart flutter. “Get on your knees,” he ordered before standing up from the bed.

             You did as you were told, flipping over to your hands and knees, but not before you caught Alexander grabbing Walter by the hair and dragging him in for a messy kiss. The sight made you twitch, just anticipating what was coming next. When Alexander got so aggressive it was usually followed up by some of the best fucking that you received. Before you could really get comfortable, Alexander’s hands fell to your waist, pulling you roughly toward him. You sighed softly as one hand left your hip, going to run his cock along your slit.

             As Alexander pushed into you slowly, you moaned out. No matter how many times you found yourself in this position, you were always surprised by how big Alexander was. You appreciated that even with some aggression coming out, Alexander was taking his time. He made sure that you were ready before pushing more into you. You felt the bed sink a little as Walter crawled onto the bed beside you. Instantly you reached out, wrapping a hand around his cock. You moved to rest your elbow on the bed so that you had better support. Leaning forward, you wrapped your mouth around Walter, smiling at the moan that he let out.

             When Alexander bottomed out, you rolled your hips back, hoping that he would understand that you were ready. He pulled back, almost all the way before slamming into you, causing you to go further down on Walter. You could hear the older man’s breath hitch as you did. Alexander repeated the motion, this time slamming into you harder, eliciting a moan from you. You pressed your tongue flat against the underside of Walter’s cock as Alexander found his rhythm.

             Every slam of Alexander’s hips into yours sent you forward a little bit, causing you to take more and more of Walter in your mouth. Just as you were almost to the base of Walter’s cock, you felt Alexander’s hands on your hips, pulling you back roughly. You gasped out as you were dragged back, rolling your hips against Alexander’s as he slammed into you once again. You tried to turn your head to look back at him, but a hand in your hair forced you to turn your attention back to Walter. You smiled slightly, looking up at him from under your lashes before leaning down and licking a long stripe from the base of his cock to the tip. You repeated the motion once more, smiling as the grip on your hair tightened a little.

             “You just gonna tease darlin’?” he asked, a smirk appearing on Walter’s face. Before you could respond, Alexander shifted behind you, slamming into you once more. You gasped and Walter used that as an opportunity to push your head down.

             The arm that wasn’t currently supporting you went to grip at Walter’s thigh, nails gently digging into the flesh there. You started to bob your head up and down, trying to match Alexander’s thrusts as much as possible, only pausing to moan around Walter’s cock whenever Alexander shifted and hit a particularly good spot. You could hear his breathing start to become labored, and you were momentarily concerned that another coughing fit was imminent. However, the accompanying twitch of his cock inside of you let you know that his breathing was from something else.

             When Alexander shifted again, he hit that one spot inside you that made you see stars. You called out, rolling your hips back against his again. Your hand moved from Walter’s thigh to his cock, lazily stroking it as you started to pant and moan out, unable to keep your mouth on him any longer.

             “Alex…” you warned, moaning out again. There was no response, just a groan from the scientist as he sped up even more. The grip on your hips tightened as Alexander slammed into you one final time. His cock twitched inside of you as your felt a familiar heat fill you. Your eyes rolled up as you rolled your hips back, trying to chase your own high as you were so close to the edge; however, Alexander pulled out of you, turning away and coughing into the crook of his arm.

             You felt empty without him, and as he pulled out you could feel his come running down the inside of your thigh. Part of you was upset that you didn’t reach your own end, but you knew that Alexander couldn’t help it. Turning away from Alex you turned your attention to Walter, leaning in and kissing him deeply. You moved in closer to him, straddling his waist. His good arm wrapped around your waist as you lined yourself up with Walter’s cock. As you lowered yourself onto him, you pressed your hands into his shoulder. Walter was kissing along your neck and collar bone, tracing the marks that Alexander had left earlier.

             When you rested securely in his lap you immediately started to roll your hips against his, trying to chase the high that you had just a moment ago. Walter’s hips slammed up to meet yours. He wasn’t quite as long as Alex was, but his girth was impressive, making you moan out as he filled you completely. Your nails dug into the back of Walter’s shoulders as he slammed up into you. With the two of you it was fast and hard. Both of you trying to chase highs that had been eluding you all night.

             As Walter shifted so that he was sitting up a little better, both of his hands moved to set on your hips, guiding you down as he slammed into you roughly. There was no warning as he sped up the pace, the knot in your stomach finally coming undone as you twitched around Walter’s cock. A few more overstimulated thrusts into you and Walter was coming as well.

             You collapsed against Walter’s chest, smiling as you both panted, trying to catch your breath. As you both laid there for a moment, you were vaguely aware of Alexander coming back into the room with water and a towel from the bathroom. He handed you the bottle first, letting you take a drink before giving some to Walter. As Walter sat up again, holding you to his chest, he smiled, looking between the two of you.

