#i'm so busy this week and this was by far the most stressful and straining commitment

[confinesofmy]

me and my grandmother got in an argument on the way home and she said she thinks her grıef for my mom is more significant than mine. 😅 haha okay! glad i spent these past 8 and a 1/2 hours with you, you fucking asshole!

[reds-writings]

crashin' the party

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: a bit of a whopper that had me stumped for a bit. i sincerely hope you like it. i didn't plan to go this far with the jj universe but the more i do the more fun i have with these two! i'm going to rearrange my masterlist a bit and put these parts in a more chronological order! this part technically takes place before the events of if only tonight we could sleep. feedback is always cherished and my requests are open!

word count: roughly 6.7k

warnings: cursing, fighting (verbal and physical), two idiots being dumb, miscommunication trope, the boy's a liar, guns, mentions of drugs, rust self-sabotaging, marty being marty, ANGST, making up at the end, things can be a lil toxic, reader gets the shit end of the stick in most of this, etc

You hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something rather egregious was brewing behind your back over the past several days. Starting with the unfortunate shitshow that was Marty’s young thing of a mistress letting Maggie in on his line of transgressions due to a fit of spite. The fallout was more than unsavory which had him plenty distracted with trying to hopelessly pick up the shattered pieces of his now blown-up marriage. 

Then, Rust decided to take a few week's leave in the middle of the case. Which came completely out of left field given his obsession with having this all solved more rapidly due to the ever-shortening time limit Quesada had set for you all. A dying father in Alaska or something along those lines. He hadn’t exactly informed you of it directly himself until you rang him up the night he was supposedly set to depart. 

“Heard you were takin’ leave.” You idly twisted the phone chord between your fingers as you sat atop your kitchen counter. One of your coworkers at the precinct had mentioned it off-handedly earlier in the day and you were more than curious as to why everyone else seemed to know of Rust’s so-called last-minute trip and not you. 

“Yeah.” Rust’s static voice sounded back to you, sounding stranger than what was his usual. More dazed and gruff.

“In the middle of this case?”

“Mhm…”

“...Mind sharin’ why?” He was being more elusive than usual and it was starting to grate your nerves further by the minute.  

“Visitin’ my father. Anchorage. He’s dyin’.” 

Oh. 

“I’m uh...I'm sorry to hear that…when are you headin’ out? Need me to drive you to the airport or somethin’?-”

“Marty’s takin’ me. Tonight.” 

That made you even more surprised. It wasn’t like the two were necessarily all that chummy. You tried not to let it sting that there seemed to be a purposeful choice in having Marty take him instead of you. The dynamic between you two wasn’t at its most idyllic but you hadn’t thought it to be too strained despite recent events. Things with the investigation were just piling up, getting trickier and more stressful to manage as time ticked on. 

Sure, you guys hadn’t exactly been able to elaborate further on what was the bomb of feelings he had all but dropped on you but you hadn’t been taking it personally. At least not until now. Maybe he was starting to regret things. This was probably him pulling away so you’d get the hint to not be so keen on him moving forward. Were you coming off as desperate?  Suffocating?

Realizing you’d yet to say anything you cleared your throat a bit, “Thought Marty would’ve been too busy dealin' with winning back Maggie and everything...” The couple already managed to give you more than a migraine or two since things went to shit. On top of Marty’s deep-seated 'woe is me' bullshit, Maggie had managed to stop by demanding answers in a hysterical flurry to things you had no knowledge of or frankly any business in. 

“I won’t be back for a bit.” It was becoming apparent that he wanted to finish up this conversation sooner rather than later. 

“Okay…I guess I’ll keep lookin’ for leads and whatnot. There might be a girl I know from way back who’s tied up in the kind of crowd we’re lookin’ at. I’m hopin’ she might be familiar with Ledoux or somethin’. If there’s anything you want me diggin’ into just give me a shout I guess.”

He was silent for a moment you considered too prolonged.

“I gotta head out. Keep track of what you find. Marty’ll be watchin’ my place.” 

“You got it.” 

More silence.

“Bye, Y/n.” 

“Bye-” The line went dead before you knew it. 

Geez. 

The dial tone mocked you as you sat there in curling embarrassment. You don’t think he’d ever blown you off so bluntly before. Not even when you two first met. Your neck and face started to grow warm as you fought off the increasing sense of rejection brought on by your own insecurities and his sudden callousness. You were just overthinking things. Rust’s father was dying and it wasn’t like you could expect him to properly express what it was he was going through. You just had to be somewhat okay with standing by on the sidelines until he was ready to open up on the matter. 

You hadn’t heard much about Rust’s parents or his upbringing but from what little tidbits he managed to drop it wasn’t anything to be envious of. Things seemed complicated from the sounds of it so you had no doubt Rust was probably just having a tougher time trying to navigate what he felt in anticipation of the grief that awaited him ahead.

Meanwhile, after hanging up on you, Rust couldn’t help but bring a heavy hand to his eyes as he sighed through his nose. Marty eyed him warily as he sat across from him in the depressing confines of his partner’s apartment. 

“So you lied to her.” 

Rust didn’t bother meeting the blonde’s disappointed look. 

“You don’t think that oughta blow up in your face? She’s sharper than you may realize…ain’t some fragile thing who can’t handle her shit-”

“Don't need her on this, Marty.” Rust tried remaining passive at the mention of you. 

Things were becoming too complicated. A consequence of his pathetic failure to keep his baneful desires in check. Giving in to those false hopes had him feeling increasingly weak and cheap the longer he had time to sit and torture himself over it. To entertain such notions with you was cruel to an extent he found himself severely uncomfortable with. It wouldn’t work. Not in this lifetime or perhaps any other that would exist in the infinite hell that was the universe. If he backed away now perhaps he could still hold onto whatever little semblance of control he had left. 

“Don’t need her on this or don’t want her on this? There’s a mighty big difference, buddy.” Marty didn’t necessarily know about the recent developments between you two but it was apparent he was becoming aware that something was afoot. The pair stared at each other long and hard.

