(Wallflower)(Action) Bonds


                                            >”Come out with your hands up!”

                                            >With a sound like the very earth bellowing in pain, the front doors of the United Citizens Bank fly open, oily plumes of smoke cascading forth as screams pierce the air.

                                            >Around the smog and fire sits a half-circle of scattered police cars, loyal men and women of the thin blue line training dozens of firearms at the entryway as a lone figure steps forth from the chaos.

                                            >The man sets down a pair of thick burlap sacks, facing the firing line with an air of indifference.

                                            >”This is your last warning! Come quietly or else!” an officer commands from behind a megaphone, flanked on either side by a riot shield.

                                            >Silence smother the air for a few tense seconds before the hooded being looks up, a guttural sound escaping the large crimson helmet ensconcing his head.

                                            >”You have one chance to walk away,” he calmly says, arms crossed as though waiting for an elevator.

                                            >The words hangs in the atmosphere before a sharp rumbling begins to echo underneath the ground, the man laughing cruelly to himself.

                                            >”Fine. If you have a death wish today, I’ve no choice but to humor you.”

                                            >”Open fire!”

                                            >The order comes too late as a viscous, purple liquid spills forth from the man’s helmet, covering his form and quickly coagulating into a coat, the thunderhead of incoming gunfire bouncing off of him.

                                            >”Cute. Now, my turn.”

                                            >”Snapping his fingers, the man rockets into the air as a cavalcade of explosions rocks the area, the same liquid erupting in a torrent from the splintered asphalt and seizing the gaggle of officers in a suffocating stranglehold.

                                            >Landing with a thump, the man surveys the fresh wreckage, most of the street consumed by the carnage, dozens of squirming people and crushed police cruisers slowly sinking into the mass.

                                            >”That’s what I thought,” the man chuckles to himself, the ichor receding back into his helmet.

                                            “You thought wrong.”

                                            >Your camouflage quickly fading, you step out from your nook and strike, the man barely reacting before your dagger sinks deeply into his thigh, severing sinew easily as you drag the metal through his flesh.

                                            >The man screams in agony, sending you flying back against the wall with a clumsy swing of his fist as the two of you separate, the Herculean force of the blow knocking the wind from you.

                                            >”You little bastard!” he shouts, his helmet lighting up once again as the sickly substance covers him, the gushing of blood from his leg subsiding as it wraps around and binds the flesh taut.

                                            >You cough and slowly peel yourself from the wall as he stands, your vision dazed and blurry.

                                            >”The fuck?” he gasps as he looks at you. “What the hell’s a kid like you doing?”

                                            “...Stopping you,” you finally breathe, blood pumping in you as you run in place, grasping your bearings once more.

                                            >”Don’t think I’m gonna be nice just because your license is a permit, kid,” he threatens, cracking his knuckles as the ooze around his wound thickens.

                                            “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you snarl.

                                            >In the blink of an eye, the silhouette of your form-fitting black suit is gone, and the man grunts as you dash behind him with incredible speed, your weapon of choice colliding with the back of his head with a stunning rattle you can feel all the way in your chest.

                                            >”So you are more than just talk,” the man ponders as he spins around with a vicious backhand, slamming into your arm with a vicious CRACK and sending you skyrocketing through the air, crashing through the third story window of the bank and crumpling against the floor.

                                            >Dazed and confused, you attempt to work your right arm, grimacing as your nerves come alive with throbbing pain.

                                            “Yeah, that’s broken, alright,” you mutter to yourself in your delirium.

                                            >You barely have the strength to look up as a thud rings through the empty floor, the man stepping through the hole you made in the glass with a sigh.”

                                            >”God, you ARE green, kid,” he shrugs, brushing a few stray shards of glass from his shoulder. “Shame - you could’ve been fun if you waited a few years.”

                                            “You son of a bitch...” you rasp, trying to get to your feet and falling over yourself, snarling as you bang your ruined arm against the floor.

                                            >”Relax, kid,” he says as he crosses the foyer to your crawling form. “I’ll make this quick. Call it a compliment for that shot you gave me.”

                                            >The ichor covering his hands turns a deep purplish-black, and you close your eyes, throwing your good hand over your face.

                                            >But the blow does not come.

                                            >Peeking through your fingers, you feel the ground quake once again, violently churning beneath you as the man stumbles.

