#hi fi rush left shark

[sheepalmighty]

The Head of Security and a hacker are an effective team for a company. Lots of collaboration for sure

#hi fi rush #hi-fi rush #hfr #hi fi rush spoilers #hi-fi rush spoilers #korsimint #hi fi rush korsica #hi fi rush peppermint #hi fi rush mimosa #hi fi rush left shark #hi-fi rush is (almost) UNRESTRICTED CREATIVE FREEDOM! and cheap for all the hours and quality you'll get so check it out if you can #i didnt want to put left shark separately but i didnt want to minimise mimosa so enjoy the messy doodle right there #the app refused to put captions on the images but they were just about adding backgrounds and the ex energy korsica gives off with mimosa #'tis mine #i accidentally left the shark costume on during one of the post game scenes #couldnt see a thing in the scene and couldnt stop laughing

[thevectronic]

Hi-Fi Rush gave us the best outfit we could have asked for. This is real & it is incredible. So, I made an edit of it. Enjoy!

#hi fi rush #hi-fi rush #hifi rush #left shark #shark #The Black Keys have been on loop since I finished this game #I'm very proud of this left shark edit.

[thearkhamknightt]

My fave costume in the game!

Bonus Angy Chai 🥹

#my art #fanart #bethesda #hi fi rush #tango gameworks #hi fi rush chai #chai hi fi rush #left shark #chibi

[pixxyofice]

people got the first one, basically. hi-fi rush is still a wild game. guess the lie from the truths!

#hi-fi rush #hi fi rush #polls #poll #hifi rush #hfr

[samglyph]

If you want a space to rant about ST season 4 and its horror flaws I would love to hear your thoughts---i just rewatched seasons 1 and 2 so I'm in the thinking about it mode

Ohhhh I’m vibrating with all I have to say but I’m going to stick to the horror flaw theme and leave out most of my other non horror related thoughts. Ok so starting off: I actually like most of the first three seasons of Stranger Things. I think season 3 is flawed in a lot of ways but there’s enough that I like there that it’s watchable for me. I know a lot of people feel differently so I’m just putting that out there first.

Season 4 starts strong. The first episode? Good! The dnd/basketball scene? Fantastic! The scene with Eddie and Chrissy? Adorable, great character building. I think one of the strengths of this show has always been the acting, especially from the younger actors, and I think that remains true. And in terms of horror, Chrissy’s death scene is super spooky.

Episode 2 is where it falls apart. The reason I said ‘horror rule number 1’ is because while it might not be a general hard and fast rule (there are plenty of things that don’t do it and are still good and scary), it’s generally accepted, especially in creature features (which ST TECHNICALLY IS) that you shouldn’t show off your creature right away. Jaws? You don’t see the shark until the climax. The Thing? You see people transform and mutate early enough, but you don’t see the full spider body horror monstrosity until well through the film. And Stranger Things season 1 does this perfectly; people are taken/killed left and right, but aside from a blurry photo we don’t see the demigorgon until the LAST EPISODE. Now, yes this is often done for budget reasons, but it’s a good technique! Not being able to see what you’re running from makes it scarier. Showing us Vecna in the second episode? His whole body? With his tentacles? It’s a cool shot sure, but it’s unnecessary and immediately makes him less scary. He’s just a weird dude! They’re trying to do like. Power scaling. But it doesn’t connect well to prior seasons and the world building is really finicky at best.

I know it’s season four and they’re trying to explain stuff because we’re coming to the end of the show and they want to wrap up the mystery, but here’s a thought: sometimes things…. Should stay mysteries. The upside down, as a concept, is very cool and scary, and in trying to explain it they just opened more cans of worms and it’s still a mystery but now it’s almost more fantasy/eldritch sci fi then the grounded sci fi that it was and so some of the believability falls away. Also adding magic glowing dust is a retcon and ridiculous we know that’s not how the lights work. And I LIKE alien eldritch horror ok you know that but that’s not what stranger things IS it shouldn’t BE HERE. Also making your villain just the “weird spooky probably neurodivergent child” trope? Don’t like it, I think they could have had Henry find a small portal to the (already existing I don’t think El should’ve made it) upside down and that corrupted him and mind controlled him and given him some base power (kinda like Will in season 2) would’ve worked just as well, but that’s just an idea.

Another issue with the horror: it’s rushed! Why is Max’s Possession scene in episode 4! It shouldn’t be there! It’s a great scene, but it’s WAY to great and climactic to be happening BEFORE THE MIDPOINT OF THE SEASON? There’s another climax with max but it almost feels less important despite the fact that she basically dies. AND WITH BARELY ANY OF THE CAST THERE? That’s a separate issue but really quick: horror partially comes from the awareness of the characters, and then the audience being aware of the characters awareness. Either the character is aware of the horror which can create stress, (ie. Watching Will in season 1 as he tries to avoid the monster in episode 1) or the character is unaware (shouting ‘he’s right behind you! In scream) which can also create stress. But in the latter section, the film/tv show/whatever has to emphasize that lack of awareness. Meaning if for instance, one of your best friends is about to die, and you’re a MAIN CHARACTER and you have NO IDEA, it might behoove the writers to nod to that somehow to twist the knife a bit. Like El is so important in the second Max climax but isn’t even remotely important in the first scene. Cmon. But that’s just my opinion and a little off topic anyway also the Russia stuff slows down the plot and I don’t care about it and they used a nazi prison and then tried to monetize it as a hotel experience Ls all the way down.

Tldr a lot of the horror was ruined because things were rushed/shown to early and overcomplicated. Something needed to be cut so that other things could flourish.

This is no where close to all my thoughts on season 4, trust me I’ve got a whole like. PowerPoint/video essay locked in here and also I have a head cold right now so apologies if this isn’t coherent. Or if I’m wrong I’m not watching the season again to check.

#there is so much more I have to say. agh #notice how I haven’t mentioned Eddie. that’s because I have restraint but also because his story issues aren’t horror issues but instead #just issues of poor writing in general #and laziness and not wanting to pay an actor for two seasons #stranger things #long post #ask #submitwittyblognamehere

[chongoblog]

Fucking hi fi rush like return of the left shark meme...

yeah that....made me Feel Emotions

[rav-rabies-art-blog]

This is a wip of Pierogi (along with a very rough sketch of H3w-1e) one of my Hi Fi Rush OCs that I love to death but I don't think many others will. Mainly because she's kind of a Vivziepop character where a Vivziepop character doesn't need to be (think Nifty meets Juri from Tekken meets Punchline from DC.)

An unrepentant stupid obnoxious asshole, this girl's whole life has been a constant loop of fucking around and finding out and she loved every moment of it.

And yeah those are shark teeth. She got those because "Sharks are cool, duh." I'm bouncing back and forth on if they're just cosmetic or she spliced herself with a shark (think splicing like in Batman Beyond.) Her left eye is robotic and she is ~5'4" (162.56 cm.)

#tw #shark teeth #scars

[darlingbandit]

I won’t live tweet Jurassic Park, but one of the things I like so much about Steven Spielberg is that I still get a sense of majesty when I start watching one of his movies. Like, the excitement and anticipation, when he used to make real action/sci-fi/adventure movies in the seventies, eighties, and early nineties, before he fully transitioned into directing serious dramas (mostly.)

Back then movies were the last of the spectacles—you went out as a family or with friends, you didn’t have the variety of choice with television as you do now, and streaming didn’t exist; so you scheduled a weekend night around it. And if it was the premiere or the first few opening weeks then forget about it—you’d be in a packed house, and the trailers would end and everyone would get silent and shush each other and giggle a little and there’d be the anticipation of knowing that a new Steven Spielberg movie was about to start—Raiders of the Lost Ark or Close Encounters of the Third Kind or Jurassic Park, even the ones he wasn’t credited in as a director, like Poltergeist and Who Framed Roger Rabbit? and The Goonies, and even late-ninety cinematic spectacles like Twister and Mission Impossible and Independence Day, and it was all very Spielberg-ian, with the John Williams score and maybe Harrison Ford, maybe Richard Dreyfuss, always a scene that left the whole audience cheering. Always a scene where you feel a rush go through you, like when Ellie and Grant see the dinosaurs for the first time or when Indiana Jones is running away from giant rolling boulder, or when you see the shark for the first time.

I don’t know if it’s still like that because I don’t go to the movies much anymore, but that’s what it was like when I was a kid in the late-eighties/early-nineties. Those were some of the best moments of my life, those moments in those theaters.

And that’s the oldest I’ve ever sounded. Holy fuck.

#Steven Spielberg #Harrison Ford #Richard Dreyfuss #Jurassic Park #Jaws #Indiana Jones #Close Encounters of the Third Kind #Raiders of the Lost Ark #that’s why I unapologetically like Steven Spielberg #because I’m old #nineties #1990s

[firespirited]

Yesterday’s films were 700 sharks and Prospect (2018)

The shark documentary was excellent, it had scary music and drama for the first minute then immediately pivoted to geeking out about said sharks and the tasks at hand for the diverse group of scientists studying them for a period of 50 days a year where the sharks flock together. beautiful and informative without projecting drama onto any of the animals involved, lots of different disciplines represented.

Prospect is the portfolio piece that got Pedro Pascal and Sophie Thatcher similar roles in major franchises. It’s a sci-fi western.

It’s a brilliant film on every level, it’s just not a story I was interested in seeing again: I’m beyond done with ‘kill or be killed’ environments, I understand that it’s an ancient classic and a stimulating fantasy for many but it’s not only a personal squick, I also feel it’s intellectually lazy to assume the innate selfishness of man: we can look at chimps and baboons to see that this model is short term only and counter-productive, besides there is nothing there on a character level left to explore: it has been done to death. I’m interested about stories about the aftermath, the generational trauma, the people who pick up the pieces or do conservation on areas that have been warzones/gold rush areas... anything else.