“This is a two-man job. No need for added weight.” Rust broke first, taking a long drag from the cigarette pinched between his nimble fingers.

“Sure, if that’s what you need to tell yourself. This is her case too and I don’t appreciate you havin’ me be part of some lie-”

“I can remind you that you haven’t had much of a problem with lyin’ as of late-” 

“Oi, don’t get all judgy with me just cause you’re scared of somethin’ you ain’t got the emotional bandwidth to fuckin’ handle on your own. Y/n’s a smart girl. Strong. It would be unwise of you to underestimate her abilities because of some holdup you’ve got-”

“Marty.” Was Rust’s final warning. The steeliness of it had the blonde’s hands going up in mock surrender. If Rust didn’t want to unpack his growingly obvious partialness towards you then he wouldn’t bother pressing. It’s not like he was much in the mood to help out the pissy curmudgeon he called a partner with any hypothetical advances toward you. Marty saw you as something similar to that of a little sister. He wasn’t sold on the idea of romance, if Rust were even capable of the notion, happening between you two. In his opinion, your heart was just too big for the likes of Rust. He didn’t want to see you put in the monumental effort of caring for the hopeless loner only to be sorely disappointed in return. 

The days following the odd phone call had that intuitive feeling in your gut growing all the more sour. You tried your best to find more on Ledoux but the bastard was practically a ghost. Any and all traces left behind were either long gone by now or slipping from you faster than you could blink. Marty wasn’t being much help either, hardly showing up at work or being in a perpetual state of buzzed when he did actually bother to grace everyone with his presence. 

Though, anytime you did really manage to catch him he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye for longer than what he deemed necessary. Either the obvious bout of drinking he was throwing himself into was reaching a dangerously depressive territory or he was feeling guilty about something else entirely. He never was the best at bluffing when it came to things outside of the job. It was even more rare to find yourself in a situation where he had something to lie about to you in the first place. 

Something was definitely up. 

“Maggie talk to you yet?” You asked, setting down a styrofoam box of takeout in front of him as he sat miserably hungover at his desk. He took a peek inside and mumbled a quick ‘thanks’ before deciding to dig in.

“No…she ain’t answerin’ any of my calls. Her pops told me to fuck off plenty already so he ain’t an option of gettin’ through to her neither.”

“It’s a pretty big deal, Marty. It’s best to probably just…give her time to feel angry. Your constant pokin’ at her is only gonna drive her away further. Goin’ to the hospital huffin’ and puffin' like you did didn’t help your case either.” You sipped your coffee as you watched him rub at his eyes.

“I just needed her to hear me out. Hell, I even got Rust to go-” His stocky shoulders locked up suddenly, seeming to have caught himself in revealing too much before settling on shoveling more food into his mouth. 

Your eyes tightened in suspicion.

“Speakin’ of, you heard anything from Rust while he’s been away?” 

Marty shook his head a little too fast to be considered convincing, “Not a peep,” Obvious lie, “can’t imagine the intense bouts of angst he’s brewing up for himself all the way where he's holed up.” 

“Mhm. How’re you holdin’ up at his place? Need me to bring by anything? I know it ain’t necessarily the Hilton-”

“N-no! I’m good. No. I uh-...I got some groceries the other day. It’s a mystery how that guy survives with what little he keeps in his damn fridge. Just ridiculous.” He coughed and took a sip of his own coffee, avoiding your growingly pointed glare. He could feel sweat start to form on his brow and he knew he needed to head out before he fucked everything up even more. Having Maggie angry at him was already enough to deal with. 

“I bet. Listen-”

“L-Look I gotta get goin’. Regrettably, I drank too much last night and it’s honest to God catchin’ up to me right about now and I don’t need Quesada givin’ me shit. Sorry to bail on ya but I’ll see you later, a-alright? Thanks for the food.” Marty scrambled to get his stuff before semi-hurrying to scamper off. He could feel your eyes burning at the back of his head but he didn’t dare to look back. 

Unfurling your arms you sat your mug down and reached for the receiver on your desk. It was a last-ditch effort, dialing Maggie, to see if Marty’s slip of the tongue about Rust meant anything substantial. If they were chatting here and there while Rust was away that was fine. If Marty was having Rust get through to Maggie all the way from where he was that was fine too. If Rust wasn’t in Alaska at all then you’re sure that ugly sensation building within you would multiply tenfold easily. After a few rings the line clicked with an answer.

“Hello?” Maggie’s soft lilt came from the other line. She sounded a little less upset than when you last saw her but still tired nonetheless.

“Hey, Mags. It’s Y/n. Just wanted to see what you were up to. How’re you holdin’ up?” You tried to maintain an air of complete casualness. No ulterior motives to this call whatsoever. 

“Oh, hey! I uhm…I’m doing okay I guess. Trying not to let everything catch up to me all at once, y’know. It’s been hard…keeping what I can away from the girls. Marty just won’t quit it with trying to wear me down. It’s exhausting.”

“Yeah…I told him to leave you be but he never was much of an avid listener. We may work together but just know I ain’t takin’ his side on all this.” You offered up and it was true. Marty may have been your coworker for several years now and something close to a decent friend but this wasn’t something you were gonna coddle him about. The consequences of his petty adultery were ones he had to deal with entirely on his own. 

“Thank you. You should try telling Rust that. Marty’s resorted to having him try to talk me down too, if you can believe it. Not that it worked or anything but I’m getting tired of feeling like I’m the one who should feel guilty for walking away when Marty decided to fuck it all up in the first place.” The woman’s tone grew a touch more frantic as her rant went more into detail but you stopped listening at the mention of Rust. 

Y’know, the one who was supposed to be thousands of miles away right now. 

“He got Rust to talk to you?” You interjected, only feeling a tiny pang of guilt for cutting in.

“Y-yeah. It uh…well it didn’t go to well. Y’know him. He didn’t try to blow smoke up Marty’s ass too much but he brought up the kids which more or less set me off. I said some harsh things but he just wouldn’t quit it with the whole ‘men and women don’t work' thing and 'our only purpose is reproduction’ or whatever bullshit spiel he had on his list of many-”

“When did this happen?” 

