(no subject)
he ate my heart - part one
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar/Elle
Rating: PG-13 now, NC-17 later.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Summary: There comes a time in life, Elle thinks, when everything sucks. And if Elle thinks life can’t get any worse, of course the bitch has to prove her wrong. S3, AU.
Dedication: FOR LIZ/disalae FOR HER BIRTHDAY. WHICH WAS MONTHS AGO. I SUCK.
Author’s Note: This isn't beta-ed. Any mistakes are mine~
There comes a time in life, Elle thinks, when everything fucking sucks.
Her precious powers are-pardon the expression-off the fritz; she has no job, no daddy, and no home. For about ten seconds she had a friend in that silly little cheerleader, but she’d managed to screw that up too, somehow, with her selfishness. It is phenomenal, really, the situation she is in. If anyone had told her a year ago this would be her life-that in a year sweet empty-brained Mohinder Suresh would be scaled and icky and all up in her personal space, and that Arthur Petrelli would be demoting her to experimental lab rat-well, Elle would have giggled a little and gave said mythical person some electro-shock therapy.
Actually, she is thinking of it, thinking of giving Mohinder and Petrelli all the therapy they’ll ever need.
“What?” she chokes out, trying to throw off the doctor’s hand. He doesn’t relent, and his grip is really tight-almost unnaturally. She lets a barely controlled spark viciously run over her skin, satisfied when he hisses and pulls back like a baby.
“Elle,” Arthur says slowly, patronizingly, his thin lips a deceptive little smile, “I’m just trying to make you better.”
Bull-fucking-shit. She isn’t an idiot, and she knows what’s going on here. Well, not exactly, but just because her body is rippling with agony from over-charging doesn’t mean her brain is fried. “I wanted you to take it away! Not throw me in a lab to be prodded and tested!” She nearly sobs, her fists balled. She feels rather than sees the electricity flare with her emotions.
Take it all away. Her beautiful powers.
Arthur’s eyes narrow, and his head tilts to the side, his expression sympathetic. Yeah, sure. “Why would I want to take away your gift, Elle?” he says in a low voice. “I want to help make you better. Doctor Suresh can help you.”
“Bullshit!” she calls, backing away. She throws Mohinder a warning glare as he comes forward, his dark eyes sad and… hungry in a way she doesn’t like-he is different from the man she knew. “He can hardly help himself. He’s turning into the creature from the black lagoon or some crap, and I will not-”
There comes a time in life, Elle thinks, when everything fucking sucks. And if Elle thinks life can’t get any worse, of course the bitch has to prove her wrong.
Because of course, at that precise moment, the cause for her entire existence sucking walks-no, struts-into the room, his soft lips parted, his eyes rounded in amazement at her sparking, dirty form.
She feels his name on her tongue, feels it hiss out of her mouth. “Sylar.”
Those dark, dark eyes are under heavy brows, framing that ravenous mouth. But all she sees is the bottomless depths of black pools luring her, catching her, holding her under and drowning her.
When did his eyes get that dark?
They’re too steady, and too inky black, and she feels her body convulse as he steps closer to her.
That’s the action that shocks her, supercharges a rush of painful, buzzing energy-agonizing electrocution that shallows her breath and stutters her heart. It’s that step that justifies what she does next-letting it go. Letting out all the pain, the misery, and the retribution into him with a powerful ripping bolt of pure electricity.
His scream is so beautiful, and she hears it over hers-deep and guttural and agonized.
Her knees meet the floor, and she lets him go, lets him topple into a pile of charred, healing flesh. Her fingers curl against the floor, and she lets out a strangled breath. “Bastard,” she hisses out.
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Sylar/Elle
Rating: PG-13 now, NC-17 later.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Summary: There comes a time in life, Elle thinks, when everything sucks. And if Elle thinks life can’t get any worse, of course the bitch has to prove her wrong. S3, AU.
Dedication: FOR LIZ/disalae FOR HER BIRTHDAY. WHICH WAS MONTHS AGO. I SUCK.
Author’s Note: This isn't beta-ed. Any mistakes are mine~
There comes a time in life, Elle thinks, when everything fucking sucks.
Her precious powers are-pardon the expression-off the fritz; she has no job, no daddy, and no home. For about ten seconds she had a friend in that silly little cheerleader, but she’d managed to screw that up too, somehow, with her selfishness. It is phenomenal, really, the situation she is in. If anyone had told her a year ago this would be her life-that in a year sweet empty-brained Mohinder Suresh would be scaled and icky and all up in her personal space, and that Arthur Petrelli would be demoting her to experimental lab rat-well, Elle would have giggled a little and gave said mythical person some electro-shock therapy.
Actually, she is thinking of it, thinking of giving Mohinder and Petrelli all the therapy they’ll ever need.
“What?” she chokes out, trying to throw off the doctor’s hand. He doesn’t relent, and his grip is really tight-almost unnaturally. She lets a barely controlled spark viciously run over her skin, satisfied when he hisses and pulls back like a baby.
“Elle,” Arthur says slowly, patronizingly, his thin lips a deceptive little smile, “I’m just trying to make you better.”
Bull-fucking-shit. She isn’t an idiot, and she knows what’s going on here. Well, not exactly, but just because her body is rippling with agony from over-charging doesn’t mean her brain is fried. “I wanted you to take it away! Not throw me in a lab to be prodded and tested!” She nearly sobs, her fists balled. She feels rather than sees the electricity flare with her emotions.
Take it all away. Her beautiful powers.
Arthur’s eyes narrow, and his head tilts to the side, his expression sympathetic. Yeah, sure. “Why would I want to take away your gift, Elle?” he says in a low voice. “I want to help make you better. Doctor Suresh can help you.”
“Bullshit!” she calls, backing away. She throws Mohinder a warning glare as he comes forward, his dark eyes sad and… hungry in a way she doesn’t like-he is different from the man she knew. “He can hardly help himself. He’s turning into the creature from the black lagoon or some crap, and I will not-”
There comes a time in life, Elle thinks, when everything fucking sucks. And if Elle thinks life can’t get any worse, of course the bitch has to prove her wrong.
Because of course, at that precise moment, the cause for her entire existence sucking walks-no, struts-into the room, his soft lips parted, his eyes rounded in amazement at her sparking, dirty form.
She feels his name on her tongue, feels it hiss out of her mouth. “Sylar.”
Those dark, dark eyes are under heavy brows, framing that ravenous mouth. But all she sees is the bottomless depths of black pools luring her, catching her, holding her under and drowning her.
When did his eyes get that dark?
They’re too steady, and too inky black, and she feels her body convulse as he steps closer to her.
That’s the action that shocks her, supercharges a rush of painful, buzzing energy-agonizing electrocution that shallows her breath and stutters her heart. It’s that step that justifies what she does next-letting it go. Letting out all the pain, the misery, and the retribution into him with a powerful ripping bolt of pure electricity.
His scream is so beautiful, and she hears it over hers-deep and guttural and agonized.
Her knees meet the floor, and she lets him go, lets him topple into a pile of charred, healing flesh. Her fingers curl against the floor, and she lets out a strangled breath. “Bastard,” she hisses out.