With that said, it’s an excellent telling of the old tale, the pacing is good, the acting superb obviously (Pascal gets to do a subversion on the dad role with lots of ambiguity here and the father has that discomforting halfassedness to him that you recognize straight away - he’s doing his best but his best isn’t great parenting so you’re already in a love hate relationship, you already know this kid has had to grow up too fast when you see dad drinks to sleep) but what’s really standout is how they made a forest, some tents and a few set pieces into a believable alien world. The details down to logos, fonts, language design and fabulous retro-futuristic cheap RV looking pod.

https://www.talkhouse.com/painted-rust-building-the-world-of-prospect/

The company who made the film are DUST, they built it from one of their more popular shorts and there are a lot more to watch on youtube https://www.youtube.com/@watchdust/

I can’t correctly rate or recommend a film that’s top quality in a genre I don’t like but I can say that if you loved TLOU, you’ll love this variation in 90 minutes.

#saf #movie reviews #pedro pascal #sophie thatcher #prospect 2018

[joemerl]

Writer's Month 2023, Day 6: "Surf"

Original fiction (sci-fi/horror) Status/Word count: Complete for now, though I might do more with this later. 974 words. Author's notes: I wasn't sure what to do for this prompt until I remembered the TVTropes term "Body Surf."

It originally came to Earth when something like a meteorite crashed into the water.

The first thing to come across it was a squid. It touched the squid. And thus it became the squid, suddenly learning what it was to have limbs, and eyes, and a form. It absorbed the creature’s mind and knew what it was to swim, to hunt fish, to flee from predators.

It remained a squid for a long time, until one of those predators got too close.

Just as it had been a shock to inhabit a body, it was a new experience to find itself so much bigger, and so different, even more solid, its movements more restricted, yet stronger. It was a whale now. The instincts to hunt and swim were familiar, but now it rose to the surface, knowing that there was a surface above it, and breathed its first gulps of unwatered air.

It spend some time as a whale, eating the surrounding fish, before it started to wonder what their lives were like. And so it moved again, into a much smaller home, and left its former host to float mindlessly in the water.

In basic shape, this body was similar, but it didn’t need to breach, and being so small was a nerve-wracking experience—so many things wanted to eat it now, and it missed its days of being predator instead of prey. And so it found a bigger fish, one that it instinctually feared, and abandoned the smaller fish to become a shark.

Being a shark was much like its last host, and much like a whale, but also quite different in other ways. One change was that it now hunted seals, an animal that lived outside of the water. And it was one day, when it was swimming near the surface to eat rather than breach, that it spotted what it thought was one of these animals.

And suddenly, something unexpected happened. The seal turned out to be something else, a new creature that fell into the water with a splash. An animal very different than anything that it had seen before.

In a split-second decision, driven by curiosity, it abandoned its shark and jumped into the creature.

The human, already frightened by the approaching shark, screamed.

Every host was a new experience, but this change—the rush of strange thoughts and memories, the alienness of its body, and oh, this was not a water creature, the water had entered its lungs and it hurt, it was wrong! Quickly it integrated the new instincts, the knowledge of how to swim without flippers or tentacles, and forced its way up, truly breaking the surface and gasping for breath.

It grabbed the thing floating beside it—not a seal, something more like driftwood, but different—and held it, panting for a moment. Tried to absorb the mind that came with this body, and discovered, to its utter shock, that it was fighting back. It could feel the host still there, its mind racing with a sort of fear that the smallest fish had never experienced.

And suddenly, it had words for things. This body was called a human. The human was called Chris. And it was floating in the water, holding a surfboard.

It hauled itself onto the board and sat there, trying to take it all in. Its head was spinning—not actually, but it was a term this brain provided, an idiom, and it didn’t even have time to unpack that right now. It held out its limbs and looked at itself. Arms and hands and fingers. Tanned skin, covered with drops of water—it had never experienced water as drops before. It had legs ending with feet and toes. It was male. Little hairs covered its body, and it was wearing clothes, board shorts specifically. It touched them, feeling the fabric. It was vaguely aware that one wore more clothes, usually, but at the beach all this body required was a bathing suit. And...

It reached to its new body's chest, touching the thing Chris wore around his neck. A set of dog tags that had belonged to Chris' grandfather. Chris' father had given them to him.

Father. Grandfather. So many strange emotions, crashing on him like a flood. It had so rarely thought of other beings before, aside from as food or predators or potential hosts.

“Yo, Chris!”

It turned. Liam was padding over on his own surfboard. It recognized Liam. There were a whole slew of memories about Liam. Today they had come to the beach. They often went surfing together.

“You okay, man? You look—” Liam made a vague gesture in front of his face. Chris’ brain recognized it. Liam meant that Chris was acting “spacey.”

It wasn’t sure what to respond. It looked down at itself again. It was Chris now, just like it had been a squid and a fish and a shark. But being Chris was more than it had ever experienced before. And there was something…some part of Chris…still screaming in fear in the back of its mind. That Chris wanted to know what was going on, and why he was no longer in control of his body. 

This was all frightening. Fleeing predators seemed tame in comparison.

But also… 

"I'm the one who taught you to surf," it said slowly. "Back in ninth grade. And you helped me pass Algebra. That's how we became friends."

It knew, dimly, that it hadn't done that, that Chris had done that before. But it felt like something that it had done.

"Chris? Dude, are you okay?"

It...he looked up at Liam, and saw the concern growing on his face. It made him feel good, knowing that Liam was worried. He and Liam were friends. He felt a thrill of exhilaration at the thought. 

“I don’t know,” the new Chris said finally. 

#Also I wrote this a few days after my last entry so I didn't really notice that I'd jumped from a Yeerk to ANOTHER body-stealing alien. #WritersMonth2023 #Science fiction #Sci-fi #Alien #Aliens

[sheepalmighty]

There's a certain accessory I like putting on Chai

#chai hi fi rush #808 hi fi rush #hi fi rush left shark #closeups are always fun with those glasses #for some reason i thought id take my own ref pics when i was using the simplified skin for chai. my chai ref stock remains very low #'tis mine

[impatentpending]

Bruised Ego

Thomas’ ego takes a few too many blows.  Janus helps.

A long-overdue writer/artist collab between myself and the incredible @caffeinated-cryptid!  Find their original post here, and this fic’s companion piece here.

Word count: 1.6k

tws for injury, blood, severe bruising, and physical pain

read on AO3  Buy me a ko-fi!

___________________________

Roman typically liked color.

The purple and blues of his best friends, the green of his brother, the yellow of his… of Janus, his own glowing, vibrant red – Roman liked color.

At least, when it wasn’t splashed across his skin.

“I told you not to read the comments section,” Janus clucks, lifting Roman’s chin with one gloved hand and frowning at the marks on his neck, “and what do you do?”

“Checked for accolades from my dearest fans?”  Roman flashes a grin, wincing when it pulls at the cut on his lip, breaking open once more.

“Let’s go with your story,” the snake says, dryly, snapping open a first aid kit.  “Oh, and please stay standing.  It’s so much more convenient to check up on you when you look like you’ll pass out at any second.”

Roman crosses his arms, lips twisting into a pout.  “It’s not that bad!  Handsome princes can withstand” –

Hey man u spelled cringe compilation wrong, Thomas reads.  1.7k likes.

– “anything,” he gasps from the floor, hand pressed against the angry purple bruise spreading across his ribs.

“However could I have doubted?”  Janus says, dryly, and kneels at his side.  A gloved hand tucks itself under his elbow, and Roman pulls himself up in a rush of aches and vertigo.

“You may have something of a point,” Roman admits, reluctantly.

“Shock and surprise,” the snake drawls, “now can I take a look at you, or do you feel like being tortured a bit longer?”

“You can look at me anytime you want, pretty little liar,” Roman purrs, shifting back.

“Cute.”  His voice flat, but he doesn’t turn to the first aid kit in time to hide the flush spreading across his human half.  “What a wonderful world it would be if all caretakers flirted with their injured patients.”

Roman’s forced a laugh – too bright, too boisterous in the afternoon light, the feeling of it setting his bruised ribs to aching.

“You worry too much, my dear snacc mamba.”

Ugh why is this guy so annoying, Thomas reads.

The first knuckle of Roman’s left hand purples and swells.

Janus lifts an eyebrow.  “I can see there’s no need for concern.”

“I don’t need your help, Janus.”  Roman works his jaw, pushing through the flashes of pain. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, sure, just get an infection, I suppose.”  Janus rolls his eyes.  “Honestly, I’m not performing open-heart surgery.  You just got bruised.”

“But I’m not supposed to!”  Roman snaps.  “I’m not supposed to get hurt!”

Love you thomas but,,, no.

A bruise blossoms across his cheek.

“I’m supposed to be his knight!”

Wtf.  Unsubscribed.

A stream of blood runs from his nose.

“I’m supposed to be his defender!”

Looks like somebody jumped the shark, lol

His forehead paints itself – mottled green and blue.

“I’m supposed to save him!”

Fail

His cheek splits open.

“Of all of you! Of you!”

YouTube algorithm stop giving me shit challenge

The white of his eye colors red.

“I’m, I’m–”

“You’re shaking,” Janus says, softly.

“I’m…”  Roman swallows, hard, feeling the weight of gravity, pulling pulling pulling on every place that aches, that bleeds, that blossoms with a bruise.  “I’m tired.  Janus, I’m so tired.”

Can we please stop pretending this guy is funny now?

His nose breaks.

Roman curls into himself, bruised and swollen hands pressed together like that could offer any relief.