“Earlier today. We met at some diner but it didn’t last long with him walking out. I do feel bad for getting ahead of myself but…I don’t know. If you see him could you tell him I’m sorry? I don’t want things being more uncomfortable than they already are between all of us…” 

Ice started to spread like some nasty disease in your veins. The way your heart was stuttering out of rhythm had you grasping at your chest. You held the receiver between your ear and shoulder as your mind went blank at her simple confession. You didn’t know if what was actively consuming you was pure rage or a deep sense of betrayal. He had lied. They both lied. Like it was nothing. 

Why?

Forcing yourself to sound unaffected you spoke up again, “Sure, I can do that for you. I’m sure he ain’t too hung up on whatever it is you said so I wouldn’t beat myself up over it. Sometimes he oughta be put in his place for what he lets slip out of his mouth.”

“You’re probably right. Thank you, Y/n.”

“No problem. I’ll check in with you later alright, Mags?” Your chest was starting to rise and fall at a rapid pace. You needed to get out of here. 

“Alright, Y/n. Thank you again. Take care.” Was her warm reply before you set down the phone almost robotically. 

They had really fucking lied.

It was well into the night by the time you found yourself parked outside of Rust’s apartment. The throbbing in your skull had grown exponentially since your chat with Maggie and the muscle in your chest had yet to cease its sickening pace. It felt as if you were experiencing everything from outside of your body. As if you had no control over your limbs when you clambered out of your car and nearly slammed the door off its hinges. 

They wouldn’t lie to you like this. This was just one big misunderstanding. It had to be! You’d rather be angry for nothing than have the impending doom of betrayal strike you in a way that you felt would be irreversible. 

They just wouldn’t do that to you.

Raising a shaking fist and pounding on the door, it sounded like you were there to raid the damn place like it was police business. You attempted to steady your breathing but as your impatience grew you found yourself pounding again when there wasn’t a fast enough answer. Marty and Rust’s respective vehicles were both here so there was no chance of no one being home. 

Before you unleashed hell on the door once more it swung open to reveal a frazzled Marty. He stood there frozen, jaw opening and closing, visibly at a loss seeing your figure standing in the doorway. He looked ready to just about shit himself. 

“Y/n! W-what-”

“Now, I know you know I ain’t stupid. So if you’ve got somethin’ you’re hidin’, which I know you are, you best 'fess up now-”

“I-I don’t know what-”

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth. I called Maggie. I know he's here.” You felt like some feral cat with its hackles rising by the minute. It was a rare occurrence to find yourself this upset.

“Y/n that ain’t-”

“If you have nothin’ you’re lyin’ about, if he's really not here then let me in.”

He opened his mouth only to be cut off, unsurprisingly, again. 

“Now, Martin.” 

The two of you stared at each other and Marty felt an unsettling sensation lick up his spine. There was no stopping you, especially not when you were like this. He must’ve hesitated for a hair too long because before he knew it you were slamming past the doorway, nearly knocking the wind out of him in the process.

The sight before you had you halting in the middle of your warpath. There stood Rust, still as a statue, looking like a full-blown tweakin’ asshole biker as if it were second nature to him. In the back of your mind, info from files about him being involved in undercover narcotics work for quite some time sparked recognition but you couldn’t seem to connect it with what was playing out right in front of you. All you knew was that something was obviously about to go down and they hadn’t even the slightest intention of making you aware. 

It felt like one devastating punch to the stomach. 

“What’s goin' on?” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears. It felt like your head was being held underwater as you stared down the man opposing you. 

No one made a move to answer. 

“I said what the fuck is goin' on.” Your tone grew stronger and both men had the nerve to look sorry at your state of distress. 

“We have a line on Ledoux.” Rust ground out, having a hard time connecting with your gaze. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not tonight. Not ever. He didn’t need this. Didn’t need the distraction nor your wrath towards his pathetically selfish reasonings for not letting you in on any of this. 

“And it just slipped your mind to give me the heads up? In case you might’ve forgotten I happen to work on this case with the both of you dipshits too. If there’s a tip towards that meth-head fuck then I’d think it’d be common knowledge that I oughta know too.” You snapped, venom bitterly coiled its way through you as the rage taking up space in your body had you hardly seeing straight.

“You didn’t need to be involved. It’s undercover work to get a way in with Ledoux. I don’t need both you and Marty to worry about when I’m dealing with-” 

“Oh, fuck you! Fuck you both! That ain’t for you to decide. I can handle my shit just fine. You're tellin' me you two can throw yourselves into whatever shady bullshit it is your plannin' that could have you killed but I have to sit back like the clueless fuckin' idiot? Make that make fuckin' sense!” You were up in his face shouting now and it infuriated you that he was rearing back like some spooked horse to avoid your anger. 

Fucking coward. 

“Underestimatin’ me like this makes you just as bad as the rest of them in the department. If you think I lack the capability for any of this then you be a man and take that up with me. You don’t make that idiot over there lie for you.” You grabbed firmly at the worn leather of his stupid jacket and he just took it. His heart was hammering and he suddenly felt ill. This was all going wrong and his mind couldn’t keep up. Nothing wanted to pass the threshold of his lips. 

Seeing that he wasn’t going to reply you let go, feeling sudden shame wash over you at your burst of hysteria. Your eyes were starting to burn intensely as the weight of the current circumstances started to settle down on you, making you take a few steps back.

You felt like nothing. It wasn’t an experience you were necessarily new to but having it come from them had you more blindsided than ever imaginable. All you could keep asking yourself was: why? Marty’s never doubted you or gone behind your back. He was one of the only ones who believed in you when you first started out as some newbie of an investigator. You’ve known him for nearly a decade and looking at his pitiful expression now only had you feeling disgusted.

