#fuckin hurricanes.. ruin everything

[ghwosty]

sometimes i miss how i engaged with my interests before i started being more online, there was a purity and authenticity to it

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #187

Do you typically eat breakfast or skip it? I basically always eat it.

What was the last thing you took a picture of? An orb weaver spider at my sister's house. I hope she's still there, but I'm kinda doubtful since her web was attached to the kids' playset, and their dad is the kind of ignorant redneck that kills any harmless spider or snake he sees.

Do you have a collection of anything? Yes, primarily meerkat-oriented stuff.

How did you discover your favorite band? Ozzy, I discovered really through my mom; I grew up sometimes hearing him and eventually gravitated towards his music on my own. I first heard Rammstein in a Guitar Hero game.

What was the last big decision you made? uh... I don't know.

When was the last time you performed in front of a group of people? Not since I was a teenager (or maybe a very very young adult) in dance.

Did you ever used to make cookies, cakes or pie with your grandma? The only thing my maternal grandma (the only one I really knew) ever made me was pissed off lmao, no.

Do you burn incense? I like to, but I rarely do it.

Do you smoke weed? I don't, I'm not interested in smoking anything. It's also illegal in NC because this state is horribly behind with like... everything.

Have you actually been through a devastating natural disaster before? Yes; I was a baby when it happened, but Hurricane Floyd was no joke. It ruined certain areas around here, like there are certainly places where the weather damage was never truly fixed and houses withered. I've endured many hurricanes since, but none - I think - that were on Floyd's level.

What fast food place, in your opinion, has the best french fries? Bojangle's. I also like McDonald's a lot, but I think everyone loves McD's fries, lol.

Do you believe one day aliens might take over Planet Earth? Personally, no. The hell do I know though, I won't bet my life on that. Sometimes I feel like the world would be better off if aliens did say fuck y'all, lol.

Do you like soda pop? If so, which is your favorite and least favorite? Soda is my dietary weakness, easy fuckin' peasy. My favorite is Mountain Dew, specifically the Voltage kind, which is blue raspberry. I also enjoy strawberry Sunkist A LOT, but it's not something I have almost ever. I'd say my least favorite is root beer probably, it's not a flavor I really enjoy.

Does it bother you when people burp around you or do you do it too? I really don't give a shit, I wish basic bodily functions that are entirely normal weren't treated as if they're gross because I think it's had a very negative effect on health and caring for various things.

Ever had a friend named Alex or John? Alex, yes. We were very close online friends then she just like... fell off the face of the earth. I miss her a lot.

What kind of stuff do you like on your hot dogs? I'm pretty basic, just ketchup and mustard. Bits of finely diced onions is fine, too, but I don't go out of my way for it, and I definitely won't want a lot.

Where did you kiss the last person you kissed? In my bed before he went home.

Do you think it’s right for straight guys to get their tongue pierced? ...................... bitch what???????????? of course it's fine??????????????????????

Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced? I've had my right nostril pierced twice in my life, and I want to get it redone again. I just always had issues keeping studs in.

Would you ever donate blood? I've done it twice now and absolutely plan to keep going whenever Girt goes to one. It was very fulfilling, plus it was a fun thing to do together.

Describe the main problem with your last relationship? We were/are both very mentally ill individuals and instead of helping each other stay upright, I feel like we dragged one another down.

Do you have any pictures of celebs saved to your computer? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Do you find hands attractive? I can find men's hands particularly attractive. It doesn't happen much with women; like I love elegant-looking hands aesthetically, but I'm not like, attracted to them. Hands aren't a major thing for me, though.

Do you think it is silly to give names to vehicles, or other inanimate objects? I don't care. I don't do it, but I don't care about it.

Is there a hair color/style you really like but don’t think you could pull off? I LOVE bald women, like oh my god y'all are so fucking hot but I could never do it.

Out of all the Disney/Pixar animal “sidekicks”, which one is your favorite? Dory.

If your mom was a teacher, would you want to be in her class? lol my mom HAS been a substitute (or assistant? idr) in an elementary class for me before. My mom was a fabulous teacher and I'd ALWAYS want her at the head of my class.

As a kid, did you love playing on Neopets? I sure did, I consider it the start of my Internet addiction.

Would you ever get a pet turtle? Why or why not? No, they're just not my kind of pet. I love 'em, but don't want to have any.

What shop/store/brand would you model for, if given the choice? Hot Topic, I guess. I don't really wanna model for anyone, I'm way too self-conscious, even if I wasn't fat.

If I search your room will I find birth control? No.

Have you ever been told you were a good writer? Since I was a very literal child. It's one of the extremely few skills I'm actually confident in.

What is the most outrageous thing you’ve done for God? Been a complete fucking asshole who thought she was doing good.

The last piece of roadkill you saw, what kind of animal was it? Uhhhh I think a raccoon?

Has anyone ever cheated on their boyfriend/girlfriend with you? Yes.

List 5 things that have happened in the last 7 days. (They can be anything at all, anything that’s happened involving you, or your family, friends, partner) 1.) I had an antidepressant med's dosage increased, 2.) Girt got jumpscared to shit by a massive spider in the mail lol, 3.) I went shopping with my mom in a store for the first time in a VERY long time and I was very pleased with how my legs did, 4.) I finished a Wings of Fire book, and 5.) I fed Venus.

Random fact about the person you love/like? Tying into the last question, Girt's super super cute when he comes over on a night Venus gets fed (twice a month); he's wary around snakes and has never even touched her, but he gets hype about "rat day" and likes watching her eat.

How many pets do you want? And of what? A lot, mostly reptiles and various tarantula species. This is very dependent on where I live though as well as how easily I can provide for those I have. I refuse to hoard animals I can't give proper, healthy lives to.

Have you ever asked someone out? Yes, more than once.

Is the last person you kissed a virgin? No.

Who makes you the happiest? Girt.

What are your views on spontaneous human combustion? This shit is a super creepy concept, and I am so not a scientist that can give you a proper stance here. I FEEL like there's been at least one confirmed case of this killing somebody, but I might be wrong, and honestly I hope I am. The idea of this being possible is absolutely terrifying.

What was the last zoo/aquarium you went to? Some aquarium by the beach, idr its name.

What does the last message in your Facebook inbox concern? Girt's sister Ashley sent me some pictures of car decal she got because she knew it was a topic I cared about.

How did you meet the person you fell hardest for? Technically Facebook; he reached out to me after apparently seeing me in the school hallway and having an "I need to know her" fairytale moment, asking a friend who I was or something. Nowadays it's like... thanks for the trauma bro lmao

What was your favourite thing about the person you fell hardest for? He was very unique, and completely unashamed of who he was. He was so comfortable being him, which I couldn't and still can't relate to but wish I did.

Are you a strong swimmer? I mean, I'm fine at it. I prefer to just doggy paddle, lol.

What was your worst fear as a child? Have you overcome that fear? Tornadoes, and no, not really. I'm less hysterical in situations where one might occur, but I am still very much terrified of tornadoes.

What kind of music do you listen to the most? I'd say industrial metal/rock, probably.

Have you ever tried veggie burgers? Yes, I had a vegetarian phase. I had okay ones, but they weren't spectacular or anything. Nothing like an actual burger.

Would you rather have another job? I'd like to have *A* job... One I can actually do and not have to keep going into a bathroom to have a panic attack and cry.

Did you ever live in a house with more than one story? No.

Do you own any clothes you wouldn’t wear in front of your mother? No. My mother's the one who BUYS any clothes I put on my body, so... lol

Do you have your national flag hanging up anywhere outside your house? ew no

Do you look older or younger than you actually are? Younger. In about the past year-ish, I've been mistaken for a teenager twice.

What was the last show that you watched a full episode of? It was a Naked and Afraid-type show with Mom.

Do you have any significantly older siblings? Yes, both my parents have kids from relationships before theirs together.

Which parent do you feel the most affection for? My mom.

Do you know anyone who hates/dislikes chocolate? My maternal grandma only liked chocolate in the form of Reese's, and my nephew Ryder is weird with chocolate, too. Sometimes he likes it, sometimes he doesn't, but I know he definitely prefers vanilla.

Have you ever hated yourself? oh boy have I

Did your parents ever ground you? Mom did, my dad didn't do much in terms of raising us kids and deciding things about us.

Do you like your smile? No.

Were you/are you popular in high school? I wasn't.

Who is your female celeb crush? (If applicable) Rhea Ripley could break my back and I'd nut ok

Who is your male celeb crush? (If applicable) Richard Kruspe could also break my back and I'd be cool abt it

Do you have a favorite Marvel character? Deadpool, probs.

Favorite DC character? Harley Quinn.

Do you read comic books? I don't.

Name a few historical figures you find interesting. Why? I find Sarah Winchester, designer of the Winchester Mystery House, to be EXTREMELY fascinating. She was the widow of the creator of the Winchester rifle and never stopped expanding upon her mansion in an attempt to supposedly confuse and flee the spirits killed by her husband's firearm design. She was very involved in spiritual practices and she just really intrigues me, all the while I feel deeply for such a haunted, miserable person.

What is your favorite historical film and why? The Boy in the Striped Pajamas because the feeling it leaves you goes so far beyond words. The Holocaust in general just SOUNDS so fake in how evil it was, and while the movie may tell the tale of made-up kids, the general gist was so real. It's a movie that has left me feeling so cold each time I've seen it.

[blooming-violets]

Shit let me get this out before I finish 13 and I forget to reblog. 

Okay I read this a few days ago but have not been able to stop thinking about it! 

The second he finished his sentence, the crowd shifted, like an icy chill blew through the area. Danny sobered instantly, his smile fading. His guests read his reaction, awkwardly averting their eyes, minding their drinks quietly.

This reminded me of Daredevil where Fisk would walk into a room and everyone would stand up a little straighter and pee just a little bit of out sheer fear. Serious mob boss vibes and Peter is the king. 

Anxiously, she tugged at the her dress, pressing tightly against her thighs. “Does anyone know where Peter is?” she called out. “He’s been gone for an hour, right?”

IT’S ONLY BEEN TWENTY MINUTES AND SHE MISSES HER PETER. She’s worried about him D: She can pretend it’s because she wants to be with him to gather info but everyone knows it’s all lies. She wants his hand gripped onto her thigh to keep her calm and make her feel safe. 

“Eddie? Hi. It’s me. I would like some drugs. Please.”  “I can do drugs! I’m ready to do them. Give them to me. Give me drugs!”

I love her. 

Felicia looked away, a solemn look on her face.

Felicia is our secret number one supporter and I want her to step on me with her heels. 

She was a god. God was a woman. And it was her. Probably.

In Peter’s eyes, yes. Yes you are. 

She’s in love with Peter Parker.

SHE ADMITTED IT AND IM SO HAPPY 

I’m sorry! You can read my mind, Eddie! We can mind-meld! God, it must be so noisy in there!”

He sighed, “I’m used to it.”

teehheeeheehhee

“I.. I don’t wan’t... I don’t want... you to think.... I’m weird... I really don’t... I just... want to tell you... that I want to kiss you right now...”

Give me the lesbian love story I want, Liz. I dare you. Let Honey and Felicia have their moment! I’m sure Peter won’t instantly murder her if he ever found out. I’m sure it’d be fiiiineee he loves to share!

“A meeting?” Honey exclaimed with a shrill voice, filled with alarm. “An important meeting? What about? I have to know! With who? I have to be there!”

This was the part where I said out loud into my dark bedroom, “Oh fuck!” 

“No, no, I need to be in there,” she pleaded. “He needs me to take notes! Very detailed notes!”

And this was when I wondered if she was going to actually spill it all out right now in front of Eddie and Felicia. But she didn’t. Which is good. I think? Maybe? Idk it needs to come into the light at some point and I’m so fucking scared for when that day comes and I can’t wait to see how you play it out. 

It was a hopeless attempt to hold her at bay, a flimsy seawall against a hurricane.

...I’m sorry, I know Honey is on a mission but Peter needs better guards if they can’t hold off one stoned, tipsy woman. I blame the guards on this one. Not Honey. She’s perfect and did nothing wrong. 

Honey while Peter is in his meeting, ready to fuck everything up, ruin the deal, and cause Peter to beat a man to near death:

Honey glanced over at him, “Oh, hello. Do you do crime to? I just did drugs!”

“And what the fuck do you know about it, Brock?” Peter snapped. “You never took care of anything in your life!” The other man grimaced at the insult, a stab in the back. “All you’ve ever cared about is yourself. You’re nothin’ but a fuck-up!” Peter’s voice cracked like thunder. “You’re just a fuckin’ drug dealer!”

Oh all the harm Honey has inadvertently caused, this one hurt the most. My poor baby boy just wants to be loved. Come here, Eddie. Katie will take care of you and that demon creature inside of you. 

“Don’t be sad, dollface...” Danny simpered as he leaned out of his chair with one hand on Honey’s wrist. They were still locked in their own private conversation while everything fell apart behind them. “Why don’t you come sit with me and let me cheer you up, yeah?”

The second I read this the first time I knew this man was about to die. Esp as Peter is already manic af from Eddie. 

She gasped as his body hit the floor with a thud

Also the first time I read this I read it as “his head hit the floor” as if Peter fully punched his entire head off his body with a single punch like a cartoon character and what’s even funnier is that I didn’t even question it. I just went “ya sounds like something he would do” 

The seventh punch was the last thing Danny would ever see out of his right eye. As it left his body, so did the ability to fight back.

Instead he just punched his entire fucking eyeball out of his socket. Not as dramatic as his entire head popping off but it will do. 

To bring it back to Fisk and Daredevil for a moment. This scene and the one where Fisk violently, but methodically, turns a man’s head into pumpkin guts by slamming it repeated in the car door are so similar. Killing with such anger and over aggression behind it yet still being seemingly “calm” and “collected” while it’s happening. Knowing exactly what they’re doing and relishing in the violence of it. They’re enjoying the violence. It’s not a punch or a bar fight over someone disrespecting his lady. It’s an attempted murder that he is fully embracing and enjoying. And I’m sure he’s also pissed about hurting Eddie’s feelings and packing some of those repressed emotions into his punches as well. Peter and Fisk are very similar. I think it’s interesting that he hates the man when his actions reflect him closer than Peter probably realizes. He’s becoming the man he despises. And that’s how you write some good hero/villain story lines when they’re nothing but a little push from becoming the same person. Some very good writing! 

Peter blinked again, and she was gone. He looked at the clock, brows furrowed with confusion. It was still night, but too much time had passed. How long had Felicia been gone? How long has he been standing here?

ugh I loved this transition through time right here. so good

He let out a soft chuckle, cracking a smile. “Yeah, you’re high,” he laughed.

HE GOES FROM BEING IN A HAZY FOG OF ANGER AND REGRET AND SELF HATRED TO LAUGHING BECAUSE THE MAN IS IN LOVE AND HE LOVES HER AND SHE LOVES HIM AND SHE’S NOT GOING TO BETRAY HIM AND HURT HIM AND THEY ARE GOING TO LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER AND EVERYONE IS GOING TO BE FINE AND NO ONE IS GOING TO GET HURT 

“Is that what you want? To take me to bed... Daddy?”

This was the exact moment I knew you were going to break me and I wasn’t going to survive this fic. 

AND THEN YOU BLESS US WITH THAT MAGICAL COUCH SCENE. And I already told you all of my thoughts about it. My vagina and my brain thank you. That’s all. 

I’ve reread that couch scene every single night since. I have a problem. 

ON TO CHAPTER THIRTEEN (I already actually skimmed it because I couldn’t help it and I like spoilers and I wanted to see how far they get and now I can go back and properly read it slowly without me screaming and throwing up and shitting everywhere with excitement) 

sugar and vice, pt. 12 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: paint it black.

words: 8.7 k

chapter warning: very graphic descriptions of drug use, sex, violence and gore. smutty sorta dubcon spicyness (under the influence), alcohol, clubbing, being stoned, dry humping, needles, small dick energy, **tw sa - groping**

series warnings: mob-typical violence, bang bang shoot shoot, whump. hurt/comfort. sexual situations. spousal abuse. family trauma. drug use. coercion. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Please don't date a mob boss.

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you still can't name the Mambo #5 women then gtfo.

a/n - Part 11 and 12 were the same chapter until I looked at the word count. Read 11 first! Also, it might be fun to listen to the official Sugar and Vice playlist on Spotify for this chapter.

Go back to Part 11.

Part 12

Honey didn’t know this song, and she was nowhere near as coordinated as Felicia. Something something something about a monster and someone rapping really fast—fuck, this dress is so short!

Felicia had sectioned herself and Honey away from the crowd, up on an elevated platform two feet off the ground. It was a tiny island in the vast ocean of sweaty, pulsating bodies. She felt somewhat relieved up there, not worrying about strangers breathing down her neck or wandering hands feeling up her backside. Simultaneously, she felt exposed. 

“Relax,” Felicia hollered over the sound of the music. The taller woman wrapped her lithe but toned arms around her neck, gazing down at her with a million-dollar smile. “No one’s looking at us, honey. And if they are, it’s eating them up inside.”

“Why?” she shouted back, her voice audible above the loud music. “I don’t want to make anyone... eat... themselves?”

Felicia leaned into her space as if whispering a secret, her eyes swimming with mischief. “Because they want what they can’t have. And we can have what we want.” She lifted her eyes across the room. “Speaking of which—Annabelle!” 

Honey spun around to see a pink-haired woman with a long bob cut standing behind the bar pop her head up at the name. The two women locked eyes. Felicia said nothing, just smiled, pointed her index finger in her direction, then added another finger to form the number two. Inexplicably, Annabelle must have known exactly what the gesture meant because she nodded and went to work mixing cocktails. 

“Come on, babe, let’s have a drink,” Felicia said, pushing back her platinum locks, slightly damped with perspiration. Honey followed her order, and carefully tread down the small staircase off the platform to floor level. Felicia cut across off the platform, marching her stilettos through the center of someone’s VIP table, then onto the seat of an open chair, then onto the floor. 

She took Honey’s hand and led her to the bar. The sea of people parted in front of her as if she was Moses. Honey looked over at her in awe, as if she was a divine figure.

Danny Rand was in prime form tonight. Silk shirt half unbuttoned, skin flushed from alcohol, he poured a bottle of Cristal directly into the mouth of a fangirl on her knees front of him. 

Rolling his eyes at the scene, Miguel’s voice rang out as he approached, “Well, look who it is!” 

Eyes turned towards the uninvited guest as he sauntered up to the VIP table. Danny looked up from his game with a sour face, chest puffing up, nostrils flaring. He sighed heavily as he recognized the figure strolling towards him, curling his lip. Miguel held his arms outstretched and said with a boisterous tone, “If it isn’t the Boy with the Magic Fist!”

Danny tossed a dirty look at him. “It’s Iron Fist, bitch,” he growled, snatching his glass from the hands of one of his friends. The sudden shift in tone rippled outwards among his guests, the festive energy deflating like a balloon.

Miguel held his hands up in surrender. “How you spend your Saturday nights is your business. I’m here because the boss wants to see you.”

The young fighter downed his flute, emptying it. He glowered as he lowered the glass, breathing venom over it’s rim. “Your boss,” he sneered, pointing daggers. “Not mine.” He sat back on the sofa, wrapping an arm around his supermodel Barbie doll. He crossed his leg and leaned back smugly, glaring up at Miguel. “I’m no one’s lapdog.” 

“Oh yeah?” he flashed a supercillious smile. “Why don’t you tell him that yourself?” Miguel leveled a hard gaze at him. “He’s here.” 

The second he finished his sentence, the crowd shifted, like an icy chill blew through the area. Danny sobered instantly, his smile fading. His guests read his reaction, awkwardly averting their eyes, minding their drinks quietly.

“Hear that? Your whistle’s blowing,” Miguel added with a showy flourish of his arm. “After you, bitch.”

A little later, Honey, Felicia, and Eddie had taken over an unoccupied couch at a floor-level VIP table. It was unoccupied because Felicia had kindly asked the previous occupants to fuck off, here’s $2,000, go buy yourself a good time, handing them a wad of cash. 

Honey didn’t know this song either, but she bounced her knee, pretending that it was to the beat of the music and not the beginning of a panic attack. Anxiously, she tugged at the her dress, pressing tightly against her thighs. “Does anyone know where Peter is?” she called out. “He’s been gone for an hour, right?”

Felicia chuckled, dancing in her seat as she sucked back the rest of her cocktail, “It’s been twenty minutes. Relax, Queen Bee.”

“Does anyone know what he’s doing?” she asked. “What’s taking so long?”

Eddie shrugged. He was leaning back on the couch nursing a beer, eyes redder than roses. He looked serene amidst the chaos, and Honey envied it.

Felicia met her with devilish eyes and a sultry smile, “Daddy’s workin’, hon.” 

Honey gulped at the phrase, feeling her entire upper half flush red. She averted her eyes, anxiously tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“Aww, so cute,” Felicia remarked smugly. “Why don’t you finish your drink so we can go dance?”

Honey looked down at the bright turquoise liquid, only a quarter-way drained from the highball glass. Something called an ‘Adios Motherfucker.’ She picked up the glass and sucked on the straw. The alcohol burned fire in her chest but did little to quell her nerves. An air horn erupted nearby. She jolted in her seat at the noise.

This was too much. This was all too much. This was stupid. She was stupid. She was down here drinking in the world’s shortest dress when if anything she should be with Peter, betraying him by digging up his dirt and feeding it to her shitbag of an ex-husband that threatened to murder her whole family—

“I can’t!” Honey overanxiously exclaimed. She brought her hands to her face, trying to seal off the stimulation, bordering on panic. “I-I can’t do this! I need—” She sighed, turning to Eddie, who looked like he was somewhere else. Maybe the moon. “Eddie!” 

He didn’t respond, just stared at the spotlights, gently tapping his fingers on his thigh. 

“Eddie!” Honey called again, louder this time. No response. 

She carefully stood up and walked the short distance to stand directly in his field of view. “Hey!” she said, more forcefully. He snapped out of it, blinking bloodshot eyes up at her. She loomed over him with a straight face, her arms crossed. “Eddie? Hi. It’s me. I would like some drugs. Please.”

He blinked, stunned. Eyes wide. “Uhm, okay?” He stared up at her suspiciously. “That’s... not like you...?”

Her brows furrowed, offended. “How do you know?” she challenged defensively. “I can do drugs! I’m ready to do them. Give them to me. Give me drugs!”

Her voice echoed. He sat up, alarmed by the volume of her voice. “Shhhhhh! Okay, okay—first of all?” he said, whisper-shouting again. “Some discretion in public would be nice!” Apologetically, she tucked her neck into her shoulders, glancing around conspicuously. Thankfully, no one in the vicinity seemed to notice.

Eddie looked up at her, addressing her seriously, “What are we talkin’ here? Some Amps? Maybe some Bars? Some Vitamin-K?” Honey blinked at him, eyes wide. “Skittles? Slush-os, Squid Inks, Screamers?”

“The last one!” she answered. Her face crossed almost immediately. “Wait—I don’t know what any of those words mean.”

“No, shit,” Eddie scoffed wryly. “Most of ‘em I made up just now.” 

She sighed in frustration, folding her arms even tighter. Eddie inspected the area, with its loud noises and overstimulating lights. It wasn’t his scene either. 

“Look,” he declared sincerely, “I just don’t think this is the time or the place.”

“What is wrong with you people?” Honey scoffed. She looked back at Felicia and Eddie, her frustration boiling over. “Why does everyone always treat me like a kid—like I’m stupid or something? I can make my own choices!” Eddie and Felicia glanced at each other uncomfortably. “I know what I want,” she demanded with resolve. “And I want to just... survive this goddamn night!” 

Felicia looked away, a solemn look on her face. 

She held Eddie’s gaze firmly, pleading with a steel expression. “Please.”

It was the desperation in her voice that skewered him. Eddie stared, turning her words over and over again until eventually his shoulders dropped. “Alright,” he groaned in admission, rubbing his hand down his face. “Okay, okay, I might have something.”

Relieved, she clapped her hands like she was 6 and had just been presented with the exciting prospect of getting a Happy Meal after school. 

Grumbling to himself, Eddie dug through his pockets, eventually retrieving a long, thin tube. Discreetly, he passed it to her. She took it in her hands, examining the object curiously. 

A honey stick. She looked up at him curiously. 

He put a finger to his lips in a shush. “That one’s special,” he explained. “You’re gonna wanna ease into it, okay? Only half? Or maybe half of a half. Just to see how you react—” 

She quit listening after that, ripping the end off the tube and pouring the contents down her throat. 

Honey didn’t know this song, but loved this song. The beat buried itself beneath her ribs, the melody hypnotic. She swayed and rocked to the music, gripping Felicia’s hand—her hand is so soft, what is this song, what kind of lotion does she use, it’s been forever since I’ve gone rollerskating, do they still have rinks—?

Something magical was happening. She was ascending. Beyond the dance floor, beyond the city, beyond the earth. She had received the knowledge of the gods—Fruit by the Foot, what a novel concept—and had become like them. 

She was a god. God was a woman. And it was her. Probably.

Fuck, this stuff is really, really great.