Janus stands, eyes dark.  “Thomas,” he says into the empty air.  “Aren’t you running late to your dentist’s appointment?”

Outside the mindscape, Thomas hisses a curse, jerking backwards from his computer and scrambling for his jacket, thoughts of comments drowned in a rush of panic.

Roman blinks at him, hazy.  “He doesn’t have an appointment.”

“No?”  Janus almost smiles.  “Whoops.”

He reaches down, taking Roman’s hand.  “Come on.  Let’s get you up.”

He maneuvers Roman into sitting on the bay windowsill, the plush seating a relief against his abused tailbone.

“Did you look at the others?”  Janus asks, busying himself with fishing out rubbing alcohol and cotton balls.

“What?” 

“Oh, you’re right,” Janus says, dryly, wetting the cotton, “three and a half million subscribers, and only scathing remarks.”

The antiseptic stings Roman’s cheek.

He doesn’t realize he’s flinched away until Janus says “Hey, hey,” so gently it makes something inside of Roman ache.

He looks up, and there are his snake’s eyes – dark and golden, shining.

“Trust me,” he says, gently.

“Alright.”  Roman swallows hard and licks his swollen, scabbing lips.  “Alright.”

Janus must’ve rigged his gloves off at some point, because Roman can feel the catch of scales against his skin, the other side blissfully cold.  He starts with Roman’s cheek, gently dabbing away the filth and grime.

“YouTube user Bleepus Deepus,” Janus says, “‘Favorite creator? Check.  New favorite video? Check’.”

He moves on to Roman’s forehead, tucking a stray strand of hair back in place.

“YouTube user Endah: Thomas I am literally crying laughing oh my gosh’.”

He lays a bandage over a cut on his temple.

“YouTube user Ace Pixie: sir, please save some talent for the rest of us.”

The words are as cool and soothing as the bandages Janus lays on him, but they feel just as flimsy.

Roman shakes his head, a pit of something like misery in his stomach.  “They don’t mean–”

“I thought you said you were going to trust me?”

“I do, I just…”  He trials off, leaning into the cool hand that bandages his cheek oh-so gently.

“Poor dear Thomas has a lovely habit of filtering, hm?”  Janus smoothes the edge of a butterfly bandage over Roman’s nose.  “Virgil’s influence, I’m afraid.”

Roman makes a small noise of protest, and Janus rolls his eyes.

“Not that he can help it,” he amends.

“Look, Janus, I get what you’re trying to do here, and I appreciate it.  I just… you can’t dismiss all that negativity.  All those people who don’t like what Thomas is doing.”  Roman swallows hard, pushing a hand through his hair.  “What I’m doing.”  He flashes a plastic smile.  “Cause and effect, amiright?  Crummy content means crummy comments.  Nothing to be done for it, Snacc mamba.”

“You don’t deserve what they’re saying, Roman.”  Janus’ voice is almost as gentle as his hands, laying a bandage on his cheek.  “You’re wonderful.”

“Yeah?”  Roman snorts.  “And which commentator said that?”

“The most important one of all,” Janus drawls, “Janus Sanders.”

Roman can’t help his smile, even when it tugs at his too-sensitive skin.  “I suppose he is rather important.”

He swings a leg out and hooks his ankle around Janus’.

The snake’s expression doesn’t change, but something in his eyes brightens as he shifts closer and dabs antiseptic on Roman’s lip.

“They love you, Roman.”

Janus’ thumb rests, lightly, against the corner of Roman’s mouth, fingers splayed gently across his cheek and down his neck.

“We all do.”

Roman tilts his head, slowly enough to reduce the ache, and presses the pad of the other side’s thumb to the swell of his lips.

“Thank you,” he says, softly, “Janus.”

Janus’ lips twist, but the exasperation doesn’t reach his eyes.  “Someone has to clean up your messes, I suppose.”

“No one else I’d rather have do it,” he says, and it feels like a confession, shimmering in the air between them.

It hangs there as Janus removes his hand with a slide of skin and scales, and Roman shrugs off his jacket, revealing his color-drenched arms.  Janus focuses on his task with single-minded intensity, spreading a topical cream.

He’s beautiful like this, drenched in the golden afternoon light of Roman’s room, those eyes intent, but then again, he always is to Roman – gorgeous when his eyes dance with mischief, stunning when he hisses in annoyance, breathtaking when sits with a stolen book, humming overtures, lost in his own world.

“Janus, I…”  Roman wets his lips.  “I think there’s something I have to tell you.”

Surprise, confusion, wonder, delight – expressions flicker across Janus’ face like lightning, staying only long enough for Roman to make out their outlines, before smoothing into something gentler than sadness.

“Not now, Roman,” Janus asks, softly.  “Not like this.”

Roman laughs despite himself, letting his head loll forward until it rests against Janus’ mess of curls.  The bruise on his forehead throbs, but he ignores it in favor of the blissful cool of scales.  “Of course you know,” he murmurs, free of venom, “clever snake.”

“Someone has to have the brain cell.”  Janus huffs out a laugh.  “Goodness knows the poor thing doesn’t get enough exercise.”

For a moment, there is just silence, and a gentle pressure as Janus wraps a compression wrap around Roman’s forearm, winding higher and higher until he’s smoothing the frayed edge, Janus’ fingers pressed into his palm.

Roman curls his fingers in – gently, as if Janus could bruise easy as him, this fragile ego.

“I’m sure you don’t know as well.”  His thumb brushes over the patchwork quilt of colors that comprises the back of Roman’s hand.  “After all, I’m a master of deception.”

“I don’t, sometimes,” Roman confesses.  “It’s… it’s hard to believe that someone could…”

After all, he’s a collection of bruises – a mass of pain and color, an ego more blood than backbone.  And even the smallest of wounds hurt before they can heal.

But there’s a bandage wound around his arm, and medicine pressed to his skin, and a hand, curled achingly gently around his own.

“I do,” Janus says, then: “Are you alright, Roman?”

“No,” Roman says, and holds Janus’ hand just a bit tighter.  “But I think I will be.”

And he was.

___________________________

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___________________________

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#roceit #roman sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides #paper trail

[talkfastromance4]

Lost Without You-- Calum Hood oneshot

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

A/N: based off of Fly By Midnight’s new song Lost Without You. Give it a listen as  some of the lyrics are incorporated in the piece! 

Warnings: angst, moody and broody

Word count: 2,577

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• • • •

Calum is a man of deception; the Houdini of keeping his six-year relationship hidden from the media sharks’ eyes. He’s the mastermind of averting their invasive questions of why he hasn’t found a special someone yet, what’s the hold-up, to the attention of this awesome bass riff he’s been working on. It’s not that he was ashamed of you or your love, he wanted at least one part of his life to stay private.

Part of his deception is keeping his lips sealed. He’s perfected the silent-yet-observant role of the band, only speaking when he deems it necessary and if it’s related to the band, Duke, or their music while simultaneously he was having a full conversation with you on his phone about how all the planets share the same sun.

For six years, your relationship worked amazingly well. He adored your compassion for his dream, always referring to you as his biggest fan which always made you laugh. It’s been six years of late-night calls, paragraphs shared of how much you meant to each other filled with promises of the adventures you’d have when you’re reunited again. It’s been endless voice notes of a new song he wrote, memories upon memories printed on polaroid’s and saved in a lot of albums on your phone.

For six years it worked until it didn’t.

Complacency became very apparent and the feeling of being stuck in one place crept up your neck and whispered in your ear while your friends were getting engaged left and right. While out and about you felt jealous of other couples who could freely kiss one another. Seeing the guys and their girlfriends cuddle while you were all out dinner left a burning hole in your heart while Calum was three seats away.

For six years it did work, but the comfortable bubble you were in for so long suddenly became uncomfortable and claustrophobic. It was a long break up that left you both teary eyed, your makeup cleaned off from the salt in your tears, and your voices hoarse from talking. You tried talking it through, but the only solution seemed to be taking a break.

A break from your best friend of six years, a break from a love so genuine.

It’s been six months since that miserable night where half his heart was taken and Calum doesn’t want to be by himself these days, he doesn’t want to think of himself this way without you. But he has been thinking about it, every second, every day. He’s been thinking of you constantly.

And you’ve been thinking of him too. Recently you’ve been seeing a new guy, someone from the gym you go to who has shown interest multiple times. He’s the opposite of Calum, so you thought you’d give it a try. Something different, something new.

“Why’d you decide to give me a chance now? I’m glad you did, don’t get me wrong, but I’m curious,” Matt asks while you’re out for coffee.

“I haven’t been alone since I was eighteen,” you confess. You felt a release as you finally opened about your relationship with Calum, leaving his name anonymous so Matt wouldn’t blab to the press you were dating a member of 5 Seconds of Summer.

Your heart burst open of your whole relationship, six years of memories, love, a friendship set on fire, finally released into the open.

“Then why did it end?” Matt asks while he walked you up to your door. You hadn’t realized you talked about your relationship for the whole date, how pathetic is that?

Instead of answering him, you pulled him in for a kiss that traveled to your bedroom. Opening up about Calum opened your sadness of the breakup as well. The whole time you were with Matt, you compared him to Calum in your mind. His fingers were clumsy while Calum’s were sure and precise, years and years of bass playing under his belt did wonders. His hair was thin between your fingers while Calum’s was thick and fluffy. Matt’s movements were jerky while Calum’s were fluid as water.

When it was over, you rolled over to gaze out the window, tears brimming your eyes because for the first time in six months, you felt lost without Calum. There’s another body where he used to be, and you can’t stand the thought. Thoughts of Calum left you awake until Matt kissed you goodbye and left.