             “Who’s ready for round two?” he joked, still panting from his high.

[allegra-writes]

Just my type

Peter Parker x Villain!Reader

Peter Parker x Villain!Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut

The request:

This is actually a combination of two different requests An anonymous reader who asked for a dominant reader and @asuperconfusedgirl who wanted an imagine about the "let's try that again" gifset, because, I quote: "Damn!". I wholeheartedly agree. This might be a little darker and shorter than you're used to from me, but I wanted to do something different. Hope you still like it🔥

“More than meet the eye, to tell the truth would be a lie”

Just My Type - The Vamps

Peter didn't know how he had gotten here: One minute, he was just dodging another one of Flash's caustic remarks, minding his own business, just trying to get out of one field trip unscathed; and the next he was here... With you, the new girl, on his lap bouncing on his cock, in broad daylight on the top floor of the bus. Where anyone could come up at any minute. Where anyone could see.

It was wrong. It was dangerous. It was insanely hot.

And you were relentless: Labored breath, fine sheen of sweat covering your face and your breasts, but you still showed no sign of being tired or slowing down, chasing your release. Riding him, using him, mercilessly. And he knew he didn’t have any experience whatsoever so his input would probably be useless, but there was still one thing he could do.

He put his hands on your waist, to help you ride him faster, bunching the fabric of your pretty dress a little, making it ride up your thighs just enough to give him a glimpse of his thick cock disappearing inside you. He moaned at the sight, but you quickly slapped his hands away.

“Remember the rules, Peter…” You reminded him, breathily, “touch me, and this is over…”

“No… no, please!” He begged, pathetically, “please, I’ll be good… I promise!”

“Atta boy” You approved, leaning over to place a little kiss on his lips, surprisingly chaste for your current activities, “And good boys get their rewards…”

You tighten your pussy muscles up, tearing a groan out of his throat. You pushed him around until he was lying flat across both seats, his head pillowed by the window. Satisfied with his new position, you leaned back a little, reaching behind you to cup his balls under your dress.

“Fuck!.. oh fuck! Right there!” he sobbed, “right there!”

“Shh, I know, baby,” You cooed, soothingly, “I know…”

“I-I’m gonna…”

“Oh no, Spidey. You are going to wait your fucking turn” You reprimanded him, turning your massages into a hard squeeze that had him crying out. An alarm went off inside Peter’s head at you calling him 'Spidey', but soon your punishing rhythm and strong grip on the base of his cock had him rolling his eyes inside his skull, brain melted into a useless puddle of goo.

You weren’t any better, jumping up and down his hard length, your clit hitting your knuckle every time you took him in all the way, the sharp sting of the head of his cock colliding with your cervix giving you the extra edge you needed for the tight coiled spring inside you to finally snap.

You could have ended it right then, after all, you had already gotten yours. But he had been so obedient, so good… He deserved a reward. Besides, it was going to be easier if you tired him out. Yeah, those were the only reasons.

Or at least, that’s what you told your self as you braced yourself placing both hands on his muscular chest, drool worthy even hidden as it was under his plaid shirt, and rocked your hips in short quick strokes, your sensitized walls fluttering around him in the tiny aftershocks of your orgasm.

Peter’s hands were blindly searching for purchase, and one of them found it on the edge of the seat he was lying on. You heard it crack under the force of his grasp and knew that, as reckless as you were being, you had been smart in not letting him put his hands on you.

“So good… you’re so good… oh, fuuu-“ His voice was pitched high and you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. You leaned over him to whisper at his ear,

“Come for me, baby” Baby? You frowned. Where had the endearment come from? He wasn’t your baby. He wasn’t yours, period. You would do better to remember what you were doing this for. “Come on Peter, come all inside me…”

It was all it took, almost as if he was waiting for your order. You felt his hips involuntarily thrust up into you as he came with a final curse.

“Woah… Oh God!” He was breathless, completely spent, melting into the seats, “That was… let’s… let’s try that again!”

That made you chuckle despite yourself. You hated to admit it, he was cute. And that debauched, fucked out look was really hot on him.

Peter’s brain was trying to get through the fog, trying to pin point exactly what felt wrong, you saw it on his eyes. It was a shame, really, you could have bask in the afterglow for a little longer if it wasn’t for your earlier slip-up. You probably didn’t have more than a few seconds before he remembered you calling him Spidey, so you reached for your backpack under the seats and pulled a small golden cylinder out of it.

As you opened it and applied your lipstick, you noticed Peter’s eyes on you.

“What?” You asked a little harsher than you probably needed.

“Nothing, it’s just… God, you’re so pretty!” Peter reached for your face, cupping your cheek and you allowed yourself to lean into his touch a little.

“Really? You like me?”

Peter nodded. Your smile turned a little sharper,

“And what about my lipstick, you like this shade?”