Rust you couldn’t even bother to pick apart any further. You had the impression he respected you enough on the job but that had been debunked in nothing short of just a few hours. Where did he get off? You weren’t some burden who’d just weigh the whole process down with your implied inferiority. None of this was making any sense and your heaving shoulders failed to stop their jittering as you took in the room surrounding you. An old red toolbox sat on the carpeted floor between two lawn chairs with a few guns, random documents, drug baggies, and whatnot scattered around. A black satellite phone on the dining table’s surface caught your eye and a sharp exhale left your nose. Your eyes drifted back to Rust. The bated silence that had blanketed the room was unbearable to the two men. 

“Whether you like it or not you’ve earned yourself an extra set of eyes. I’m sure Marty can catch me up on everything on the way to Tweakersville since y’all tell each other everything now durin' your lil’ sleepovers.” You snatched a pistol from the floor and tucked it into your waistband before stepping out. 

“Dyin’ father in Anchorage…what a crock of shit…” Were your departing mumbles as you disappeared out the door.  It took everything in Marty’s being to not let out the pettiest of ‘I told you so’s’. 

Rust only moved to bring trembling fingers to check his pulse. 

The resulting car ride between you and Marty was deathly quiet as you stared out the window. You could tell he wanted to speak up but finding the right words wasn’t coming easy to him. It wasn’t until you pulled up to the shithole that passed as a dive bar that he worked up the courage to blurt out his defense.

“I didn’t wanna lie to you.” You just scoffed and shook your head wryly.

“Yet here we are.”

“What we’re doin’ ain’t necessarily legal-”

“So? It’s ain't like I’m sheltered from the ways of a dirty cop. I’ve done my fair share of shit over the years.” The skin around your nails was becoming raw at your incessant biting and Marty ignored the urge to swat your hands away from yourself. 

“This wasn’t done out of thinkin’ you weren’t capable. You have to know that.” 

“You can say that but I’m still havin’ a hard time workin’ out any other reason why you’d try to fuck me over like this.” You fixed him with a hard stare and he could only sigh. God, were you stubborn when you wanted to be. He needed to save his own skin on this one, Rust be damned. 

“Hon, Rust’s throwin’ himself back into some old gang mess for the sake of this case. Now, from the looks of it, I’d say he ain’t too keen on having to do it at all in the first place. I’m sure you’re aware of what working narcotics can do to the mind of a man for the minimal time he’s set to do it out on the field. Let alone what it could do one working at it for four years nonstop. The man nearly died doin’ all this shit on more than one occasion. Shootins...cartel torture. Which brings me to my next point.” Your partner watched you intently as if to make sure you were fully listening. 

You made no signs of ignoring him so he continued,

“I don’t know what’s goin' on between him and you, if there even is somethin' going on, but it shouldn’t be hard for you to imagine that he’s strugglin' with it a whole lot. It’s obvious he don’t know how to come to terms with most of what he’s feeling so it’s hard to determine just what the hell he’d do when it comes to being interested in a woman. Let alone you.”

“I fail to see what you’re gettin’ at.” You knew exactly what he was implying but childish insolence held priority.

“Rust doubts you the least out of everyone around here. Perhaps out of everyone he’s encountered ever. You challenge his way of structure. All the Debby Downer bullshit he tells himself starts to lack any sense. Not bringin' you on this was an act of piss-poor self-preservation. He may not admit that and you may not bother to believe it but that’s just what I see. You know I wouldn’t vouch for him on shit like this out of charity.” 

The words sank in deep as you ruminated over them. It made sense but out of pure stubbornness, you didn’t really want to acknowledge it right then and there. When you had a clearer head you could probably find yourself empathizing with Rust’s decisions but you felt like you did enough of that already when it came to any other screw-up of his. This instance cut deep for another reason. Your trust had been breached to an awful extent and it just wouldn’t work if you had to fear it happening again. Romantically or professionally. It wasn’t up to him to make these choices for you. Especially when it came down to your line of work. You couldn’t tolerate that type of interference. 

“I’ll take that into consideration.” Is what you settled on before turning to people watch out of your rolled-down window. 

“I really am sorry, Y/n.” He spoke up again but you were too worn out to accept anything else at the moment. Even if you knew he was being sincere.

You ignored the nagging in the back of your mind that things would likely go terribly wrong sometime tonight. It annoyed you that being as mad as you were you still had half the mind to pray Rust didn’t end up getting killed doing whatever it was he was doing with that gang leader Ginger. You'd be devastated, fight or no fight. Marty had tried assuring you this was all meant to be quick and easy but you didn’t believe it one bit. 

Minutes passed before you and Marty made your way to split up inside the bar. Marty wanted to keep an eye on Rust and you just wanted to make sure Marty didn’t do something stupid. It was safe to say he stuck out like a sore thumb in his bright Pink Floyd shirt and trucker hat amongst the throngs of burly, tatted bikers prowling about. Your expression remained neutral as you felt the number of greedy eyes growing on you while you slinked around. The music was too loud and the thick haze of smoke stung your eyes. The smell in here was more or less repulsive, having you fight the urge to wrinkle your burning nose in disgust. Rust didn’t seem to be anywhere around inside, meaning he was striking the ‘deal’ somewhere out back where the other hoards of folks were hanging around.

It didn’t take long for a commotion to rise up with the unfortunate cause of it being Marty. He was bumbling out apologies as some big oaf all but dragged him out of the bar with people hollering after him. You tried your best to briskly follow, making it out in time to see the man get thrown onto his ass. Miscalculating your gait you just about slammed into the scary man from behind at his sudden stop. 

Meaty hands yanked at your shirt and slammed your poor back into a post near the entrance. “Just what the fuck are you doin', bitch.” 

Trying not to gag at the state of his breath you attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, “Was just tryin' to leave so you can get right up off me-”

The man shoved you again and took his huge mitt of a hand to your throat, “You and your punk ass friend don’t belong sniffin’ 'round here.”