Calum’s over at Michael’s, he’s on his fifth white claw and he feels the alcoholic bubbles taking effect. In his impaired state, he pulls out his phone and scrolls to your text conversation, six years’ worth of conversation still held in his phone’s memory.

Him: I miss you when it hurts

Knowing you won’t reply but hoping that you do, he stumbles to the hammock. With one foot on the earth he sways from side to side staring at the stars through the trees. He’s wondering if all those stars have been in the sky since your relationship started when his phone does the two-toned ding reserved only for you.

Excited and nervous all at once, he almost falls out of the hammock reaching for his phone that falls between the netting of the hammock. Cursing under his breath he stretches until his fingers grab hold of the device, the light of the screen illuminates his face.

Her: I’m sleeping in your shirts

His heart skips a beat, his mouth goes dry just imagining you in his shirts. He hasn’t seen his sensation shirt in two years because you stole it and claimed it yours. Every couple months he’d get it back so that it would end up smelling like him and you’d steal it all over again. He loved seeing you walk around your place in nothing but his shirts, he loved the way your ass peeked out from the hem.

Him: but seeing you would make it worse

He impatiently waits while your gray bubbles pulsate on his screen. Then they stop and then your pretty face is on his screen followed by your ringtone. Surprised, he nearly drops his phone again before answering.

“Hello?” he asks breathlessly.

“Can we still talk on the phone sometimes?” you ask.

Calum falls out of the hammock this time because he hasn’t heard your voice in so long. Six years he’s been hearing your voice in his head, on his phone, in his ear while you whisper dirty things. Six months without your voice has been hell and hearing it now, it’s like he’s at the gates of heaven.

“Of course, we can,” he finally responds climbing back into the hammock. He licks his lips. “How are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah…I’m okay,” you respond softly. He knows every nuance of your voice; he can tell you’re telling him the half-truth. “Are you okay?”

“I’m better now.”

Over the next several weeks, you’ve been talking on the phone more frequently. You’re still seeing Matt every now and then, just to give you something to do and hopefully not think of Calum. That’s damn near impossible.

You’re on the phone with Calum while you’re sitting out on your balcony watching the sun go down. Both of you haven’t said a word in about five minutes, but hearing his breathing makes it feel like he’s right there with you. The two of you always had comfortable silences of enjoying each other’s presence.

“Can we be the exes that still stay friends?” he asks.

Your feet slam to the floor that were perched on the railing at his question. It filled you with butterflies.

“I’d like that, Calum. I’ve missed my best friend,” you admit shyly.

“He’s missed you, too.”

Matt spent the night and after your morning coffee, you laid on the floor staring at your ceiling fan as it rotates. The cool air blows on your skin and it reminds you of all the times you and Calum would lay on the floor or the grass, heads next to each other, as you talked about random things. Matt found you like that and asked what you were doing.

“Come lay with me, let’s talk,” you say reaching for his hand.

You feel his hesitancy as he lays next to you.

“What do we talk about?” he mumbles in confusion.

“Anything. Don’t you think it’s weird that Mars has the same sun we do?”

“No,” he snorts.

Suddenly, your door opens and with a rush of panic you sit up expecting to see Calum thinking that it’s him. Part of you wants him to see Matt and the other part of you wishes Matt weren’t in the picture at all. Crestfallen, it’s one of Matt’s friends who came by to pick up a video game he had. Matt leaves you on the floor and you send a text to Calum asking him about Mars and the sun.

He replies quickly with how that fact still blows his mind and you smile.

Ten months have gone by and Calum is pacing back and forth in his kitchen. Duke is following his motions, tongue lolling out and panting while the rest of the band follow the dad and dog duo. You’re coming over for the first time. For the first time since the breakup he’s going to see you and it has his stomach reeling.

“Why are you freaking out so much?” Michael asks.

“Because, it’s been so long! It could either go really well or end horribly,” Calum huffs continuing to move back and forth.

“Will you stop pacing?” Ashton demands, “you’re making me dizzy. It won’t end horribly. You’re already broken up.”

That stops Calum instantly. He glares at his best friend for his blunt remark, Michael and Luke share the same look.

“What?! I’m not wrong! What could be worse than that?”

“We’ve only started being friends again…she could decide she doesn’t even want that,” Calum sighs leaning against the counter. Duke sits at his feet.

“You’ve been friends for six years…yeah, you were also a couple, but I don’t understand how you can just stop being friends with that much history,” Ashton shrugs.

“Yeah, you don’t understand,” Calum shakes his head. Only you and he know where your relationship stands. He’d give you the moon if he could, lasso it and all that like from that movie you love so much.

The doorbell rings and Calum stands up stick straight, he breaks into a cold sweat. Michael offers to get it and when he returns, it’s only Andy and Sarah. At every doorbell Calum waits for you to walk through his door again but is met with disappointment when it’s another party guest.

Feeling defeated he collapses onto the couch, swiping through apps on his phone while the party blurs around him. Duke hops up and lays in his lap.

“Hey guys. Where’s Calum?”

Upon hearing your voice, Calum and Duke both perk up with Duke bounding off his lap and running to wherever your voice came from. Calum stands slowly, hearing your sweet words to Duke as he rounds the corner. Seeing you after all this time is like he can finally breathe again. You’re giving Duke kisses and Calum notices that your hair is different, the new cut and style takes him by surprise but you’re beautiful as ever.

Then your eyes lift to his and he swears he felt the planets align within him. When you smile it’s like he’s seeing the sun for the first time.

“Hey, you made it,” he says gruffly then mentally slaps himself. He should have said something cooler, more riveting but you smile all the same and stand up.

“Hi. Yeah, I did. I wouldn’t miss it.”

After grabbing you a drink he ushers you to a quiet corner where he awkwardly asks for a hug. You share a timid embrace, but it still feels like home. He wants to hold you forever but reluctantly lets go so you can catch up some more.

For the whole night you stay in that spot, unless he left to refresh your drinks, or you grabbed a snack that you shared on the same plate. As the last people left, you and Calum were left alone on the couch, the lights dimmed, and the music changed to something more chill.

“I thought you would’ve brought Matt with you,” Calum says. The other guy’s name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and his next sentence tastes like bile. “I want to meet him.”

“I thought about it,” you sigh leaning your head against the couch. Your head presses against Calum’s arm that’s slung over the back and he sucks in a breath at the contact. “But it’s not working with him.”

“No? Why’s that?” he tries to sound polite.

You stare at him for a long time, taking in his dark eyes, the slight curl at the ends of his hair, his tattoos peeking from his shirt and the three moles you’ve always loved to kiss.

“I’m lost without you,” you confess.

He stares back for a beat.

“You’re lost without me?”

“These ten months have been so hard. I think about you all the time, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wanted to come over and beg for you to take me back. But I hurt you. I know I did. I hated that night we broke up; it was one of the worst nights of my life. But why would you want me back after I threw in the towel because I was feeling affection deprived? That’s not fair. And then when you texted me…I felt so happy. This whole thing was stupid, and I understand if you don’t want—”

Calum silences you by pressing his lips to yours. You kiss back eagerly, welcoming the comfort of his soft lips against your own, your fingers immediately flying into his hair. His own hand cups your face, you melt at the warmth of his skin and a chill runs through you when his tongue slips between your lips. The world stops, the music drifts away as you kiss your best friend, your soulmate after so many days apart.

The kiss leaves you both breathless and gasping for air as you break apart, but you don’t move far, his forehead rests on yours. You caress the back of his neck while his thumb caresses your cheek.

“I’ve been lost without you, too, cupcake,” he mumbles and your heart rushes at his nickname for you. “I was nervous as shit before you came, I didn’t think you were going to.”

“I almost didn’t come,” you chuckle, “I kept imagining I’d see you with some new girl hanging off you.”

“The only girl I need is you.”

You’re kissing him again, then ask on his lips, “Maybe we should--?”

“Baby, we should start again,” he finishes for you. “We’re both different now. We’ll be different, we’ll…we won’t hide this time. You’ve been a part of my life for so long, you held my childhood that I didn’t want to let go of yet.”

“It’s not letting go, it’s moving forward,” you trace his eyebrows then poke each one of his small moles that you love because they’re like stars.

“Move forward with me?” he asks, nudging his nose against yours kissing you again. You nod against him as he pushes you onto the couch. Your love lost was found again.

• • • •

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#calum hood oneshot #calum hood angst #calum angst #calum fluff #calum 5sos #calum hood writing #calum hood 5sos #5sos writing #5sos fanfic #calum fanfic #calum fic #calum hood fanfic

[itswhumpday]

Lifeline

“Holy shit.” 

The lab is as sci-fi as it gets. Even with the roaring sirens and the red blinking alarm lights, it’s pretty cool to see. Screens projected onto glass, all equipped with touch technology. People in white labcoats start to fuss, scream, run and punch buttons as they notice the entrance of the team. 

“Police! Hands where I can see them!”

As Caretaker walks inside, they gape at what all of the scientists were looking at. At the other side of a glass, a large tank. Large enough to fit quite a lot of sharks. But had only one occupant: a person. 

They had been briefed before the mission. Large underground human experiment complex. Seeing the plants on a blueprint was one thing. Seeing it right in front of you, three meters tall, was a complete other thing. 

The Whumpee’s only connection to the surface was a tube linked to a respirator strapped around their face. When Caretaker looks at them for the first time, they’re frowning. Computers are beeping, charts are climbing, something is getting urgently printed. As Caretaker watches, they move their hands slowly, as if fighting a dream. Caretaker reaches into their comm unit and presses the button. 

“We have eyes in one of the victims. Might need medical support.” 