The question struk him as a little weird, but, whatever, it wasn’t as if he actually understood girls most of the time.

He nodded again,

“It’s almost as pretty as you”

Your smile was definitely wolfish now.

“Thank you! It’s vintage, you know?” You commented casually. He perked up at that; he liked vintage things too. Granted, he liked vintage computers and videogames, but maybe you guys could find something in common.

Emboldened by that thought, he chanced snaking his arms around your waist. His heart did a little jump when you didn’t immediately removed them.

“Really? That’s pretty cool!”

“Yes, it’s from the forties, actually” You explained, “This specific shade was a favorite amongst the female agents of the SSR. You know, the Strategic Scientific Reserve. Later known as SHIELD…”

Peter’s blood turned to ice, and his grip around your waist, vicelike. There were no traces of the lazy, spent smile on his face, or of the adoration that up until two seconds ago had shone bright in his eyes.

“Who are you?” He demanded, tightening his hold on you minutely. To his surprise, you didn’t struggle or tried to get away: You did the exact opposite thing, wrapping your own arms around his neck and leaning in closer.

“Wanna know the name of this shade?” You breathed against his lips, right before capturing them in an open mouthed kiss, slow and dirty, and by far the most sensual one you had ever shared.

By the time you released his lips, his head was spinning. No, wait, it wasn’t his head, it was the whole bus. Scratch that, it was the whole world. Your smirk as you looked down on him, the only thing on focus, everything else was blurring, shifting and twisting fast.

“It’s called 'Sweet dreams'…”

Realization dawned on him as the blackness overtook him, you had drugged him. With your lipstick.

“Who are you?” The demand came out as more of a beg. You sighed.

“I'd tell you the truth, Peter, I'd do” You confessed, “But even that would be a lie”

The last thought on Peter’s disjointed mind before succumbing to unconsciousness was that at least now no one could make fun of him for being the last virgin on senior class anymore.

You knew it was a mistake, letting him live. Just as you knew it was a mistake as you were climbing into his lap in the first place. Your soft spot for Peter Parker was a weakness, a dangerous one that would surely come back and bite you in the ass some day. But he wasn’t the enemy, not really, and your mother had thought you to minimize the casualties anyway; people weren’t numbers, they weren’t “collateral damage”, they were sons and daughters and brothers and mothers, they were someone’s whole world.

Just as your mother had been your whole world, before she was taken away from you.

And now, thanks to Peter Parker, you had exactly what you needed to find the real responsible for your mother’s death, and make him pay. You took the glasses from his face and put them on. They remained unresponsive but it didn’t matter, you were a hacker the likes of which the world hadn’t seen since Daisy Johnson, your мамочка had said so herself. If there was anyone in this world capable of hacking into the interface, it was you.

You finally stood from Peter’s lap, letting him slip out of you, and tucking him back into his pants, cause you figured he was going to be plenty humiliated once he woke up, he didn’t need the losers of his school to make fun of him anymore than they already did. You hurried to get your things and jump out of the bus, knowing that with his peculiar metabolism, he was going to burn through the narcotic a lot faster than a regular man.

And if you felt the smallest pang of regret as you saw the bus driving away, or if you dreamt about Peter Parker for weeks after your little encounter, well, no one actually needed to know.

To be continued...

[unsteadygalaxy]

all is soft inside chapter 10

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on Ao3; my username is the same there!

previous | next

10. feet won’t fail you now

CW: blood, match violence

Elliott lands hard, the impact sending shockwaves through his feet and legs. His heart immediately starts to pound- three sets of footsteps echo around him and he dives into the nearest building. He scoops up a Prowler, inserts a nearby HCOG scope, and just as he’s finishing up, the door in front of him flies open.

He breathes, steadying his aim, and pulls the trigger five times, sending an entire clip directly into a Legend hopeful’s head. The poor man’s face turns white and he immediately drops to the ground. Mirage lets out a whoosh of breath, and finishes him off. He’s got two heavy ammo boxes and a level one backpack, which he quickly takes. Another set of footsteps quickly approaches, and Mirage reloads the Prowler. 

The other door bangs open, and just as Mirage turns around, Revenant fires an Eva-8 right at him. Two rounds of double-fire pellets rip into Elliott’s chest and neck, and to his horror, he falls to the ground, bleeding and gasping. Shit! No! It can’t end like this! 

“Hey, uh, need help,” he gags into his earpiece, blood pouring from his mouth. Revenant picks up a crate of shotgun ammo and leaves, reloading his Eva-8 as he goes.

“Damn, Witt, lose that winning energy so quick?” Octane teases over the comms, and Elliott can hear more gunfire in the background. 

“Oh, you know,” he chokes, “it’s kind of hard to win when you immediately get downed by a goddamn murderbot!” His hands are slick with red and he’s fading fast, and he wants to throw up.