                                            >”Who the fuck-“

                                            >His words are promptly cut off as thick, sinuous vines force themselves through the window, binding him and dragging him along the ground before an earth-shattering kick from his good leg blasts a handful of them in half, his free hand swinging pell-mell at the attacking appendages.

                                            >”Get the hell off of me!” he screams, scrabbling to get his legs underneath him, hissing as he shifts his weight upon his wound.

                                            >”You’ve nowhere to run,” a deep, feminine voice booms through the air as the quaking intensifies, the roof above you separating as a massive bundle of growth rips the concrete canopy free, sunlight pouring down into the room.

                                            >Towering three stories above the two of you, a massive avatar of melded plant and urban refuse looms over the building, a lone green orb flowing in the center, seeming to gaze down upon you as two bulging arms of bark and leaves slam into the man from either side, one of the fists exploding into splinters as he throws a punch of his own before being bowled over.

                                            >”Hold still!” the voice echoes, the ruined limb sprouting a new liege of vines to give chase as the man blasts himself into the air with a stomp, knocking away the foliage as best he can before three of the vines snare him once again, his voice howling in pain as the free fist slams him back down into the ground with enough force to shatter the floor beneath him, falling down another fours meters and burying him in rubble.

                                            >”ENOUGH!” he screams as he frees himself of the debris with a kick, rocketing away again, only to be smacked back down by a particularly large swath of dense bark as the avatar moves forward, giving him no time to recover as one gargantuan “foot” crushes him, sending him all the way back down to street level under 7 tons of stone and plant matter.

                                            >The avatar shifts itself back from the newly formed crater, the man’s protective coating receding into his now-dim helmet, gasping for air as two vines sprout forth from the ground and rip the headgear from him, crushing the front of the helm swiftly.

                                            >Reaching for the half of the second floor still standing, the avatar’s good arm comes to rest, an improvised bridge upon which a lone green tendril extends, gently snaking its way over to your prone form and lifting you to your feet.

                                            >Still groggy, and with searing pain wracking the right side of your body, you stumble, the plant splitting into several cords that quickly lift you up, as though realizing your injury.

                                            >Unable to protest, you’re drawn close to the orb, the chest of the great embodiment unfolding, the passageway forming inside lit by the soft glow of mushrooms lining the walls.

                                            >”Sis...” you manage to murmur as you’re slipped inside the passageway, pushed through the short space into a small clearing of dry grass and warm soil, enveloped in the light cyan glow.

                                            >A figure sits in the middle of the space, wrapped in long, silken leaves that conform to the curves of her body.

                                            >And she’s crying.

                                            >”Why? I told you not to push yourself like this!” she sobs as her construct sets you down tenderly, her bare feet slapping against the ground as she dashes over. “What made you think this was a good idea?”

                                            “...Hello to you too, sis,” you chuckle, groaning as she peels the long leaves from her arms and quickly binds them together with a hushed word of magic, wrapping your broken arm in the fibers.

                                            >”I was just going to take you for a patrol or two, not to fight a hardened criminal like him,” she blubbers, her fingers leaving light green sparks across your body as your clothing is sliced apart with surgical precision, her gasp at the sight of your bruised leg filling you with guilt.

                                            “I just... wanted to help,” you respond, gritting your teeth as she pulls more leaves from her, chewing a small handful in her mouth as she bandages your shoulder. “To save people like you, that’s all.”

                                            >She pauses and looks at you, her wet, red eyes soaked in worry as she trembles.

                                            >”And you couldn’t say anything?” she asks as she pulls the wad of pulped plant from her mouth, the substance now pink and glowing as she smears it across a nasty gash in your abdomen, the poultice quickly closing up the laceration.

                                            “I knew... I knew you’d react like this,” you reply, fatigued as the incantations she whispers pull on your inner spirit, taking the leaves from her legs and straightening your leg out before wrapping it. “You always do when I’m involved.”

                                            >”Of course I do, you dummy!” she cries. “I’m your big sister! It’s my job!”

                                            >Fresh tears spill forth as she places her hands on your chest, eyes inundated with a bright green glow as ancient words of power flow from her lips, the language taking physical form as runes manifest upon you.

                                            >A flash of light and a slight rumble, and you moan, sapped of strength as the magic courses through you, bones and sinew unpleasantly thrashing and sliding back into place inside of you.

                                            >She collapses on top of you, face faint and pale as her lungs desperately pull for air.