“I don’t know that son of a bitch so fuckin' let go!-” A burst of stars entered your vision as his fist nearly sent you sailing down the old wooden ramp. A boot or two kicked at your curled-up figure, catching you in the ribs and stomach a few times. One even clocked you in the jaw and you hoped you’d still have teeth left if you were lucky enough to make it out. Heavy footsteps boomed against the growing crowd’s uproar and your adrenaline kicked itself up a few notches. The giant's paws cleared the way and jerked you up again, the force of it having your feet leave the ground for a split second. You were struck again, then once more before your hand fumbled behind your back and got a good grip on the pistol in your jeans. 

Cold metal jabbed into the grand protrusion that was his belly and it had him stilling almost immediately. 

“Unless you want a bullet or two in your fatass gut, I suggest you let me go.” You spat.

When you didn’t get an answer fast enough, the cocking of the gun’s hammer sure as hell had him dropping you fast. As soon as he did you smacked him across the face with the butt of it and sent him to his knees. A naive soul or two began to make a move but you were quicker in aiming the gun at them in warning. Blood from your nose leaked like a faucet into your gaping mouth as you struggled for air. They sure managed to get you good. The growing pain you felt all over attested to that fact. 

Once you were sure no one else would pounce, you spit on the big man and backed away with your gun in the air. You nudged Marty with your boot to make him get the hell up before you two booked it back to the car. According to him, Rust got roped into going down the Bayou with Ginger so you two had to make it out quick.

So much for quick and easy. 

You couldn’t even bother to check the time as you sat reclined in the car to wait for Rust’s signal. Marty parked at some mostly empty lot near a grocery mart and scurried inside to grab you a few things. The bag of frozen peas didn’t do much for your rapidly swelling eye or aching jaw. Your nose didn’t seem to be too broken but with all its nerves it made no difference in hurting like a bitch. The bleeding from both your nostrils and mouth had started to clot thankfully but you still sat wheezing from your abused ribs. 

“So much for being able to fuckin' handle yourself.” Marty huffed as he flipped through a tattered copy of Rust’s Nietzche. What was intended as a laugh came out as a wet rattle instead, making the blonde look at you in alarm.

“He let go of me, didn’t he? Not like you were much use.” Your tongue rolled around in the space of your mouth, forgoing the taste of copper in making sure none of your pearly whites were at risk of falling out. 

“How’re you gonna explain this at work?”

“I dunno. I’ll say I took a tumble down my staircase or somethin’. Who cares.” It was likely your lazy nonchalance was the result of a possible concussion. It was getting harder to keep yourself awake as you two were made to wait patiently. 

“Oh yeah. Casual tumble down the stairs. Makes perfect fuckin’ sense-” Marty’s bickering was cut off by the satellite phone’s sudden shrill ringing. You both shot up, adrenaline entering your systems once more, before he hurried to answer it. You could faintly hear a shouted line of demands before Marty confirmed what he heard and peeled off toward the location Rust had given him. You willed your hands to steady as you fumbled with the map you pulled from the glove compartment, making sure you weren’t going the wrong way.

The ninety seconds Rust gave was more like an eternity before you skirted up to the neighborhood that felt like an active warzone. As he was nearing the vehicle with a stumbling man in his clutches, who you assumed was Ginger, you leaped out of the car to open up the back and usher them in. You raised your pistol in a one-handed grip, keeping the other on the door as they stumbled inside. There was shouting from figures out following in the distance and gunfire that was making its way closer and closer. When they found themselves situated you slammed the car door shut and sent off a warning shot or two to keep the approaching group away. Responding bullets were your only answer, having you all but swing back into the passenger’s seat as they whizzed past you. Only one had managed to skim past your ear in sheer dumb luck, leaving your ear ringing something awful. 

With you safely inside, Marty sped off again at Rust’s sharp command. You couldn’t really hear their yelling over the pounding of your heart and the fact your right ear seemed to be temporarily out of commission from the narrowly missed bullet. 

You couldn’t dwell too much on the fact that with an inch difference it would’ve been your head. 

Hours later, daylight agitated your vision as you waited in the new setting that was Rust’s truck. After seeing the state you were in he all but hauled you with him to wherever he planned on taking Ginger, declaring he had some first aid kit he’d need to use on you. You didn’t bother putting up much of a fight when he ordered you to wait in the truck outside of the diner you stopped at after patching you up in the limited capacity he was able to. You were just too exhausted. You hadn’t even mustered the curiosity to get a good look at Ginger tied up in the back as you had driven. Probably safer that he didn’t get a good look at you anyway. 

Rust’s plan b with Dewall didn’t seem to pan out too well either as he came back to the truck with a deep-set scowl. Shoving Ginger back into place all bound up before climbing in up front. There was still hope that Marty would successfully trail the cook to wherever his hideout may be but Rust’s silence was conceringly heavy. Though, now wasn’t the time or the place to get into it with him all over again. You must’ve dozed off somewhere during the ride because when you opened your eyes, well eye…the other having swelled completely shut by now, you were pulled over on some trail. Rust just sat staring out at the scenery, more than likely lost in a swirl of his own thoughts, taking a moment to collect himself. Ginger's form was long gone from the back. 

At the sound of you rustling in your spot, he merely glanced your way before looking away again. There was a tick in his jaw that didn’t escape you and you sighed knowing you’d have to be the one to buck up first. 

“It looks worse than it feels.” Lie. Even the scratchy croak of your voice called you out on it.

“I didn’t want you here for a reason. What good is it if you wind up dead-"

“What you want isn’t always what you get. Next time don't take me for some fool-” 

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid-”

“And don’t you talk to me like you’ve lost your goddamn mind just cause of your pride,” You nearly thundered as you stared him down, “What happened, happened. It’s over. We pulled through with your wild-ass cowboy mission. Your panties can untwist now.”

A warm hand came to grip at your ribs, not violently, but firm enough to prove his point when the pain from your bruising nearly blinded you. Your own hand snapped up to grip at his arm as if playing a fucked up game of chicken. Who would break first? You’d be damned if it were you. Though the look in the man’s eyes had you faltering. You’d seen it before. That deep-rooted fear that bled out against his own will when it came to you more often than not. It seemed to hit him harder now that he was getting a good look at your battered and bloodied face in the afternoon light. Marty’s words from earlier felt mocking as they rang in your head. 