A giant smoke grenade comes careening through the door, and Elliott’s vision is immediately obscured. He presses his hands to his wounds, trying desperately to keep the pressure on so he doesn’t bleed out. “Williams, coming to my rescue? You shouldn’t have,” he says, and he coughs up a glob of blood that splatters across the floor. 

“Shut up and let me focus, Witt!!” Anita’s voice is commanding and harsh over the earpiece, and it shuts Elliott right up.

Just as his vision starts to go fuzzy, he hears a percussive beat of bullets close by, and Revenant screams, his modulated voice garbled with rage. “Get back here, you coward!” Anita yells. “Damn you!” Elliott loses track of how much time passes, but just before he passes out, something sharp plunges directly into his heart. “Fuck!” he yells, and his body jolts painfully, sending his arms and legs flailing. Adrenaline and heat surge through his veins, painfully clotting and repairing his wounds. A rush wallops his head and Anita drags him to his feet.

“Come on, Witt, get off your ass and give us a hand, would you?” She’s panting hard as she sticks a syringe into her wrist. Elliott grabs the wall for support as a wave of nausea flows through him, threatening to overturn his stomach.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks, Williams,” he chokes out, spitting out the last of the blood. “How many are left?”

“Two, by my count. Revenant got away, and he’s still got a teammate somewhere. Looks like you took care of their third.” She nods over at him, seemingly satisfied with his work. Anita had consistently been the toughest to crack- Elliott had not yet made her laugh to this day- so he would take what he could get.

“Yep, wasn’t a problem,” he says flippantly, shrugging as picks up a nearby shield cell. “Poor guy went down faster than- faster than… uh, poor guy went down fast.” His cheeks burn at his failed attempt at some sort of joke, and Anita’s deadpan expression tells him she’s not amused, either. 

She tosses him a Phoenix Kit, and he fumbles it a little before shoving his arm into it. “Not the time. Joke around later. He’ll be coming back for us any second now.” Her voice is short, and it stings Elliott’s ego a little. 

The Kit depletes with a hissing noise, and Elliott is good to go. He reloads his Prowler with shaking fingers. “Hey, let me get Revenant,” Elliott says, readjusting his backpack against his shoulders. “Gotta pay the son-of-a-bitch back. You go help Octane with… whatever he’s doing.” “Sure you can handle yourself?” Anita sounds skeptical, and her eyebrows are raised as she reloads her weapons. “Me?” He forces an incredulous laugh. “Of course I can! Didn’t you see how well I kicked his ass the other day? This’ll be a walk in the park.” He hops up and down on the balls of his feet, still feeling a little faint from being brought back from the brink. 

“All right.” Anita shrugs and gives her weapon one last check, and she’s out the door before he knows it. She probably just wants to see me get my ass handed to me, he thinks, but it’s not a big deal. He wants to prove her wrong.

Sure enough, the sound of robotic footsteps pounds ominously against the pavement outside. Elliott casts a decoy and stations it next to the door, hoping to buy him a few more seconds. Shnk! An arc star slams into the already fragile door and begins to whine. Elliott throws himself backwards, deeper into the building, and shields his face against the explosion. The door disintegrates into bits, and the sound is deafening in his ears. An orange silencer hits the ground with a sinister whoosh, and Elliott backs up more, leveling his Prowler as his decoy dissipates into the air. 

Revenant charges through the open door and through his silencer, hefting his Eva-8 once more. Elliott fires the Prowler, and the bullets smatter against the simulacrum’s shoulders, barely missing his head. Elliott curses under his breath and dodges out of the way as a volley of pellets exits Revenant’s gun. The bullets connect with his shoulder and arm and Elliott cries out in pain. He casts a decoy and sends it running right at Revenant to give himself more time to reload. Revenant grunts in frustration and nearly pulls the trigger again just as Elliott takes aim. 

A full magazine of ammo assaults Revenant’s head and chest, and he goes down immediately, his shields melting into nothingness. “Damn you, skinsuit!” Revenant screams, trying to crawl away. But it’s no use- Elliott finishes Revenant off, sending another magazine of ammo right into his metal head.

“Murderbot down!” he shouts over the comms, heaving a sigh of relief. “What’s happening out there?” He loots Revenant’s backpack and heals up while he waits for an answer.

“Two squads down!” Octane crows, sounding extremely proud of himself. “You’re really missing all the fun out here, amigo!”

“Hey, I took care of Revenant, didn’t I?” Elliott replies indignantly as he plunges another syringe into his wrist. “You all should be thanking me.” He’s being cocky and he knows it, but it’s so much easier than admitting he fucked up in the heat of the moment.

“Sounds like you’re two for two with him, Witt,” Anita calls, breathing hard from her and Octane’s fight. “Good work. Keep it up.”