It’s not long until other claims are made: two on the next room and another in a third room. The blueprint showed at least twenty five cells on this complex. Caretaker feels a shiver. There were over a hundred of missing people cases that fit the M.O. of this place. There can be other labs just like this one. Maybe even bigger. But it’s better to focus on the matter at hand. 

Caretaker turns around, where their team seems to have taken over the scientists. Most were already cuffed and being conducted out, far more gently than what Caretaker would have done it. 

“You have no idea what you’ve done!” One of the scientists spits their shoes. Caretaker looks down and raises an eyebrow.

“They’re people.” 

“They’re all but.” Two men put him to his feet by the armpits. “They might look like cute trinkets, but you don’t know what they can do.” 

“And you won’t either. Take him away.” 

As the room clears, Caretaker turns back to the control panel where their own nerds are trying to stabilize the situation. On the com he hears someone is already working to disable the sirens. 

“What’s in there? Is it safe to remove them?” 

“Still trying to understand… There is a record of dosages, though…” One of them says. 

“Couldn’t be the readings on the waters?”, the other wonders.

“No, too small to keep a tank this big…” The first debates. 

Caretaker’s eyes are finally averted back to the person when he catches a glimpse of movement. The person is definitely awake now, dazed eyes big in terror. Waves spread inside the tank as they swing around slowly and weakly, trying to free themselves from something they can’t see. 

Caretaker recedes, trying to see where the tube from the respirator connects them to. It climbs to a platform and climbs to the ceiling, to a big blue cylinder and a smaller red cylinder. It’s far and dark, but they don’t see the pressure meters moving. 

“It’s oxygen. It’s oxygen, they cut the oxygen!” 

Caretaker tries to kick down the door that grants access to the lab. The alarm light is right over it, burning red. 

“Get this open, right now!”

“On it!”

They start typing. Caretaker looks at the prisoner and they’re kicking now. They turn and toss. Their eyes are closed again. They’re trying to swim: somewhere, anywhere. Caretaker waits impatiently, watching. 

“The commands can’t be overrun from here, boss!”

Before they can even finish saying that, he’s already screaming into their communicator.

“Turn off the alarm! I can’t get to the civilian!”

Affirmations of attempts sound, but he can’t hear. All he can see is Whumpee struggling. They pulled on the black tube strapped to them, in hopes it’d bring them up, but the excess of it is just floating around them in the water now. They start to tangle in it as they struggle: in their arms, in their legs. Finally they take one turn too much an it’s around their neck, like a dark deadly snake. 

“Get me in there now!”

Caretaker screams to the com, to no result. The red lights keep blinking. The alarm keeps ringing. Whumpee continues to struggle, but they’ve tangled themselves irreparably. They pull and push, but all they only tighen it. 

With a wave of bubbles, they start to stop. Caretaker takes off their gun and shoots the door handle. There is a muzzle flash, but the door handle barely holds a scratch. Caretaker growls. Bullet proof? They try to think, but the lack of movement on the other side of the glass window is making the deadline each second more deadly.

They then shoot the hinges, that fall with two shots either. They always forget the hinges… 

“Get a med team here, NOW!”

They scream at their over their shoulder, throwing their gun to the side. 

Walking inside the lab is like walking right into a storm. There is a smell of petrichor. Waves as spilling from side to side from the inside of the tank. As they walk, their ears pop with static electricity.

 Caretaker throws their body without thinking against the glass. It’s thick. They step back, trying again. A wobble of the tank sends a wave of cold water over him and he realizes it’s probably a terrible idea to try and break it. It would flood the whole place. 

The Whumpee is back to their dazed blind fight. They’re past thinking. All they can do is pull on the very same thing is slowly killing them as if it were a lifeline. Their neck is starting to turn purple around the tube. 

Caretaker finally finds the wet metal stairs that lead to the cylinders and to a small platform on top of the tank. They rush up, slipping all the way to the top. When they reach it, it’s like the eye of the storm. The waves stop. The smell is gone. The tank is slowly getting still. 

When Caretaker looks down, they can’t know for sure if the slow movement they see is the Whumpee’s last struggle or a trick of the water. They have to believe it’s the first. 

By grabbing the tube from the top, they can easily untangle it from the Whumpee’s neck by wiggling it. This sends a wave of bubbles up and the unmoving body starts to sink to the bottom. 

Caretaker pulls on the tube, bringing the body on an awkward angle upwards. They’re still very tangled one it. As they climb up, Caretaker can see flashes of the white sclera of the Whumpee’s rolled back eyes when the red lights shine over them. They’re crossed by a chill. 

There’s hardly any room, but they manage to lay down the Whumpee down on the metal platform. They throw the tube back to the tank and pull on the straps, free their face from the respirator. 

Even with what just happened, they seem in pretty bad shape. Their skin is discolored and squishy from the long immersion. The respirator left red lines all over the lower part of their face. Bruises in the form of fingers and belt buckles mark their upper arms and ankles. They match the dark mark around their neck and the even darker color their face has taken. 

Caretaker tries to take their pulse in their impossibly thin wrist. They take what feels like forever and don’t find it. Terrified, they try their neck instead and finally accept it: their barely passing grade at first aid will have to do until help in on their way. 

They starts compressions. They time it so there is seven compressions every time the damn siren sounds. It feels like forever. It feels like so many. They keep trying and trying, but it feels like they’ve been in this existence for so long… Help will never come… The sirens will never cease. They have never seen a new day without the blinking red lights. 

And then it changes. Sirens are gone. Red lights are gone. The whole complex, down. There is a deafening silence. And then, coughing. The Whumpee’s body convulses as water pours down from their mouth. Caretaker puts them to the side so they can spit it all out. Their breath comes in desperate gasps. Caretaker can finally breathe too. 

They feel a small pressure at their legs. Somehow, Whumpee has found a way of moving their hands toward them. At first, they think it’s a sign of hope. The Whumpee must know they were coming, they must know they’re safe. But as they try to hold the thin hand, they feel it pulling away. Whumpee starts shivering against the cold metal of the platform.

The sound of sobbing is the only one filling the room. 

“Please, no more… No more…”

#whump #drowning whump #whump community #whump prompt #beanwhump #i saw one scene in a cartoon and couldn't stop until I made this #I'll finish my requests I promise #ill probably write part two if anyone is interested #gender neutral writing still kicks my butt #lmk if i messed up any pronouns tnx

[artistic-writer]

The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Ch 8

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal.  Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some.

AO3 - Ko-Fi (100% of coffee’s bought go towards buying @adognamedkillian toys and treats!)

A/N: Ooooo! It’s here!  THAT chapter (if you have heard me talking about this chapter you’ll know what I mean.)  I’m very excited for you all to read it, and I really hope you enjoy it!

Artwork by me, @artistic-writer and beta’d by the lovely @shardminds who deserve all the love you guys can throw her way. And as ever, thank you to all the ladies in Discord! Thanks ladies!

This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics.  Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg.  Just so you know.  There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O.  If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :)  Many thanks to @hollyethecurious @shardminds @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke and @ineffablecolors for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

Taglist:  I’ll be honest, i have lost my taglist for this fic, so if you want a tag, please message me here on on discord (Salem #5158/ [email protected]) and I’ll add you!  I’ve tagged the following people i KNOW want to read this, but i don’t want to accidentally tag you if you do not like ABO.

@hollyethecurious @shardminds @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @darkcolinodonorgasm @thisonesatellite @xemmaloveskillianx @hookedonapirate @teamhook @winterbaby89 @carpedzem @courtorderedcake @profdanglaisstuff @itsfabianadocarmo @donteattheappleshook @ultraluckycatnd @jennjenn615 @melly326​ @klynn-stormz @stahlop​

——————————————————————————————

Killian never liked to cancel on clients, especially when he was giving up the opportunity to sleep with someone as beautiful as Emma, but it seemed his rut had other ideas. It had arrived early, his already frenzied mind sent into overdrive at the thought of not having her, even if her husband was insistent she go away for a week. She would be back before it’s end, but he didn’t want to risk her seeing him that far into his rut, so before she had even arrived home, Killian had told her husband he would be unable to see her until otherwise notified.

He should have known his rut was approaching when, during their last sexual encounter, he had found little things more precise, her scent more enticing, if at all possible, than before, and her body reacting to him more like an Omega than a Beta. One minute they were fucking, and then, before either of them knew it, he was knot deep in his favourite place in the world. It came without warning, his body so tuned into hers that he didn’t know what was happening until it was too late and her body was clenching around his bulb and drawing every last drop of his soul out through his orgasm. It shouldn’t have been so easy to knot a Beta without prior lubrication, but somehow they fit together like puzzle pieces, Emma cut exactly right so that he would fit inside her.

Alpha’s could control their early rut, it wasn’t hard, unless they were a few days in or there was a reason. Emma was a Beta, so there shouldn’t have been a reason he had felt so incredibly starved of her that he had acted so possessive. No Omega scent coaxing out his ultimate arousal, although Emma’s scent did things to him he couldn’t explain, or rut frustration unsated by the woman beneath him. Killian was confused, his mind foggy and in a daze so much that he almost didn’t hear the soft tapping against his apartment door.

He was ripped from his thoughts by the scent first, the absolute sweetness of it wafting under the thin gap under his front door and straight into his nostrils. His body reacted instantly and he stared at the heavy door wide eyed and unable to believe what he was sensing. The smell caused a tickle to stir in his groin, the pit of his stomach falling away from him as he was overcome with the need to fuck, but something else held his attention for a second, something that confused his already rut addled brain.

Emma.

Killian took a tentative step towards the door, the gentle knocking echoing through his apartment once more. The closer he got, the stronger the scent became, and his brow pulled together with his last coherent ounce of thought.