Her mind was buzzing—no, vibrating, like it was strapped on a rocket ship headed for the sun. She was sure if she’d had an MRI done—ooh, missed opportunity—her brain would be lit up like a summer thunderstorm. 

Time was moving so slow. And then fast. And then too fast. Then slow again. Time was everything. It was the key to the whole universe. Time stretched out on an endless plane. Every moment an eternity. She was immortal. She was like the gods, with her newfound ability to slow down time.

She knew two other things for sure.

Number One. She had a new understanding of what terms like Death and Heaven meant. Death was the cessation of time. Heaven was the moment you want to live in for all eternity. For her, Heaven is the maple tree in her mom’s boyfriend’s backyard, the one she would climb and fantasize about her future. Fantasize about her Heaven. Heaven was also a log cabin in the mountains surrounded by white pine with a flowing river, just a mile away from an old campground. Somewhere there’s an oak tree with initials carved into it: M + B, with a heart enclosing them both.

Number One. Section A. Or Section B. Peter Parker is also there. She’s in love with Peter Parker. She doesn’t know who Ben Reilly is, but she knows Peter Parker—add to number one, appendix C, this song makes me feel alive—and Peter’s a good man who loves The Sandlot and wanted to build his home where his aunt first fell in love with his uncle. 

Section B/C. Peter Parker is such a sap. He’s a romantic. He’s broken. He’s filled with love and darkness and passion and rage. He’s terrifying. He terrifies her. It’s terrifying, the things he makes her feel. It’s terrifying, how safe she feels with him. How fucked up is that? Surely, of either of them, she was the most broken of all.

Two.

...

...

...

She forgot two.

Fuck. She might be high.

“I’d say so. Why don’t you just drink some water and not worry too much about it?” Felicia said.

Honey glanced over at her companions. Her friends. Eddie and Felicia, staring at her patiently, charitable with their attention. 

Oh shit. I said all that out loud?

“Yeah, you did,” Eddie nodded with a worried frown.

Honey gazed at him, blinking. Then broke into a giggle. “I’m-I’m sorry,” she laughed, as the giggle turned into a full-body hysterical laughing fit. Eddie and Felicia gave each other a look. “I’m sorry! You can read my mind, Eddie! We can mind-meld! God, it must be so noisy in there!”

He sighed, “I’m used to it.”  Honey continued to laugh herself out of oxygen, tears streaming down her face.

“What the hell did you give her, Eddie?” Felicia snapped.

His shoulders touched his ear lobes, his face whiter than a ghost. “It’s weed! Just weed!” he defended. “Not even that strong! Like... the stuff that would make your grandma call you a pussy. An insanely tame amount!”

Honey grabbed Felicia’s hand, tugging gently. Unable to stop laughing, she chuckled out the broken sentence. “I.. I don’t wan’t... I don’t want... you to think.... I’m weird... I really don’t... I just... want to tell you... that I want to kiss you right now...”

Felicia shot Eddie a dirty look. Turning back to Honey, she smiled kindly. “Oh, you’re so sweet,” she said and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Sadly, I have to decline, honey bunny.”

“Do-Dou- d’you not.. wanna kiss me?” Honey suddenly blanched. “Is.. is it me? Is it... d’you hate me? Am I annoying? Am I being annoying? I’m being annoying, right? I’m sorry—”

“Shh, shh... Not at all, sugar,” Felicia crooned softly, wrapping a gentle arm around the girl’s shoulder. Honey felt her anxiety ease almost immediately. Felicia rubbed her shoulder gently, a warm smile on her face. “It’s ‘cos I don’t shit where I eat.”

Honey stared at her inquisitively, tilting her head. With a sharp snort that would put a hog to shame, she burst into another fit of laughter.

Felicia stared daggers at Eddie. “You’d better sober her up real quick. Pete’s not gonna like this—”

“Peter?” Honey parroted, her heart racing. “Where’s Peter? Is Peter here? Where is he?”

“Relax, relax,” Felicia replied with a soothing voice. “He’s upstairs working, remember?”

“He’s working?” Honey repeated her chest tightening.

“He’s in a meeting, hon.”

“A meeting?” Honey exclaimed with a shrill voice, filled with alarm. “An important meeting? What about? I have to know! With who? I have to be there!”

Felicia shook her head, shushing her again, but it was like trying to tame a wild horse. “It’s okay—”

“No, no, it’s not okay! Nothing about this is okay!” she protested, her voice nearly breaking. “This is not okay! I have to be in that room. I have to be in that meeting! It’s very important that I’m there!”

Eddie and Felicia shook their heads, trying to take her by the hands and lead her toward the exit. “C’mon, hon, let’s go wait in the car—”

“No, no, I need to be in there,” she pleaded. “He needs me to take notes! Very detailed notes!”

“It’s okay,” Eddie coaxed her. “It’s okay, someone else’s gonna take notes, I promise. You don’t need to be there—”

“No! It has to be me!” she shouted, tears brimming. Like a spooked cat, she took off, barreling up the stairs. Panicked, Felicia and Eddie ran after her.

“So they tell me you’re the underdog, despite all those wins,” Peter remarked, not unkindly. “The odds are uniquely stacked against you.” 

He sat across from Danny in a secluded, private lounge. It was part of a third floor club that had been cleared out for Peter to use. The tone of this room was vastly different from the party outside. Miguel sat on a sofa adjacent to the two men, arms crossed with a terse expression. Beside him, Jessica lounged with her legs crossed, a martini in her hand, looking more relaxed than Miguel. The rest of Peter’s men lined the walls, along with a couple of Danny’s bodyguards that could’ve been former football linebackers. 

Peter wasn’t concerned. Whatever Danny needed to feel safe. Remaining calm, he kept the tone light. “75-to-1, I hear.”

Danny’s temper was starting to unravel. The remark wasn’t stated with cruel intentions, but Danny glowered at it anyway. “Do I look scared?” he boastfully replied, surrounded by his three bodyguards. Peter subtly smiled. Danny muttered, “I’m in control of my own destiny.”

“I have no doubt,” Peter nodded in agreement. It was a somewhat patronizing tone, but it was the truth. “I have faith in you.” A shadow darkened his expression, “So does our old friend.”

The word slithered like a viper. Hearing it sent an uncomfortable shockwave through the room. Like they’d heard the ghostly moan of an apparition, everyone tensed, wary eyes being flicked towards one another. Danny froze in his seat, now aware of the context of this impromptu meeting. He frowned bitterly, crossing his arms. “What can I say. The fat bastard knows how to pick a good horse.”

Peter pursed his lips, dropped his gaze to the floor. “That he does,” he uttered, rueful and contemplative. He brushed his bitterness aside, meeting Danny’s eyes again. “In fact—he’s willing to bet the whole farm on it.” 

The boxer lifted a brow curiously. Peter explained, “He put a hefty chunk of change up, betting you’d win the fight tomorrow. Take Crusher out before the fourth round. Millions of dollars, too. That’s not for nothin’.” Peter leaned back, sighing disdainfully. “‘Course, it’s all illegal campaign contributions and even a couple of sacked pension funds. But if you win, he’ll make a killing. And all that blood money gets washed clean.”

“Blood money,” Danny bitterly replied. “That’s rich comin’ from you.” Peter narrowed his eyes at the remark. “And it’s not a matter of if I win,” he added, as if it was written in stone. “It’s when.” 

Peter flicked his eyes over to his closest colleagues. Miguel shared his same resentment, as did Jessica. Rolling her eyes subtly, she came to a stand. Stepped over to the bar to make herself another drink.

“You wanna jump on the bandwagon too?” Danny smirked at Peter. “Make a bet? Books are still open. Y’know, in case you’ve got any spare change you want cleaned.” The last sentence was thrown at him like a spear, followed by a wry chuckle.

Peter frowned solemnly. “Not this time, Danny,” he said tenderly. Apologetic. Almost. “In fact— need you to go down.” 

The other man dropped his smile. His eyes went cold.

“In the third round,” Peter added. As if it was written in stone..

Danny stared. Silent. Confused. The room was quieter as a tomb, nothing but the bass booming beneath the floor. Then, he broke into laughter. “Whaat?” He glanced around at his buddies, snickering. He turned back to Peter. “You’re kidding, right?” 

Peter’s face remained unchanged. Solemn. Remorseful. Even without words, Danny could read the response on his face. A fury ignited instantaneously, like the fuse on a stick of dynamite. 

“Are you fucking with me right now?” he demanded, glaring. Danny glanced around anxiously at Peter’s crew, his rage rising steadily. He turned back to Peter, eyes flashing with vehement betrayal. “You’re serious?! You want me to throw the match?!”

“I’m asking, Danny,” Peter calmly replied, empathy weighing his words. “However you wanna do it.”

The humor evaporated in his hot gaze. “Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” Peter turned his eyes downcast as Danny protested ferociously. “This isn’t some bullshit undercard match! I’m goin’ for the Belt!”

“I understand that.”

“It’s the biggest fight of my whole life!” he hissed, raising his voice. “And you just want me to walk away? To lose? In front of everybody?”

Miguel and Jessica gave each other a tense look. Pressure rising like the room was the inside of a tea kettle.

Peter retained his composure, sympathetic to his associate’s dilemma. “I know it’s asking a lot,” he reasoned, “and I respect that. You worked hard to get here—”

“Eleven million, Parker!” Danny barked back. “That’s just one endorsement deal on the table.”

“With Roxxon,” Peter nodded, a small bite added to his voice. “I know. There will be temporary consequences, I’m sure. But I’ll make sure you’re compensated fairly.”

“I don’t want your money, asshole!” he sneered. “I want my goddamn championship title!”

Peter huffed with frustration, attempting to reason with him. “You have my full confidence that you can take it in the rematch next year,” he suggested. He lowered his voice, pleading with him, “I just need you to take a knee on this one, Danny. It’s all I’m askin.’”

Nostrils flaring, he replied with poison packed in each word, “Why the fuck would I do that?”

Jessica’s breath caught in her throat. Miguel went still. Ominous, ghostly chains rattled, as Peter Parker’s patience evaporated like a rainstorm in Hell. 

Peter’s eyes darkened, his gaze cold. “Because I’m asking you.” 

It was both a statement and a warning. Danny bit his tongue, glaring. 

“Because you hate Kingpin as much as I do,” Peter added, more composed. The next breath between the two men was calmer, composed by the clarity of having the same enemy. 

“And not to mention,” Peter said matter-of-factly, “you owe me.” Peter had trapped him in his gaze. For once, Danny Rand had nothing to say, but Peter wasn’t listening for words. He followed the slowing beat of the athletic muscle, and instead listened to story his heart was telling him. 

If the next words to come out of Danny’s mouth were lies, he’d know—

“No, I have to be in there, it’s an emergency!” Honey’s slightly slurred words pierced the bubble as the door swung wide open. All eyes turned towards the door as she walked through, barefoot and hold her heels, one in each hand. Desperately, one of Peter’s guards tried to wall her in with his body (keeping his arms stretched wide, hands clearly visible). It was a hopeless attempt to hold her at bay, a flimsy seawall against a hurricane. She rounded him, still babbling incoherently.

Peter raised his brows with alarm, jumping to his feet. “Honey, what’s the matter?”

“I hafta talk to him!” she barked at the guard, then turned to Peter. “I hafta talk to you!” 

Miguel buried his face in his hands with a groan.

“What is this?” Danny uttered in confusion. 

“It’s s’so important!” she said, almost desperately. Peter pinched his brows together as she waddled towards him, holding the hem of her dress down

“What happened?” Peter scanned her face urgently, hovering his hands above her cheekbones, observing how blown-out her eyes were.

“I-I-I’m here. I’m here!” she announced, as if that was some kind of relief. “Okay, um... I’m... here to tell you—” She hiccuped. “I have something very important to tell you! And... It’s-It’s a s-secret! An important secret!” He gazed at her pecularly as she looked up at him with bleary eyes. “I need to tell you—ugh, oof, I’m riding a surfboard, time is moving slow—Okay, you know how time is the key to the entire universe, right—?”

“Hon, come back here!” Felicia called after her, as she and Eddie rushed through the doorway. Peter turned over at them, tensing.

“What is this?” Peter demanded. “What happened to her!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Eddie anxiously mumbled. Both he and Felicia were suddenly at her sides, each taking one of her hands gently. “We’re just gonna go find some peppercorn—”

“Uh, we don’t have a kitchen here,” Jessica supplied warily, side-eyeing the dazed woman. “Maybe we have some behind the bar—?”

“This is just great,” Miguel sardonically hissed, glowering at Eddie.

“Answers,” Peter glowered at Felicia and Eddie. “Now.” 

“Take it easy, will ya?” Felicia shot him a dirty look. “Don’t get your panties in a twist—she just got a little too faded.” Felicia said to Honey, “Which is totally okay, and why we’re gonna go home, right?”

Eddie rushed over to Peter, pulling him away. Felicia took Honey by the arm, now taking over the one-sided, stream-of-consciousness conversation. 

“Okay,” Eddie explained, apologetic, “so she’s fine. She’s gonna be fine. It’s just a little edible—”

Peter’s gaze could skewer through stone. “Eddie. What the fuck, man?” He hissed through gritted teeth, bringing his fingertips to his aching temple. “Why is it every time there’s trouble your goddamn name is attached to it?” Eddie reeled back as Peter jabbed his finger into his shoulder, chastizing in hushed tones. “I can’t believe you’re that fuckin’ stupid! Drugging her up, here? Now?”

“First of all, I didn’t drug her up,” he declared defensively. “She asked!”

“You should know better!”

“Hey, asshole,” Eddie sneered through his teeth, his eyes flashing angrily, “she’s a grown-up. A goddamn, full-grown, life-sized adult. Did you know that?”

“Everyone’s talking so fast,” Honey breathlessly stated, turning to Felicia with wide, nearly-tearful eyes. “Everything’s so fast. Did I make everyone mad? Did I ruin everything?”

Danny snorted, amused by the exchanged, “This is fuckin’ great. You’re doin’ great.”

Honey glanced over at him, “Oh, hello. Do you do crime to? I just did drugs!”

Danny chuckled, nodding along, “Oh, is that right?”

“Hey, wait, I know you!” she said, recognition lighting up her eyes. “You’re famous. You’re on TV!”

“Right, you are, dollface,” Danny snickered, letting his eyes travel up her body. He grinned devilishly, “And what’s your name?”

“Fuck off, limp fist,” Felicia brushed him off with a glower, turning her attention back towards the two men bickering on the other side of the room.

Eddie and Peter were at each other’s throats. “She can make her own decisions, man!” Eddie argued. “What the fuck’s with you being so controlling all the time?”

Peter’s eyes went black. “What did you just say to me?”

“I’m just saying, she’s a grown woman!” Eddie whined defensively. “You don’t need to baby her all the—”

“Jesus, will you two knock it off?” Felicia groaned.

“I’m not talking to you!” Peter barked at her, pointing his finger in her direction, then turned his wrath back to Eddie. “And what the fuck do you know about it, Brock?” Peter snapped. “You never took care of anything in your life!” The other man grimaced at the insult, a stab in the back. “All you’ve ever cared about is yourself. You’re nothin’ but a fuck-up!” Peter’s voice cracked like thunder. “You’re just a fuckin’ drug dealer!”

The other man blinked wounded eyes at him, taken aback, as he simmered with disgust. Pursed his lips. Quietly seethed. Swallowed hard. And then Eddie walked out on him. Peter was left standing in his cold wake, panting like a maniac. His gazed dropped to the floor. 

“Nice job, Pete,” Felicia muttered, arms and expression both cross.

“Don’t be sad, dollface...” Danny simpered as he leaned out of his chair with one hand on Honey’s wrist. They were still locked in their own private conversation while everything fell apart behind them. “Why don’t you come sit with me and let me cheer you up, yeah?” 

His hand gripped her thigh at the hem of her skirt, fingers brushing up between her legs. She jolted—practically jumped out of her skin, like someone dropped a snake in her bed. 

“Hey!” she cried at the slight, brows furrowed. “No touching! We have rules!”

Danny didn’t reply. Instead, his head went sideways, his whole body ejected from the armchair. She gasped as his body hit the floor with a thud, and felt an iron grip pull her away by her upper arm. 

Suddenly, Peter was in front of her, eyes filled with fire, standing defensively between her and the sorrysonofabitch that groped her. The champion boxer groaned on the floor, dazed by the ringing in his skull. 

“Get her outta here,” Peter muttered as he stood over the assailant, but Felicia was already at Honey’s side, whisking her away. Everyone else remained statuesque. Danny lifted off the ground and Peter met him immediately with another wrecking ball punch.

In the back of Peter’s mind, he heard shouting. Threats. Guns drawn.  

But Peter didn’t care. Because that was only the first hit, and he had more to give. 

Danny was flattened after the first blow. 

The second loosened his jaw. 

The third knocked out teeth. 

The fourth and fifth cracked bone. 

The sixth wasn’t for Danny, it was for one of his bodyguards who tried to tackle Peter from behind. In response, Peter lodged the man’s body into the concrete wall. 

Gunshots rang out. He didn’t know from where. He didn’t know from who. Didn’t matter.

The seventh punch was the last thing Danny would ever see out of his right eye. As it left his body, so did the ability to fight back.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

“Pete! Stop!”

—don’t stop—

Miguel was there. Somewhere.

—teach him a lesson—

Eleven.

—savagry will be met savagely—

Twelve. 

—no one goes unpunished—

Thirteen.

Honey had a point. Time really was the key to the whole universe. 

Time was everything. 

Uncle Ben used to say that all anyone has is time and what they choose to do with it. Ben Parker was a good man. Ahead of his time, in many ways, and also a relic of a time gone by. 

Peter used to be obsessed with time, astounded by the significance of a single moment of his life. One little choice. He imagine what his life would be like if he hadn’t intervened in the convenience store. What if he’d just let it go? He should’ve zipped up his hoodie, tucked in his chin, took off down the sidewalk, and left well-enough alone. 

Maybe things would be different. Maybe Ben and May would still be alive. Maybe Peter’s whole life would be different. Maybe he’d be more than just a monster.

It was just a moment. A split-second choice.

In less than 18 hours, Danny Rand was set to become the next heavyweight champion of the world, broadcasting and streaming all over TV and Pay-Per-View. 

Now, he was going to spend the rest of his life eating through a tube. That’s what Felicia was telling him, right in this moment. She was pissed. She is pissed. Pissed at him. 

what did she ever see in you anyway? — monster — can’t even stand the sight of you — parasite—you’re fuckin’ pathetic. a psycho-stalker creep—

“He’ll live,” Peter said emotionlessly, still lost in a cloud of darkness. He was standing in his foyer at the penthouse—how the fuck did I get here—and Felicia stopped talking.

Peter blinked again, and she was gone. He looked at the clock, brows furrowed with confusion. It was still night, but too much time had passed. How long had Felicia been gone? How long has he been standing here? 

How long has it been since he was anything other than alone?

The sound of soft giggles filled the air, and his feet were moving towards them. He was outside of himself. Watching himself. Split in two. Torn apart.

And then he saw her.

Honey was dancing, twirling around the living room wrapped in a terrycloth bathrobe, her hair wet from a recent shower. The lamps were off, but the room was lit up by her presence. Behind her, outside of his 30 foot windows, the glittering backdrop of a sleepless city sparkled like fireflies in the night. She fluttered like a butterfly, her wings beating to a melody that only she could hear. 

She was elated. Beaming. At the sight of her, he felt the darkness pull back and the shadows lift. He was hypnotized. The fog melted off of his brain, and everything came into focus. Time moved on, steadily, second by second. He watched her, a smile playing on his lips that he wasn’t even aware of. Relishing every moment.

“Ooh!” She stopped suddenly, slackjawed at his presence. Embarrassed, he brought a hand up behind his neck. He really needed to stop staring at her like that, he thought. It was pretty creepy. 

Honey ran towards him with stars in her eyes. She threw her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. Her tight embrace took his breath away, but not from the force. His body tensed, trembling hands lifted away. Slowly, he brought his arms down around her, folding her into his arms.

If only he had the power to stop time.

“Yay! You’re home!” she crooned with childlike joy. “Did you bring muffins? I love muffins. We should get some muffins. I can make some muffins.” She lifted her gaze, looking up at him as she rested her chin on his chest. “Also, I think I’m high.”

He let out a soft chuckle, cracking a smile. “Yeah, you’re high,” he laughed. 

“Like really high?”

“Really high.”

“Like astronautical?”

“Astronomical,” he replied. “And yes. Like Hubble telescope high.” She giggled, blessing him with an endearingly pure grin that drew his soul from his body. His eyes flitted around her face, inspecting her eyes slightly pink from dryness, her skin naturally glowing from her face wash, her dopey smile topping it off. He allowed himself to just admire her, relishing in the warmth of her embrace. 

But soon, his smile faded. The memories of that evening trickled back in.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, eyes filled with concern. He pried his own hands from her body, allowing her to stand freely on her own. It was important that he respect the rule that he had nearly beaten a man to death to defend.

“Me?” She pointed at her own chest, as if she was unsure who he was talking to.

He laughed, “Yes, you. Are you okay? How you feelin’? D’you need some water? Need anything?”

“I drank water,” she nodded dutifully. “I love water. Your water tastes so good. Everything tastes so good. Have you tried muffins? They’re so good.”

“That they are,” Peter nodded. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

She sprang to life, eyes lit up like fireworks. “But I’m not even tired! I want to stay up... Stay up all night!” There was a teasing mischief in her eyes that made him dizzy every time he looked straight at it. 

“It’s late,” he remarked with a sober tone, letting his eyes fall to the floor. “You should get some sleep. You’ll feel better.” A familiar pang thrummed in his skull, piercing behind his eyes. His fingers kneaded at the ache.

“But I feel great!” she chirped, bouncing over to the couch and plopping down on it. “Let’s watch a movie! Let’s watch—ooh, we should order pizza.”

He pushed a smile on his face, although exhaustion weighed down his limbs. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I think you outta be going to bed.”

“Is that what you want? To take me to bed... Daddy?”

Time stopped. His stomach clenched painfully, like he’d been kicked in the ribs and tossed down a flight of M.C. Escher stairs. Timidly, he looked back at her. 

Everything had changed. He had the urge to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

She was leaned back, propping herself up with her palms. Her body was draped scandalously across his sofa. The white robe she was wearing was dampened by her wet locks. The cowl hung dangerously low on her shoulders, revealing taut skin stretched over her clavicle that softly curved towards her cleavage. The belt was tied loosely around her waist allowing a peek at the inside of one of her thighs.

If her body was a sin, the look on her face was the devil. 

The sweetness was gone. Seared off. Caramelized by a flame burning in her eyes that threatened to melt him. Her lip curled into a sultry smile, spicy heat dusted on her lips. The thought of tasting the fire there made him sweat. 

This… wasn’t a dream. Was it?

He was gawking, he was pretty sure. Staring at her with an almost virginal awe. She bent one of her knees, sliding it higher up. Spreading her thighs a little wider. He swallowed hard, eyes trained on the pathway of soft flesh leading to her core.

“You like that, huh?” she cooed, her voice an intoxicating blend of coquettish mischief and innocent curiosity. He took a step backwards. Unwilling to trust his eyes. Or his body. “You have your little nicknames and I have mine,” she grinned. “You can call me Honey if I get to call you Daddy.”

The tips of his ears were burning red. The sound of his blood pumping was like an incoming tsunami. Rushing to the areas of him that had come alive with just a few words. He swallowed hard.

“Come over here,” she said, rolling her head to the side. “I wanna tell you a secret.” 

His eyes were hyper-focused on the way her teeth pinched her bottom lip. His stomach was twisted into a pretzel. He considered the distance between them, a few feet of ceramic tile, and doubted it was enough space. Not with her looking at him like that. Like she was the predator. He felt unsafe in her gaze. 

“I, uh…” his voice tremored, “I don’t think... that’s a good—“

“I have a theory,” she sang. “Wanna hear?”

He slammed his eyes shut, sealing them off from her seduction. “Is it about time?”

“No. It’s about power,” she said with a Cheshire grin. Curiosity pried his eyes back open. She was giddy, shimmying her shoulders, with a sing-song voice. “I never noticed this before but... I have all of it. And you have none at all.” 

He stilled. Eying her, turning over what she’d said in his mind

“I can prove it too,” she teased, glowing. “Watch.” 

She brought her arm up, curling her finger in a come-hither motion. He stared at the end of her finger like it was the barrel of a gun. He looked up at her face, seeing a hunger there for more than just food.

“Sit.”

The single word made his cock twitch. He swallowed a groan, holding back a grimace. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her body. Fists clenching and unclenching. Once he met her eyes again, the look there was pure lust, implanting sinful images into his brain.

Maybe she was right. If she was all-powerful, she’d just discovered that power and was flaunting it like a kid who had just found their dad’s gun. 

He was trembling. Folding like a house of cards. He was so fucked. Slowly, he treaded to the sofa, stopping at the far end opposite her, and sat down. She watched him sit back with the distance of a whole continent between them. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t deter her.