Elliott raises an eyebrow, somewhat surprised by Bangalore’s open praise. “Wow, thanks, Anita! I’m touched, really. You do have a heart.” “Don’t make me regret it, kid.”

“All right, all right, fine.” He smiles and zips up his backpack, and then realizes that Bangalore really isn’t that much older than him. “Hey!”

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

kzzzhhhCRACK!

Shit.

A Sentinel bullet just barely misses Elliott’s nose, and he dives back under the scaffolding. His heart is racing and his pulse is pounding; this match has barely given him and his team time to breathe. They’ve just finished a ridiculous fight in which four different squads had piled up on each other, and he’s absolutely covered in blood and gunpowder. The only perk of continually fighting so many people is that he and Octane and Bangalore are fully kitted with every item they could need. Bangalore is taking a Phoenix kit and Octane is still for once, just getting finished with charging his shields. The banners report that there is only one other squad besides them, and Elliott is grateful. He’s had about enough of being third partied.  

Elliott reloads his Prowler with shaking fingers and checks his Triple Take. After making sure the digital sight is correctly slotted, he takes a deep breath and aims up towards Cage. Through the sights, he can see Wattson’s fences crackling around each of the entrances to the upper part of the tower. Caustic’s intimidating form glows red for a moment and then disappears behind the railings. Dammit, Elliott thinks. Wattson’s fences plus Caustic’s gas make for a deadly combination, and an annoying one at that. The only thing that made that duo worse was Bloodhound being on their team, and if that charged Sentinel shot was any indication, Elliott and his team had a miniscule chance of winning if they rushed the tower. 

“Who’s up there, amigo?” Octane asks, clearly ready to go. He’s literally vibrating with anticipation, and he makes Elliott exhausted just by looking at him. 

“Caustic, Natalie, and Bloodhound,” he sighs, and ducks back into cover. “They’re set up in there like it’s a goddamn fort. Gonna be impossible to charge up in there.” He wipes sweat from his forehead and leans back against one of the posts.

“Well, where’s the next Ring at?” Bangalore questions, pulling out her holomap. She pinches her fingers and zooms in on their location, squinting hard. “Damn,” she swears, and dread fills Elliott’s chest. “The top of Cage is just barely inside the next Ring.” She snaps the map shut angrily and stuffs it back into her pockets.

Octane swears under his breath. “Looks like today’s just not our day,” he says, itching at his cap. He stands and peeks up above their hiding spot, just barely poking out of cover. kzzzhhhCRACK! His body flies backwards, his helmet blinking out of existence, and he scrambles back down to them, sheepishly pulling out a shield battery.

Elliott groans, amused and frustrated. The chances of them feasibly winning this match are fading fast. There’s no way they’ll be able to get up there undetected, and the thought of fighting upwards made Elliott exhausted. He’s so tempted to just recklessly run in, but something stops him. 

Bloodhound wouldn’t give up, and neither should you.

He sighs, knowing it’s true. Bloodhound would find any way they could to dominate the situation and reshape it to their will. He’s jealous for the millionth time, and has to remind himself that Bloodhound is human and fallible too, even if he still doesn’t really believe it.

“All right, we’ve got a couple options,” Mirage says, rubbing his chin. “Either we wait them out, or we can charge up there head on before the Ring closes. Personally, I’d vote for smoking them out, but I’m not the one with the missiles.” He inclines his head towards Bangalore.

Anita considers this, then shakes her head. “Neither of them are ideal options. Waiting them out would give us the upper hand, but we could also take them by surprise by charging them now. We’d have to take out all the traps though.” She breaks off, still thinking intensely. “But if we wait for them to charge, we’ll have to deal with Bloodhound’s Ultimate plus Caustic’s gas. The next Ring is small enough that that’ll make the battlefield hard to navigate. Plus, my smoke will be pretty much useless. Bloodhound’s Eye will make sure of that.”

Elliott has to agree with that. He’s been trying to avoid thinking about them all day, but of course they’re on the last enemy squad. The way they had run out of the bar the night before made him extremely concerned, and his stomach churns when he thinks of how stiff and cold they had become. Elliott doesn’t completely know what he did wrong, but he knows he must have brought up something painful for them to leave as abruptly as they had. 

But the memory of holding their hands in his makes his cheeks burn a little. He remembers how their grief had rolled off of them in waves, and how he’d felt so utterly helpless. Still, he’d felt closer to them than ever before, even though they were separated across the bar. Their openness had intimidated him a little bit- they were so naturally talented at making him feel better, and reciprocating definitely wasn’t his forte. But most of all, he had been stunned to the core by what he had told them. He would never be able to look at Epicenter the same way again.

“Witt!” Anita barks, and the way she says it tells Elliott that it’s definitely not the first time she has called to him.

“Sorry, what?”