Rust doubts you the least out of everyone around here...not bringin' you on this was an act of piss-poor self-preservation.

The idea of anything with you made him scared. Scared for you and scared for himself.

“Why did you lie to me? Truly.” Your voice fell quiet, the fight in you left just as quickly as it had found you. 

He just blinked before letting his hand drop from you, however, yours stayed on him, “You’re a smart girl. You can work it out for yourself I’m sure.” He almost sounded sardonic.

“Maybe. But I’d like to hear it from you.” It might’ve been foolish to expect confessions of pure honesty from him but you’d keep giving him that option should he ever choose. 

When he said nothing you brushed a knuckle beneath his eye then across his sharp cheekbone. His tired eyes fought themselves from fluttering, trying not to let your touch utterly consume him whole. It proved to be even harder when your thumb swept feather-light over his chapped bottom lip before retreating completely.  

“Anything can happen, y'know. Anywhere, anytime. If you find yourself fearful of that fact pertainin’ to me then you need to let it go. If the idea of this,” You made a small gesture between you both, “is too much for you or you’ve realized you don’t want it anymore then that’s okay. I’m a big girl. I can handle just about anything. Your sanity and the sake of our professional partnership hold more priority over my whims. I don’t want my existence scarin' you to where it creates this big rift or you go to these dumb lengths to push me away.” 

Those long fingers of his fiddled with the ends of your hair, grounding himself with what little contact he was able to allow himself in the moment. He was still undecided on what he wanted to do with you. What he wanted to be with you. The paleness of his skin covered by the sheen layer of sweat from the comedown of whatever he likely took in the company of Ginger had him looking gaunt. Aged even. He found himself drifting between somewhere far away and being present here with you.

“This can’t happen again, Rust. Whether we’re something or not. Especially if we find ourselves workin’ together for however long down the road. It won’t work for me no matter the circumstance. Best believe I’ll be firm on that.” You flicked at this chin lightly, hoping some of the damage from the last twenty-four hours could be undone. 

“I’m-...I’m sorry.” Came the only remaining thing that could sound from his throat. And you’d take it for now. 

“I’ll get over it. Eventually. It might be a tall order but you need to get in the business of regulatin’ how you respond to your own emotions more.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” His final response was slightly choked but he didn’t give much else away after that. Sniffling, you leaned to the side on the truck's leather bench seat to rest your head on his shoulder once he twisted forward to face the wheel. An arm circled around your frame, his large hand finding purchase in your hair and you let yourself go for a moment as the truck began to roll forward. 

You continued down the path in a more comfortable silence where Marty would be waiting for you at the end to scout for Ledoux’s hideout. Soon this could all hopefully be over and done with. What would come after, though, you hadn’t the slightest clue.

a/n: forgive me, babes. they'll be happier (until 02). thanks for reading! i'll probably go back and edit this a bunch of times bc i'm neurotic like that!

[spearcast]

I am not immune to the babygirlification of war criminals in the war crime simulator game but I am only human I suppose. Anyway a bunch of info under the readmore but this is River Dennison and they're so tired

I haven't worked out all of their background so for the moment we'll say they've got some mystery to them which seems fitting with the 141 crew!

River Dennison is a combat medic, a line medic specifically- they care deeply about the well being of those they're assigned with, and they have for sure lost people on their watch. This has made them a little cold and standoffish to those they meet at first; all business with a little bit of snark and sarcasm. Over time, however, they soften up and let their bleeding heart show. That being said, they've got a strained relationship with most authority, especially within the military authority. They've openly admitted to only joining up to follow in their older brother's footsteps (and for the money), and to quote them-

"I'm a medic first and a person second; being a soldier isn't even in the top five."

They have a very dry sense of humor but will laugh at any stupid joke presented to them. They like good food, fruity cocktails, cats, cold weather, and tea. River is also proud to live up to the "tiny angry American" image that Price ascribes to them when they're first introduced to 141. They have a lot of cutting banter with the gents of 141 but settle in best with Soap and Ghost- that being said, River softens up first with Price, Gaz following close behind. (Gaz thinks it's because Soap and Ghost actively push their buttons and get on their nerves, but who can say?) River also eventually mentions they see Gaz as a brother- and a better brother than theirs is, for the record.

Markus Dennison is a part of Shadow Company and has a stressed relationship with his younger sibling. He's condescending and acts like he knows better on all things, but he still loves River; as far as anyone can tell its just the two of them, so they've had to be some kind of close to survive. River doesn't talk much about him, or their family either.

As for the art, some things I haven't touched on:

River's gathered some nicknames from 141. Soap calls them "Denny", Gaz calls them "Doc", and Ghost calls them "Riv". (For the first week, River calls Soap "Soup" instead on purpose but feigns ignorance- this transfers over to Ghost as well, and they call him "Skeletor" for that first week as well.)

Then in the bottom corner a fun meme of them LMAO, referenced to this-

-which sums up how they interact with 141 LMAO

And then there's what their sweatshirt says, which is meant to be random and funny and a joke at Ghost-

But. Yeah if you read this far, thanks bestie, hope you enjoyed ✨️

[ha-hatdog]

all in a day's work / daisuke kambe

somebod requested a badass reader? sorry for this very late update. online classes is kicking my butt. you wanted either a scenario or a headcanon so i decided to make both. long scenario/headcanom mashup ahead.

requsted by anon: Hii!! I just want to say first of all, that I just discovered your blog and I just fell in love with it, keep going you’re amazing❤️❤️ soo can I ask for a Headcanon or scenario (it’s up to you) where Haru has a female friend who works in modern crimes prevention and is really badass (like she knows how to fight and all that stuff), so one day she helps Daisuke and Haru in a investigation in which a fight starts and Daisuke gets impressed by her abilities and develops a crush on her (????)