                                            >”Are you okay? Did I do it right? Oh God, I knew I should’ve practiced my healing more...” she mumbles, moreso to herself than you as she frantically inspects you.

                                            >You reach up with your one free arm and stop her, your hand resting on her shoulder.

                                            “I’m fine. Just, really tired,” you say with a small laugh.

                                            >A bittersweet smile forms on her face before she throws her arms around you, sniffling as she holds you as tightly as she can.

                                            >”Don’t you ever scare me like that ever again!” she shouts into the crook of your neck, nuzzling in.

                                            >You embrace her as best you can, letting her ride out we emotions before finally lifting herself up to look you in the eye.

                                            “I’m really sorry, sis,” you mutter, shame weighing down your mind. “Can you forgive me?”

                                            >”...I don’t know,” she responds after a moment. “I can’t trust you not to get yourself killed.”

                                            “I’ll do anything,” you plead. “Just... don’t cry anymore, okay?”

                                            >She looks down at you with a strange expression, mixed between love and concern.

                                            >”...Anything?”

                                            “Anything. As long as you stop the tears. You’re a lot prettier when you’re smiling.”

                                            >Your compliment elicits a blush from the older girl as her right hand traces a circle on your chest, hesitant to respond.

                                            >”If you mean it, then, just go with it, okay?”

                                            “What do you mean-“

                                            >Your sentence turns into a moan of surprise as she bends down and cups your face in her hands, her lips softly and greedily pressing against yours as she whimpers, eyes screwed shut.

                                            >Vines spring forth from the forest floor, wrapping around your torso and shoulders, massaging your sore spots as she takes advantage of your fading shock, her tongue meekly meeting yours and dancing around your mouth.

                                            >Your hormones flare in spite of yourself, and you groan into your sister’s mouth, your own oral muscle joining hers.

                                            >After what feels like a lifetime she pulls away, panting with crimson-tipped ears as her hand moves away from your chest to grasp yours tightly.

                                            “Wallflower...” you breathe.

                                            >”I’m sorry, but I had to be sure,” she blurts, avoiding your gaze. “I just, couldn’t help myself. “I’m so sorry-“

                                            “Don’t be.”

                                            >She regards you with an incredulous stare as you smile.

                                            “I had a feeling,” you chuckle. “No other brother and sister spend so many movie nights cuddling under a blanket.”

                                            >”Y-You’re not mad?”

                                            “No. I guess after all these years of other people not paying attention to us, we’ve gotten a little too attached,” you reply with as best a shrug you can beneath your binds. “I can’t say in honesty that I haven’t thought about it.”

                                            >You try to prop yourself up and grimace as the right side of your body aches in protest, letting yourself ease back down.

                                            >”You know part of that wasn’t our fault...” she murmurs.

                                            “I know. But be real: even though we got the whole camo thing under control, has it made a difference?”

                                            >She sighs in admission and brushes her hair away to look you in the eye.

                                            >”You do know what you’re saying, right?” she prods, a hopeful edge to her question.

                                            “Not really. Neither of us have ever dated,” you grin. “But if it means I get to be closer to my best friend, then I’m all for it. I love you, sis.”

                                            >A few moments pass before her cracked voice returns to her.

                                            “I love you too, Anon.”

                                            >The glow of the mushrooms doubles in intensity as the clearing shifts and turns, bark and stem molding and twisting itself from the ground and raising you up, cradling your form as you come to stop in a reclined position.

                                            >Her lips crash into yours again, this time ravenous and passionate, and both your hands are occupied as her fingers slip between yours.

                                            >Embraced in her body and magic, you let the heady haze fill your brain as she presses herself into you, your lower parts flaring up eagerly.

                                            >The two of you indulge yourselves in the taste of each other for a few minutes before she gasps, your erection hitting her thigh and throbbing through your underwear.

                                            >Lifting herself off and away from you, she stares at your penis with awe as her finger pulls down the elastic of the waistband, letting it spring free of its cotton prison, the head dark and swollen.

                                            >”That... looks painful,” she says, curiously running her palm along the underside and causing you to jerk your hips upward subconsciously, desperate for the stimulation.

                                            “It is,” you spit out between haggard breaths, your mind set ablaze with foggy need as her hand’s absence is sorely missed.

                                            >”Then I-I guess I need to... take care of it,” she stammers, your lust-addled self still smiling at her cute blush.