“Ring’s closing in 30,” she warns. “We’re charging up the tower. How many times do I have to tell you to get your head out of your ass?”

“At least a few times more,” he fires back, rolling his eyes. He’s frustrated, but mostly at himself for getting distracted. “Sorry. I’m good to go.”

Anita does not look convinced, but she just sighs and turns back to her map. “All right. I’ll call in my missiles. Ring should be small enough to cover the whole area. Silva, try to get behind them. Witt, you throw us some clones whenever you’ve got them. I’ll toss in some smoke to keep them blinded. We’ve all got at least one digital scope, so that should give us an edge once we get up top.” 

“Sounds good, amiga,” Octane agrees. “They won’t know what hit them!” He’s fidgeting with his butterfly knife, and Elliott is one hundred percent positive that Ajay is going to have to deal with his sliced fingers sooner or later.

Elliott nods as he flips on the full-auto mode on his Prowler. His limbs are aching and he’s drenched in sweat, but he’s determined to see this through. Anita’s plan is pretty solid, and he’s got few qualms with it. Her expertise on the battlefield is something he’s always been grateful for. Careful planning and meticulous strategy were certainly her strengths, and she regularly put his on-the-fly ideas to shame. 

She checks over her weapons and then pulls out her Ultimate grenade, just as a warning horn blares over the loudspeakers. “Let’s give them a show.”

The Ring moves swiftly, advancing across the plains of green grass with an ominous humming noise. Elliott only has a few seconds, but he peeks back through his sniper sights to see what’s happening in the tower. Bloodhound is still crouched next to the steel fences, and he’s sure they have an easy shot on him. But they don’t fire. They look away from their sights and shrug at him, as if to say, Show me what you are made of. A peculiar heat drops into his stomach.

He looks back through the sights for a split second, but his heart drops into his gut when he realizes they had forgotten something absolutely essential. “Anita, wait! Wattson’s py-”

But it’s too late- Bangalore cocks her arm back and lobs the canister forwards, a shower of red sparks whizzing through the air. Missiles crash into the ground, and Elliott groans out loud. “Shit,” he hisses, punching the ground next to him. As the missiles advance forward, brilliant sparks of blue arc out into the sky over a limited radius, zapping the rockets away like they’re nothing more than flies. 

Bangalore groans, immediately popping to her feet. “Come on, we’ve got to go!” She takes off running towards Cage, just barely ahead of the rockets as they begin to detonate. 

The ground starts to heave beneath his feet, and Elliott stumbles as he starts to run. Bangalore is much more accustomed to sprinting across the roiling earth, and she does so with ease and grace. Octane weaves in and out of the explosions at an inhuman pace, pulling out his jump pad as he goes. “Vamonos!” he cries gleefully, laughing as he soars into the air.

Elliott can barely keep up, and he can feel the heat at his back as he goes. He nearly trips and falls, but recovers at the last possible second. His entire body is killing him, and he can feel sweat running down his spine as he runs. God, this whole thing is starting to feel hopeless again. He can see it now- they’ll run up to Cage and Caustic will drop gas canisters everywhere, leaving them a minefield of fumes. Wattson will fence up all the entrances and neutralize their grenades, and Bloodhound will weave across the battlefield, taking Elliott’s team out without a second thought. He figures that Bangalore and Octane can easily hold their own for at least a while, but there is no plausible victory for him today. 

He’s never felt this hopeless, this reluctant to try and win a match, and it scares him a little. Elliott tries shoving the thoughts away- he doesn’t have time for his self-deprecating tendencies. But the doubt creeps into his veins and stubbornly sinks in its claws, making it really hard to think without immediately assuming the worst. He feels antsy, anxious to just get this over with and go back to his apartment above the bar to sulk for the rest of the day.

Show me what you are made of.

He swears he hears Bloodhound’s voice in his head, and the thought suddenly bolsters his confidence tenfold. Mirage throws a decoy out through the smoke ahead of him, hoping that Bloodhound takes notice of it and not him. Shifting the Prowler in his hands, he winces as the rockets nearest to him detonate, throwing him off balance again. They’re almost to Cage, and he starts to sprint towards the stairs on his left. G7 and Triple Take shots ring out towards him, narrowly missing his running form. He makes it to the steel tunnel and scrambles inside, holding his breath as the last few rockets explode. He hears the horrible screech of shredding metal, and takes bizarre comfort in knowing that the enemy team is that much more exposed up in the tower as the doors explode. A high pitched noise plays over the speakers, and he knows that the final Ring will soon begin to close.

I’ll show you.

“Where’s everyone at?” he hisses through the comms, his pulse roaring in his ears. He’s going to win this game if it kills him, dammit. 

“Ground floor,” Anita answers, and he hears her breathing hard. “Got hit by a couple bullets, but I’m healing up.”