“Killian?” Emma called softly through the door, her voice riddled with agony.

Killian gulped hard, another scent coating his taste buds as he swallowed it down and it sent a ripple of excitement over his skin. He reached for the door, pulling it open quicker than he thought he would, half scared by what he would find on the other side.

Emma looked up at him slowly, her face puffy from her tears and her hair dishevelled like she had been grabbed. She was dressed in just some leggings and a camisole top and was barefoot, despite the temperature outside being almost freezing, and she was covered in a fine sheen of sweat that took Killian’s breath away. He only just stopped himself from growling out loud when he noticed a dark red swell under her right eye, the skin there split open in a small line that had stopped bleeding but was probably going to need a stitch.

Her hands trembled, her fingers interlocking in front of her as she fidgeted, her entire body shaking under his gaze. It felt like forever before one of them moved, Killian finally, against everything reasonable screaming inside his head, reaching out, grabbing her arm and pulling her into his apartment. His hand on her skin was the most calm Emma had felt all day and she let out a sigh, almost thankful for the lightest touch that had somehow eased her pain.

Before the door even closed behind her, Killian was stalking away from her, putting as much distance between them as he could. It was only the first day of his rut so there was minimal control left over his urges, but he had to try to resist them. Emma was clearly here for a reason but as much as his head was telling him to take her, fuck her, breed her, claim her, his heart won out as soon as he saw she had been hit.

“What happened?” He said finally, putting the couch between them and neglecting to look at her, brushing his finger across his own cheek to indicate the reason for his question.

“Graham,” Emma whimpered, her body flushing hot once more. Killian caught the new wave of her heat from the other side of the expansive lounge area of his new apartment, his back pressed to the huge floor to ceiling glass window that looked out over the city. Not even the frozen pane could cool his body, and he rubbed a sweaty palm over his already damp forehead angrily at the man’s name.

How could a man hit his wife? How could Graham have even dreamed of hurting something as precious as Emma? Rage boiled inside of Killian and he tried to focus on that rather than what his rut was telling him to do. He was in such a conflict, his brain telling him she was his when really she wasn’t, urging him to make it so, when he couldn’t. He looked up to her again, the pathetic looking woman in front of him sniffing away her last tears as she met his darkened gaze, his eyes flitting to the pulse point in her neck where he now knew her scent gland was.

“Emma-” he began through ground teeth, her name nothing more than a warning to stay back that she ignored.

“Killian, what’s happening to me?” she pleaded, stepping away from the door and her body instantly feeling the AC in his apartment blasting down onto her skin. It was cool but not enough, the slick between her legs making her even hotter as she felt pulled towards him. “I can’t-”

“You can’t be here,” he warned her darkly, his face contorting as if he was fighting a voice in his head.

“I have nowhere else to go,” Emma said sadly, her voice breaking at the realisation that she was homeless. Her fight with Graham had escalated to abuse, him yelling at her to get out and never come back. Everything she had ever known was a lie, her entire life a shit show with her as the star attraction.

Killian took a deep breath again, raking his hands over his face as he tried to think. He couldn’t kick her out, there were other Alphas living in this building and even he could smell she was unclaimed. It would be like throwing her to the wolves. And he couldn’t leave either. The fury he felt would undoubtedly take him straight to Graham and then to a prison cell, exactly the opposite of where he wanted to be right now.

Where he needed to be.

“The bedroom,” he grunted, nodding behind her to a door. Emma followed his gaze and looked back at him confused. “It’s the coldest room in the apartment, and you can lock it from the inside.” He lifted his gaze, locking her stare with his. “You’ll be safe there.”

“Safe?” Emma asked dumbly. “But I-”

“NOW, OMEGA!” Killian barked, hating himself the second the words left his mouth. Emma flinched, rushing to the door before she had time to question why she was acting so obediently at his tone. It was harsh, demanding and something inside of her was aroused to the point of pain, the throb between her legs intensifying and a new wave of slick coating her underwear.

Killian was on her heels, the newly excreted slick drawing him like a shark to blood in the water, and Emma slammed the door in his face, turning and fumbling with the key in the lock. She gasped a squeaking sound, covering her mouth to hide the fear laced adrenaline coursing through her body when Killian pounded a fist against the wood in rut induced annoyance. Another bang made her jump back away from the door, her eyes flicking to the key that was only half turned in the lock, and she surged forward and twisted it completely until she felt the mechanism slide into place.

“I’m sorry,” Emma cried, unable to stop the tears again.

Killian sighed, his entire body sagging against the other side of his bedroom door, his fingernails scraping down the surface as he regained some semblance of his control. He rolled his sweltering forehead against the surface, cursing his lack of power when it came to his rut, his feral insides feeling like they were in a tug of war with the rationality of his brain. Emma was scared, she clearly didn’t know what was happening and here he was, like an animal, trying to get to her simply because it was the first day of his rut and something had been wafted under his nose. He wasn’t that kind of Alpha and he never wanted to be.

“Emma, I’m sorry,” Killian whispered softly into the surface of the door. “I can’t-”

“What’s going on?” Emma whimpered back, her voice muffled in his ears. “I came here for your help and instead you yell at me.”

“Emma, I’m so sorry,” Killian told her quickly. “As soon as I smelled you, my body-” He began, unable to form the words. How do you explain to someone, who always thought they were a Beta, that they were actually not? For a second Killian was so preoccupied with his own wonderings that he nearly neglected to ask Emma the most important question. “How is this possible?” He muttered. “You’re Omega,” he said, confused by his own words that were more of a statement than a question.

“Tell me about it,” Emma laughed hysterically, shaking her head at her own predicament. “I can’t even fucking think straight right now. One minute I’m at the spa, then Ruby tells me there is a baby, so I rush home, leaving everything behind, including my medication, and then Humbert drops this in my lap!”

“Medication?” Killian asked, his eyebrow bouncing up on his forehead with intrigue. Had Humbert been suppressing his own wife? Had the entire Humbert clan been using heat suppressants and scent blockers on her since she was a child? The thought made him recoil in fury.

“Yeah,” Emma nodded, turning her body until her back hit the door and she slid down the cold wood to the floor. Even the floor felt cool against her skin but she was still roasting, wiggling out of her leggings and tossing them aside. The AC in Killian’s room hummed gently in the background, almost invisible but Emma felt like everything was more alive right now. All of her senses were sharper, her world less muted than before, including her insatiable need to be fucked. “Long story short, I’ve been sick my entire life, this week I didn’t take my pills and I’ve never felt so alive. Apart from these damn cramps and sweating and-”

“And need,” Killian finished for her, his voice laced with a dark passion that made her even more wet than she was.

“Yeah,” she breathed, sighing in relief like his words had been his hands on her, soothing her aches and fixing her insatiable appetite for him.

“Emma,” Killian began gently and she looked at the door as if it was him. “You’re Omega and you’re in heat.”

Emma looked down at herself, skin tacky with sweat, her entire body feeling like it was on fire and there was something inside of her trying to claw its way out. She looked the same, but she felt infinitely different, like she finally had the answer to a longing question she had never been brave enough to ask. It explained everything. The cramps, the want, the never ending need to be filled and it also explained why, before anyone else, Emma had sought out Killian.

“But-”

“You came here because I am Alpha,” Killian explained, his words strained as if he was fighting against his urge to knock down the door. “I’m what you need.”

Emma’s breath caught in her throat, his words taking on a dark, sultry tone that had her skin itching and her clit throbbing. Graham had been right, she was what he had told her, and for years that snake of a man had been trying to suppress her nature because he hadn’t become the Alpha his family thought he would. He was a coward, and a liar, and if Emma wasn’t in an agonising heat right now, she would march back to their house and punch him right in the face.

But she was in heat, a doors width between her and the Alpha she had begged her bastard husband to find her.

Emma ground out a moan, baring her teeth as she clutched her abdomen and doubled over when another wave of pain shot through her. Her body was screaming out for something to make it stop, drawn to the door where she curled against the hard surface and pulled her knees to her chest. Her red cheeks pressed to the cool door, and when the first wave passed, she relaxed her body with a sorrowful sigh.

“How do I stop it?” She whined.

“You can’t,” Killian said firmly. “You can only make it feel better for a time.”

“How?” Emma ground out. “God, please tell me how.”

For a second Killian was thankful for the door, and for the last amount of restraint he had left because when Emma begged him, the primal creature inside of him reared its insatiable head once more and wanted her like nothing else. He needed to fulfill his own desires, ease his own need, and Emma’s begging further cemented his Alpha need to claim her as his Omega. He wanted to take away her pain, soothe her aching bones and look after her like she deserved, but he also knew this was all new to her and a full rut could scare her away.

“Emma,” he whimpered desperately, his hand finding the door handle and his fingers closing around the cold steel. He pushed down on it and the mechanism slid open, but the locked door did not budge, a sigh of relief leaving his lips. “The chest, at the end of my bed, open it.”

Emma’s gaze wandered to the chest he described, the darkened room barely light enough for her to see it before she dragged herself towards it. Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting quickly once she had stopped pinching them closed, and her body followed his direction obediently without her even realising. Emma traced her fingertips over the lid, his initials etched into the wood right above the latch, which she grabbed and pulled it open.

The chest was deep, filled halfway with what she could only imagine were rutting toys for Alphas without a mate. Her eyes scanned the selection, her throat dry where her mouth hung open, thoughts and images of Killian fucking each and every one of the tiny holed silicon toys making her excrete yet more slick. A tiny moan deep in her throat escaped involuntarily before she blinked her vision clear.