She crouched onto her hands and knees and began a slow crawl towards him. He averted his eyes from the parting of her robe at her chest, staring forward again. His headache was getting worse. Everything was getting worse. 

“Now, do you wanna hear my secret?” she whispered, stalking towards him like a lionness. 

His jaw clenched. His fist clenched. “I thought you already told me your secret.”

She was suddenly at his side, pulling his gaze towards her by his chin. He felt pliable. Moldable. “I have lots of secrets,” she whispered dangerously. 

Unsafe, was all he could think about, gazing in her lustful eyes. He felt like taffy in her grip, melting into the sofa as she climbed on top of his lap, straddling his thighs. 

His breath hitched, feeling her heat everywhere—his chest, his belly, down to the hardness beneath his belt. She was electrifying him, burning him from the inside out. He didn’t need to touch her. In fact, his fingers were buried into the sofa cushions, tearing holes in the upholstery. Just feeling her up against him made him want to rip his own skin off.

Then she rolled her hips against his. His lashes fluttered shut. Brain exploding. Muscles straining. It was like she’d dug her fingers in through his chest and ripped out his insides. He was being torn apart. It hurt. Pure, blissful agony. It dragged an involuntary groan up from his lungs and out through his teeth.

His eyes opened, softly panting, knuckles white. The person staring back at him was more than a devil.

She was temptation incarnate, wrapped up in a bow. 

“My secret,” she cooed tauntingly, “is that I’m not a good girl.” His eyes followed hers, neither of them blinking, like two serpents in showdown. Each one threatening to swallow the other whole. “I never was.” 

She crushed her heat against his, letting her fingers trail up the buttons of his chest. The sensation made every hair of his stand on end.

“I’m not sweet.” She didn’t say the words, rather she moaned them. He felt the rumble of her chest against his, her lashes fluttering closed. He was hyper aware of the friction between them. The two of them were like magnets pushing towards one another. Every fiber of fabric that separated them felt like sandpaper. 

Her hands traveled up his chest, fingers fanning out over the soft spot at the base of his neck. Like he was made of rubber, he dropped his head against the back of the couch. He breathed deep and slow, cock twitching at the feeling of the pressure she placed on his trachea. She was riding him, rutting against him at a tantilizing, torturous pace.

Staring up at her beneath heavy lids, jaw clenched tight, he struggled to not picture what they must look like. The image of her rubbing against him would brand itself into his brain forever. A picture like that would drive him mad, or even worse, he might rip apart her robe or the couch, or both. Instead, he drove his fingers into the sofa, as if attempting to push his fingers in between the threads.

“I’m not an angel,” she breathed, her voice trembling, “or a doll, or a peach, or a baby.” 

From his neck, her fingers grazed down to his concrete shoulders. He was so tight. Biceps locked up, abs were steel, every other part of him was rock hard. He was hypnotized with lust, intoxicated with want. With her hands on his shoulders, she had better control—or at least the illusion of it. A particularly heavy grind pulled a whimper from her lips, and he was terrified that if he heard it again he’d come on the spot.

“I hate being called those things almost as much as I hate being bossed around,” she breathed hotly, her mouth falling agape. He licked his lips at the sight. “I can’t st-stand being controlled by... by anyone.” 

She dragged her hips up and down. A breath caught in his throat as he realized he could feel her wetness seeping through his pants. He breathed deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring. His own voice was screaming in his head—don’t look down, don’t look at her body, whatever you do, don’t look at her—while another darker voice encouraged a primal response. 

“I h-hate all of those things,” she groaned, her hips grinding steadily now against one of his thighs. He wasn’t sure if she could feel the outline of his cock through his slacks, but he could certainly feel her. Her heartbeat thrummed faster. With her mouth lewdly agape, she leaned her weight over his torso, tickling the shell of his ear with her breath. 

“Except when you do them,” she gasped sinfully. His heart nearly stopped at her words. This wasn’t a dream. This was the gates of hell. 

“Because when you do it, it feels good. I like the way it feels.”

Every word crawling through his brain like an earworm. A parasite burrowing deeper in his skull. 

“Stop...” he breathed, his voice barely strong enough to carry the word.

—don’t stop—

“Everything you do feels good.” 

—this isn’t real—

“When you tell me to come to bed...” 

—desperate whore, wants it bad—

“When you dress me up in pretty things and show me off.”

—this isn’t right, she’s not right—

“Even when you hurt people to protect me.”

—filthy slut—

“When you look at me like you wanna fuck me in front of all of your friends.”

—this isn’t what she wants—

—she wants to hurt you. wants the pain—

“All my life everyone’s always made me feel like I was less than. Like I was worthless. But when you look at me, I feel special. I’m your favorite toy.”

—stop her—

—silver tongue—

“It’s sick,” she breathed, her voice edging on ecstasy. She dug her fingernails so hard into his skin it hurt. Every part of his body hurt. 

—she’s close—

—none of this is real she doesn’t fucking love you and you know it—

—you’re unworthy—

“I’m s-so sick,” she moaned. “So-so br-broken.” 

—stop this—

—don’t stop, you worthless fool—

An unhinged laugh bubbled up behind her words. “I fucking l-l-love it...” Her eyes rolled up in her head. Peter bit down so hard he could taste blood. “I... God, Peter, fucking break me apart—”

His hands were on her like a crack of thunder. Gripping her by the shoulders, he lifted her body up, twisting around and slamming her flat on the sofa. The force punched the air from her lungs. The whole world flipped, her head spinning from the dizzying speed. The drugs in her system were only stepping on the gas pedal.

Her wrists were pinned together above her head in a move so swift she barely registered it had happened. He loomed over her, eyes blown black, chest heaving. She felt her stomach flip, dropping down into the pit of a rollercoaster. Her muscles tensed, pelvic floor twitching—fuck me that feels so good fuck me fuck me Peter punish me—

His hand clapped down over her mouth, ice shooting from his lips. “Shut up.”

She gasped at the change in tone. Eyes wide open and frighteningly alert, she gazed up at his swirling visage. 

“Stop means stop,” he breathed darkly, his voice trembling with a rage that she couldn’t fathom. His hands were frigid steel exposed to winter. Colder than a corpse. For a moment, everything was blindingly clear in her mind. Washed out with bright lights that burned her eyes. 

Something was wrong.

This wasn’t safe. She wasn’t safe.

Soon her own thoughts were drowned out by the slamming of her heart in her chest. In a horrified daze, she stared up at him, too afraid to blink. She read the anger on his face. The lust. The sharp line drawn between his brows. Eyes black as onyx.

Solid black. 

Everything was wrong.

Her chest jolted in short gasps. She struggled to take in air through the giant palm stretched across her mouth. Her chest was tight. Whole body pulled tight. Her hands felt glued together. Even if it were possible, she was too terrified to move. Her nostrils flared frantically. She was paralyzed. Bound by darkness. By the black of his eyes.

She couldn’t breathe. The world was going darker.

Fading to black.

When her eyes cracked open, it felt like they were covered in gum and her eyelids were made of sandpaper. Harsh daylight flooded in through the windows. Immediately, she felt throbbing at the base of her skull. She ached from dehydration. 

Her body was a desert. A barren wasteland. A potato chip.

She groaned weakly, dragging her hands down her face. When her vision came into focus, her brow furrowed with confusion. 

She wasn’t the bedroom. Not hers. Not Peter’s. She was in the living room, spread out on the couch wearing a bathrobe that was in danger of falling open and revealing her chest. Blushing, she yanked on the sides of the robe, covering herself modestly.

Her mind was covered by a fog. A thick haze made her memories feel like fleeting shadows. Glancing around the living room, she was even more baffled by the fact that she was alone. Not a soul in sight.

Drop by drop, her recollection of the night before revealed itself, like droplets of water streaking through condensation on a window. She had tiny slivers to peek through, and in those cracks she could see the club. The music. Her awful dancing. Felicia. Eddie. Alcohol.

Already, this was a bad combination.

Peter. His face full of concern. He was worried. He was protecting her...

He was killing a man. Beating him to death. The blonde sleazeball in the tiny shirt. The one who touched her.

Her stomach lurched and buckled. Nausea choked her. Fighting off her dizziness, she cupped her mouth and stumbled out of the living room. 

What had happened after that? Why did everything feel off? Unsafe? Why was that part of her mind just... empty? 

Her feet carried her as quickly as they could down the hallway, anxiety twisting her stomach into knots. 

There was a hole in her memory. A giant gap. She hated it. She hated not being able to remember.

She stopped in her tracks in the hall. Stilled her breath. Listened intently, wondering if she’d heard what she thought she’d heard. A voice that she didn’t recognize. And a moan. A breathless whimper.

Peter.

The recognition had a whiplash effect. Her heart skipped a beat and sank at the same time. Something was wrong. 

Through the stillness, she heard it again. This time as a grunt. Grinding out in pain.

Why couldn’t she remember? What was it—it was right in front of her mind, and yet... it was too dark to see. The shadow of an eclipse. A dark spot.

A black hole.

She crept towards the sound warily, her feet like falling snow. At the end of the hallway, the door to Peter’s office was cracked open. A light spilling into the dark.

Another moan.

Something is wrong. Everything is wrong. She shouldn’t be here. This is stupid. She should run. Whatever is happening is wrong and she didn’t want to know about it. Didn’t want to see who could be in there with him. Making him make that sound. 

She heard that voice again. Dark. Could only make out a single word.

“parasite” 

And then another groan. It was unmistakably Peter. Unmistakable agony.

Against her better judgment, her toes propelled her forward. Easing slowly towards the gap in the doorway. Staring through the blinding light.

A lithe body laid back against the side of his desk, long legs spread out across the floor. It was Peter, wearing the same clothes he did at the club the night before. But everything else about him was unrecognizable. 

His skin was pale, corpse-like. Baggy circles beneath his eyes. His body shivered like he was fighting an icy fever. Dress shirt was shredded, torn open, with bloody claw marks on his chest that look like he’d been mauled by a lion. In his lap, he cradled one arm. The other hand trembled as he held the plunger of a hypodermic needle.

She watched in horror as he injected a substance into his twitching forearm. An ebony, oil-like liquid flowed from the syringe into his flesh, blackening a vein as it traveled up his arm. His eyes rolled back, head thumping against the desk. 

The black stain spread like ink through water. Cutting through his body faster than blood could travel, branching out like black bine stems across his skin. Black oil oozed from the chest wounds, and after a few blinks, the lacerations vanished. Faded as if they were never there.

Jagged lines covered his body, as if someone took roads on a map and tattooed them on his skin. Soon the etched lines followed the path of his lymph nodes, up his neck, and across the sharp curves of his face. His eyelids opened to reveal onyx orbs beneath, glassy black and void of life. Void of light. Inhuman. 

Monstrous. 

She blinked rapidly, doubting her own vision. Questioning her sanity. Debating her own logic, even her wakefulness, as she watched the stain spread until it had consumed his body. 

Not a stain. Not a tattoo either. 

Whatever it was, it was moving. And it was alive.

Continue to Part 13.

[back to masterlist]

a/n - thank you so much for your wonderful feedback! please reblog fandom writers—it's such a small gesture that keeps fanfic alive.

Reblog to be tagged!

[ill-heart]

Fears of the vicious whispers

        Here we go for the theme of the day. I hope your gonna enjoying even though... I must warn you, it’s not so long but full of hurt/comfort. 

Well, with insecurities as a theme... It’s difficult to do otherwise.

۩๑ ๑۩

 There were those mornings where Jason felt something bad coming. A intuition he inherited from his father, from what he heard in this family before.

He would wake with a pain in his chest, as if sugar was stuck in his heart and tried to suffocate him. It was odd, difficult to explain but nineteen percent of the time, his foreboding was proving to be right.

And this morning seemed to follow that awful path; as he awoke alone in his bed, eyes searching for his lover. Salim wasn’t in their bedroom, and the sheet were cold. He must have awoken hours ago. The younger man almost jumped at of bed as the sugar in his torso became bigger. He rushed into the house, checked every room in hope the Iraqi would be there, but he was nowhere to be seen. Jason started to fear the sun, started to be afraid of the ring bell and the news some folks would bring to him; then, he finally found his lover. Half of his body devoured by the obscurity, Salim rested on the couch as his eyes looked at the celling. He didn’t notice his lover crawling back to him, until a hand placed itself on his cheeks.

“Hey, darlin’.” Jason said as he caught the older man’s attention. “Ya had a bad dream?”

Salim’s mouth opened but not a single word escaped it. He tried to speak; however, his voice wouldn’t get out of his lips. He remained silent before he pushed his lover’s hand away, and looked at the celling once more.

Somethin’ ‘s bad. Jason felt it; in his heart and in his soul. He knew something terrible was about to be said, and he couldn’t stop it.

“Jason, do you…” Tears grew under the Iraqi’s eyelash. “… Don’t you ever think our relationship was a mistake?”

The sugar stuck in the American’s heart made him want to vomit.

**

“What’s gotten into ya, Salim?!”

“There is nothing wrong with me, I was just asking if you…”

“Nothin’ wrong?! What kind of bullshit is that?!” Jason’s teeth ground as anger flowed in him like a hurricane. “I woke up this mornin’ without ya in bed, and when I finally found ya, ya just ask me if we weren’t wron’ since the beginnin’! So, stop fuckin’ lyin’ to me!”

Maybe it wasn’t wise of him to freak out like this, but Salim’s interrogation hurt him more than he could express it. When the words dove into his mind and chest, he felt sick and wanted to scream. He wanted to smash everything, all the furniture and stupid items in the living room. He wanted to brutally shake his lover, in hope that his fears would be kicked out of his body. He wanted to destroy everything as the Iraqi only looked at the floor, with a mix of pain and shame dancing in his glance.

“It’s just…” Salim sighed and his whole body trembled. “I am sure it was a stupid joke but I can’t…”

Jason’s eyebrows raised as the rage substituted with incomprehension. A joke? What kind of joke could bring such a thought to the older man’s mind?

“Tell me.” An order he whispered with a commanding voice. He saw his lover shivering but he didn’t back down, nor excuse his sudden harshness. Salim couldn’t get away after such a behavior, the younger man wouldn’t let him. Not before you answered me.

“It’s just Eric…”

“Eric?’ What did this fuckin’ bastard said to ya? It wasn’t a secret that him and Jason didn’t get along; thanks to the man’s arrogance in the ruins and Jason’s comments on his tactics and coldness about the men who died because of his precious Caelus. Both of them tolerated each other presence because they had Nick and Rachel, but it was no pleasure cruise to be around someone you wanted to punch every time. “What did he told ya?”

“He just…” Salim looked like a child caught after he made something stupid. In other circumstances, Jason would have found him cute and might have teased him about his sudden silence or his littles shivers, but not now. Now, he only needed answers. “Tell me what he said to you, Salim.” Another order, growled with a low and menacing ton.

“He didn’t tell me anything!” The Iraqi looked upon him, eyes full of fatigue and tears. “I just happened to hear what he said about us to Rachel and…”

“And?”

Salim’s breath speeded up and his hands grabbed his pants roughly. He seemed to contain the anger and the despair rising in him. “He just… He just said that we would betray each other one day. He said we never loved each other, that we only did what was best for our survival and now… Now that we don’t need each other… He said you would find someone younger, someone more desirable to love and so you would just…” The older man’s voice broke as he confessed, tears rolling on his face. “You would just leave me alone.”

Jason’s body froze. For a moment, he only glared at his lover crying below him then fury took over him. Without a single word, he went to the corridor, grabbed his shoes and cap, and he left the house, rage boiling inside him.

**

“What the fuck are you doing, Kolchek?!”

Eric fell on the ground, nose and mouth bleeding as Jason stood over him. Nick rushed to hold him between his arms as the young lieutenant heard Rachel screaming something to him. I don’t care. I don’t fuckin’ care.

“Who are ya to judge my relationship with Salim?! No one, Colonel! Ya ain’t anyone so shup the fuck up!” He yelled, tried to get closer but his best-friend kept him still. “Jason, stop! I think he got it!”

“Ya don’t know shit about me! Ya didn’t back then, and ya still don’t! I would never betray Salim, I ain’t like ya! So shup the fuck up about us! ‘Cause if you make my man cry again… I will fuckin’ kill ya.”

And without saying more, he turned his back on Eric, made Nick let go of his grip and vanished in the fog reigning on the city.

**

When he came into his house again, Salim run into him, hundreds of apologies going out his mouth. He stayed close, but never touched him. He only excused his stupidity, how cold he had been to ask such a question and how sorry he was for making Jason angry.

Jason looked at him. He stared at his weeping face, his shivering shoulders and lips, then he grabbed his wrist and hugged him; like he never hugged him before. He held him for a minute or two, one hand on his back and the other on his neck; so Salim could cry on his collarbone.

After a while, he whispered against his ear: “I need ya, Salim. I need ya to survive here.” He felt his lover trembling in his arms, crying louder as he held him back. Salim’s arms closed on his back as he found the strength to murmur: “Me too, Jason… I need you. I really need you and if you leave me, I will…”

“I will never leave you, Salim. Never.”

Jason gently grabbed his lover’s chin, looked at his pleading eyes and promised once more: “Mark my words, Salim, ‘cause I will never go.”

And Salim kissed him. They kissed each other like they never did before. It was full of passion and despair, only broken with honest promises and caresses on their cheeks.

They fell on the couch, and the sugar stuck in Jason’s chest vanished.

[faetalwords]

Summer Rains and Old Pains

It took four years for Lambert to admit that the Cat wasn’t just an acquaintance. It took two more before he acknowledged that in so many words. He would never know when he fell in love with him.It took six months for Aiden to stop sleeping with one eye open - the wolf didn’t have the patience for a long con. It took two years for him to start calling the wolf “his friend” at the Caravan. It took two more for him to think that he might be a little bit in love with him. It would be a decade before they kissed for the first time.

It was a delicate game that they played, dancing on a knife’s edge in barefoot summer rains.A light push in either direction would send them both into a free fall, anger and violence for months on end until they simmered and cooled enough to embrace and cling to the other’s company like a child to a blanket. A push could be as simple as a beg for another evening or as forceful as a fistfight. It was a dangerous dance that worked in their favor most days. They were determined to make it work; so it did.

* They rode at each other’s side, horses trotting along toward the next podunk little town big enough to have a decent inn. They hadn’t seen another traveler in days and even Lambert was aching for a good bed to lie in. Naturally it had to rain. “If you hadn’t insisted we check out that embankment we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Aiden grumbled, his hair was plastered to the sides of his face and neck. He should have looked like a half drowned rat... or cat. It wasn’t fair, he looked like a painting.“I’m sorry that I have some half decent morals!” He added a mutter under his breath of “Fucking Cat.” “Your morals got you a sprained ankle and no pay for a job that should have gotten us at least twenty crowns a piece, sweetheart.�� He… had a point. It wasn’t even as though the drowners were near a village. They were three hours from the last washing post for Melitele’s sake. But… no. He was not admitting defeat.“Better than a dead kid next summer. Hell, what are you complaining for? You’re the one who's been bitchin’ about a bath.” “Yes. A bath. A wonderful, warm, lovely bath- not freezing rain and a muddy river. Melitele’s tits Lam!” Aiden was a good man, he was. A damn sight better than Lambert most days but the man could complain for hours . Lambert would be paying some inn keeper for a bath that evening; he simply knew it.  Even still… he reached over and flicked water from his gloves at the Cat’s face. “You’ll live.”

* “Duck!” Aiden hit the forest floor as an arrow whipped through where his neck had been just moments before. He rolled left and popped back to his feet in time to catch a bandit with his dagger, just under the man’s ribs. He made a satisfying sound when he hit the ground. Aiden didn't have time to revel in it. “Stupid thing, robbing a witcher. Robbing two? You must have been top of your class.” He spun in time to see Lambert knock the last man in the clearing unconscious before he took off into the trees. Branches broke as the archer took off post haste, seeming to realize that he was now in a very poor position. Lambert caught him before Aiden could take the first coin pouch off their would be assailants. Lambert was… harsh. He kept his gentle smiles and laughs, all his soft pieces that the world hadn’t yet managed to beat out of him close to his chest. Covered in layer upon layer of thorns and armor. He would cut his way through a hundred men before he let someone see the things he considered his weaknesses. Aiden had, somehow, managed to slip between those defenses at some point. He wasn’t sure when. Despite the rage that he carried in his chest Lambert was a good man; he didn’t take contracts on humans and he rarely killed them outright, a bit of maiming or disfigurement was well within the cards but he refused to make use of a grave. Except where Aiden was concerned. Except where the people who he loved were concerned. He’d asked, just once, why the death of a human was the line. Why after everything that life had thrown at him and all that he had done in return that was where he put the marker. Lambert had been half asleep and full of good whiskey at the time; so the answer was honest, too much so. “Cause I’ve got the upper hand no matter what. It’d be like beating on a woman or hitting a kid and I ain’t got any plans on being like my father. That’s if it’s jus’ me though. They wanna hurt someone else and I’m not going to let them get on with that. Might as well put those damn trials to some fuckin' use...” In the morning he hadn’t acknowledged the information he’d so trustingly laid at Aiden’s feet; and they went on with their lives. Lambert came back then with a recently cleaned steel sword. “They ruined my good boots.” “We’ll get you new ones.” Aiden promised. “I’m holding you to that.” A calloused hand was offered to him and Aiden placed his own within it. On his feet he stepped into the wolf’s space, using their clasped hands to pull him into a one armed hug. He ran his hand over the wolf's back for both comfort and to ensure there were no injuries he needed to patch. “Least I can do for you saving my ass.”

* They tumbled into bed together for the first time after a bar fight. It wasn’t a bed really; it was a bedroll laid beneath an overhang of rock and they were both too keyed up from their frantic flight out of town to make anything last long. Lambert had a black eye and Aiden had a split lip that protested every harsh kiss pressed against it but neither witcher cared. Pain was routine, a small price for the love and the pleasure- the oh so fucking finally feeling of giving in to what they wanted. With fumbling hands they brought each other off. Aiden slung a heavy arm over the wolf’s waist and tensed when Lambert’s hand circled his wrist, well expecting to have it tossed aside with a complaint about cuddling like he had in every inn they’d shared a bed within before. He didn’t though. Aiden woke the next morning with his arm still firmly in place. The grumbling about ‘disgusting dried fluids’ was even worth it.

* Lambert was in a mood. The birds were too loud, the flowers that bloomed alongside the road were too cloying, and the sun was too damn bright. Even Aiden, the only person on the planet that could stand his company more than a few hours, was distancing himself on their trek. The contract was for a pair of griffins, easy enough, but the alderman had smelled of cheap liquor and the look in his eye said that they would be lucky to get half the promised pay. “Hey, kitten?” It comes out as a biting thing, no matter his attempts to keep his frustration off the cat's head. “Yeah?” Aiden looked at him then, eyes that edged on green rather than amber, wide and expecting. “How ‘bout you go on and get our pay. I’ll probably gut the fucker if I have to deal with him right now.” The cat didn’t reach out for him, having spent too long at the wolf’s side not to realize his mood and the preferences that came with it. “Alright. You going to be in our room?” “Yeah, I’m going to try to sleep off the last of this damn potion.” He didn’t manage to sleep at all. Aiden came in with two plates of food and two tankards of ale to find him pretending, face down on the mattress. “Come on, asshole. I got food and most of our promised coin for you… I also got a new gwent deck last month that I’m gonna kick your ass with.” “Like you could win without cheating me, pretty thing.” he forced himself up, toward the food that made him want to be sick with the thought of it on his tongue. He needed it. He knew it, Aiden knew it. Just like Aiden knew that he wouldn't win without cheating. “Let’s see about that.”

* Cats were unstable. Dangerous. They were as quick to change from laughter to anger as a summer sky was from blue to storm gray. Cats were not to be trusted. Every witcher and human child was taught that from the moment they could walk. Lambert was never good at following instructions. “Aiden?” The carnage was… extensive. A dozen bodies torn apart with the strength of a hurricane and the care of a starving drowner. “Aiden, love?” Endearments, true endearments, were rare to pass his lips. They meant one of two things- he was well fucked or he was scared out of his ever loving mind.He stepped over a butchered arm, half cut and then torn, towards the figure in the middle of the room. They had split six weeks before, Aiden going to take on a contract that Lambert wanted to know nothing about. He wasn't naive, he knew Aiden didn't have the same qualms he did about humans and human contracts but he had asked in their third year not to know about them. Aiden respected that. Aiden respected him.It was the blood that gave them the chance to meet then, so strong even from half a mile through the forest that Lambert was helpless not to investigate.  Cats are unstable. Their mutations make it inevitable that they’ll snap one day. His hand wrapped around the cat’s wrist, firm and without fear. He expected him to lash out, was willing to take whatever scar or pain that came in order to simply touch. To ensure that Aiden was real. That the frozen figure wasn’t a lie, a cruel trick played on his mind. Aiden turned, Lambert tensed, but the dagger in his cat's left hand dropped to the floor rather than bury itself in his chest; and Aiden collapsed against the wolf’s chest. He was soaked in blood, Lambert realized dimly. Not just covered but he was dripping in it. Aiden’s hair was matted with it and his blue armor hardly showed through the red. It was old- turning black and crusting. How long had he stood there? “I’ve got you, kitten.” the hand on his wrist shifted to hold the cat’s waist, Lambert raised his other hand raised to clasp Aiden's neck. A feeble attempt at making it all better. “I’ve got you.” Fourteen bodies. Most wore some sort of uniform, a lesser lordling’s colors or some shit but... some did not. There were three men in commoner clothes, a torn scrap of pale lilac fabric, and a small pair of shoes not unlike… Oh gods.  “What happened here?” This is Aiden. He’s yours, he's good. There’s a reason for this. Salt was in the air, nearly lost beneath the copper of blood, and the body in his arms began heaving with sobs.“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”Cats feel too much. Lambert shifted his grip to half carry the other witcher outside, he needed away. He needed fresh air and dirt under his feet. He took the sobbing man around the back of the shack to a well where he could rip one of his undershirts into strips and begin to clean the blood and gore from the man’s skin. The armor, the clothes, they were lost causes but he could make sure that the only stain on his skin would be salt. He started with his hands, coaxing his fingers to uncurl with soft and even pressure. He took care around the nails, more than one of which were broken. Then up his arms with broader strokes. By the time he started on his neck the sobbing had quieted down to shuddering breaths, hiccups that ended before they finished. Ignoring his eyes which were red rimmed and half void of the emotions that wracked him so thoroughly just moments before, he was nearly calm.Lambert wiped at some splatter on his cheek. He tossed the cloth aside and took up another.