“Second floor,” Octane says, not sounding tired in the slightest. “The rockets busted through a couple fences, so we’ve got an opening, but we gotta go fast.”

“Got it,” Elliott says, his mind whirring. “Williams, got any ideas?”

“Always,” she replies steadily. “Send out some decoys and try to join us down here. The zipline on the south side is still in the Ring, so we’ve got our point of entry. If we try to make it around to the other one, we’ll be toast. Only Silva has any chance of running in and out of the Ring and making it out alive.”

“Hell yeah, chica!” Octane laughs, ridiculously upbeat and much too excited for this. “I’ll be faster que un conejo!” 

Elliott’s minimal Spanish comes in clutch, and he rolls his eyes. “Sure, buddy. Just don’t get yourself killed up there. There’s a hunter waiting for you.” He checks over his weapons, and after considering it for a moment, he takes the digital threat sniper optics off of his Triple Take. He’s not going to need it now- they’ll be fighting in too close of quarters for him to be effective with it. Best shotgun in the Games, he thinks, laughing at his own joke.

“All right, coming for you guys in three, two, one!” Elliott sprints out of the tunnels, sending all of his decoys spiraling in different directions. As expected, bullets begin to pepper the ground around him as he runs towards an entrance. The Ring is blocking off the two low slats at the bottom of Cage, so he makes his way to the west side door. kzzzhhhCRACK! A Sentinel bullet collides with the top of his head, and he screams in pain, launching himself into the double doors. They give way, and he stumbles inside, slinging off his backpack as he goes. 

“S-shit,” he stutters, rooting through his bag for a Phoenix Kit. He locates one and stuffs his arm into it, his whole body shaking. Anita is there in an instant, tossing down a cover of smoke just in case any of the enemy team had decided to drop down to try and finish Elliott off. No such footsteps are heard, and Elliott breathes a sigh of relief.

Time is quickly running out, and the three of them really need to move. “Okay, we’ve gotta get up there fast. This is gonna suck, but I’d rather go down fighting,” he pants as the Kit finishes healing him. 

“Already on it!” Octane is somewhere above them, and Elliott hears the whirring noise of a zipline. He looks to Anita, who runs up the ramp and disappears out of sight. Elliott clambers to his feet and follows, willing his hands to stop shaking. 

“I’m gonna take out the doors!” Octane announces, and Elliott hears a frag grenade skip across the metal above him. There’s a huge boom, and the doors shred into bits, the noise of it wrenching through his ears. Gas hisses and spews just as Elliott clambers to the open third floor, and Octane begins to cough. “Dammit!”

The smaller man drops down to them via the zipline and immediately pops a shield cell. “I busted the traps, but Señor Apestoso just sent down more.” 

“It’s fine,” Anita replies shortly. “Is the pylon still up?”

“Yeah, but it’s out of the Ring, so the circle barely reaches them.” 

“Can you shoot it down?”

“No, it’s in a really weird spot. Kind of hiding up there. You gotta be in the middle of the room to shoot it down, and that’s a no go.”

Anita swears, but Elliott smiles, a fantastic idea popping into his head. “Not a problem. Let’s get back up there and send in some distractions,” he says. He hopes to God that things work in their favor, and he readies his Prowler before jumping to the zipline. 

His jump pack carries him up, and as he lands he dives to the right, dangerously close to the wall of the Ring. Both doors have indeed been demolished, and so has Wattson’s fence. One post still sits next to the opening, barely blocked by two of Caustic’s gas traps. Elliott shoots the traps down, but a third one comes flying down to take its place. He’s too close to it, and it goes off, releasing fumes everywhere. Gas clouds his vision and chokes his lungs, and he tries desperately to back up enough to be out of it, but the Ring is too close. Sticking a syringe into his wrist, he dips out of the Ring for just a moment. The orange energy field bites into his skin, and he groans in pain, every nerve on fire. Damn, Natalie, way to go, he thinks wildly. Even in the middle of a match, he can still admire his friends’ expertise and genius, and Wattson’s engineering of the Ring is no exception.

The gas cloud dissipates and Anita and Octavio zip up, landing beside him. She shoots in a canister of smoke, and Elliott acts immediately. A decoy sprints through the busted doors, stopping just short of the edge of the Ring. Octane dashes into the room after sticking a stim into his veins, a green blur of activity that Elliott can’t quite follow. He skirts the edge of the Ring and throws a frag up onto the top floor, but it’s zapped away by Wattson’s pylon. A tattoo of bullets beats down onto the metal, and Elliott cringes, willing Octane to get out of there as his decoy disappears in a shower of blue sparks.

“Octavio, come on!” he yells. But Octane is fast, of course- he weaves through the barrage of fire with ease and comes skidding to a stop just outside the doors.

“Told you, amigo!”