                                            >She grips you again, slowly pulling up and down on your penis with timid strokes as her other hand busies itself with trailing down the front of her torso, the foliage covering her splitting open effortlessly.

                                            >The sight of her breasts sparks a new level of heat in you head, and you throw your head back and moan at her cruelly steady movements, the jerking motion swinging her lovely chest to and fro just enough to tease you.

                                            >Your good hand reaches out, just managing to take ahold of her arm and pull her up with a gasp of shock, meeting at eye level as you bring her hand back down to your throbbing sex.

                                            “It’s no fun if I get all the attention,” you croon as you gently part her legs and run two fingers over her mound, already slick as she shudders in your ear.

                                            >Playing with each other, you busy your lips again as the plants encircle you, forming a canopy and over your writhing, moaning forms, a rapidly spouting bulb from the top emanating a dim pink glow.

                                            >”I’m close,” she pants, her hand working you quickly as one of her vines emerges from the wall, warm droplets of water falling from a flower on the end onto your rod and making her pumps slick and tight.

                                            >You whine as her touch leaves you, only to suck air in through your teeth as she straddles you again, lining your sexes up carefully before lowering herself, smacking your head against the ground at the feeling of her embrace.

                                            “F-Fuck...” you rattle.

                                            >”Does it... does it feel good?” she asks with worry at your right jaw. “I’ll stop if you-“

                                            “Don’t.”

                                            >Your plea is backed by a greedy shift of your hips as you hilt in her, eliciting a cry from her as her nails dig into your chest.

                                            >The tendrils come alive again as she starts to move, dozens of warm, finger-thick shoots coiling around your limbs and covering you up, crisscrossing upon your chest.

                                            >With a grunt of exertion, a larger vine sprouts seamlessly from your sister’s back, working its way into the ground before her eyes flash green again.

                                            >”That’s better,” she mewls, slowly rocking her hips to and fro, caressing you.

                                            “What did you do?”

                                            >”It’s a little thing I’ve been working on,” she smirks, half-lidded eyes hungrily scanning you. “Every bit of plant matter wrapped around you, I can feel. Your breath, your heartbeat, your warmth...”

                                            >She shivers as the coils tighten around you, rhythmically flexing and relaxing, working the muscle and tissue underneath as you moan.

                                            >”I think I know how I can forgive you,” she purrs, fingers tracing along the edge of your chin.

                                            “R-Really?” you stammer, the stimulus attacking your body spreading the blissful feeling of being inside her throughout your body.

                                            >”Yep,” she wickedly smiles.

                                            “What do you need?”

                                            >Your sister giggles as she raises herself off of you, only the tip of your penis still inside her.

                                            >”I need you to to fuck me until all these vines are stained solid white.”

                                            >The sudden burst of dirty talk throws any sense of modesty out the window as she slams her hips down on you, moaning as she succumbs to her instincts and shakes herself like a woman possessed.

                                            >Robbed of time to adjust, your orgasm comes quick and hard, toes curling as you erupt inside of her.

                                            >Following you off the precipice, her scream joins yours, eyes rolling in her head as a fresh stem reaches under the two of you, softly stroking your testes as if trying to coax out as much as possible.

                                            >”Yes, yes, that’s it! Fill me like the seedbed I am!” she howls, nails scratching your shoulders as she spasms.

                                            “Wallflower,” you weakly gasp as your big sister hunches over, her sweat-soaked face a heavy shade of crimson.

                                            >”Ahh... yeah, Anon?” she sighs, swaying herself as your semen slowly drips out of her. “Jeez, you really needed that, huh?”

                                            “Give me... a minute...” you wheeze, your vision spotty.

                                            >”I guess you are pretty worn out,” she chuckles. “No problem.”

                                            >With a snap of her fingers, one of the vines splits from your chest, Wallflower reaching out and whispering in a long-dead tongue as her hands draw forth and shape a radiating growth from the tip.

                                            >Popping the glimmering fruit into her mouth, she gives you a naughty wink as she chews, a rivulet of juice leaking out of one corner and dribbling down to her chin.

                                            >You open your mouth to speak, only for hers to cover your voice, crooning as her tongue pushes the soft, sweet mass onto your tastebuds.

                                            She pulls away with a sigh, reaching down and grabbing your quickly hardening sixth limb with a devilish grin.

                                            >”You ready?”