“Okay,” she called out to him in a shaking voice. “Killian, these are-”

“Clean, I promise,” he chuckled. “In there you should see something that looks like a penis but a the base there will be two huge-”

“Got it,” Emma announced in a whisper. She lifted the toy in her hand, the mottled silicone feeling so lifelike in her hands that she felt another rush of arousal pound her core. It was big, much bigger than Graham and a little bit wider than Killian, and as Emma inspected it further, she frowned. “It’s hollow,” she said softly, almost to herself, but Killian answered immediately.

“It’s wearable, love,” he cooed. “I bought it to knot you with. Under the contract, I couldn’t naturally, and until we...I had never-” he paused again, her floral scent clinging to his taste buds. If he didn’t get her to orgasm soon, he was going to lose his mind.

“Was I your first?” Emma asked timidly, her own voice foreign to her ears.

“Aye,” Killian growled, the thought of knotting her again making him even harder than he already was. “Too many too quickly. I think you induced my rut.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma said softly, turning her attention back to the hollow dildo in her hand. It was cold against her skin, slightly too soft for her liking but just looking at it was making her even more horny than she had ever felt.

“If you...fuck yourself with it,” Killian sighed heavily, his words faltering. “It will feel better, I promise.” He turned away from the door, needing to distance himself from the pull of her scent. It wasn’t just her slick, but Emma’s scent gland was spiking each time she felt aroused, which right now was every time he talked to her. He was rock hard in his lounge pants, his erection pressed painfully to the inside of the cotton, and he was almost certain his knot was straining to escape the confines of his body.

Killian made his way to the couch, dropping his lounge pants until they pooled at his feet. He kicked them away with a sigh, running his hands through his hair and thanking any higher power who was listening that he could contain himself in these early stages of his rut, his usual feral nature not exposing itself until at least day three. Naked he felt cooler, if only for a second, before he wrapped his hand around himself and began the familiar regime of coaxing out his orgasm to satisfy his rut related urges.

If he was quick he would beat Emma to hers and she would be safer. He already knew what it felt like to have her heat envelop him, so his hand was a poor substitute, especially when he heard Emma moan from the next room. His ears pricked up, straining to hear the sound he yearned for again, and when she crowed a second time, he couldn’t stop himself rushing to the door, flattening his hands over the wood and pressing his ear to it eagerly.

“Killian,” Emma sobbed desperately, the sound of her lubrication against the toy between her legs watery and turning her on even more. She drove it into herself again, the friction delicious but so obviously fake that she groaned in anguish.

Killian ground his teeth, the muscles in his jaw ticking under the length of his stubble, and he balled his fist, pounding the door in frustration.

“Killian, please,” Emma whined, her voice barely there above the breathy sigh that followed. “It’s not enough,” she pleaded despairingly, now realising hy she had become almost addicted to the welcome stretch and burn of Killian’s knot.

“Emma, you don't know what you’re doing,” Killian grunted, headbutting the door. “What you’re asking-”

“Alpha-” Emma begged in a whisper, the hurried plea tumbling from her lips before she even registered what she was saying.

Early rut or not, Killian couldn’t contain himself any longer. He grabbed the door frame, fingertips clawing the paintwork as he leaned back and pounded his bare foot into the hard, immovable surface. The door gave a little, the wood bowing away from the hinges, but it didn’t give.

“Hurry, Alpha, make it stop,” Emma begged again, her words filling Killian with more rut induced strength than he had ever had, his foot colliding with the door one more time before it swung open and sent the key flying across the room. He righted himself in the doorway, eyes scanning the darkness before he finally laid eyes on his prize. She was beautiful, gloriously naked and prone on his bed, lying on her back with the toy in one hand and her breast in the other, kneading her aching flesh with a soft cry.

Emma wasn’t even shocked when he burst through the door, instead thankful for his scent. It filled the room, powerful and intoxicating, sending her into a lust fuelled spiral that had her tossing the toy aside and clambering to the end of the bed on her knees to meet him. Killian’s hands on her felt like water when she was thirsty, clawing over her skin like he needed to get inside, and despite his dark, aggressive stare, he was as gentle as anything.

Emma clawed her way up his body, fingers dancing through his coarse chest hair, and clutched his face in her hands. She pulled his lips to hers, crushing their faces together as she kissed him. He was her salvation, the only one who could make it all better and when he kissed her back just as fervently, she arched her body into his even harder. Still standing at the foot of the bed, Killian leaned over and without even breaking the kiss, he gathered her up into his arms, holding her thighs around his waist. Emma gasped, breaking the kiss for a second, when his length touched the wetness that coated her almost entirely.

“Oh, Emma,” Killian purred, conflict in his voice, his tip brushing her slickness as he held her. He rested his forehead on hers, eyes tightly closed as he paused, contemplating the ramifications of having Emma in his place. She was married and there was no going back from this, but nothing would satiate his rut like he now knew she could. Like only she could. “What have you done?”

“I don’t care.” Emma shook her head, her slightly damp hair tangling in his fingers as he combed his hand through her locks.

“You say that because you’re in heat, love,” Killian rationalised, the fact he was holding her body to his calming the beast and letting him see sense for a second. “You’ll say anything for an Alpha’s knot.”

Killian couldn’t believe what he was saying. He felt like two different people, torn between what he wanted and what he knew was right. The Alpha in him wanted nothing more than to claim, mark, make her his own, but the man in him knew that even though Graham wasn’t Alpha, he felt like she belonged to him. Graham was a force, and he had no doubt the man would never give Emma the divorce she so eagerly craved, especially now. She was a prisoner to her own life and he had no doubt he would have to fight for her.

“I don’t want any Alpha’s knot,” Emma cooed. “I want yours.”

The touch of Emma’s soft fingertips on his cheek roused him from his inner dispute and he opened his eyes to meet hers. They had softened, the hazel edges to her hues less intense as she stared, boring straight into his, but they were filled with something he had not seen before. Emma had something else behind her desire darkened eyes that he had put there, something that made him realise that she hadn’t just sought him out because of her heat.

Killian saw compassion, the willingness only an Omega could show to an Alpha. Emma had love in her eyes and it was all for him.

“You don’t understand what it means to be Omega,” Killian told her gently, his hand sliding to find her face, his thumb tracing the outline of her lips. The memory of them on his body made his cock twitch and he felt his resolve fading.

“So show me,” Emma purred and the look that she gave him made Killian snap.

When Emma hit the mattress, she had hardly any time to react before Killian was towering over her and sealing her lips with his. He kissed her, hard, like he had wanted to before she had gone away. Like she was the most important thing in his life. In a way she was, deserving to be cherished much more than she ever had before, the way she needed to be.

Killian slid his lips from hers and kissed along her jawline, nipping the flesh as he went. He was already to a full knot, Emma’s newly expressed scent sending him into a frenzy as he neared the gland in her neck. He thrust his hips against her, collecting the nectar she had given in response to him on the tip of his erection, testing her for a sign of hesitation.

Emma whimpered, her arms clutching his body, hands splayed across his broad shoulders and pulling his body down against hers. She needed him close, wanted him so far inside of her she couldn’t take it, and her skin ignited from the contact with his, nipples hardening even further against his chest.

“Omega,” Killian sighed against her shoulder, inhaling her scent with a nuzzle of his nose. “I’m going to fuck you like you need, don’t worry.” He reached down between them, the bulb of his knot rock solid in his hand as he gripped himself at his base and glided into Emma’s scorching core. Her body reacted instantly, fingernails digging into his flesh, head thrown back into the comforter and thighs clamping around his hips like a vice. He hadn’t even moved yet, and Emma was gone.

“Killian, please,” Emma cried, her words catching in her throat. “I need you to move.”

“God, I want to fill you up so badly,” Killian said through gritted teeth, his hands skimming over the smooth curves of her lithe body until they found her behind. He shifted his weight, Emma gasping when he filled her more, and he tucked his hands underneath her buttocks, holding her steady as he shuffled forward even closer to her. Emma cried out again, her pleasure filled moan sending him into a primal state and he turned his mouth towards her ear. “I love you like this, open for me, begging, Gods, I want to breed you, my sweet Omega.”

“Do it, Alpha,” Emma pleaded, turning to skim her lips over his. She pawed at his face, smoothing her thumb over his cheek and searched his eyes that were asking, not for permission, but for reassurance. Emma smiled warmly and gave him a knowing nod. “Trust me. It’ll all be okay.”

Killian seized her lips for another fiery kiss and his hips began to move against hers. She was held in place by his powerful grip, his thrusts long and deep, each one making her cry out as all of the air left her lungs. She was caught between gasping for breath and using what little she had left to call out his name, her nails tearing into the flesh of his back in a desperate attempt to hold onto him as he relentlessly pounded into her.

“Fuck, Alpha,” Emma whimpered, her thighs shaking against his hips as he tore his lips from hers and buried his face into the crook of her neck, his pace increasing tenfold and the bed banging against the wall. “Oh, Killian, yes, you feel so good.”

“Tell me what you need, Emma,” he demanded darkly. “Make me knot you.”

“Fuck-” Emma gasped again, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Her hand found the back of his head and clutched his hair between her fingers, instinctively guiding his lips to the spot on her neck where her scent gland was hidden beneath her milky, smooth skin. Killian’s brow pulled together as he fought to bite down. He wouldn’t until she asked him to, even if she felt like that was what she wanted right now, Killian knew it was just her automatic reactions to her heat. Her body was telling her to do these things, and he wouldn’t make the decision for her.

“Tell me you want my knot,” Killian growled, needing to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to mark her as his own. “Say it, Omega,” he barked, needing to press into her a little deeper, his knot now fully revealed.

“Give me your knot, Alpha,” Emma sighed, tugging his head until his lips were back on hers and she was staring directly into the stormy blue of his eyes between feverish kisses. “Make me come.”