“Not the time!” Elliott says, his heart pounding. Anita shoots in another canister and Elliott puts his plan into motion.

Another decoy runs lazily across the floor with a snap of Elliott’s fingers, and pretends to check the pouches in its belt. The three enemies upstairs do not shoot, having caught on to Mirage’s tricks. Anita sneaks in behind it, examines the radius of Wattson’s pylon, and makes a calculated throw with an arc star. To Elliott’s delight, it slips up above them and connects with Caustic’s foot before spectacularly exploding in a wave of dizzying energy. Elliott feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he takes advantage of the distraction.

He aims his Prowler up and fires, and the pylon crumples to the ground in a series of deafening crackling noises. His decoy hadn’t been a decoy at all, and the adrenaline of his plan actually working floods into his chest like a rush of water. His celebration is short-lived though- the sting of bullets begins to slam across his shoulders, and he releases all of his decoys. The cloaking does its job, and he takes a brief moment to hurl a thermite grenade up above him before sprinting out the doors. Wattson’s fences putter out, roasted by the flames, and Elliott breathes a sigh of relief. 

He cheers out loud as he heals up, his body shaking in delight and shock. It had actually worked! But the job was not over yet- even though he can hear the other team groaning in pain up above him, he knows they still have to finish them off. 

“Let’s go!” Anita calls, and she ascends the zipline, closely followed by Octane. Elliott rounds the corner, reloading his Prowler. Just as he makes it to the zipline,  Caustic throws down another trap, which Elliott narrowly avoids before shooting down. 

The steady chak-chak-chak of a hopped up P2020 rings through the air, and a collection of bullets from Octane’s gun collides with Caustic’s face and chest. Octavio moves to reload, but Nox catches him with a deadly Mastiff shot straight to the head, shattering the smaller man’s shields. Elliott ascends the zipline and unleashes a full clip of ammo into Caustic’s arms and neck, finishing him off quickly, but Octane takes a bullet from Wattson across the way, and he falls to the floor, unconscious. 

Anita fires a full clip of ammo into Wattson’s chest, and the engineer falls to the ground, wincing and gasping. She finishes her off, but the older woman breathes hard, clearly having taken a considerable amount of bullets from somewhere as Elliott was helping Octavio. Sure enough, the percussive barrage of an R-99 shatters the brief silence, and Anita falls to the ground, swearing. 

Bloodhound emerges from the opposite corner of the room, and Elliott does not hesitate. The warning horn of the closing Ring roars out, and Elliott leaps down from the upper level, knowing there’s absolutely zero chance of reviving Anita. A few quick bullets follow him, but Bloodhound is smart enough to not completely track his erratic movement. Elliott sprints across the floor and out the doors, throwing himself off the tower and onto the grass below.

He hits the ground running, ankles and knees screaming in protest, and he thanks his lucky stars that Bloodhound can’t keep the high ground. He hears them roar in that deep, otherworldly fashion, and his stomach drops straight into his toes. The Triple Take slides into his hands as he turns, and he watches in awe as Bloodhound leaps off the tower far more gracefully than he had, surrounded by crackling red energy. He backs up, takes aim, and fires twice, but the spread of bullets is too wide and each bullet whizzes past their glowing form. He has to remind himself not to stare- it’s not the time to dwell on how powerful and majestic they look, nor is it time to listen to how heavy they’re breathing and worry if they’re okay. Elliott fires again, and the shot connects, but a torrent of bullets smashes into his chest. He swears, fumbling the Prowler back into his hands. In a panic, he sends a decoy running straight at them to give him more time, but Bloodhound shoots it down. They bob and weave, taking a second to reload. 

Elliott takes his chance. He breathes deeply, centering himself, and aims the Prowler right at their head. Time seems to slow, just like it had with Revenant, and he applies the slightest bit of pressure to his trigger finger. The bullets fly out of the gun, and he doesn’t feel the recoil at all. Every bullet finds its mark on Bloodhound’s head, obliterating their golden helmet and sinking into their mask.

Bloodhound drops to the ground and convulses for a moment before going horribly, eerily still.

Shock washes through his stomach, and he drops the Prowler. A buzzing fills Elliott’s ears. He… he actually did it? He… beat Bloodhound?

He approaches Bloodhound’s unconscious form slowly, feeling like he’s in a dream, and stares at them. They look so peaceful, even though blood is leaking from their helmet down into the grass. He picks up their R-99, weighing it in his hands. A flash of memory and feeling comes to him from a few days before- Bloodhound picking up his gun and placing it over his sternum…

Mirage settles the R-99 across their chest gently. As he falls to his knees, a flash of pain crosses his chest. He knows he should feel triumphant- ecstatic, even- but the only thing he feels is sorrow. 

Elliott picks up their arm, crosses it across their stomach, and murmurs, “forgive me” as victory music roars over the loudspeakers.