“Back with me, kitten?” He needed to be gentle. He had to be gentle for him.“Yeah.” His voice was like sandpaper.“Gonna tell me what happened?” Lambert asked, afraid of the answer.“... yeah.” Aiden swallowed, took a deep breath- shuddered and had to try again. Lambert waited. He could wait for Aiden. Only for Aiden. “Contract was for some kid- not to kill. No, gods no. Someone kidnapped a mayor’s daughter or a lord’s… I don’t know. Titles weren’t important. I just was supposed to find her and bring her back home but... but I tracked them up here after a few weeks. Gal had a lover and a kid no one knew about... I guess the dad's family couldn't stand a bastard kid running around or some shit and I thought that it would be easy to find her and she jus' would agree to keep it quiet but when I got here they were” his hands clenched, rage twisted his lips into a snarl but he didn't try to rise. “They were too distracted with her to realize I’d even gotten inside. They used her as a bargaining chip, Lam. She was half dead, held up here for all that time and... and they offered her to me. Like I was a- I didn’t kill her Lam, I didn’t touch her or that kid in there… that was all them. I tried so save them but it didn’t fucking matter and they... they... Please, please believe me that I wouldn’t- even as angry as I was I didn’t touch them. I didn’t do that to them. I tried. I didn't- I couldn't...” he was rambling, losing it once more and the longer he spoke the more rage built in Lambert’s chest.“I know you wouldn’t.” He pours every ounce of conviction into the words.“I blacked out, Lam. I… I don’t remember it all but I wouldn’t have” he was breathing fast again- panicking. He was losing him again. “I know, kitten. You wouldn’t. I know that, you know that. You’re too good for that, love.” He dragged the cloth over his eyelids, gentle, and then he tossed it into the bucket. He was as clean as he could be without a full bath. “Do you want me to burn it all?”“No, the girl and the kid. They deserve better. I’ll make a pyre for them if you’ll deal with the others.”“I can do that.”So Lambert gently squeezed the cat’s hands, kissed his forehead, heedless of the blood in his hair, and set to work.

* As the days grew colder the men took to curling tighter around each other’s bodies. They were only a month off the incident when Aiden set his lips against Lambert’s neck and said“I love you.”It wasn’t the first time the Cat had said those words but Lambert brought clasped hands up to his lips and whispered against them, for the first time.“Love you too, kitten.” Find more of my work on Ao3

[paperficwriter]

I’ll Follow You Into the Dark

Harboring a fugitive means having to be careful, having to be smart about it. Because what terrible things might happen if someone were to find out? Unfortunately, being particularly clever is not one of Badd’s strong suits.

Written for @kaincuro​! Cut is for length, not for content.

“Where have you been?”

Badd hasn’t even gotten in the door yet. He’s just opened it with his shirt covering his hand because it’s gross, because there are splashes of gore on his clothes. Showers are available at the Hero Association HQ, yes, but it would have meant being out even later. The chance to take advantage of the Class S wing’s amenities was outmatched by his desire to be home with Garou.

“I got sidetracked by two monsters when my shift was supposed to end.” Garou’s eyes shine in the dark like a cat, even when the rest of his face is obscured by shadow, and Badd gropes for a light switch. “Ya could have at least waited with a lamp on. Where’s Z—”

“She’s staying over with that one annoying girl from her class.” A hand grabs his wrist and pulls him. “Why didn’t you call? You’re always browbeating me about using the burner phone you got me.”

“I said I was—”

“After.”

“It died. Garou, let me get a damn light, ya fuckin’—”

There’s a mouth jamming into his, which isn’t really the best way to describe a kiss. This is more like he’s being berated, like it’s a scold in the form of affection that’s being taken rather than given. Garou licks his face, and that’s so fucking gross, he’s told him how gross that is, especially right now when he’s sweaty and dirty. 

That sharp nose presses in next to his, and his face is held by icy fingers. He can hear his lashes falling on his cheeks, and between their eyes is this singing . That’s the only way he can think of it as. A high-pitched energy.

I was worried, Garou is thinking into him so he doesn’t have to say it. 

“I’m sorry.” Despite the grime (clearly Garou doesn’t give a shit) Badd palms the back of Garou’s neck until their foreheads touch into a point of pain. “Hey. I’m sorry.”

“Mm.”

He puts on a little smile. “I’m real flattered that ya missed me so much, though. It’s nice to be missed. Kinda sweet, comin’ from you.”

“Shut the fuck up.” There’s not even an ounce of bitterness in those words; the only thing reflecting any hurt is the way he pinches his cheek.

“Ow.”

“What? You’re the one who liked being missed so much. I should show you all the things I miss. Like these stupid soft cheeks of yours.”

“You’re just jealous. You’re like all skin and bones and shit.”

It’s still dark, but Badd’s eyes have adjusted. He leans his bat against the wall by the coat stand, on the linoleum where he can take it out and hose it off later. It’s the only moment he takes his hands off Garou, and he returns them just as quickly to sweep over his chest. Garou’s shirt is just a little loose on him, which is a pretty big indicator that he’s borrowing one of his.

He leans up until he feels a little soft hair on his nose and the bump of Garou’s ear. “Why don’t you show me all the other things you missed in the shower with me?” he whispers, and damned if he isn’t dragged down the hall on the spot.

Garou hisses when he finally turns the bathroom light on, and Badd gets his eyes on him for the first time since that morning. God, he kind of looks awful. Not that he’s going to say that, but there is this worn quality to the skin on his face, his eyes are a little squinty (even after he gets accustomed to the light) and there’s just a fatigue that’s there that’s not normally there.

“G. I’m okay. See? None o’ this blood’s mine, yeah?”

Slim fingers pick at some dried blood on his collarbone, then practically tears his shirt off. 

“I’m really, really sorry. I promise I’ll try not to let it happen again. I—”

“I almost went out looking for you.”

Badd stops talking for a second. His heart squeezes uncomfortably. “Ya know ya can’t do that durin’ the day. You’re…” A wanted criminal. The only monster that has ever escaped from the Hero Association. “It’s not safe.”

Garou scowls, pulling back, his touch rescinded entirely. He bends his head to rub his face against his own shoulder like a cat, and it makes Badd wonder if he’s trying to spread his scent onto his cheek. “I didn’t, did I?”

"It won't be forever. And it's nice when we go out at night, yeah? To our special spot?"

On the hill that overlooks the river. The one that's two miles outside the city, where sometimes Garou will meet him after work or Badd will drag him out on evenings like this in a completely different outfit.

Sometimes they don't even get there at the same time. They even pretend they're strangers. To spice things up. Keep it interesting.

But Garou doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere. He’s kissing him again, grabbing for his pants, and those pale fingers are getting dirty on his buttons. Badd scrambles to try to undress him too, but Garou is like some unstoppable force when he’s like this. 

“No trips tonight,” he says when he gets to his neck, hand slapping out to start the water. It hits too hot, but Badd can’t get to it to adjust. “I need you here. I’ve needed you here. I don’t want to share you with anyone else, even if it’s just the fucking bugs and birds and shit.”

Badd chuckles and lets Garou pin him to the wall. The water is running murky right now, and this should be gross, he should be shoving him off, but denying Garou is like trying to stop a hurricane with a parasol. 

“Alright, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”

How does it happen?

They fuck up somewhere. It’s hard to say where, or when, or how.

Was it when Garou slinked along beside Badd when he went on a midnight grocery run?

Or the time Garou snarled at a guy who catcalled a girl as he was waiting for Badd to get off the train, and Badd grabbed his arm so he wouldn’t actually take off after the weasel? 

Or was it just chance? A suspicion, a hunch, and a window open a little too wide in the bedroom?

It doesn’t matter.

Garou had gone for a walk. Just a walk. It was fall, so the nights were getting longer, so while Badd dropped Zenko off at their cousin’s for the weekend, Garou went out into the crisp air, hat pulled down over his ears, Badd’s favorite jacket on with the embroidered tiger on the back (the hero had made the piece of clothing too tantalizing, always scolding that if he ripped it or stained it, he’d fucking kill him).

Although Garou’s walks always took him into a run, and then a leap, dashing up buildings until he could see for miles. And this one was different. His slippered feet propelled him from rooftop to rooftop, the smell of drying leaves and burning wood in his nostrils, air whistling.

His phone vibrated. ‘Gonna pick up food. What u want?’

He landed on one foot on the top of a stone cross erected on an empty church. Pigeons noisily swarmed from inside the belfry and out into the air. ‘Dumplings. Soup. Meat.’

‘lol, ok. See u soon.’

That’s the last one. The last text.

When he’s coming back, the noises make his ears twitch as much as his nerves. Anyone else wouldn’t notice, but he knows every inch of Badd’s house. He knows the furniture in it, the weight of it, and he knows what it’s like to fight inside (there were a few of those when he first started living there). 

There are people inside the house. There are people ransacking Badd’s house. 

The part of Garou that Badd always calls “the guard dog side” heats up to combustible levels. Usually it’s “cute” (again, something Badd says), when he glares at the door before he’s pushed off Badd and down the hallway out of sight. 

They’ve sprayed something on the windows so he can’t see. Fine. If they want to do this the painful way, he’ll oblige.

The window breaks as he goes through it so fast that he barely cuts himself, rolling into the bedroom. There are three men in suits, and the bed - their bed - is turned upside down. The nightstand is cracked, the drawer thrown open and turned out. Everything that they have worked to make theirs is ruined, and Garou roars. 

“He’s here! He’s—”

Garou grabs the man’s face and throws him through the broken window. The other two reach for guns on their belts, but the movement takes far too long compared to the speed with which Garou attacks, sending each of them flying into the walls. 

I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you all.

“Garou…”

It only takes a few sprinting steps to get to the stairs that lead to the living room, although it takes three (precious, few, too many) seconds to take out goons in the upstairs bathroom and in Zenko’s room. One manages to get a shot off, and the sound rings in Garou’s ears even as his fist breaks through his nose and jaw. He drops the bullet he caught onto the ground.

From the landing, he can see down into a black sea of men in suits, like the ones he’s dealt with upstairs. Badd is sitting up in a chair, and even from here Garou can see that his eyelids are heavy, a sagging in his cheeks and muscles. 

He’s been drugged with something.

One of the guys has his foot on his bat, which is on the floor, and there are several guns trained on Badd’s head.

He does the math.

Garou is fast, and if it was one person, only one, he could make it. But there isn’t one. There’s...twenty. They are crammed in here, and they all have guns, and there are too many for someone not to get lucky. And from the range they have on Badd, they don’t even need luck.

Run. 

It’s not a word that comes to his mind. It’s one silently mouthed by Badd.

Run, Garou.

Garou shakes his head. How can he run? How can he leave him? Now, at their worst point? That’s not just making him a coward. It’s making him a truer villain than he ever possibly could have conceived of himself to be. “No. Badd—”

So Badd is the one who moves. He sinks his teeth into his own hand, and Garou can feel as much as see how his Fighting Spirit flares. 

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

Shots fired at him, around the room. Ten men pile on Badd, and he disappears under their bodies. “Run, Garou! Get the fuck outta here! ”

Two shots hit him. In the side and in the shoulder. Too much happening. Too many distractions. Below him, he can see Badd struggling, and he knows he’s alive and if he’s alive he can find him, he can get him back.

“Take him down! Don’t let the Hero Hunter get away!”

The Hero Hunter.

That’s all he is to them. He’s still that version of himself that he had given up, the already-flimsy mask that had been torn off in that last fight.

Breaking into a run down the hall is like running through mud. Maybe not physically - physically he outpaces them all, a wild animal that knows the woods better than any clumsy human - but with every step he’s calculating when, where, why, how, will they, won’t they, what are you doing?

He doesn’t just go through the window; he takes half of the wall with him. This time, he barely touches the rooftops as he jumps from one to the next. Anything it takes to put as much distance as he can between himself and that house, those men.  

And Badd? A voice in his head asks.

He smothers it in his molten rage.

---

Who is he kidding? Garou can’t stay away. It doesn’t matter that it’s only been a few months. It doesn’t matter that they will probably check in on the house, or that they may be watching it now. He’s drawn back to it like a bird - like a chicken, that awful voice says again, rearing back, returning over and over no matter how much he ignores it - and in the dark he’s much harder to spot.

He waited a day. That’s as much as he can be expected to wait, isn’t it?

They’ve only put tarps over the holes, so he goes in the exact same way as he did that afternoon. 

Everything is still a mess. Any shelf that was standing or on the wall has been torn off, tipped over, emptied. Clothes have been pulled out and left scattered on the floor, or in piles. Nothing seems intact.

Even the bed has a gash running through it, clearly torn open by a knife. It nicked Badd’s pillow, and feathers are bleeding out onto the comforter. The sight makes him so angry that he picks up the whole bed and he’s about to throw it through the wall when two eyes shine up at him.

“Meow.”

Tama. She’s pushed herself into the tightest ball she can in the corner, somehow evading the terrible events of the afternoon. He puts the bed down, leaning it against Badd’s desk, and reaches down for her. She darts down the hallway into Zenko’s room.

The scene is the same. Granted, he always hated the posters and standees of Amai Mask, but seeing them ruined, torn off the wall (for what fucking purpose, those bastards) makes him nauseated. 

“Meow.” Now she’s under Zenko’s bed. He gets down on his stomach and pats the floor. She doesn’t move.

“Come on, Tama.” She backs up, and he kicks the door closed with his foot so she can’t run away again. “Come. On.”

She can survive. Cats are predators, and they can handle themselves. You’ve done enough— 

“Come on!” His fist lands on the floor. A piece of paper falls off the pink cork board over Zenko’s desk, fluttering to the floor. Not paper. A photo. Badd is grinning, with her up on his shoulders, and Zenko is making bunny ears over his head. Garou stares at it, not blinking, not moving. And then he realizes that he’s just barely in the picture. Half his face, the visible part of his smirk, and he recalls Zenko begging Badd to let her keep it. 

“Just that one. And it stays at home. Understand? No showin’ it to anyone at school.”

“I promise!”

He hates this feeling.

And it’s one he should be used to, isn’t it? Being on his own. He was on his own for so long, living in that shack, stealing food. And only a few times did it ache a little, to be away from the world, but it was worth it, because he had a goal.

What does he have now?

...nothing.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Liar. Liar. Liar.

You could have stopped it. You should have died stopping it. 

No. No. No.

The bristles of Zenko’s carpet are making his face itch, but all the energy has gone from his body. It’s hard to tell how long he stays there, the silence so eerie. No television. No talking. No breathing. 

And then, there’s something. A gentle vibration. He glances up to find that Tama has occupied the space of his slightly-bent arm, where it had been outstretched. Her eyes are heavy, and she’s purring gently. When he picks her up, she lets it happen, and he pockets the photo as well.

For a moment, he considers taking more, but…

No. 

...better to let this chapter end. It’s easier to let it all go. He has the jacket, and Tama, and one picture of them together.

Yes. Look at where attachments have brought you.

---

Garou memorizes the address on the fridge, and rips it into tiny pieces. If they found it already, they have it, and if they don’t, they won’t now. It doesn’t look like anyone is watching the place, so far as he can tell.

He gently knocks on the window.

“Garou!” Zenko looks like she’s been crying, so she must have some idea what’s happened. That makes things easier, although who knows what they’ve told her. Her face is red, and she grabs his arm, trying to pull him in from where he’s crouching on the window sill. 

“No. I can’t stay.”

“You can’t go!” One of her fists punches his arm as her eyes start filling with tears again. “Don’t go, Garou!”

It hurts. He doesn’t...he wasn’t expecting it to hurt this much. “Here.” Reaching into his jacket with his free hand, he takes Tama out and hands it to her. She has to let him go to take the large cat in her arms.

“Tama…” Now she’s sobbing into the cat’s fur, and he remembers just how old Tama is. Old enough to have been there through losing their parents. Old enough for all Badd’s antics, all the things that led him to promise ‘no violence in front of her.’ 

Some good that did.

“Do you…” she hiccups and scrubs her eyes. “Do you know where he is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know if he’s okay?”

“...I don’t know.”

“What do you know?!”

“Nothing!” Before he can stop it, his voice goes as sharp as hers. “I don’t know anything yet! Are you happy?!”

At first, in the moment he regrets it, he thinks she’ll start crying and then...what, is he going to try to comfort her? But instead she puts Tama down, jumps up and slaps him in the face. Which doesn’t really hurt all that much (physically, at least). Not as much as when she yells at him, “You’re the adult! You’re supposed to be able to deal with it!”

...he is, isn’t he.

He holds his hand out. “Give me your phone for a second.”

When she unlocks it and hands it over, Garou brings up the news and searches for ‘Metal Bat.’ Immediately, there are several articles about his “leave of absence” from the Hero Association, about “suspicions of misconduct,” and how he was currently staying in the Hero Association Headquarters where they would be investigating his involvement with “possible criminal monsters.”

A monster...

Garou hands the phone back to her. “You probably saw that he’s at the hero headquarters.”

She nods. “That doesn’t narrow it down much...the new one is huge. You can’t just— Garou!” Zenko pulls hard at his arm as he tries to jump away, like she can yank him inside. “You can’t just go in!”

“I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Take me with you!”

“No way.” She’s about to yell at him again, he can tell, but he gently, firmly pulls his arm out of her grasp. “Your brother will kill me if I get you in trouble. And who will take care of Tama then?”

Zenko hates it. He can tell, because the expression on her face is how his gut has felt all day: angry, grief-stricken, hurt. “Promise you’ll come back for me. That you’ll both come get me!”

He nods. “Fine. Call Tareo. He’ll be worried, and I don’t want you alone.”

He leaves after that without saying goodbye. There’s nothing more to say, and he can’t make any more promises he’s not sure if he’ll be able to keep.

---

Garou spends that night in the special spot. He curls up in the tall grass where he usually does, and below him he can hear the water gently lapping over the rocks. It’s dark, and there’s a breeze, but there are stars overhead. 

He takes Badd’s jacket off and balls it up under his head, where he can breathe it in.

“I love ya, Garou.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, it’s right, jerk.” Badd laughs and smacks his chest. He’s using him as a pillow, that night, and it’s warm yet cool enough that this is the first time they’ve been able to stand being out in it. In the distance, storm clouds are moving in. They’ll be forced home soon.

Garou is playing with his hair. He usually has it down when they go out. The pompadour is too much of a signature for him, too unique. Like this, Garou can pass his fingers through it without it getting caught in product. 

“You don’t have to say it back.”

“Good.”

Badd’s smiling into his flesh, and he traces the outline of one of his pecs. It makes goosebumps jump up across Garou’s shoulders. “You at least like me, don’t ya?” he teases, poking him near the armpit so he jumps. 

“God, no.” Garou rolls until he’s got Badd on his back and he’s looming over him, growling as he places several nipping bites down his throat. “Can’t stand you…”

“Yeah, I get that a lot from folks,” Badd laughs.

“No, you don’t. And that’s what I hate the most.” He follows the path of the bites with little kisses, faintly feeling Badd rubbing at his scalp. “You’re so damn likable...everyone fawning all over you...you’re like the neighborhood mutt everyone wants to give treats to.”

Badd sits up a bit until he can press his face into the soft space of skin under his eye, slotting his nose into the dip of his cheek. “Do ya wanna give me a treat?”

God. He wants to be annoyed, but Badd’s boyish face, his little smile, his hands, even the calluses on his fingers...every piece of him just endears him more and more. Does that mean that this is love? Is this what love is? It’s not like he’s ever felt this for someone before, this positive energy. The only things that he can think of that have fueled him are spite. Anger. Bitterness. At best: boredom.

Not that he hasn’t been kind to others (as kind as he has thought possible) but…

But he doesn’t know enough to say it.

…

You should have said it. You might never get a chance to tell him again. You knew at the time, and the only reason you didn’t say it was because you were a fucking coward.

Garou curls up tighter. 

Or.

An itch is beginning to cover his skin. His eyes actually hurt, like he’s been swimming with his eyes open, but it deepens into a worst burn.

Or you never loved him at all.

“No!” When Garou punches the ground, he can see that his skin is different. Harder, stony. Like that day. His head is on fire. The voice that comes up from his throat doesn’t even sound like his. It’s coming out of a smoking muzzle. 

When he gets up - on all fours, so tall now that the long, hard tail swinging behind him knocks two trees over - he picks up the jacket, the picture still in the pocket, and holds it against his chest. The armor shell that has been forming around him seems to swallow it up, and he can feel the material, feel Badd, pressed to him. Present. Protected.

It’s very possible that he won’t survive the night.

He accepts that.

And as he lets out a howl so long and so low, so reverberating and far-traveling that he can hear dogs on the far shore return his call, he turns away from the hill and begins to run back toward the city.

---

It’s like this was the only form he could take to quiet his mind.

Because when Garou gets to the Hero Association Headquarters, he doesn’t stop to think or consider his next plans. He’s not crafty or cunning (was he ever?). He’s a mad dog. No, a wolf. A rabid wolf, in form as much as action now.

And the Hero Association has never been good at actually defending itself against monsters.

The glass in the front of the huge building shatters as he goes through it. 

“Baaaaaadd!” It’s the only thing that comes out of his mouth where gray fangs make the darkness within look like a cave without an end. “Badd!”

The men inside are shooting at him, but this isn’t like inside the house. The bullets bounce off him, and he runs through them, into a door, another passage. His huge nose sniffs at the air, and even though they begin crumbling under his weight, he starts taking the stone stairs that lead up further into the building.

More security. This time, in the form of flying drones with both constant artillery as well as drugs, electricity, nets. 

Insects. All of them.

It’s not to say that Garou doesn’t feel their attacks. The rocky armor surrounding him cracks in places, pieces falling to the floor in small piles. But he’s being fueled by something greater than metal and energy.

They crunch like cans in his jaws. 

“Baaaadd!”

He tears through another door, clearly reinforced, having to dig through it with his claws. Cameras are watching him; sometimes he catches one out of the corner of his eye, and in the lens he can see his blood-red, burning eyes. 

He doesn’t waste time with them. Let them see.

More humans. More humans with guns, with long spears that end in shock cords, like the kind used to leash strays. Do they think it will be effective? They sting when they touch him, sure, when they manage to loop his ears but the moment he shakes his head he can hear their bodies make contact with the walls.

They keep trying to trap him, trying to close him between lock-down gates. It’s obvious they think he’ll try to go through the steel, but then he just turns and rips his way through the wall. 

More robots. More rolling, shielded automatons. They issue warnings he doesn’t heed, and the ones he can’t literally destroy he just ignores.

Then, it gets quiet.

And that is worse than any of the defense that he’s faced to this point as he’s climbed higher and higher in the building, following Badd’s scent, tracking him through corridors and stairs and firepower. 

When he gets to a large, open room, empty but for equipment and air ducts far up in the ceiling, he’s about to start scaling the wall when the door in front of him opens and a lone figure walks through.

“Ah...I just want to sleep...why do they want to put me to work so late?”

It’s him. Saitama. Again, here, at the end of everything, why, why, why .

He’s picking at his ear, his other hand in the pocket of his striped pajamas. “Didn’t even have time to change…”

Garou’s options are limited. He can go back the way he came, or he can charge forward. But then, would he make it either way? Saitama was fast last time. And Garou… 

He can’t help slumping. God, he’s tired. 

He’s no stronger than he was before…

“Oh, it’s you again. You look a bit different. So...you here to cause trouble, or…?

Garou growls. He’s talking to him like he’s a child that’s gotten somewhere he’s not supposed to be. On the tip of his nose, he can just barely smell Badd still. They’re moving him. Higher? Farther away? It’s hard to tell. “Badd…”

Saitama turns and looks up toward the ceiling, where Garou’s gaze is fixed. “Is that why you’re here? Are you two friends now or something?”