                                            >Her previous speed returns as you enter her again, tight, searing hot walls clenching and squeezing you vigorously as she orgasms again, eyes glazed over.

                                            >”Touching so much of you like this is the best,” she hums as her hips move even faster, your skin smacking each other with wet sounds intermixed with your voice. “Every one of them feels so good!”

                                            >It’s all you can do not to pass out right there, your neural network a firestorm of bliss, secondary spots lighting up across your body and drinking in the sensations.

                                            >Desperate to move, you manage to prop yourself up against the leaning wall of soil and grass behind you, reaching out and growling in effort as your left hand brings the upper half of her to press against yours.

                                            >”Anon?” she calls before cooing as you take her breasts in your hands, the soft flesh a wonderful feeling as her hands wrap around your head and push you towards them.

                                            >”They’re all yours,” she moans, closing her eyes as you take one rigid nipple in your mouth and suckle, the scent of rich clay and her cherry shampoo surrounding you.

                                            >The cold coil starts to tighten again in your groin, thrusting as best you can into her while you still have strength.

                                            >”I can feel it,” she wails. “Come on, just let it out in me!”

                                            >The both of you bellow at the top of your lungs as you reach climax, her tongue lolling our of her mouth as her walls clutch you with an iron grip, milking you voraciously.

                                            >Your vision turns white and spotty, ears ringing as what feel like lighting cascades down your writhing form, your consciousness failing even as you continue to scream.

                                            —-

                                            >”...Hey, Anon, come on. I know you can hear me...”

                                            >Stirring from your hazy dreams, you blink rapidly and rise up on instinct, the navy walls of your sister’s apartment living room greeting you as you look around before relaxing.

                                            “What happened?” you blurt, your sister’s hand tenderly holding yours as the two of you lock eyes, clad only in your bathrobes.

                                            >Silence follows, her gaze looking everywhere but yours as her face slowly takes on a tinge of pink.

                                            >Memories flood into your recollection, and her embarrassment suddenly makes sense.

                                            “We...”

                                            >”Mhmm. I uh, got, carried away with myself,” she mutters, pressing the tips of her index fingers together. “S-Sorry.”

                                            “You shouldn’t be.”

                                            >You cut off her chance to respond as you slowly lean over and press your lips to hers, swallowing her gasp as your arms snake around to hold her.

                                            >”W-W-Wait,” she stammers, breaking the kiss. “You’re not mad at me?”

                                            “I don’t think I can be mad at you,” you reply, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “You’re my big sis.”

                                            >”S-So that was real?”

                                            >Your heart throbs at the hopeful worry in her voice before the two of you touch foreheads, taking her hand in yours this time.

                                            “When I said I love you, I meant it.”

                                            >”...How long?”

                                            “Two years, back when Mom sent me out here after the fire. I missed you so much, I think my dumb teenage head just put things together the wrong way. Oi, don’t clam up on me now!”

                                            >Placing two fingers on the crook of her neck, you vibrate your hand at a blisteringly fast pace, sending her into a giggling fit as your other hand goes for her sides.

                                            >”Stop it! Stop it you bully!” she cries between spurts of laughter as her hands weakly try to slap your aside.

                                            >You keep up your assault for another minute, only stopping until the creases of stress have left her face.

                                            >”Jerk!” she scolds you with a slap, her wide grin persisting as she leans into you, the same way she’s done almost every night for months now.

                                            “Told you,” you grin. “Nothing’s changed, has it?”

                                            >I guess not,” she admits after happily settling against your side, careful not to put too much weight on your still-tender frame. “But are you really okay with this? With a girl like... me?”

                                            “I don’t want a girl who’s not like you,” you whisper in her ear. “Why would I want something less than perfect?”

                                            >”Drama queen,” she laughs at your grandstanding. “But that’s sweet of you.”

                                            “You got my phone?”

                                            >”Yeah.”

                                            “Go ahead and order a pair of those tempura platters from that joint you like over on Mulberry. My treat.”

                                            >She looks up at you, and you give her a wink.

                                            “I owe you one for the save.”

                                            >A genuine smile comes across her face at last, and she grabs your cell phone off the coffee table, punching in the URL for the restaurant.

                                            “Hey, Wallflower?”

                                            >”Yes, Anon?” she answers.

                                            “I love you.”

                                            >Turning back to you, she sighs and kisses you on the cheek.

                                            “I love you too, Anon.”