UNEDITED

__

It was another mundane morning for the the Modern Crimes department. The room was oddly colder, and the civil servants occupying the compact and simple space secluded themselves with their own businesses. Mahoro Saeki sat on the couch partaking in an unhealthy snack she had shipped from a foreign country, Kamei Shinnosuke was browsing through the internet and more than once using to his advantage the global connection that comes with his access to the computer in order to satisfy his habits and indecent hobbies, Yumoto Teppei tuning in to the occuring horse race in an international channel in his device, Nakamoto Chosuke merrily bading his time reading through documents of recent illegal activities assigned to his care, Kiyomizu Yukihiro fiddling with yet another craft he made out of wood and glue, Kato Haru awaiting the telephone to sound off and have another indiviual summon him for a petty crime, and Kambe Daisuke seated far from the othere, legs crossed and chin resting on his knuckles as he appraised the tranquil area.

Haru slammed his hands on his desk and threw his head, moaning in disdain. "Why isn't the phone ringing?" Whined he as his posture was regained after a moment or so. His eyes, lit with pure frustration and impatience, glared at the telephone, as though threatening without verbalizing his objective would somehow make it ring. "Come on, ring, you stupid phone. How come you always ring whenever I don't want you to and don't when I do?"

"It's a slow day." Remarked Kamei, not takint his eyes off his computer as he regarded his colleague. "Try to enjoy it. You can have all your action some other day."

Haru leaned against his chair, back sliding against the backrest and the back of his neck hitting the edge of his leverage. "Not everyone has weird hobby to keep themselves entertained." Countered Haru, and a pout formed on the blond male's lips at the comment. "This job is what keeps me from going insane."

The offended male turned his swivel chair to face Haru, face scrunched with the same attribute he exuded, "Oi, don't say it like that. It's bad if you describe it like that."

"It's weird without even having to add the adjective." Saeki chimed in between her chewing, humming as the flavor of the chip formerly cinched in the possession of her fingers travelled to her taste buds.

Kamei whipped around to her position, shoulders tensr with the taste of truth and reality, both of which ignored in favor of living in bliss. "It's nor weird. It's perfectly normal for men to be looking at those . . . sort of inappropriate . . . videos." His words trailed off as he came to realization that his own defense betrayed him.

"I agree, but not at work." Haru simply retorted. "Would you want to see me cooking a whole feast inside the precint?"

Kamei looked up in ponder, mouth curling as his thought process stuttered before he presented his inquiry, "Do we get to taste the food you made though?"

Haru stared at the blond man with an impervious mask decorating his appearance, unimpressed with how the man broached the metaphorical event served to him. "Never mind." Shaking his head with amicable dismay, Haru turned his seat to a half circle, arms taking space upon the the armrests. His line of sight crossed over the facile yet minimalistic design of their room, the dull colors of the walls an addition to his disinterest until it landed on a brooding and well vested man.

The referred individual had boredom etched all over his striking features, the lack of events occuring in the Modern Crimes he could invest his time in had him in a bad mood although showcasing it to his colleagues was not his cup of tea. He and Haru were different, and how they handle themselves in this patience consuming day was one of them.

"I'm surprised you're still here." Haru conveyed with a vestige of astonishment. Truly the older man had no such ability that could understand the complexity of his wealthy counteepart. Most days, whenever days were a little too slow for his liking, he would up and retreat back to his home (mansion seems more of an appropriate term to refer to his household) but lately, he had been spending more time in the precinct, and Haru did not know how he should react to this development, or devolvement. His comment floated in the density formulating inside the office, and everybody present swiveled their heads to await his response. "I thought you'd be back in your house now. No cases today, it seems. No games to entertain yourself with today."

"Tell me something I have yet to know, Inspector Kato." Retorted Daisuke, and a tick mark grew on Haru's forehead, but his displeasure to his rude counter was ignored as Daisuke brought his fingers to his ear. He spoke, enough for others to hear his statements. "HEUSC, locate the nearest and most recent crimes occuring within the area."

Haru rose from his seat, alarmed. "Oi, what do you think you're doing?"

Daisuke did not respond to Haru and awaited his butler's relay of information. It did not take more than a few seconds until it has accumulated enough information to submit to his master. "A few streets away, a murder of two took place in a bar called Denyr. Investigation is in process currently."

Daisuke removed his hand from his earpiece and looked towards a flabbergasted. "You heard HEUSC. Let's get going." Daisuke stood up from the couch, dusting himself off before making his way towards the door.

"Wait a minute," Clamored Haru, and Daisuke looked over his shoulder to gaze at him. Haru gritted his teeth, irritated. "You can't just up and go and do whatever you want! This is not your call! We weren't called so we'll just disturb everyone else who's already there."

"Aren't cops allowed to interfere in crimes or disturbance in peace whenever they want? It's their job." Said Daisuke. "And besides, you're just as eager as I am to do something other than waste the entire day waiting for the phone to ring." Then he frowned. "Unless, I'm mistaken, of course. I have no qualms leaving you here. I'm sure you'll be useful for warming up your chair for tomorrow."

Haru growled at him. "You stupid . . . " He grunted and took his jacket off his chair. "Fine! I'll go with you, just to keep you in check!"

“Wait a minute,” Exclaimed Saeki, causing Haru and Daisuke to turn just as the latter had began turning the doorknob. The pink haired female abandoned her seat in favor of giving them a standing and patronizing narrowed glower. “Haru, aren’t you forgetting something today?”

Haru looked up in thought, trying to recall what Saeki was implying. Nothing significant manifested in his line of thought and he turned to his colleague with a frown conjuring in his mien. “Uh, I don’t think I’m forgetting anything.” Answered Haru.

Daisuke grunted, displeased by the interrupting. “Then let’s get going.”

Daisuke pushed the door open and stepped outside. Haru was following suit, shrugging his jacket on when Saeki called out for them once more, particularly the older officer. She had her arms crossed, an unamused pout forming on her brims. “Haru, don’t be stupid!” Clamored she. “I can’t believe you forgot what today is!”