The growling intensifies. This isn’t a conversation he wants to have. This isn’t a moment he wants to share. Not with him. Not with the one person who could break him down so completely, who could ruin everything like it was nothing. 

“I don’t like that, you know. What they’re doing.”

Garou stops moving. 

“Everybody knows Metal Bat. He talks about his sister in every meeting. I don’t think he would do something that would endanger her.” He drops his fist in his hand, as though something has made sense to him. “It was you, wasn’t it? Who they think he’s associating with. You two are friends now. Good thing Genos isn’t here...that probably wouldn’t be enough to stop him.”

Garou watches as Saitama moves, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I think,” he says, cracking his bare feet against the floor, “this is better for you, you know. Doing more of the hero thing. The villain thing was kind of half-assed, you know.”

Saitama walks away from the door he came out of, leaning against the wall.

“And I’m sure I’m probably already in trouble, but it’s going to be worse for you if you don’t go get him now. Because they’ll probably send one of those other heroes after you...maybe that scary girl that flies around.”

Every instinct Garou has is telling him this is a trick. A trap. Not to trust anything he says, to stay and fight.

But what is there to gain? What would be smarter or better than just letting the strongest hero kill him right here, right now? 

...he’s still not going to thank him. He won’t give him that satisfaction. 

Garou just smashes through the door and keeps running.

—

Badd wonders if he’s having some kind of out-of-body experience.

He can’t focus on anything, he realizes. Not asleep. Not awake. 

At one point he thinks...is he at the dentist? Because there’s something in his mouth, keeping him from putting his teeth together...but they don’t cuff your hands to the bed at the dentist, do they?

Now and then, he hears people talking.

At this moment? People are talking much louder. More excitedly. Above him, lights are moving quicker. He can see them around the mask over his nose. 

He’s in a hallway.

And everything is starting to feel...bumpy. Like there’s an earthquake. Is it an earthquake? Are they taking him somewhere safe?

...somewhere safe...because...this place isn’t safe, is it?

People start screaming, and suddenly something huge is standing over him. He’s staring into gray dark, and there are four limbs over top of where he is laying. Somehow, in all of the fog, it’s like…

It’s like he knows he’s being protected.

“Hnngh��?” He can’t talk with the thing in his mouth. And his hands are still trapped.

This...god, yes, this has to be a dream. It’s the only thing that makes sense when all the sounds stop and the creature backs up and stares down at him. A wolf. But...a statue of a wolf? No, more like a gargoyle, because there are cracks in the stone, and that’s falling away, getting smaller until…

Garou.

Garou’s here.

He tries to reach his hands out to him, but...right, no, those have to stay where they are. Except then Garou breaks the thick cuffs, and he’s snapping the harness that’s around his head, holding what he sees now is some kind of bit. He takes the mask off him too.

Slowly, he begins to come back into the real world.

“Garou…Garou, I…” Arms go around him, holding him so suddenly, so tightly, that his muscles object because… “How long have I been here?”

“Two days. I love you.”

Badd blinks. “Garou, it’s—”

“This is my fault. It’s all my fault. I ruined your life. I ruined your life, and they took you away, and if I had lost you, I would have...I don’t know what I would have done. And you would have been gone without me having said it back.”

Badd pulls back enough to look him in the face. He doesn’t even know how to describe the expression that’s there. Garou looks like he’s the one who was coming close to death. “I love you too. Okay? I’m okay. They probably...fuck, they were probably keepin’ me under and all so I wouldn’t trigger my Fightin’ Spirit. If I accidentally bit my tongue ‘r somethin.’”

Garou kisses him, and he kisses back. He’s pretty sure they both know this is not what they should be doing right now, but… 

“Zenko. Fuck, Zenko, is she—”

“She’s okay. So’s Tama.”

Even in spite of the terrible condition they are in, as Garou helps him out of what seems to be a modified hospital bed, Badd has to laugh. “Ya went back for Tama, huh…”

Garou picks up something off the floor. His jacket, he realizes, and Garou puts it on him, over the sort of sterile gown they changed him into. He takes a step and almost falls, and Garou picks him up effortlessly in his arms.

“Ya know...I didn’t think that the first time you would carry me like this would be so...dire, ya know?”

Garou’s face is starting to soften, and as he hears approaching footsteps - running, quickly - he takes them through an empty room. The windows overlook the city beyond. It’s a long way down, but...they’ve both managed from higher places. “Ready?” he asks.

Badd tucks his face into Garou’s neck and steals one last kiss before bracing himself. “Yeah...yeah. Let’s do this.”

He’s not lying. The rest of the details aren’t important. He just closes his eyes as Garou carries him through the glass and the air, into whatever comes next for them, trusting that he’ll get them there, no matter what. 

[queenofbaws]

UD/MoM: Of Mummy Men & Bathtub Soup - 6

Chapter: 6/? Chapter title: Friends without benefit Fic rating: T - Language, blood, light comedic body horror Chapter summary: Conrad experiences the sunk cost fallacy in real-time. Author’s note: Reminder - this is also on AO3, where the texting actually looks like, uh…texting! Previous | Next ---

It was funny, really, how the smallest, most insignificant little choices could change everything. That was the whole idea behind that Butterfly Effect theory his freshman Philosophy prof had been so obsessed with, wasn’t it? A butterfly flapping its wings might cause a hurricane halfway across the globe, or you making yourself a cup of tea might lead to a bus crash in the middle of nowhere, or a photographer snapping a picture might lead to a catastrophic house fire decades later…

Or, in his case, one conversation with Josh could completely kill any desire he’d had to be a better person.

Funny how that shit happened. Real funny.  

His intentions coming into this shit had been pure, maybe even triple-fucking-distilled: After his little tête-à-tête with Fliss before break, he’d promised himself that his douchebag days were behind him. No more jackassery, no more assholery, none of it—from that day forward, he’d be walking into life with a fresh attitude and a newfound appreciation for the other people in his life!

And then this fucking conversation with Washington went and ruined everything!

He’d been doing so fucking well, too! For one, he’d actually lifted his own weight on that sociology project! Now, yes, okay, all right, the argument could be made that every time he settled in to get work done on it was an excuse to talk to Fliss, and that was fair, but he’d still done it. And—and!—he’d returned the bracelet he’d pilfered from Jules. …sort of, anyway. And sure, he’d laughed when he got that particular text…

Conrad: hey you ever find that thing you lost btw? JJ: what thing Conrad: you know Conrad: the thing Conrad: the one you accused me of stealing JJ: that could be so many things I really need you to be more specific JJ: OH JJ: my bracelet!!! Yeah Conrad: oh good where was it JJ: … Conrad: ? Conrad: oh my god was it under your bed Conrad: like I SAID IT WOULD BE!!!!! JJ: I don’t need to take this from you JJ: my accusation still stands JJ: you sir are a sneak thief Conrad: sounds like something someone embarrassed she lost her own shit in her own fuckin dust bunnies might say

…but he hadn’t laughed in her face the next time he’d stopped by to visit. He’d stolen her (upsettingly battered) copy of Fifty Shades of Grey when she hadn’t been looking, yes, but he hadn’t laughed. Say what you wanted, but that was an improvement!

He’d even extended this hand of benevolence towards the CREEPs; he hadn’t bugged them over winter break even once. Not even once! They’d told him they’d prank Alex after break, and he took them at their word. He hadn’t pried. Hadn’t wheedled. Hadn’t whined. Hadn’t even left any passive aggressive Facebook comments. All he’d done was wait. And wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

And now. He was having. This fucking. Conversation. With Josh.

“Hey, you can pull those puppy dog eyes all you want, doesn’t mean my answer’s changing.” Overhead the sky rumbled with the threat of thunder, only adding to the general air of misery hanging around the psych building. Wash looked perfectly in his element leaning there against the building, the hood of his stupid ghost sweatshirt pulled up and his messenger bag slung across his chest, the thin wisp of smoke from his cigarette blurring into the awful grey fog of the evening. Stormy days like these were when he was at the height of his power, Conrad knew…and there was no doubt in his mind the creep was only moments away from delivering some kind of pitch-perfect Joker monologue, à la Heath Ledger.

A kinder person, one who wasn’t a pigheaded idiot, would’ve taken a step back and washed their hands of the whole business then. Really, they likely would’ve realized (mid-back-stepping) that ‘the whole business’ was…kind of stupid. They would’ve sat down and thought to themselves ‘Huh, you know what? I can see now that my obsessive commitment to this goof doesn’t serve much of a purpose besides embarrassing two otherwise happy people just because I’m feeling self-conscious and uncomfortable about their relationship.’ Someone who wasn’t an asshole probably would’ve thought all those things and more, and, upon coming to that ultimate realization, would’ve just walked away from Josh’s 90’s-sitcom-cool-guy lean without wasting another second wheezing in his secondhand smoke.

Conrad did not do any of those things.

So much for pure intentions.

“You promised me—” he began, cutting himself off as a gaggle of students filed out of the psych building’s main door. More than a couple of them ignored the unspoken laws of man to walk directly between where the two of them were standing, if only to cut a couple steps from their commute, further proving his own personal theory that psych kids were just constantly doing everything in their power to be the most insufferable population on campus. It was just as well, though…he’d been getting embarrassingly close to shouting by that point, and experience had taught him screaming rarely worked with the Washington family. They just sort of took it as an excuse to shout back. And those people had pipes on them.

“It’s nothing personal. Look, we had every intention of doing your dumbass little spookfest, but…something came up, and, like I’ve been trying to explain, we dropped the whole ghost hunting shtick. Now we have a podcast. Sort of an improvement, if you ask me—”

Before he could run it through his (nonexistent) internal filter, Conrad snapped, “No one listens to your shitty podcast.”

His shoulders rose and fell in a disinterested shrug. “No one watched the videos. What’s your point? I don’t know why you think, like, you need to stumble upon the right activation phrase or something, man.” He took a drag from his cigarette, raised his eyebrows, and shot him one of those infuriating non-looks he specialized in. “Not happening.”

“You—”

“I keep telling you, Bishop, we’re out of the ghost game.” Something eerily close to an actual human emotion flickered across his face then, but it was gone long before Conrad could place it. “Too bad, so sad.” Josh brought the cigarette to his mouth again and Conrad took his shot—he grabbed it out of his hand and threw it to the concrete before grinding it into a puddle with his shoe. Maybe that would get his attention. Maybe now he could get a goddamn word in edgewise.

“I need you to do this! You promised! What happened to all that bullshit about being a man of your word?!”

Washington let out one last smoky breath before fixing him with a familiar stare—equal parts impatient kid waiting for his mom to finish having a chat at the grocery store and frustrated businessman dealing with someone trying to find the best bargain. “I mean, you just said it yourself. Bullshit. All of it. Every syllable.”

Never in his life had the desire to haul off and punch someone been so tantalizing. His fingers itched. “Look.” Leaning in closer, Conrad turned their conversation into a clandestine meeting of conspirators, the two of them hunched against the drizzle under the eaves of the psychology building. “I wasn’t gonna get into this…mostly because…” he paused, again tormented by that coffee shop conversation with Fliss; much as he was loath to admit it out loud where any ol’ Tom, Dick, or Harry could hear him say it, he and Josh were—ugh—friends. And sometimes friends had to trust each other, right? They had to be…vulnerable.

No matter how absolutely repellent the idea was.

Oblivious to the inner monologue raging inside of his head, Josh loudly cleared his throat to hurry him along…in doing so, making Conrad’s mind up for him. “Mostly because you’re a fucking douchebag…”

Josh shrugged. “Fair.”

“But look, man…Alex is planning on proposing to JJ, okay? Proposing!”

Other than blinking and shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt, there was no reaction.

Did he let that dissuade him?

Of course not.

“He’s PROPOSING, you asshole! As in marriage! Holy, shining, glorious matrimony!”

“Well congrats. I’m sure that’ll be one hell of a party, and you have my solemn oath that I’ll put a good word in with my parents so they actually get something worthwhile off the registry. Say…an immersion blender. Or a lifetime supply of contracep—”

That time he did lash out, smacking Washington square in the center of his chest. He made a choked sound and cringed inward, his carefully crafted expression of aloofness replaced with the wide-eyed surprise befitting a nerd of his scrawny stature. “I know it goes against every atom of your fucked up genetic code, but will you be a goddamn human being for two seconds here?!”

“…I mean, I can try.”

“JJ is…” Blech. Eugh, bluergh, guh, pffflbt, insert other onomatopoeia here. Getting this deep into the weeds of his very soul outside of the psych building felt ooky-spooky in a handful of ways, but…he was already in too deep. These idiots were his only shot at pulling this stunt off, as pointless as it (admittedly) was. “She’s my little sister.”

“Oh man, is she? Guess that’s one I hadn’t picked up on. Any other Earth-shattering revelations you want to pile on top of that? Maybe something about your mom being related to you in some way?”

“Josh. Come the fuck on.” And…holy shit. That actually worked!

Washington watched him for a long moment before rolling his eyes and simply nodding, wordlessly telling him to continue.

“She’s my little sister and all of this is…it’s really, really weird, okay? I’m the one who’s supposed to do all these major life event things first, y’know? I’m supposed to graduate and get married and have kids and let myself go and launch into my inevitable divorce that’ll bankrupt me and thrust me headfirst into the shittiest coping mechanisms I can find. Me! But…” He threw his hands up into the air and let them drop. “But she’s doing them instead and it’s just…shitty. And weird. And I want it to be less shitty and less weird, and…I don’t fucking know, I feel like if I can pull this joke off on them in a big, bad way, then I’ll just feel better about it, somehow. Make sense?”

He glanced Josh’s way, more than a bit taken aback that he hadn’t interrupted him during that pathetic monologue. There he was, just standing there with his back to the building, hands in his pockets and one of his feet planted on the wall behind him in the most classic of edgelord stances, just waiting.

And goddamn it, he must’ve been sleep-deprived or still drunk from last night or something, because…well, he kept going. “I’m lucky if I get a third date on Tinder, know what I mean? Sparkling personality, hot bod and all. Then there’s Jules, about to marry a fucking doctor, and…and they love each other. It’s disgusting, the amount of sap and cheese you gotta swallow down around them, honestly. And they’re going to move in together after they flip that stupid house they’re holed up in right now, and they’re going to get married, and she’s gonna change her name, and…I’m just gonna…be…here.” Conrad spread his arms wide and the universe saw fit to choose that very moment for a roil of thunder to crash down from the clouds, the sky opening to turn the drizzle into rain. “…doing this. Forever.”

Washington let out a breath. “Poetic.”

He dropped his arms to his sides. “Thanks. Been taking a speech class this semester.”

The curve of his eyebrows told him it hadn’t been a surprise. “Yeah, you don’t say.” With a grunt, he heaved himself up from the wall, brushing the back of his sweatshirt off. “I feel you, man—I do—and I’ll even let it slide that you’re clearly trying to appeal to my wounded sense of familial obligation, what with the dead little sisters and all…”

Though he was known far and wide for his poker face, he literally felt the color drain out of him at that. Winter break hadn’t been nearly long enough to erase the memory of that strange, dizzying conversation with Sam from his mind. “Oh get over yourself, I wasn’t doing th—”

“But.” Washington cut him off with one raised finger. “Sob story or not, my story’s not changing. We don’t do the ghost thing anymore.” He shrugged, and to his credit, he did look at least kind of apologetic. “Find some other tree to bark up. Try calling the Maury show, maybe…find a better way to work through all that…” he waved his fingers dismissively, “…touching emotional crap you’re so obviously struggling with.”

“I’m not strugg…well, fine, okay, maybe I am, but—” Across from him, Josh scoffed. “—please? I’m running out of time here! If I’m gonna pull this off, it’s gotta be soon. If I do it after he proposes, then it looks like revenge! Or retribution! Or something similarly Old Testamenty.”

“Oh man, that sounds like a personal problem.”

Every passing second was reminding him why the two of them didn’t hang out more often. “I hate you so much.”

“I get that a lot.”

“I hate you so fucking much, Wash.”

“Let that shit out. It’s healing. Liberating, really.”

Conrad advanced on him, a scathing comeback halfway formed on his lips…and then he dropped it. There was no point. He’d done all he could—he’d tried to make it a business deal, he’d tried to make it personal, and none of it had worked. Why keep beating this dead horse?

Maybe this whole thing was a stupid idea. Maybe it was just a childish, pointless joke that would make him laugh for five minutes and piss Julia off forever. Really, now that he was digging deep into his heart of hearts and giving it the consideration it deserved, relying on the CREEPs should’ve been his last resort. Yeah, he could see that now, hindsight being what it was. Of course they were never going to hold up their side of the deal, he was the idiot who’d trusted them. Maybe this was what he got for that lapse in judgment. Maybe it was karma; something he deserved for being such a self-absorbed dickhead.

So he held Washington’s gaze for another second before he too shrugged, shaking his head in defeat. “Fine. Forget it. This was a dumbass idea from the start.” He flipped his hood up in preparation to make a run for his car. “Enjoy your class about wanting to fuck your mom or whatever.”

He got all of two steps towards the parking lot before the back of his jacket was grabbed.

“Don’t be such a fucking emo, you drama queen. Look…” Josh heaved a sigh that sounded slightly too genuine for his comfort. “You’re gonna think I’m being a wiseass here, but since you went and just spilled your guts at my feet like the protagonist of a Regency-era romance novel and all, I figure maybe I can pony up and reciprocate a little.”

Considering he couldn’t reach any of his softer bits, Conrad thought this was probably the best opportunity he’d get to finally clear his conscience. “…is this because I sort of told Sam abo—”

“This is not because you told Sam about the twins. Don’t you fret, Conman, I’m gonna get you back for that one eventually, and you won’t know when or how but you’ll certainly know why.”

“Fair.” He waited until Josh let go of his jacket to turn around again, and when he did, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen an expression like that on his face before, not in all the years he’d known the guy. “Then…?”

“The ghost hunting shit broke bad, all right? Real bad. However bad you’re imagining it? Double it. Triple, even. There were hospital bills involved. Remodeling costs factored in. Do you know how much good hardwood flooring costs in today’s day and age?”

“What, you guys run into Casper and his uncles up there? Whatshisface from A Christmas Carol rattling his chains?”

Something was, uh, wrong. Something was very wrong. Because he laughed and Josh…did not. No, humor was the farthest thing from Josh’s face. In fact, he thought something in his eyes almost suggested…

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me. Fuck off.”

“I told you you’d think I was being a wiseass.”

“You want me to believe that you saw a ghost.”

Outside of reaching up to scratch at his cheek, Wash didn’t really react to his disbelief, and that should’ve set off warning bells in his head, just like his parents’ weird behavior at the steakhouse all those months back should’ve. But he hadn’t been able to read the room then so it only made sense he wouldn’t be able to read it now. Instead of puffing himself up and digging his heels into the dirt, Wash changed the topic. “Obviously this shit’s important to you, and while normally I don’t care about that at all, I do like the idea of you being somehow indebted to me. So. If you can convince the other three—on your own—to go along with it…” Another sigh, that one sounding mystifyingly more agitated than the last, “…then fine. We’ll do your stupid prank.”

He blinked, not sure he’d heard him right. The thunder was really going for it, after all. “Seriously?!”

“But you gotta be the one to talk them into it,” he repeated, waving that finger of his. “I’m not helping with that.” Working with Washington always came with stipulations, but this was definitely one of the weirder ones he’d been given.

“You idiots all pretty much live together. Why can’t you just have one of your little huddles and—wait, you guys break up or something?” It was out of his mouth before he could control it. A falling out between socially stunted nerds made a hell of a lot more sense than a reenactment of Paranormal Activity in front of a live studio audience, after all. Maybe that was why he was being so weird about it. “What, the mountaintop relationship retreat not work out the way you were hoping?”

All Washington did was raise his eyebrows. “You want our help, Bish? Prove it.”

The curiosity he’d been entertaining about what had gone down in the Pines was wiped clean by the tone of Josh’s voice. The urge to punch, however? Well that fucker was tip-tapping its way back to center stage. “You’re all just gonna sit around and talk about it behind my back anyway.”

“Yeah, probably. Guess you better bring your A-game, huh? Here, know what? All this brotherly bonding with you has me feeling like a new man. So as I begin my journey walking down a righteous path in the eyes of the Lord or whatever…I think I will help you out. Just a smidge.” Wash didn’t exactly sneer at him…but it wasn’t an especially sweet smile he found himself on the other end of, leave it at that.

“Well this doesn’t pass my smell test at all.”

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Josh checked the time, bobbling his head back and forth for a sec as though debating something with himself. “Question is…how easy do I want to make it for you…”

If he got pneumonia from standing out there in the rain while this son of a bitch monologued, Washington Pictures, Inc. would be footing his medical bills. But the boy king must’ve been feeling magnanimous just then, because he slid his phone back into his pocket without devolving into any sort of prepared speech. (There was, he had to figure, a first time for everything.)

“Sammy tends to hit the gym after dinner, so you’re probably still a little too early to catch her there. If I were you, I’d go bug the happy couple first. They should be in the library by now, doing their…” he waved with clear disinterest, “…thing. Fourteenth floor.”

This felt like a trap.

He wasn’t sure how, but it felt like a fucking tr—wait a second. It had taken a second for what Washington had said to catch up to him, but when it did…

“‘The happy couple?’ Okay. See. Now I know you’re fucking with me.” There was not a world that existed where Chris Hartley of all people had been able to scrounge up the nerve to talk to a girl—much less Ashley Brown—not when he’d been witness to just how awkward those two got when they were in the same zipcode.

“Hey, what can I say? Seeing is believing.” Josh offered him another one of those maddeningly knowing looks, then laughed under his breath. “One last thing and I’ll let you go: Do me a solid and tell Edgar hi for me when you get there.”

Was this code? Was he speaking to him in code? Was this some kind of ‘the crow flies at midnight and sours the milk’ bullshit? “Uh…and who’s Edgar?”

Josh’s grin wouldn’t have been out of place on a great white shark. “Eh, trust me. You’ll know him when you see him.” He hitched the strap of his bag further up his shoulder, then flipped him a halfhearted middle finger by way of signing off. He headed for the door to the psych building, and then, like a rotten fart on a windy day, he was gone, leaving Conrad alone in the rain.

God. He needed cooler friends…or at least friends who didn’t make a habit of saying weird-ass, cryptic bullshit like that before making dramatic exits.

He rolled his eyes and made the dash for his car, trying to recall the last time he’d willingly stepped foot in the library, much less gone poking through the upper floors. Desperate times, desperate measures…but he wasn’t too worried. Nah, Hartley and Ash were pushovers. He could (and would) get them to help him out, of that much he was sure.

And maybe—just maybe—he could get them to squeal about what had actually happened in Blackwood.

Not that he was interested or anything. Not that he cared.

[blackandblueandstars]

An Unlikely Arrangement Pt16

Pt1   Pt2   Pt3   Pt4   Pt5   Pt6   Pt7   Pt8   Pt9   Pt10   Pt11  Pt12  Pt13  Pt14  Pt15

TRIGGER WARNING: Discusses non-consensual relations, violence and suicide

They hadn’t talked since that night. Kamilah didn’t want to admit the pain she felt after Amy left her in the bedroom, her heart on her tongue. She didn’t want to show her the way she’d broken her open like a clam and shredded her cool facade, leaving her heartbroken. She couldn’t bear to look at her, to smell her, to be near her knowing that she didn’t feel the same, didn’t love her back.

So, she distanced herself. She dove into her work as if it would calm the hurricane inside her, holing herself up in her office and working nonstop. Amy worked intermittently, but Kamilah limited their communication to memos and emails, unable to face her so soon.

Amy felt the shift in their relationship, she knew it was her fault. Everything -- Kamilah’s broken heart, her injury, Lily’s turning -- everything was her fault. She did what was asked of her at work, but nothing more. She didn’t want to make things any worse than she already had.

Being home alone every night that week, she’d had plenty of time to think about everything that had happened, how her life had changed. The pain in her heart consumed her. She found the piano each night, and each night it wasn’t enough. Tonight was no different.

Her fingers floated over the ivory keys, her body back with him. He always had a knack for making her feel special. She knew, logically, that what he did to her wasn’t okay. But when she felt like this, like a bug clamped under a microscope, her time with him didn’t seem so awful.

He loved her, treasured her, spent time with her. Her heart raced as she increased her tempo, remembering her life with him. He’d broken her, that much she knew. What other explanation was there, for the way she yearned for her captor? She’d been rewired in a way that just didn’t make sense. She was always meant to unravel.

And unraveling she was, hands flying across the keys, the desperate pace still not enough to relieve the emptiness she felt. She slammed her fists into the white keys, the cacophony breaking something in her. Like a waterfall, she rained punches against the beautiful piano, begging to feel something beside the black void that she’d dropped herself into.

Chest heaving, arms heavy, she finally dropped her hands. She stared at the piano, at the damage she’d caused. Just like the lives she’d ruined, the piano was busted and forever broken.

It would never play the same again, she thought. She saw herself there, in the bashed piano, and disgust filled her. She stood, anguish racing through her veins, spurring her to move. She dashed to her bedroom, pulling out the journal Kamilah had given her. She needed to get it all out before it was too late.