Killian kissed her hard, grinding himself into her with enough force to push his knot inside, her walls clamping down around the painful intrusion that sent her skyward. Emma came hard, her orgasm taking her to heights she had never felt before, the pin prick dots behind her eyelids like stars in the night, a calm serenity following. Killian stilled, their bodies locked together again, and he lifted himself to watch her intently, her body almost paralyzed in euphoria.

Emma started quivering, his orgasm triggering another, and her hand flew up to flatten against his chest. It was a silent plea, his hips only shifting a little but enough to make her roll hers against his knot, eager to draw out every last drop of pleasure from their tie. Her fingernails raked down his chest, clawing through his chest hair and assuredly leaving bloody lines in her wake. As she calmed, her back resting back to the mattress, she let out a soft whimper.

Killian kissed her again, his tongue slowly massaging hers with a gentle caress that had him humming contently into her mouth. Emma’s lips turned up into a smile and she finally opened her eyes, relaxing the grip her thighs had on his body with a blush. The boyish grin Killian gave her back told her she had no reason to be embarrassed, even if she had said things she would have never dreamed of, because there was only one reason for how Killian was looking at her right now.

For the first time in his life, Killian felt complete. Emma’s inner muscles clenched around his knot once more and he gasped, shooting her a smirk when his overstimulated length twitched inside of her and released another load of his seed.

“You’re a naughty Omega,” he teased, kissing her eyelids tenderly. He framed her with his bulk, resting on his elbows and combing her messed hair away from her face.

“Am I?” Emma smirked up at him, nuzzling the tip of his nose with her own. Her hands found his face once more and she toyed with the shape of his ears as he nodded, the elfen tip slightly hard under her fingertips.

“Do you feel better now, love?” Killian asked her, arching his neck into her odd, but very satisfactory grooming technique.

“Much,” she nodded. “The cramps are gone and so has the sweating.”

“For now,” Killian offered tentatively. “Your heat should last about a week-.”

“A week?” Emma squeaked under him.

“Aye, I’m sorry,” he offered whole heartedly. “More often than not it’s only a few days once the hormones settle down.”

Emma scrunched her nose. “How long does that take?”

Killian pinched one eye closed as if trying to recall something he had been told a long time ago. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Usually this happens to kids in their teens, but in your case it was suppressed for so long, I’m not sure I can give you an answer.”

Emma sighed and Killian felt his heart break. This was all new to her and he wished he could help her through some of the more specific questions she had, but truth was, it was all new to him too. He had never been with an Omega before, let alone one who had been ingesting heat suppressants and scent blockers for so many years. Who knew what kind of damage that had done to her and Killian’s jaw clenched at the mere thought of making the Humbert’s pay.

“What I can tell you is that I’ll be here, for however long it takes.” To emphasize his point, Killian nudged his knot into her further and Emma shuddered in pleasure.

“Oh God,” Emma whimpered, her eyes rolling back in her head.

Her back arched off the bed and she felt Killian’s calloused hands slide over her upper thigh and lift her leg over his hip, allowing him to sink into her even more now she was wide open for him. A fresh wave of slick made their tie slip and Killian growled, diving into the juncture of Emma’s neck where her newly discovered scent gland was emitting all sorts of fresh, sickly sweet aromas that had his heart racing. He could mark her. His body was telling him to. It was right there, throbbing just below the surface but Emma’s hands were on his head once more, nimble fingers tracing the edge of his ear once more and shaking him from his scent induced daze.

“You can’t just turn up to an Alpha’s apartment like this,” he scolded her lightly, rolling his head into her touch. “You should have called.”

“Would you have invited me over if you’d have known?” Emma asked innocently. Killian declined to answer, an eyebrow quirking up on his forehead. “I didn’t think so,” Emma purred, pulling his lips to hers again.

Killian rolled his hips again as they kissed, causing Emma to groan into his mouth. “Stop,” she giggled, unable to hide the grin from her face.

“Or what?” Killian challenged weakly.

“Or we’ll never part,” she smiled. Killian gave her another look, one telling her that maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Emma blushed under his gaze, rolling her bottom lip under her teeth coyly.

“You’re so beautiful when you smile, Emma, you know that?” He complimented her softly. His fingers brushed over her brow and passed the swell under her eye as he followed the trail of his hand down over the pulse in her neck. “He should pay for this.”

“Don’t,” Emma warned, her smile fading instantly. She grabbed his hand away from her scent gland, rolling her head away shyly.

“I hate that he hurt you,” Killian continued, his blood beginning to boil again.

“Please stop,” Emma begged.

“I hate that I wasn’t there to protect you from this, Emma.” Killian fingers gingerly traced over the purple-pink bruise developing under her eye again before Emma shook him off and turned away again. “I should have been there.”

“Please don’t mention him,” Emma sighed into the pillow, forcing the tears that pricked at her eyelids back inside. She wouldn’t give Graham the satisfaction of making her cry ever again.

“Hey,” Killian coaxed, hooking his finger under her chin and pulling her gaze back to his. “I just want you to be happy, my love,” he told her lovingly, giving her a quick flash of a smile.

She returned it weakly. “I am happy. Right now, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“Good.” Killian leaned forward and pressed his lips to the tip of her nose. “Me too.”

#the contract #A/B/O dynamics #A/B/O #cs fic #cs au #alpha!killian #omega!emma

[orginaldisneychild95]

Fates Design (Pt 2)

Still frozen, one hand on the back door.. Fiora closes her eyes and lets out a slow breath. Slowly, she turns around to face her intruder.. “Hello, Kygen.. to what do I owe the unexpected but unwanted visit?” Fiora is still as a statue, hands on her hips. Kygen Winnex was a classic galaxy lone shark and hustler, his specialty was exporting illegal goods to his fellow thugs on other planets.. while keeping his own operation well stocked, and running like a well oiled machine.. no matter what the cost.

In this particular instance, one of his favorite items is onyx orchid petal powder. Now, decent beings in the galaxy would use it for what it’s intended.. healing the sick and injured, Kygen, however.. was a filthy and disgusting breed. He liked using the powder for more ominous and deadly purposes.. given his arrival at her home tonight, Fiora guessed it was running short on supply..

The electric blue, yellow eyed creature in street garb chuckled at her, still lounging against the wall.. Kygen always liked Fiora’s fire. “Oh.. come on now Fi, don’t be like that” He says in a thick drawl.. “It’s Fiora to you, Kygen.” Fiora interrupts him.. “Now, what do you want?” Kygen’s expression turns serious before replying “Like I said, I want my onyx powder.. I’m a bit low”... She replies.. “Well, unfortunately you showed up at the worst moment.. my current crop is still growing as you can see and if you remember, the last batch of petals I had, I made you a supply of powder.. or have you lost your memory?” Fiora bit back with a sharp tone, already getting angry...

Before she could blink her eyes, Kygen rushed toward her at lightening speed.. slamming both hands against the wall behind her, caging her in on either side of her head.. her body pressed to the wall. Hot breath on her face, his voice full of poison... “Don’t you get STUPID with me, girlie! I have you in my grasp and I could crush you if I wanted to. I could care less what you gave me, I want more, and it’s your responsibility to get it. Now in case YOU have forgotten our little contract, let me remind you”.. Fiora is trembling but looking him directly in the eye, her father always taught her that not looking your enemy in the eye means you show them fear and weakness.. and Fiora was not weak by any means.. Kygen continued to talk as she held it together...

“You get me my product, however long it takes.. as long as it’s not a whole century.. and when you do your job like good girl, nothing will happen to that little friend of yours on Naboo who supplies you with your seeds, right?” He says slowly, as if to make sure she soaks in the words.. Fiora’s eyes go wide and her blood runs as cold as hoth, one of her very best friends, Mikka.. lives on Naboo and she owns a Onyx Orchid green house garden, and every other month she sends Fiora seeds to plant her garden at home. As of the current situation, she’s Kygen’s next target if Fiora doesn’t cooperate. So, unfortunately Fiora is a very, very dangerous place..

The shaken young girl, takes a deep breath.. “You’re right, but please, please.. don’t hurt Mikka. She has nothing to do with this”.. Fiora says softly, voice breaking.. 

Kygen slowly grabs her jaw, holding her still.. squeezing, Fiora squinting in pain.. “Well, that’s all on you. I’m short on patience, and almost done being civil. Either get it all done in a timely manner, or your friends body will be left at your door. Are we clear?” 

Fiora spits out her reply, “You’ll have you’re stuff, and when you’ve finished.. I’m going to relishing every second of seeing life leave that vessel you call a body.” She yanks her jaw from his hand, and with all of her rage shoves the gross thug away from her.. Kygen topples back, seeing fire and anger simmering in her eyes..  With finality she speaks her goodbye “Get out of my house.” 

Kygen laughs an empty, humorless laugh.. turning away and heading towards her front her.. a few minor seconds later, Fiora hears it open and slam shut loudly. She flinches, putting her face in both hands sobbing angrily.. but she couldn’t fall apart now.. 

She composes herself, wiping her face.. let’s out a huffed breath. She knew exactly what to do next..

(***)

Meanwhile, in Peli’s hanger..

“Thanks again for everything, I think I’m good to go.” Mando says standing by the ramp of the crest. 

“No problem, my friend.. don’t be gone to long.” She winks at him with a smile. Mando nods his head once. 

Just as Mando was about to board his ship, he hears Peli’s transmission machine go off.. he stops and freezes..

“Peli, Peli, it’s Fi.. whatever you do, don’t let Mando leave”.. 

Peli’s eyes go wide in shock.. 

#the mandalorian #FioraXMando #love story #star wars #adventure #din djarin #Mando #my baby