---

For the twelfth time, Kamilah reread the same sentence in her brief. Her mind wandered to Amy, to the night they’d shared. It hurt, to remember the security she felt, the trust that she’d given Amy, just for her to turn away. But even though the rejection stung, Kamilah couldn’t help but think of her, wonder if she was alright. After all, Kamilah had been the one to push things. She’d been the one to make things too real.

Why did she have to utter those words? She had always been cool and collected, never before had she been the first to express her love. And yet, here she was, prematurely falling for a damned human. But she couldn’t deny her truth, either. The way Amy treated her that night, the way she made her feel whole...she couldn’t pretend that wasn’t everything. Kamilah was in unchartered territory. For the first time in centuries, she was experiencing something new.

It sucked. How did humans continue with each day as if their emotions weren’t tearing them apart from the inside? God, she felt so foolish and dramatic.

She stood, pouring herself a glass of wine. She drank quickly, pouring a few more glasses as she downed the red liquid. She couldn’t keep running away from her destiny. Amy was what she wanted, and she wasn’t going to apologize for that, but she could wait until she was ready. She had nothing but time.

Resolved to address the situation, Kamilah donned her jacket and headed for home.

The apartment was dark when Kamilah walked through the door. She immediately experienced a sinking feeling in her stomach. Something didn’t feel right.

She flipped the light switch, illuminating the room. Immediately she noticed the piano, the keys busted and the wood splintered. 

“Amy?” she called. Her heart rate quickened, as she crept slowly through the apartment waiting for an intruder to jump out at her. Nothing else seemed to be out of place, which only made her more worried.

“Amy?” she called again. “Are you here? Are you okay?”

She stepped into the hall and saw light streaming from underneath the bathroom door. She could hear water running, perhaps Amy was taking a shower? But then what had happened to the piano? Following her gut, Kamilah stepped up to the door and knocked gently.

“Amy?” she asked through the door. No response. She knocked again, more firmly this time.

“Amy, can you just let me know you’re alive?” Kamilah held her breath, listening closely. Then she smelled it.

There was no mistaking the sweet aroma that hit her like a wall of bricks. Blood. Amy’s blood.

“Amy!” she shouted, immediately concerned. “I’m coming in.”

She crashed against the door, the wood splintering around her as she fell into the bathroom. Amy lay in the tub, water pooling around her. Kamilah quickly scanned her body to find the injury, her heart dropping when she saw the vibrant red streaming from her wrist.

“Oh Amy,” she gasped, darting to the girl. She grabbed a towel, wrapping her wrists and holding tightly. “Fuck!” 

She pulled the phone from her pocket, calling for an ambulance. She didn’t want to risk losing Amy by driving her there herself. She turned the phone to speaker and dropped it to the floor, holding tightly to the towels around Amy’s wrists.

“Amy, come on, stay with me.”

“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?”

Kamilah gave the operator her address, explaining that she needed an ambulance immediately. “Please hurry,” she said, her voice breaking.

Part 17

Tag list: @h-doodles @scarlet-letter-a0114 @wildsayeed @lightning-fury  @galaxyside-0 @blogsupitssam  @ilovetaylor13m @la-guera-69 @adrianrainesworld @iam-the-fuckin-queen @hela-odinsdottir @jen825 @sheyah @lifesadance96 @theoblivionforest @kamilahsayeed-owns-me @sayeedbound @scaryqueenbee @caliseds @kamilahismyqueen

[itsallavengers]

Prompt: "let's get you out of the rain"

Steve hated college. 

He hated the loudness. The constant stress. He hated the assholes who thought they were better than everyone and really, really hated the parties. 

Like the one he was at now. Or at least, the one he had been at. Now, he was just sat on the soaking wet sidewalk, rain dripping down his nose and sinking through his shirt. Behind him, he heard the thumping bass of whatever music they were playing back inside, but he had no interest in going back to enjoy it. He was pretty drunk, too, and wasn’t entirely sure whether he’d even make it to his feet without passing out. 

He kicked an empty can viciously and watched it clatter against the door of some flashy red car. He didn’t even care if it scratched the paint. Life sucked, the world wasn’t fair, sometimes skinny assholes with something to prove ruined your paint job. Guess they were just gonna have to deal with it. 

He hadn’t ever had a chance with Tony. Not really. Tony was beautiful, and popular, and whip-smart. Tony had everything, and Tony could get anyone. And Steve had really had the fucking nerve to think he’d ever had a hope in hell of being the person that boy picked?

How fucking ridiculous. 

Wiping his nose angrily, he blinked back the hot tears and pressed his knuckles against his eyes. He was soaked to the bone; a proper East-coast storm was overhead, and he knew he was probably gonna catch some sort of cold from this. Skinny and sickly, him and bad weather had never meshed well. Hell, a light breeze could knock him flat if he wasn’t concentrating. 

Steve didn’t think a hurricane could bring Tony Stark down, though. He was so resilient. And strong. And he had really great arms. Arms that, two minutes ago, Steve had seen curled around another boy’s shoulders, their faces pressed together as they kissed messily on the dancefloor full of drunk students. Steve had only gone to the damn house party because Tony had begged and puppy-eyed him to come, but in that moment, he didn’t think there was a single force on heaven or Earth that could’ve made him stay there and watch that. Tony had only spotted him as he’d slipped out of the room, and Steve had heard him call out Steve’s name, but hadn’t stopped to look. Just left. 

Now, here he was. Out in the rain, waiting for a cab while Tony stayed inside and made out with… whoever that was. Steve hadn’t seen his face. Steve couldn’t say he gave a damn, either. The point had been made. 

Tony wasn’t interested. All those shy smiles and little touches and stumbled words that they’d exchanged through their slowly growing friendship over the last few months had been just that – friendship. Nothing else. Steve was that kid Tony had been assigned to sit with in Chemistry class, who he got on with pretty well with and enjoyed the company of, but would never truly look twice at. Not in the way that Steve did for him. 

God, and to think he’d thought Tony might kiss him tonight. Him. Hah. 

There was the opening and shutting of the front door behind him, but Steve didn’t turn to look at whoever it was. Probably someone just going home for the night, tired of the noise like Steve was. He brushed them off quickly and then focused back up on feeling sorry for himself, wet and cold and miserable on a Friday night as the boy he loved remained about 30 feet away from him, having the time of his damn life with someone else. 

Except, the 30-feet thing turned out to be wrong. Steve realised as such when he suddenly saw a pair of familiar red sneakers step onto the road beside him, and then the feeling of another body join him in the sidewalk. He turned his head, eyes going wide. 

Tony smiled back at him, soft and sad. “So– unsurprisingly, I managed to fuck this up before it even began, huh?”

Steve just blinked, alcohol-addled mind trying to process what was going on. “Why are you…” he began, before shaking his head and looking away. Didn’t even matter. “Just go back inside, Tony.”

“No, I want to talk to you,” Tony said, “about what you saw just then.”

His cheeks burned, mortified. So Tony knew, huh? Well, that sure made everything ten times worse. “I don’t want to fuckin’ talk about it,” he snapped, “I got my wires crossed and overreacted, alright? You… You feel free to kiss whoever you damn please, it’s none of my–”

“I’m in love with you.”

Northward, a faint rumble of thunder burst through the air, and for a second the rain intensified. It was soaking into Tony’s curly hair, gathering on the leather jacket he was wearing. Whereas Steve probably looked like a half-drowned kitten, Tony just looked… serene. 

Steve choked on his own spit and raised his eyebrows. “Come again?”

“I’m in love with you,” Tony responded, just as confidently and simply as the last time, “I have been for ages. You’re… you’re amazing, Steve. And beautiful and perfect and a whole lot of overly romantic adjectives that I’m not going to bore you with. I was just trying to work my way up to maybe asking you out, but every time an opportunity arose I chickened out last minute. I didn’t want to risk our friendship when you said no.”

This had to be the alcohol. Rain-induced fever. Something other than the truth, for sure. Because the truth made no sense whatsoever.

Tony looked down at his shoes, biting his lip. “Thought maybe inviting you to a party would be a good place to start,” he said with a shrug, “I’m more confident at parties. We’d both be drinking and having fun, and I could make a move, and then if you rejected me I could blame it on the alcohol and we wouldn’t have to bring it up again, saving my ego and our friendship.” 

“But what, you accidentally came onto the wrong guy?” Steve snapped before he could help himself, pulling a disbelieving face and tensing up. “Right, okay. Sure.”

Tony made a noise of distress, his hand settling on Steve’s arm tentatively. “Steve,” he said, “it wasn’t… God, look, I hate to break this to you, but I’m kind of a slut, alright? And when I go to parties, usually a– uh, long term booty call of mine is also at said parties, and for the past three years it’s just been unspoken that if we see eachother at these things, we have sex. Okay? It’s just… I dunno, habit. But not this time! Okay, this time he saw me and he kissed me, and I pushed him off and told him no. I don’t want to, alright, not now.” Tony waved his hands distractedly. “There was someone way more important on my mind– of course, that person had just seen some random guy with his tongue in my mouth and now thought that I was going to be banging someone else tonight, which sucks. And isn’t true.”

Steve looked at him suspiciously. “So you autopilot kissed someone?”

Tony made a face. “Technically, he autopilot kissed me. But I– God, this is a mess. I’m… Steve, I know what you’re probably thinking okay, I know I look like a fucking sleazebag, but I genuinely… it’s only you, okay? I look at you and all I can think about is cuddling you and kissing you and being with you. All the time. You’re funny and you’re sweet, and you don’t treat me like I’m a product. You treat me like I’m worth your time– though God knows why, I mean, look what I give you in return, holy shit–” he shut his eyes and then wiped some of the drops of water off his face, shuffling on his but until he was properly facing Steve. 

Then he rested his palm against Steve’s face, skin warm against he wet rain. “I am in love with you, Steve,” he repeated firmly, “and there is no one else that I want to be kissing. Swear on my life, that’s the truth. I told Ty as much myself. He didn’t take it very well, but then again, he doesn’t really take anything well, so I can’t say I give a shit.”

Steve looked up at him; his earnest open face, his nervous smile, and the fingers that were absently tracing across the jut of Steve’s cheekbone. He wasn’t really sure what to think. 

So he kissed Tony instead, just to see where that would lead him.

The other boy breathed in sharply, eyelashes fluttering against Steve’s cheek as he opened his mouth and let Steve push forward, hands curling around Tony’s neck. The boy tasted wonderful- like apples and coconuts- and his lips were warm. Steve traced his tongue across Tony’s bottom lip and then brushed up inside, making Tony sigh happily and draw him in a little further. Tony was a brilliant kisser. Steve was probably shit, but Tony seemed to like it anyway. 

Then he pulled away. 

“I think you’re still too drunk to decide whether or not you want to do this right now,” Tony muttered, eyes still on Steve’s mouth as he swallowed. “You might still want to be angry in the morning. Which is fair. I’d be upset if you kissed someone else too.”

“I don’t care,” Steve told him adamantly, leaning forward again. Tony giggled softly under Steve’s mouth, kissing back for a second before he pulled back again, his arm slipping around Steve’s waist as the boy wobbled forward. “You’re not kissing someone else any more. You’re kissing me.” He leaned across and tried to reach Tony, but a huge droplet of freezing water fell right onto his neck and slid down his spine, and it made him wince and then shiver violently. He hadn’t really noticed how cold it was. 

Tony looked upward, seeming to realise it too. With a small huff, he butted his head gently into Steve’s, unable to stop himself from giving another small kiss. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get you out of the rain. You’re gonna get sick.”

“M’not gonna get sick,” Steve grumbled, feeling Tony tug him into standing position easily and then wrap his hand around Steve’s waist once more. “S’just rain.”

“Cold rain, that you’ve been sat sulking out in for five minutes.”

Steve pouted. “Can’t blame me– thought the boy I loved was off macking with some other asshole.”

Beside him, Tony stilled. “You…” He began, before just shaking his head and looking away. “Right. Drunk. Save it for the morning, Stark.” He mumbled to himself. Steve made another face– just because he was drunk, didn’t mean he was lying. Surely it was obvious at this point anyway?

Eh. Whatever. He could always say it again in the morning. And the morning after that, and the morning after that, and the morning after-

“What are you smiling at, huh?” Tony asked as he walked them over to the cab that had just pulled up at the curb. His eyes were gentle and his face soft as he took Steve in. By that point, the rain had plastered his hair right down onto his skull and the shirt he was wearing was sticking very uncomfortably to his ribs. For some reason, though, Tony didn’t seem to find it unattractive. In fact, Steve would go as far as to say that the look in the other boy’s eyes made him feel downright edible. 

He leaned up and kissed Tony again. Tony hummed, kissing him back. “This isn’t fair,” the boy mumbled, “I’m trying to be… chivalrous, and you’re making it really– fuck– hard, Steve.” He broke off with a frown and then looked adamantly toward the car, helping Steve into it with a steadying pair of hands. 

Steve’s world span a little as he shuffled into the seat, Tony slipping in beside him. “Don’t you wanna go back in?” He asked when Tony had finished giving the driver directions for Steve’s house.

Tony just looked at him, one perfect eyebrow arched. “No,” he said simply, “not at all.”

Steve smiled, and didn’t remember much after that.

-

He woke up, head throbbing, throat burning, and mind instantly made up. He rolled toward the nightstand, ignoring the glass of water and ibuprofen placed out for him in order to reach for his phone and type out a message.

You’re an assholePlease don’t accidentally kiss anyone else againUnless it’s me. I wouldn’t mind if it was me.Because I love you.Asshole

Like my work? Consider donating to my kofi!

[heartofsnark]

A Hope County Christmas (Part One): The Resistance

Notes: Yes, this is late for Christmas and yes, that means the second part is gonna really fucking late for Christmas. But in my defense, I didn’t get the idea and started writing it until the 26th. It was originally suppose to be just one part, but it got real long and I lost some steam in the second part, so it’s gonna take me longer. So, have this and I’ll post the second part....maybe before 2020. I’ve been talking about my Deputy a lot over on my personal @morbidchild182 but this is the first writing I’ve posted with her. I’m still developing her and working on how I write the characters, so. 

Summary: It’s Christmas time in Hope County and as one might suspect, it can be hard to find any Christmas spirit to spare with Eden’s Gate waging their holy war. Junior Deputy Dahlia Hale fully suspects this holiday will be spent just as every last day has been spent since they tried to arrest Joseph Seed. But, between the Rye’s incurable optimism and the Seed’s...fascination with her, she can’t say she expected this. 

Word Count: 3032 

Warnings: Drinking, play fighting, dumb jokes, dumb christmas shenanigans, Ship Tease between Eli and my Deputy, Some sappy bullshit thrown in for good measure. There will be like Yandere Polyseed bullshit in the second part

A harsh cough echoes in Dahlia’s chest, a hacking noise and her lungs constrict. This is her first winter in Montana and it’s absolutely kicking her ass. Eden’s Gate could only hope of making her feel this shitty. Though, to her surprise the peggies haven’t been particularly active lately.

The Seed brothers are originally from Georgia, the deep south just like her, and she wonders if they’re as badly impacted by the cold as she is. Her leather jacket, uniform shirt and tee shirt under it are doing very little to keep out the chill as she rides her motorcycle through the Holland Valley wilderness. Nick and Kim called her over the radio asking her to head over. She’s hoping everything is alright, she’s not sure how much help she’ll be when she can barely feel her limbs.

She parks her motorcycle by the porch, pulling off her helmet and cringing as the cold air hits her face. There are little twinkling Christmas lights across their porch and the roof, even a few strings around the hangar. They’re beautiful, but a part of her worries about it just drawing in angels.

Dahlia rubs her hands together, trying desperate to regain some heat. Her red and irritated nose suddenly feels wet, is her nose running on top of everything? She goes to rub it away, but there’s a fleck of ice clinging to fingers. Something wet pats against her head, is it raining? She looks up towards the sky. Soft white flakes are drifting through the sky.

Snow.

It’s snowing. She’s only seen snow in movies and TV shows, the white puffy flakes touch her cheeks. Ideas of catching snowflakes on her tongue or having snowball fights flicker through her brain, but she disregards it immediately knowing she doesn’t have the time for horseplay.

“Something interesting up there, dep?”

“Huh,” she startles for a minute, seeing Nick standing on the porch and staring up at the sky, “no, sorry, I just, never seen snow before.”

“What, seriously?”

“Louisiana doesn’t get a lot of snow, seen a few hurricanes though.”

“Shit man, that’s just depressing.”

“As is most of my life.”

“Well, come on in.”

“Sure, but, uh, Nick, do you think the lights are a good idea? Might draw-“

Her voice catches in her throat as she steps into the Rye home, it looks like a Christmas wonderland. A giant ornate tree, Christmas music playing on the radio. A tall tree that the top of which nearly scrapes the ceiling, though it’s bare for some reason. Friendly faces all around; Jerome, Mary May, Grace, Sharky, Hurk, Adelaide, Xander, and Jess in a corner hiding away with Cheeseburger nestled at her side. Peaches is getting ear scratches from Sharky. Everyone except Jess is wearing obnoxiously colored Christmas sweaters.

“Those peggies have taken so much from us, I’ll be damned if they’re taking Christmas too,” Nick declares and she can’t help but smile at his determination.

A few barks ring out and before Dahlia knows it two dog paws have landed on her waist, Boomer demanding her attention. He’s almost as bad as John.

“Hey, boy,” she coos scratching behind his ears and laughing as he gives her a few kisses.

“Deputy,” Kim makes her way over, Boomer moving so she can give Dahlia a big hug, “I’m so happy you could make it out here, I know you’re busy with…everything. It means a lot.”

“Uh, what’s exactly going on, I thought you guys needed my help with something?”

“It’s a trap, Rook,” Jess calls out from her corner and Kim rolls her eyes.

“It’s a holiday party, we have one every year and we aren’t letting the peggies ruin it, here.” Kim hands over a white fluffy sweater, the less ugly of any of the ones she’s seen on her friends. When she unfolds it, she sees a little polar bear face with a sprig of mistletoe by its ear.

“Uh…”

“It’s Christmas, everyone has to wear a Christmas sweater.”

“Except Jess, she threatened to bite me,” Nick says, shooting a slightly fearful look towards the woman.

“I mean, I’d be happy to bite you too, hon,” Adelaide calls out with a flirtatious wink, Kim rolling her eyes as Nick visibly cringes.

“Please, dep, just put on the sweater.”

Dahlia shrugs her shoulders, if her wearing a damn sweater will make them even a little bit happier, it’s more than worth it. The couple has endured enough bullshit with Eden’s Gate, the least she can do is wear a damn sweater. She pulls off her leather jacket and uniform shirt.

“Woo, take it off!” Sharky yells out, grinning like a dumbass and Dahlia’s face flushes red, shooting her favorite pyromaniac a death glare before she tugs the sweater on over her tee.

It’s large, white, fluffy, and feels completely out of place on her. She feels like she looks odd without an outfit that’s at least ninety percent black.

“I can’t stay long,” Dahlia warns as she ties her hair back in a stubby ponytail.

“The lord does permit days of rest, Deputy.”

“Good for him, but I got shit to do,” She tells Jerome as she meanders towards a place to sit, eventually settling somewhere between Sharky and Jess, back tight against a wall and knees pulled up to her chest.

“You deserve a day to take it easy, here,” Kim hands her a mug of eggnog, an odd smell coming off it. It’s probably fine. She takes a drink and the burn of rum hits her, she nearly sputters. Kim laughing at her.

“Can’t handle your booze, Rook?” Grace asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Firstly, I legally can’t drink, secondly this is barely fuckin’ eggnog at this point.”

“Eh, who’s gonna arrest you, you?”

“You’re old enough to risk your ass for us, you’re old enough to drink,” Mary May says, taking a swig of her own drink.

Dahlia shrugs, she did drink a little when she was a minor, but stopped when she became a cop. Based on principle alone. But, fuck she’s never actually liked the taste. She’s not convinced anyone really does. At that same time, Nick steps into the room a Santa hat tilted on his head, where he’s stretched over his cap. In his arms are movies, games, and more booze.

“Ol’ Saint Nick!” Sharky yells out and a chorus of groans follow his stupid joke.

“Figure, we’ll watch a movie, get everyone in the spirit, before we play some games.”

“You mean get everyone drunk,” Kim teases, the only one not drinking the spiked eggnog.

“Same thing.” Nick grins and shrugs as he puts some Christmas movie in, Boomer lays against Dahlia’s side as the bullshit movie starts to play.

“What the hell is that woman doing?” An extra looks directly at the camera.

“Who the fuck talks like that?” The acting is awful.

“Oh god, child actors.” The child acting is worse.

“I’m like, pretty sure that’s a federal offense.” You can’t just look through someone’s mail.

“Eh, who hasn’t committed a federal offense.”

“Most people Sharky, most people.”

“Wait that’s the plot, getting her uncle a girlfriend, oh my god.” The plot is stupid

“Ooh, I wouldn’t mind him stuffing my stocking.” The main actor is easy on the eyes.

“Addie, no.”

“Wait, why the hell did he say it was done, if he hadn’t started cookin’ it yet?”

“Fantastic question.”

“What? What? What?!” This makes no sense.

“Holy shit, Adelaide in five years,” Dahlia blurts out when a perverted granny shows up.

“Five years!? How old do you think I am, Rook?!”

“No comment.”

“You don’t look a day over thirty.”

“She’s your aunt, Sharky.”

“Shut it.”

“Is she an elf? Oh my god, is she a fuckin’ elf?”

“Did she just realize she looks like she dressed in the dark?”

“She took her glasses off, so she’s no longer ugly, ‘cause…y’know.”

“The audio is so bad, holy shit, what are they even saying.”

“That looks awful.”

They’re about halfway through the movie, everyone finding every chance to chime in some comment about the crap on screen. She’s drained two mugs of the spiked eggnog, her cheeks red from booze and laughing. Dahlia’s lost count of how many cookies she’s crammed into her mouth.

The movie finishes and she no longer feel like she’s in any state to take on a cult. Not drunk, but tipsy as all hell. Judging by the flushed cheeks around her, no one is any better off except Kim who once credits are rolling suggest making ornaments and decorating the tree.

Trusting drunk dumbasses to decorate the tree, brilliant.

It’s a disaster. Of course, it is.

Jerome makes some decent angel ones, but the religious aesthetic of anything has been ruined for everyone lately. Mary May’s Santa is holding a beer. Jess’s just has ‘Fuck Off’ scribbled across it. Xander and Adelaide keep trying to have sex puns about crafts, too drunk for any of them to be subtle. Grace’s gun ornament is surprisingly well done, but not particularly Christmas-y. Nick’s attempt to make a plane looks like a lumpy disaster. Hurk and Sharky keep trying to put a dick and or flames on everything. At some point someone throws glitter.

It was her.

Sharky tried to draw a dick on her star, so she started throwing glitter at his dumb face. Now there’s glitter everywhere, the Rye’s home will never be free of it. Also, there’s gold glitter glue on her hands and hair where she tried to push it back, because tools are for fools.

Then her radio crackles to life, ah fuck, she tries to rub the worse of the glue off onto her jeans before grabbing it.

“Hey,” she manages to slur even the shortest word and everyone her is snickering.

“Deputy, it’s Eli from the Whitetails.”

“I don’t know any other Eli, you don’t have to clarify, Mountain Man.”

“Right, uh, sorry. Heard about the Rye’s party, knew you were over that way. I, uh, wanted to make sure you weren’t running yourself ragged.”

“Wanted to check in on his girlfriend,” Wheaty teases in the background and Dahlia’s face flushes brighter red, not from the booze. Everyone around her starts to laugh

“Don’t you have something else to do?” Eli retorts and she can practically hear the embarrassment in his voice.

“Don’t worry, Eli, I’m at the Rye’s being supplied with way too much booze.”

“That’s good, well not good that you’re getting drunk, not that I care if you get drunk, I don’t think. I just mean it’s good you’re with friends and y’know what, I’ll stop talking.”  

She can’t help but laugh, he hasn’t been this awkward with her since he talked about shaving his beard and wondering if it made him look crazy.

“Hey, maybe next time I’m in that area, we can see if we can convince Chad to make some Christmas grub and have a little celebration at the Wolf’s Den?”

Why did she make that offer, she didn’t even want one celebration, why is she doing this? It’s so impractical, why the fuck would Eli want that? She pushes hair back out of her face, she’s so stupid.

“That sounds nice.”

“It does? It does. Cool.”

“Well, uh, Merry Christmas, Rook.”

“Merry Christmas, Eli.”

The radio call ends, and Dahlia lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, all eyes are on her. Some confused and others smirking at the little exchange.

“Never knew you liked ‘em older, deputy.”

“Fuck off.”

“You really shouldn’t have done that to your hair either,” Jess tells her, smirking. Her bangs fall back in her face and Dahlia sees the gold glitter glue now clinging to the dark locks.

“God damn it.”

“Looks like you were too distracted drooling over your mountain man,” Jess mocks Dahlia with an overly sappy voice. Dahlia smirks back, revenge already in her mind.

“Aww,” she cups Jess’s cheeks in her two-glitter glue covered hands, “that was so cute of you.” Dahlia smears it down Jess’s cheeks leaving a mess.

Jess’s green eyes narrow, a weaker woman might freak out at the anger shown in them. But, Dahlia knows too well that there’s a hint of mischief there, it’s all in good fun. The Junior Deputy pulls her hands away from the Survivalist’s face.

“No killing in the house,” Kim warns and that’s all that’s said before Jess is launching over the table to try to grab Dahlia who’s already dropped down and jolted under it, the two switching sides before the deputy breaks into a run.

Their movements are clumsier and slower than usual, booze slowing them down. Dahlia takes the stairs two at a time, giggling as she tries to evade her friend. Jess’s hands nearly latch onto her sweater and Dahlia promptly jumps over the stair banister, boots hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

“No breaking your ankles in the house!”

“Sorry, Kim, oh god!”

Jess is on Dahlia’s back, bringing her down to the ground and laughing as the deputy collapses under her weight. She’s trying to put her in a headlock, as Dahlia attempts to wrestle out of it. The entire party laughing at their horseplay. She swears she hear Sharky or Hurk saying something about needing a mud pit, but she’s too focused on play wrestling to yell at the perverts.

Her radio crackles again and through the struggling Dahlia manages to answer it.

“Rook, heard the Rye’s invited you over for Christmas,” Whitehorse’s voice comes through.

“That they did,” she struggles to respond as she’s using one hand to fend off Jess.

“Hey, sheriff!”

“He can’t see you waving Nick.”

Dahlia cracks, a fatal mistake as Jess uses it to get the headlock.

“Good, I was worried about you, Rook, thought you’d be running around while everyone else took the day off. I know shit’s tough right now but taking time to celebrate the little stuff is what’s gonna keep you going. Merry Christmas.”

“You guys doing anything special at the jail?” She asks as she tries to squirm away, finally just giving up and trying to stand up with Jess on her back and arms around her neck. It’s a piss poor excuse for a piggyback ride, but whatever.

“Virgil’s trying to get someone to cut down a tree, Tracey ain’t having any of it.”

“I can do that.”

“You’re not chopping down a Christmas tree, Rook, Jesus Christ,” Tracey grumbles in the background.

“You’ve already done more than enough, hell, if it wasn’t for you…well there are a lot of people who wouldn’t be here to see Christmas this year. Enjoy your party.”

“Yeah…Merry Christmas.”

Dahlia feels her eyes sting, she doesn’t expect praise or even acknowledgment of the things she’s done. It still seems so foreign, the idea that she’s actually saved people. That people are here, alive and safe, because of her actions. She can never see herself as a hero, but to some people she truly is.

Jess’s arms on her loosen, before the woman just hops right off of her. A soft smile replacing the mischievous little grin. She squeezes Dahlia’s shoulder, a silent understanding that Jess is one of those people. If not for Dahlia, she’d be spending this Christmas in a cage, if she was lucky. But, now she’s spending it in a rare moment of joy and peace.

“Come on, we gotta decorate the tree..”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Jess and Dahlia rejoin the party, feral energy out of their system for the time being. The tree looks like a mess. Everyone’s ornament a disaster and the whole thing looking like an incomprehensible disaster. Nothing goes together. None of it makes sense, but it has…character. Dahlia goes to hang her own bad star ornament after hanging the last bit of tinsel. But, it’s nowhere to be found.

“Here,” Kim hands it to her, but the sloppily coated star no longer has a string, instead on a little cap to be used as the tree topper. It’s an extremely sweet gesture, but…

“I can’t reach.” Dahlia makes a show of trying to stretch her hand up to touch the top of the tree, only to come up embarrassingly short.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha bromigo,” Hurk declares before hefting Dahlia up onto his shoulders, she can’t help but laugh, but places her messy star at the top of the tree. Hurk putting her back down with ease.

“It’s certainly…different.”

“It always an adventure to see how it turns out every year.”

“I’m sure it.”

Another crackle from her radio.

“Who’s calling now?” Nick asks, taking another drink of eggnog.

“Eh, probably just Dutch checking in,” Dahlia answers it, “don’t worry, I’m at the party and I’m taking a break for Christmas.”

“That’s wonderful to know, dep-yoo-tee,” John’s voice sobers her, like a bucket of ice water’s splashed in her face, the entire party going silent as he drags out each syllable.

“The fuck do you want?”

“Easy now, Little Miss Wrath, I haven’t even done anything and you’re already foaming at the mouth.”

“Yet, you haven’t done anything, yet.”

“Someone who doesn’t believe in prophets, claiming to know the future, how ironic.”

“Get to the point, Johnny Boy.”

“I do hope, you’ll be more patient once you fully join our family.”

“You got five more seconds before I hang up and get back to drinking. One, two,-”

“While we don’t celebrate Christmas quite the same as sinners do, the holidays still marks an important time of togetherness.”

“Good for you…Can I go now?”

“Me, my brothers and sister like to spend this time of year together, as a family.”

“I’m gonna blow my brains out from boredom, Johnny.”

“A family dinner requires the whole family, dep-yoo-tee, even the members who’ve yet to accept their role.”

“Are…are you threatening to kidnap me for Christmas dinner?!”

“Depends, will you come of your own volition?”

“Fuck no.”

“Then, I’m afraid you leave me no choice. I’ll be seeing you shortly, dear.”

[kinktae]

Lol what’s wrong with that anon 🙄 she already said that dunno when will be updating part 5 bcs of the hurricane plsss 🤔

Anonymous said: pls take your time I’ll punch anyone who pressures you 😡🥰😍

Anonymous said: anyone getting shitty about part 5 not being out need to take the stick out of their ass. look after yourself and your family, i hope that you’re all okay and safe ♡

Anonymous said: Man, people are so ungrateful. You’re already taking your time to write for us and people can’t seem to be patient with updates. Thank you love, and take your time.

Anonymous said: STAY SAFE BABY

Anonymous said: Pfffffff why are they scolding you??? You dont owe anyone anything

Anonymous said: You want me to come for the anon?

Anonymous said: Hello! I hope everything goes well! I can’t imagine how you’re feeling with the hurricane coming and whatnot, but you don’t deserve things like that previous ask you answered to. I hope more people become more considerate of writers bc as much as we love fics, we’re not entitled to them. Hope you have a good day/night! 😊

Anonymous said: girl I’m.. so sorry for these people saying stuff like that. but as a person who rarely updates myself I feel that even more intensely with a whole hurricane coming ur way like wth

Anonymous said: The way that Anon has literally no respect for writers. But you do you boo

Anonymous said: rose holy shit stay safe ma 🥺

Anonymous said: Dude people should understand everyone has priorities people go to school, work or have kids or are in the middle of a storm. Sorry if that ruined yo mood girl your safety is obviously number 1! Stay safe really!!

Anonymous said: that fuckin ask is so fhjskakal lmao the audacity of some people. You don’t owe anyone anything and above all stay safe!!!!

OMG the support i got from yall makes me :’( thank u guys!! yeah i think anon just got too excited and maybe forgot i’m currently dealing with a hurricane :/ No worries tho friends, you guys reaching out really showed me my readers understand n will wait for me

[emma-nation]

Thinking Of You (Mona x MC Fanfiction) - Chapter 9 // July Challenge Day #12 (Revelation)

You said move on Where do I go? I guess second best Is all I will know

Summary: Years later, Allison has everything she wants, a brand-new internship as a doctor, a handsome boyfriend… but her first nightshift won’t go as expected…

Genre: Romance, Angst

Tag list: @zoe6111, @simsvetements, @mvrinettes, @whoinvitedalx, @scarlet-letter-a0114, @abunchofbadchoices, @kamilahmademedoit, @janurary, @talkinlikeateen, @eagle-one-1, @andreear17, @tia-bi, @monagf, @monahott, @fal-carrington, @crazzyplays, @honorablebicycle​, @teja-desai​, @iam-the-fuckin-queen (let me know if you want to be tagged!)

Notes:

- English is not my first language, forgive me for any mistakes.

- As I couldn’t write an entry for @choicesjulychallenge today, I’ll be using this chapter for the theme (Revelation).

- This chapter contains some NSFW content.

“You bribed my daughter, who has been recently operated, to play the bait for a serial killer on the loose. Are you out of your mind?! You are no different from that Kaneko man!”

The discussion and yelling in the living room had been going on for hours. Mona’s mother, Sara, was extremely furious at Detective Wheeler, not letting him speak a single word. For a moment, Mona even felt sorry for him.

“I told you,” Mona said. “You don’t wanna push her buttons. She will keep yelling at him for days.”

“Wow,” Allison commented. “Now I know where you’ve got your temper from.”

“No, actually I’m more like…”

Mona looked down at the message on her cellphone. Her father sent her a picture of her at college, in the basketball game, telling how proud he was. She knew he was only being sarcastic.

“You’re not like him, Mona. From what you’ve told me he’s selfish, arrogant, puts his own well-being above anything.”

“And how I’m different from that?”

“You took a bullet for me, and now you’re in this investigation because you didn’t want me to do this alone.”

“Maybe I was only trying to spend more time with you.”

Allison looked at her in silence for a brief moment, her eyes staring at her mouth in an inviting manner. Since their false kiss in Brian’s room, moments like that were getting more and more frequent.

“Whenever you want, babe.”

“I want it right now,” she prevented Mona from going forward, “but… Griffin.”

Mona rolled her eyes. It was like that douchebag had been purposely ghosting Allison to prevent her from dumping him.

The door opened in a slam, interrupting the moment.

“And you,” Mona’s mother shouted at her. “I thought you had finally learned your lesson, but no. You’ve got yourself in trouble again, for another woman!”

“…” she still tried to argue, but her mother interrupted her.

“No. Don’t even try to justify yourself.”

She entered the room, impatient, examining Allison head to toes, as if she was scanning for a threat. After she finished, she took a deep breath to recompose herself.

“You two, in my hotel room tonight. 8 o’ clock. Don’t be late.”

———-

Allison had only going through the experience of meeting in-laws only once, with Griffin’s parents, in a fancy dinner to celebrate their anniversary. Meeting Mona’s mother was twice as scary, knowing she held an enormous grudge against her.

8 o’ clock they met her in a hotel room. She was sitting behind a laptop, ready to give them instructions. For decades, she had been working with technology and programming. One of her latest jobs was for the security company, who works for the University they were attending. According to Mona, until now absolutely no one, could pass her security protocols, even to hack grades or the surveillance cameras.

“I’m not being able to retrieve the data without direct access to the University’s network,” she explained. “I’ll need you to go to the library, plug this flash drive in one of the computers and install the programming.”

“Piece of cake for your smartass daughter,” Mona bragged. “Let’s go, Allison.”

“It’s not only that. You’ll have to wait until I’m able to decrypt the footage. When I call you, you clean the computer and come back here.”

“Understood.”

“Do you promise to be careful?” Sara got up from her chair, tucking a strand of her daughter’s hair behind her ear. “If you see anybody or anything suspicious, stop immediately and run.”

“Mom,” Mona assured her. “Nothing is happening to me this time. I promise.”

Allison smiled softly, noticing how respectful and sweet Mona was for her mom. She wouldn’t let anybody else command her or yell at her like that, but with that woman she was an entirely different person.

“Meanwhile we can attend the party,” Allison suggested. “My dad said it could be a good opportunity to find more suspects.”

Mona’s mother expression changed and she looked at her in an intimidating manner again.

“Look Allison,” she sighed. “I have absolutely nothing against you, as we just met. But like your father, I’d rather you to keep a distance from my daughter. In case you have forgotten, she almost died because of you.”

“M-Mom…” Mona tried to argue, but Allison interrupted her. “I’ve already told you…”

“I could never forget what she did for me. And while we both agree it was a little stupid, it also shows how brave and selfless she is.”

“Brave?!” The woman let out a small laugh. “I’ll tell you something, everytime my daughter gets brave because of a girl, it never ends well.”

“I’m completely different from her ex, that I can assure you.”

“How exactly? Where were you for all these years she spent in jail? Did you know she was always mourning your absence?”

“I told her to not go visit me, or even write me,” Mona protested. “I wanted her to follow with her life and she did. No hard feelings.”

Allison inhaled deeply. She felt extremely guilty for never visiting Mona, despite her request. Letters, she had written a thousand, that she never sent, wondering how she’d react. She never wanted to cause Mona more pain, but it didn’t mean she stopped loving her or that she had abandoned her completely. With teary eyes and a confident voice, she finally confessed a secret no one ever knew.

“Wrong. You’re wrong… If Mona is here tonight it’s because of me. Because I could never forget or abandon her. I promised I’d get her out of jail and I did, I paid for her lawyer.”

There was a complete and awkward silence in the room. Mona was paralyzed, she opened her mouth several times but no words would come out.

“Y-You did… what? H-How?”

“Dr. Williams was giving this lecture in Langston, and as I learned she was one of the best lawyers in the country I went after her. She had never lost a single cause. The price I had to pay was extremely high, of course, but nothing that selling my car couldn’t do.”

No more words were pronounced. Mona seemed a little bit surprised and disturbed. The drive to the university was completely quiet. It was only when they arrived at the library that Allison finally asked.

“M-Mona, you’re not mad at me, right? For paying for your lawyer? I asked Dr. Williams secrecy because I didn’t know how you’d react but… I’ve never felt so happy in my life like when she told me they had reduced your penalty in a great deal.”

Mona stopped what she was doing at the computer to look at her.

“That was the hell of a good car. It was really stupid of you to sell it, because of me,” she told. “But how am I supposed to be mad? If it wasn’t for you, I would…” her mouth opened in a huge grin. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

At the desk, their hands met again.

“You’re worth every penny. I would never give up on you.”

“When I’m allowed to, I’m gonna kiss you so much you’ll wish to lock me up again.”

“I could never!” Allison punched her shoulder slightly.

“You’ll see,” a notification indicated the computer job was done. “So, party?”

———–

They were leaving the library holding hands. Mona was so happy nothing could ruin her mood, not even Krista, who was sitting at a near desk focused.

“Look at her, isn’t her perfect?” Mona commented. “Way too perfect?”

“What?” Allison furrowed her brows. “Do you think she could be a suspect?”

“It won’t hurt to take a look.”

Hidden behind a shelf of books, they waited until Krista left for a moment. Mona rushed to her desk, taking a hurried look at her papers. As expected, all she could find was Krista’s homework and a schedule with her Bible studies.

“You were right after all,” she told Allison. “Our girl is clean.”

Yet, something caught her eye as they were leaving. A keychain hanging out of her purse. Her brand-new car had been acquired at her father’s dealership.

The party was crowded and loud. A hurricane of teenagers getting drunk and wild in many manners. Spotting them as they arrived, Brian waved and smiled, coming in their direction.

“Hello Brian,” Allison greeted.

“Have you seen anything weird these days?” Mona asked.

“Except for two dudes from the team joining Kista studies?” He told. “Not at all. It seems whoever is selling the stuff is laying low for a while.”

“I see. Remember our deal.”

“Always.”

He returned to his drinking game with a group of friends.

Mona’s high expectations for that night were quickly frustrated, when Dr. Allison Wheeler told she couldn’t, under any circumstances, to play beer pong or do a keg stand yet, because of her recent surgery.

“That’s okay, I guess I can keep living without a full-experience of college. How else are we supposed to have fun then?”

“Let’s dance,” Allison took her by the hand to the dance floor. “Still get the moves?”

“You can bet on it, gorgeous.”

Mona started dancing around her in a seductive, inviting manner. Allison responded by doing a sexy set of moves herself, pressing her back on Mona’s body and leaving their faces only one breath away.

The song changed to an old pop song. Allison’s expression suddenly changed. She became sad and distant.

“What’s wrong?” Mona asked, placing her hands on her waist and bringing her closer. “Missing Irwin?”

“It’s nothing,” Allison wrapped her arms around her neck. “It’s just…” she looked down, blushing a little bit, “this song used to make me sad. It reminded me of you.”

Mona closed her eyes, paying attention to the song’s lyrics. She had listened to it probably a thousand times before, but it never meant anything so far. As their bodies slowly moved together, she inhaled Allison’s sweet and hypnotizing fragrance. It was becoming harder and harder to resist the urge to kiss her.

“Well, you’re getting your ’another life’. It’s up to you to take it or leave it.”

“I’m not letting you get away, not again.”

Mona brushed her lips on Allison’s, requesting her permission to go further. But before she could move forward, her cell phone started ringing.

“My mom,” she announced. “She has gotten the footage. We have to go.”

———-

Allison sat tense on an armchair, waiting for Mona’s mother to play the footage on a screen. She glanced at Mona, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, so expectant as she was.

“The Leon guy is innocent,” her mother told, pressing the ’play’ button. “Here we have our suspect. The one who cleaned the basketball player’s room.”

“Krista?!” Mona shouted, looking at the screen. “I knew it! I told you, Allison. Too perfect to be true.”

“But… she’s only the tip of the iceberg,” Allison said. “Somebody big and powerful is commanding her.”

Mona fell pensive, before letting out of laugh.

“Of course. David is behind her! He’s her godfather. It explains his move to Los Angeles and his sudden obsession with me. He expected me to be his dealer.”

“Wait,” Sara interrupted. “You think your father is developing synthetic drugs? Honey, at this point I thought you knew him better. David is a dumb coward.”

“But her car came from his dealership!”

“I hate to do this but…"

Minutes later, Mona’s father, David, also joined them in that small hotel room. Allison had never been in such an awkward situation before. There was clearly a tension in the air between the three of them. Recently, Allison learned that Mona’s parents were quite young when she was born. When she was only two, her father abandoned them for his current wife.

"A family gathering. How lovely,” Mona mocked. “Allison, call your father. Something tells me his handcuffs will be needed here.”

She gave her father a threatening look.

“What? You think I’m behind this girl?!” He protested. “I’ve never seen her in my life before.”

“She has the same car as you. It came from your dealership and gifted to her by a godfather.”

“Wait, now you mentioned it, I think I remember…”

He searched his phone for the most recent sales of that specific model of car.

“A little over two months ago, this man came to my dealership. He bought not one, but three, of this same car model. He paid for them immediately, in cash. I thought it was shady, illegal maybe, but…”

“You needed to make money,” Sara finished.

“Exactly,” David cleared his throat and passed her his phone, while she did a background search on her laptop.

“Got it. Indeed, he’s Krista’s godfather. There are plenty of pictures of them together on the internet.”

She transmitted the laptop image to the larger screen. Allison’s eyes went wide, as she couldn’t believe what her eyes were seeing.

“Dr. Carlson?!” She covered her mouth in shock.

“Correct, Emmett Carlson. Powerful and influent doctor. A perfect mind to be behind the drug’s creation. Do you know him?”

Now everything made sense. Of course she had seen Krista before, in one of the big parties the Carlsons threw.

“I heard him on the phone with a guy in the hospital’s parking lot the other day,” Mona told. “I thought the conversation was creepy but I had no idea.”

“Now I’ve been declared innocent, can I leave?”

Mona rolled her eyes at David. Then, she approached Allison by the window. Placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay? I mean, it must be hard for you to know…”

Allison hugged her and started sobbing.

“The main component of the drug is obtained from a plant, found only in Africa. You know what that means right?”

Allison nodded, without being able to answer. Griffin was involved in the scheme, of course. It explained his trip and his recent behavior.

“I’ll be alright,” she took a deep breath. “I just need to get out of here and clean my head for a while.”

———

“Allison,” Mona told. “I know how you must be feeling but… this isn’t a good idea at all.”

“I don’t care,” she accelerated Mona’s car at the empty and dark road, as much as she could. “I do it all the time when I need to relax.”

Mona started questioning what was making her more nervous, if it was the fear of getting caught by the police or the fear Allison could damage her car.

In a sudden and dangerous move, they were out of the road and Allison started drifting around the sand. At least now Mona was sure of the improvements her father had done in her car.

They stopped. Allison was panting in stress and adrenaline. She looked determined to start drifting again.

“Stop,” Mona placed her hand on the wheel. “You’re gonna get us both killed and we need to hand your father this flash drive with the evidence we got. We’re doing this, right?”

“How can you even ask this?” Allison shouted. “What do you think I am? That I’m involved too?”

“Of course not, but… this will be the end of your engagement with Griffin.”

In a blink of an eye, Allison moved unexpectedly and straddled Mona on the passenger seat.

“My engagement with Griffin ended when you walked through that hospital’s door,” she wrapped her arms around Mona’s neck and stared deeply into her eyes, making her heart race inside her chest. “Don’t you understand? I never belonged to him. My body could be his, but my heart and soul were always yours!”

Her eyes locked with Mona’s burning in pure desire.

“I was only with him because I couldn’t be with you.”

Mona grabbed her left hand, looking at the big diamond on her finger.

“Can I do the honors?” Mona asked.

“As you wish,” Allison shrugged.

Mona slipped the ring out of her finger, throwing it by the window in the middle of the desert.

“Good riddance.”

Her mouth met Allison’s in a hungry and desperate kiss, while her hands explored the rest of her body, wanting to feel every inch of her. Allison’s mouth lowered to her neck, placing small kisses and biting softly.

“You still remember how I like it.”

“How could I forget?”

Allison took off her shirt, letting Mona kiss the way down to her chest. Her hands traveled from her lower back to the waistband of her skirt and then to her inner tights.

“Should I take it slow or…?” Mona grinned.

“No,” Allison kissed her again, nibbling on her lower lip. “Give me all you’ve got.”

“Remember, you asked for it.”

Wasting no more time, Mona’s hands found their way to where Allison wanted her the most. As she massaged the most sensitive area of her body, she moved her hips to meet the rhythm. Her mouth wouldn’t leave Mona’s not even for a second.

“You have…” Allison moaned between pants, as she arched her back in pleasure, “no idea… how much I wanted this.”

“Really?” Mona teased, whispering in her ear. “So that means you’d still think of me, once in a while, when you…”

“Everytime. Even when I was with Griffin. Sometimes I’d close my eyes and pretend it was you I was having sex with.”

“Okay, you’re driving me really crazy here, but we’re kinda cramped. Let’s move to the backseat.”

As they moved, Allison quickly advanced, pinning Mona on the backseat, where she started taking off her clothes. She started placing kisses everywhere she undressed. When there was only Mona’s underwear left, she stopped.

“What are you waiting for?” She complained. “I wanted it as much as you did.”

“Sorry, I hadn’t seen it in a while. I appreciating the view, you know?”

Allison laughed, lowering her head between Mona’s legs. She moved her tongue teasingly, reducing the pace to prolong the sensation.

“Am I doing this right?” She continued to provoke.

“Allison… just do it…”

“What’s the word?”

“Please!”

She lowered her head again, moving more intensely now, until Mona collapsed in ecstasy.

“Are you exhausted yet?” Allison wanted to know.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve waited eight years for this day. No way I’m stopping this soon!”

———-

When Allison woke up in the morning, she was still undressed, lying in Mona’s arms, in the middle of nowhere. Her phone had dozens of missed calls from her dad.

“Oh shit,” she looked at herself in the rear view mirror, checking the small purple bruises on her neck. “He’s going to kill me.”

She woke Mona up with a kiss and told her they needed to go.

“Come on,” she pulled Allison back to her arms. “Only a little bit longer. It’s just that… it feels unreal, like the last time.”

“It’s different now, there’s no Brotherhood standing in our way. We’ll have plenty of time to do this.”

“Straight to the precinct?” Mona asked, after getting dressed and taking control of her car.

“Actually, let’s go home first,” Allison suggested. “We’ll have a long day ahead and I’d like to shower first, grab something to eat.”

“Sure.”

A while later they were back to Allison’s place. A familiar car was parked in front of the house.

“Is that your dad’s?”

“I don’t think so.”

Allison swallowed hard. The front door was unlocked and as she opened it, two figures were standing in the living room.

“Dr. Carlson, Griffin. What are you both doing here?”

[elliot-orion]

Introducing...

The Empath

“When you are angry, I get hives. When you are scared, I throw up. There is nothing you can feel that I won’t feel ten times over. So no, it’s never felt like a blessing. It just feels like hell.” 

I have no idea how to make a summary for a short story/novella/whatever this is going to wind up being, especially when i don’t actually know whether it’s going to extend past what i have planned (which will probably be about 15,000 words) or not. which makes this... difficult, but also i really need to talk about my babes so we are making this. So... uh... i guess under the cut i’ll just talk about the characters and weave in the plot i have planned, and if it winds up going past this small side project into novel territory, I’ll reintroduce it. Good plan. Someone take my blog away from me because i’m bad at this...

Charlie Diangelo: Charlie is 100% the reason i am making this post instead of just posting the story like i was intending to do, because holy SHIT i need to talk about him. Charlie is the Empath, who is probably the most powerful empath in the country, maybe the most powerful in the world even idk. But its really shitty, because the way his empathetic abilities work, is he gets different bodily reactions to emotions. So not only does he mentally get the “yep, they are feeling worried” thing, his fingers and feet start tingling and going numb, or if they are feeling disgusted, his jaw locks up. That sorta thing. He has to live in the middle of nowhere with only his partners really seeing him, because otherwise, he could very literally die from the effects of the emotions on his body. fun! Personality wise, he’s a big ol’ sweetheart and a complete bean, who just wants his partners to stop fuCKING GETTING HURT DAMN IT! He’s cottagecore to a fucking fault and genuinely enjoys the quiet, and is pretty happy living out there. (so of course the SA has to go fuck it up...) 

Hollis: One of Charlies 3 partners. They are the Hero, Stopwatch, and can stop time. duh. They are pretty good at it, have good range, stamina, whatever. They are probably 75% of the quads impulse control, and the only one keeping them all from killing themselves.  The other 25% goes to Charlie who is trying to keep Hollis from killing themself. Because don’t let their mature and responsible air fool you Hollis will 100% come home stabbed and bleeding to death, and say it’s nothing, they are ready to fight again. They just don’t know how to sit still when people are getting hurt and they could do something about it (even though “you were just STABBED you CAN’T do something so sit back doWN FOR FUCKS SAKE”) But for real, Hollis deserves more credit than they get for wrangling a chaotic neutral dumbass who needs to be on a leash i stfg, someone who doesn’t even wear earrings anymore because she is so DTF at all points in time, and a bisexual who everyone thinks is distinguished, but is very much a disaster. 

Nora Stone: She’s supposedly a Villain, the Succubus, which is really, really misleading, because 1, she’s gray-asexual and doesn’t even flirt when using her powers so like wtf, and only got the name because she really likes fancy clothes and 2 she’s not even a Villain, more of a thief, but because she called a bunch of politicians and told them to vote no on a really corrupt bill of the SA’s that didn’t wind up passing because of her, so the SA made her a Villain so they could punish her extra hard if she got captured. So there’s THAT. Her powers are just that she has a ‘special voice’ as Charlie calls it, and if she uses it, someone has to do what she says. She pretty much just uses it to get Gucci without paying though, and like, getting jobs for her parents because no one hires Super immigrants (”tHeY mUsT bE vIlLaInS sEnT tO dEsTrOy Us” bullshit). She’s protective of her partners and loves her family and community to death, and has used her voice to help people and for activism many times, because she can help save people with a phone call to a politician, so why WOULDN’T she? Nora was actually the first of the quad i made and the only one who hasn’t been changed a dozen times, which is a cool fun fact too. 

Oscar: Oscar has probably been changed the most, but i am very happy with where he is now. He’s the Villain, High Flier, and has pretty strong air powers. Like, pretty damn strong here, though not quite Elemental strong. And unlike Nora, he is... very much an actual Villain, and is also an International Villain, so that’s like a Big Deal. He likes just causing big ass wind storms with hurricane/tornado level wind speeds. Fun! Though tbh, he doesn’t cause destruction and whatnot to be MEAN or hurt people, he just likes chaos and having fun, and standing in the middle of a gigantic tornado with buildings flying around him is his idea of fun, so... *shrug.* He’s definitely almost given Hollis an aneurysm like 8 times, and makes all of them super stressed because he goes on trips and won’t come home for like 2 months, and postcards aren’t really enough when you know whole countries want to shoot your boyfriend, you feel? He’s super sweet with his partners though, and always comes home for holidays and birthdays and brings really thoughtful gifts from everywhere he goes for them. He’s just antsy and needs to keep moving, and probably only has two feet on the ground when he’s cuddling with his partners, every other time he is floating on wind.  But also, he’s not really Sparky, hyperactive, ADHD, like, he’s more just restless, wanderlust, must see everything this world has to offer, sorta thing, and gets really depressed if he stays in one place for too long. Though, yea, he’s totally got ADHD too, lol.  I love Oscar to death, ngl, out of the whole quad, he and charlie are my favs. (sorry nora and Hollis, i love you too)

That’s pretty much the characters, and in a short sentence, the plot is the SA fuckin ruins their breakfast and makes Charlie do something he really should not be doing but he’s going to do it anyways because it means he keeps his partners safe. So fun stuff!! This probably will be posted, most likely a dual posting here and on Wattpad. Hopefully doing that will kick my butt in gear and make me put up Hell in High Heels again. (sorry but ATDADT is not going back up, it sucks ass, not happening. Plus i might make it into a full novel. It’s up in the air) (actually would hell in high heels make a good novel to? .... i need to fucking STOP with the DHU already holy shit someone take my imagination from me...)

tag list! lmk if you want on or off! @albatris @ageekyreader @dreamcontagion@merigreenleaf @knightedwriter @norawritess @simplesamples I’m not doing the sparks fly tag list because idk if they actually want other stories in the DHU, but let me know if you two do want to be on the whole DHU tag list, same with everyone else!

[kaunis-sielu]

One Bed

This is for @emilyevanston ‘s Marvel Trope Flip Challenge. Thanks for letting me join!

Steve didn’t love these parties, the ones where he had to schmooze with politicians and celebrities. He never said anything because everyone seemed to have fun. But they always seemed to get a bit, rowdy. He preferred the team only gatherings, ones where he felt like he could relax and not have to worry about the his image or that of the team. Where he didn’t have to be so guarded about his private life, specifically his feelings toward you.

Now that he was thinking about it he hadn’t seen you in a while. Not since you came in like a small hurricane this afternoon raging about your discriminating former landlord who’s kicked you out for being ‘one of those super powered freaks’.

Tony’d given you a place in the tower, something you hadn’t really wanted but it was that or be homeless. Besides, you were now only two floors away from him and for Steve that was a blessing, and probably a curse.

He moves through the party, nodding and smiling occasionally when someone acknowledges him. Steve spots Sam and Bucky in one corner and weaves his way toward them.

“Hey.” He says with a smile but before he can even ask if they’ve seen you Bucky hitches a thumb over his shoulder.

“She’s out on the balcony.”

“Who?” Steve feigns ignorance and both of his friends scoff.

“Shut up man. We know you’re sweet on her, and you got this look on your face.” Sam teases, Steve doesn’t say anything, just rolls his eyes and heads for the balcony where Bucky’d said you were. The two men laughing softly in his wake. Was he really that obvious?

Sure enough once Steve steps out into the cool night air he can see you. And the empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the ground next to your seated form.

“Hey.” He says softly causing you to whip around.

“Cap.” You mumble and he knows you’ve had more than enough alcohol tonight.

“How ya doin Doll?”

“Mm. Fuckin peachy.” You grumble but your slurred words make it sound more like ‘fuggin’ and Steve can’t help the smile on his lips. “I mean, I save New York right? Save the world on the weekly and whadda get? Fuggin evicted. My powers aren’t even scary, or anythin! Fuggin jackazz.” You sigh and grab the bottle again then let out an irritated whine when you realize it’s empty. “Did you know- Steve did you know he called me a freak! Me! A freak! Like no Steve! No.”

“Alright Doll, Why don’t you gimme that bottle and let me take you up to bed?”

“Mm, bed. Can you go rough em up for me? Just like scare him a little. Jus a little. I wanna get my shtuff back.”

“We’ll take care of it in the morning okay? Let’s just get you to bed.”

“I’m thirsty.”

“How much did you have to drink tonight?”

“Jus one.”

“You’ve had more than one.”

“Uh uh.” You argue and he raises a brow at you, “Jus one bottle Steve. Tha’s all.”

“Damn.” He mutters before standing up he reaches down, pulls you to your feet then scoops you off your feet.

“Woah.” You mumble and Steve laughs softly. “Yer strong.”

“Thank you Sweetheart.” He says carrying you into the large room, Steve ignores the wolf whistles and the calls about you being okay and heads straight for the Avengers only elevator then heads up to your new floor.

It’s a basic room, none of the stuff in it is yours but there’s a couch, table, chairs, and most importantly a bed. While it’s only a double it’s good enough for the sudden visitor, with or without powers, who ends up needing a place to stay at the Tower.

Steve sets you down on the bed, grabbing another blanket from the closet he drapes it over you. You whine softly when his warmth moves away. “Steve.”

“Just a second Doll. I wanna get you some water and pain killers since I have a feeling you’re gonna wake up with one hellva hangover.”

“Mmkay.” You hum sleepily, missing the soft look Steve gives you. It makes him a little crazy that he’s falling in love with you and you have no idea. He could tell you, but if you don’t feel the same about him it could ruin everything.

And Steve couldn’t risk it.

He comes back with the pills and water and you’re curled up on your side. He places both things on your bedside table then presses a soft kiss to your forehead, you blindly reach for him and capture his wrist.

“Stay.” You mumble holding his hand.

“Doll there’s only one bed.”

“You’ll fit.” You tell him holding tightly to him, you don’t want him to go.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He promises. You try to pull him to the bed but instead he sinks down onto the floor by the side of your bed.

You sleep soundly through the night, your fingers tightly woven through Steve’s. When you wake you’re momentarily confused about where you are, then the events of the day before come rushing back. At the same time it registers that you’re holding someone’s hand.

Someone who’s sitting on the floor by your bed.

Someone with light brown hair.

Someone who’s snoring softly their head tilted back.

Someone who looks a hell of a lot like one Steven Grant Rogers. You squeeze your eyes closed again then open them, convinced this is a dream. When your eyes open again he’s still there, soundly sleeping, your right hand wrapped in his.

“Steve?” You whisper but he doesn’t wake, “Steve.” You try again a bit louder. This seems to do the trick and his head snaps up as his eyes pop open.

“Oh god.” He groans loudly rolling his neck side to side before looking at you with those beautiful blue eyes of his. “Morning.”

“Morning. Why are you asleep on my floor?”

“Because every time I went to leave you’d start crying so I quit trying to leave.”

“You didn’t want to come up onto the bed?”

“Didn’t know if you’d be okay with it.” God would you ever.

“Well, sorry I cried and made you feel like you had to stay. Can I make it up to you? Breakfast on me?” He nods then groans at the pain in his neck. “And maybe a massage.” You say with a small laugh.

“Then we can go to your apartment and get your stuff.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Doll, he called you a freak, you’re not going back by yourself.”

“Okay,” you agree softly, “But first, breakfast.”

“Deal. Let me go change and I’ll meet you back here in 10.” You nod and he lets go of your hand then stands. You stand too, then follow him to the door.

“Oh and Steve?” He looks down and you and you rise up on your toes and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks.”

You give him a soft smile as he stares down at you, his fingers touching his cheek where you’d pressed your lips. You close the door gently, Steve stands there for a few more seconds then you watch through the peephole as a smile lights up his face.

Maybe there was a chance for you after all.

[pvnthcrc]

“I’m Mariposa Vivienne, not just anyone, but A QUEEN. Ask whoever you want, and they will say the same.” Mari’s cheeks sunk in exposing her sculpted cheek bones as she sucked in the smoke from the thin cigarette. A dry, sarcastic chuckle lest her lips as she didn’t bother to look at her friend, Anne. “I gave him everything, I gave him best years of my life, I taught him how to be a man, a King.” She spoke way too calm, almost nonchalant, yet the venomous smirk remained on her full lips. “Now, I’m Mariposa Vivienne Panthere, Angelo Panthere’s wife and a mother of his child.” Her eyes, eyes of a lioness threw a piercing shot at the 5 year old boy who played a slow melody on his father’s white Bösendorfer grand piano. She took a pause as if she listened to the melody, her long, black coffin nails brushing through her long, raven hair. Mari was deep in her thoughts as the cold stare stayed on her son. Anne noticed the way Mariposa was looking at the little boy, and just to hide the pinch of uncomfortable feeling she dipped her eyes into the glass of wine as she took a sip. “I’ve carried that child for nine months. And this motherfucker still fucks every dirty hole he sees on his way.” Mariposa said through her teeth and warmed her mouth with the liquor that was in her glass. “I was too stupid to get pregnant by that unfaithful ass cheater.” She stated lowly and only then Anne decided to speak up. “Mari, darling, you know how all men be... And Angelo, he’s one of the most known musicians in the world, I know he loves you but-...” Anne didn’t had a chance to finish, she got interrupted by Mari’s sudden shout. “Jahseh, stop playing that damn piano and go to your damn room!” Anne bit on her lip as she watched the boy who’s dark, cat shaped eyes looked at his mother. He had her eyes, his baby face seemed to be emotionless but somehow Anne felt bad for the boy. “Go to your damn room, Jahseh, or I’ll beat your ass in front of this white bitch. I said go!” Mariposa said in French to her son; he understood every word while Anne had no idea what Mari just said. He got up from the piano stool and without saying any word he left the huge living room. “When I see him, I see Angelo. They both make me sick.” Mariposa kissed on her teeth as her lighter flicked to fire up another cigarette.

“How could you embarrass me like this, Jahseh?” Mariposa was furious; she dragged her 10 years old son to the empty room and pushed his body against the wall. “But what did I do, mom? I haven’t done-...” Jah tried to explain himself but instead his cheek ended up burning from a loud slap that her hand left across his face. “How could you tell The Willson’s about your father not being at home right now? How dare you open your mouth you little piece of shit!” Mari wasn’t loud, but her low, soft tone stabbed her son harder than a dagger could. “But dad’s on tour, I haven’t said nothing wrong!” Jah wanted to rub on his cheek and just leave, but he remained emotionless and held his mother’s stare without even blinking, which pissed Mari even more. “Your bitch ass father is not on tour, you idiot! He’s living with that bitch right now, but you be talking too much!” She rose her hand again, and another slap touched his soft skin. Nothing changed in his face. “You told me he went on tour.” Jahseh replied as his mother was on flames. She opened her mouth to drop another hurricane on her son, but she changed her mind and smiled at him. “Now, fix your damn face and go back to guests.”

“Mari, I haven’t been home for 3 fucking months. I been on a damn road, I’m fucking tired and now you pulling all the bullshit on me when I just want to get a damn rest, at my own house.” Angelo tried not to raise his voice as he eased his tie that now hung over his neck. He picked up a heavy, crystal decanter and filled up a glass with his favorite cognac. “No, Angelo, you will have to listen to me, I don’t care if you’re tired or not!” Mari hissed as he approached her husband and took the glass away from his hands. Angelo sighed heavy and shook his head while rubbing on his nose bridge. “Posa, tomorrow’s Jah’s birthday, let’s just act like a normal family, ight? I’m fed up with your drama, let me celebrate my son’s 16th birthday, that’s all I’m asking right now.” He made a step closer to Mariposa and opened his arms in attempt to get her closer and hush her down, but instead Mari threw his own drink right in his face. “Fuck you and your son, you motherfucker! I know you’ve been with that bitch!” She kept yelling, and this time, for the first time after all these years Angelo wasn’t able to deal with his wife’s hysterics; he grabbed her by her shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “Shut the fuck up! Say anything ‘bout me but don’t ya dare to say shit ‘bout your own son you psycho ass bitch!” Like a wild cat. Mariposa began scratching and pushing Angelo but he held her as tight as he could. “I hate you! I hate you both! Get your hands off me, fucker! Ya’ both ruined and keep ruining my life! Burn in hell!” She kept yelling and to shut her up Angelo’s palm landed on her cheek in a slap. A dead silence filled the living room. Angelo pushed her away from himself and left the room before leaving the house. Mari fell across the couch and exploded in a loud cry. A few minutes later two hands gently wrapped around her shoulders. “Ma... Don’t cry..” Jah said softly bringing his mother closer to himself. “GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” She pushed Jahseh away and got up from the couch pointing his finger at her son. “You and your father, I hate you both! You two are the same! You’re a fucking monster just like he is!” Jah clenched his jaw and got up as well. “Ma, ya need to calm down..” Although, she was thinking otherwise. “Don’t tell me what to do! Get out the house, I don’t wanna see your stupid ass anymore!” Grabbing Jah by his dreads he dragged him towards the main entrance while sending kicks to his body forcing him to go faster. “Get out!” As she kicked him out, she shut the door right in his face. It was a chill night, Jah had only his shorts and flip flops on. Shaking his head and rubbing on his shoulders, he began to walk away from the mansion. Where the fuck should he go now? He didn’t had his phone with him, his father probably at some fancy ass hotel right now. He just kept walking, aimlessly. He couldn’t go to his friends, what would he tell them? Plus, he had to keep that perfect picture of their family. What if everyone gonna laugh at him because of all this bullshit? All he could do is to walk. “Yo, Jah, is that you?” Jah didn’t even notice a black Benz that pulled up besides him. Jah had to squint his eyes due to the lights of the car just to figure out it was his plug, Kevin. “Why ya half ass naked walkin’ ‘round here?” The plug laughed some as Jah smirked and shook his head. “Bruh, I went outside for a smoke and dat damn security system locked the whole house, I can’t get in.” Jah was that great ass actor who deserves the damn Oscar’s because when he lies, he lies. Kevin chuckled and leaned over to open the passenger door. “Hop in, I got new stuff ya might like.” Jahseh got into the car and the plug drove off. They had a chat about this and that before Jahseh asked. “Yo, do you have something that would KO my ass? My mind goin’ crazy right na’, fuck lean and weed bruh, this shit ain’t able to shut down my mind.” At that moment, Kevin parked the car and both stepped out. Now, they were on the way to Kevin’s appartment. Jah’s question caused the male to chuckle. “What, no more xannies for you, Jah? I got something if you’re not pussy..” He opened the door letting Jah in. “Let me try bruh, I just need whatever. Just put it on my check.” Jah said plopping down on the couch. “Well, okay.” Kevin went to the other room and after some while he came back with a strap that he threw at Jah. “Wrap it just a little beneath your shoulder.” Jah let out a laughter. “Ya trynna gimme a shot bruh?” Although, he did what he was told. For right now, he could care less. “Ball your fist up.. relax it... ball it up again.” Kevin instructed as he watched the vein bulging up on Jah’s forearm. Jahseh’s curious gaze followed after Kevin’s actions. He saw a syringe, then felt a light pinch, and then... he flew away, far far away, to the lands of euphoria where everything seemed so peaceful and easy. And he didn’t want to get back to the real world, so he didn’t.

Warming up the substance on the spoon turned into a daily basis for Jah, he was able to do it with his eyes closed since it’s been a while of his relationship with heroin. Being more than sure he’s all alone at home, Jah sat in jacuzzi where he tightened the strap around his arm and held it’s end between his teeth as he aimed the needle to his vein. Another shot, another dose of a paradise. His head fell back as his eyes closer, his arm with the trail of red marks from the numerous shots fell over the jacuzzi border. “JAHSEH!!!” What the fuck her voice is doing here, in his fairytale? What the fuck is wrong with this high? Why he could hear his mother? Why it feels like her arms touching him, why it feels like her nails dug into his skin? Why his face burns as if it gets hit after hit? You know what, not today mother satan, you not gonna appear in his fantasy and ruin it for him. At the end of the day, everything is a fantasy, right? Jah threw a hard punch and his fist felt like it hit it’s target. He heard a scream, his mother’s scream, and it made him feel good. He threw another punch. And another. His vision cleared up a little and now he was able to see the silhouette of a woman. Well, today he’s on a weird trip if he can see his own mother in his own heroin dream, but if it’s only a dream he can do what he want, right? Climbing out of jacuzzi, Jah grabbed the woman by her hair and pulled her closer. “I’m fuckin’ tired of ya shit, bitch.” His hist curled up and smashed against the beautiful face. The woman fell down, Jah hovered over her and continued throwing hit after hit over her face and her body. And it felt so good.. All these years of being hated, humiliated, beaten up and terrorized by her, it felt so good to release his hurt and anger in this heroin dream of his. Suddenly, as by a snap of the fingers, Jahseh sobered up as if he never took his shot. His chest rising high, up and down from a hard breathing, his knuckles bleeding and when he looked down he saw Mariposa who tried to crawl away from him. “Ma...” He muttered not really believing in what his own eyes showed him. Grabbing his phone, he dialed 911. That’s how Jahseh Panthere ended up in a rehab, that’s how he got on probation, and that’s the secret The Panthere’s had to pay a good check for to keep it unknown and hidden from every single soul.

[elecmon]

@zarbon

Oh my God that's when it gets wild like get this, this was all just season ONE

Season two is when you find out that the biological mother of Devimons kids was actually Witchmon and she's the one who originally had him cloned bc she wanted to kill the original Devimon and then make the memory-less blank state clone sign over the deed to the castle he inherited from his uncle. He refused to give her anything in their divorce and now that her plan is ruined she's focused on pure revenge this season

So Clone Devimon and Myotismon and the kids he re-adopted are all living happily together in an old beaten up shack. Piedmons mansion burned down to the ground during the big night and they lost everything in the fire (including the evidence that Myotismon killed Piedmon, the whole village was terrified of him so they let it slide just this once LOL)

So anyway they're enjoying life when one day this lawyer comes to town to tell Clone!Devimon that his castle repairs are all done and he's able to move back in and everyone's like WHAAAAAA and they move in and their lives start to change drastically. The kids start going to private school and Myotismon returns to the high society life he was raised in. But god the Clone!Devimon is SO LOST, his memories returned but it's more like he remembers the motions of the original version of him, but not the important details. So he's struggling to fit in and that starts building another wedge between the two that Myotismon is choosing to ignore because he doesn't want to lose this new second chance.

THEN COMES IN WITCHMON BARGING INTO THE CASTLE IMMEDIATELY STARTING TO TRY AND SIEZE THE PROPERTY

Myotismon and her get into a big fight and then Clone!Devimon comes home from picking up the kids and they're like MOOOOMMYYYYY and she's like HOOONEEEYY HE'S TRYING TO HUUURT MEEEEE Mevi/Myotismon are like WHAAAAAT??!! and she flips out THEIR MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE

Turns out she's still married to Devimon!! They never got the divorce finalized bc he LEFT AND THEN FUCKIN DIED

SO SHE STARTS LYING ALL ABOUT HOW SHE MISSED HIM AND WAS DEVASTATED HE DIED AND BLA BLA BLA and Myotismon is SO upset and confused bc god he was CHEATING the whole time??!! Clone!Devimons like wtf no I swear we divorced shes LYING but Myotismon storms off in the middle of a hurricane

Clone!Devimon chases after him and Witchmon makes no effort to go after either of them she's just looking smugly out of the master bedroom window while the camera zooms out dramatically because it turns out she had hired the local police and she showed him her documents of OWNING the castle so they arrest Myotismon for trespassing and Clone!Devimon can't help him anymore so he decides to go back to the castle to make sure the kids aren't in danger or anything

While in jail, Myotismon meets a masked stranger who sympathizes with him and offers to help him escape and take her down/get revenge. As soon as Myotismon agrees to the help, they both get released, TURNS OUT he's this secret underworld boss and he has actual control in the area and was waiting for an excuse to storm into Devimon castle/get revenge on Witchmon for disfiguring his face. Myotismon tells him he can keep whatever he wants from inside the castle, he just wants his family back and her gone.

It's hurricane season and it's still raining that morning when they manage to storm the castle and capture Witchmon.

that's when they find out she poisoned Clone!Devimon and had the kids locked in a room. Clone!Devimons not gonna make it he's like Dying dying when the masked man takes his mask off and it turns out HE WAS THE ORIGINAL DEVIMON THIS WHOLE TIME

He was only beaten to near death and managed to escape. TURNS OUT Witchmon had paid off Piedmon to assassinate Devimon because he left her, so he hid away to grow an underworld army and plot revenge the whole time. He does some magic shit and absorbed the clone version of him back into his body because why not plot. And they manage to take her down finally for real.

Myotismon is relieved he has both versions of Devimon, the kids, a fully protective army, AND get to be well off in the castle getting to live finally for real happy together

What would a diginovella be?

Myotismon and Devimons were in a failing relationship before Myotismon cheated with Piedmon causing Devimon to get so pissed he antagonized the village children who killed his ass dead and Myotismon was like devastated and what he didn't know was Devimons family had his ass already cloned but that doesn't come up until later because whatever plot reasons

Anyway Myotismons estate was struggling financially so he was feeling happy that he was well off with this new relationship until he finds out he's CHEATING and he's like bro what the fuck and he pretends to not know about it bc he's gonna steal all the money and take it back to his estate

MEANWHILE the clone got a job as a servant in the mansion but he like doesn't remember the past life cos plot reasons whatever anyway Piedmon decided to adopt the village children and raise them to become his successors and Myotismon is like bro what the fuck my money so he starts with a murder vengeance plan and he hires the clone who also doesn't even look anything like Devimon because also plot reasons whatever he dresses up this dude like rags to riches and has him pretend to be some prince from a far off land, just like his ex was and he's like damn you remind me of someone, anyway- *murder revenge plot*

Then comes like the night of the big fancy ball or whatever and that's when the big murder revenge plot in motion and you find out the village kids were originally hired by Piedmon to kill the original Devimon but that also they're Devimons biological children so they decide to side with the new clone to take down Piedmon who THEN IT TURNS OUT WAS PIEDMONS OLDER ESTRANGED BROTHER THE WHOLE TIME

Myotismon is like fuck this I've had it with your family and he takes out Piedmon and the whole town is like BROOOOOO MURDERER and that's when the clone gets his past memories back and is happy to see him again before being like DUDE THAT WAS MY BROTHER it's ok he was a dick I guess, deserved