Haru let out an exasperated sigh. “I honestly can’t remember what makes today so important.” Said he. “What is it?”

Kamei rolled his swivel chair back, making sure to reveal himself from any obstructions blocking his form. “Eh? You of all people forgot (Your Name) is coming back?” He conveyed and whistled right after. “That’s surprising, and disappointing. I’m sure she won’t be thrilled knowing you’ll be the last one welcoming her back after her hospitalization – her best friend, her partner in crime.”

Haru’s face fell upon acquiring the information relayed to him. His mind refreshed, finally remembering the time when you took your time from resting in the hospital just to tell him you were soon to be discharged after the outcome of you recklessly electing to throw yourself in front of him when the perpetrator pulled the trigger and shot a bullet his way. You were fortunate enough to have the cylindrical metal projectile imbedded nowhere near any of your vital veins, but due to your blood loss as well as the stacking strain and stress in your body forced you to be admitted in the care of the hospital. Haru was sure you were not supposed to move when you selected to take your phone and call him because he can hear the nurse in the other line scolding you, telling you to end the connection and to rest easy for the remaining week. He could only miss you more – he knew how much you hated doing anything but police work. Haru couldn’t believe he forgot about that since he distinctly remember hardly being able to be consumed by sleep when excitement for your return filled him.

“Shit, it’s today.” Cursed Haru as his shoulders dropped. He slapped his palm against his forehead, groaning. “My God – how can I forget? I’m the worst partner ever.”

Daisuke glanced at Haru, bemused. This was the first time he had heard over this (Your Name) woman. To him, Haru was always a lone wolf who preferred to be alone in his work unless he was required to have a companion with him. Or maybe because it was loyalty to his said partner kept him from going to missions with another. Daisuke looked back at Saeki and Kamei, “Who’s (Your Name)?”

Haru wanted nothing more than to hide your existence from Daisuke. You already had so much in your plate and having a rich bastard interpolating with it was more than you can handle, especially after being hospitalized for quite a while. But it was inevitable for the two of you to meet seeing as Daisuke seemed to be taking a strong liking with playing cop and were in the same department as him. So resigning with the concept of keeping you away from Daisuke, Haru let out a deep sigh. “(Your Name) is another cop in our department. She’s my partner.”

Daisuke blinked at him. “Someone can actually put up with you?”

Haru angrily show his fist to Daisuke, irritation swathing his figure. “What was that? I should be the one saying something that! I don’t know how Suzue-san can put up with your rich ass!”

“Maybe if you’re rich, you’ll know.” Countered Daisuke.

Before Haru could grab hold of Daisuke’s collar, the latter efficiently evaded his attempt to do so and stalked off into the corridor, adjusting his pristine suit as he ventured away. “If you want to stay here and wait for your partner, fine by me. I can go alone and handle the murders all by myself.” He said without looking back to meet Haru’s hardened gaze. “I’m sure this (Your Name) person is more important than the safety of other Japanese citizens.”

“O-Oi, I haven’t even decided yet! Don’t assume I’m not going!” As much as Haru wanted to be the first person to greet you back to work, he too loved justice and cared about the people who wanted to live in peace. Clicking his tongue out of annoyance, he turned to everyone left in the room, and all of them returned his gaze with bemused expressions. “Kambe and I will be quick. We’ll just drop by the crime scene and then cime back. I’m sure I’ll be able to return here before (Your Name) can. If not, tell her I’ll be back soon.”

***

daisuke was never inclined to pursue a romantic relationship. ever since witnessing his mother died, his life had been reserved into finding the truth. but little did he know, his perspective in love and romance will change, and hary will most certainly freak the fuck out

the two police officers arrived in the crime scene in a short amount of time. with how daisuke was speeding, it was understandable they would get there fast and very understandable how haru's whole life flashed right before his eyes. daisuke was actually tempted to go even faster but opposed to it after a while as he did not want to deal more with haru's tantrum after he recovered.

of course when they arrived there, the detectives assigned to the case shooed them off because they're not part of the investigations.

daisuke knew how to deal with them, of course. he brandished stacks of yen to include them in the case and the detectives were like 👀 because you know, who doesn't want extra cash?

haru didn't bother complaning anymore and just went to work. he wanted to get back to the station as soon as possible and welcome you first. best friend efforts, get a best friend like haru.

haru: "i scout the ground floor, you go upstairs - AND NO SPENDING MONEY YOU RICH BASTARD"

daisuke:

haru:

daisuke:

haru:

daisuke:

haru:

haru: "and - "

daisuke left before haru could finish his sentence. really daisuke just stayed and didn't answer him just so he could piss haru off. it worked nonetheless and daisuke can hear haru cursing at him as he walked upstairs

but we all know whatever daisuke does pisses haru off so so it didn't matter.

daisuke went up to the second floor if the bar and he saw how thrashed the place was

overturned tables, fallen chairs, broken bottles, reeks of alcohol, smears and pools of blood but everything seemed pleasant to look at compared to the two corpses that laid out on the floor with police tapes around them. it looked like a small massacre occured in there, and thay surely was the case

head smashed, chunks of flesh scattered, broken skulls but daisuke merely stared at them blankly

he wasn't disgusted nor disturbed. seeing his own mother's corpse was enough for him to deem gore as just another normal addition to his life

like another detective, daisuke began looking for clues. he searched the entire place like the good and professional detective he is -

who am i kidding - the first thing he did once he sees the condition of the second floor was, or course, ask HEUSC for information. screw asking them from fellow detectives when daisuke has his own ai butler

ahh perks of being a kambe

daisuke: "heusc, tell me the exact number of people that attended this bar between nine am to twelve in the afternoon"

heusc: "understood"

it did not take long until heusc responded

heusc: "the exact number of people who attended genyr is twenty seven. twelve in the ground floor, twelve in the ground floor, fifteen in the second. there are two dead bodies found in the second floor - "

daisuke snapped his head to the ceiling as soon as he heard a soft creak emit from over him

daisuke stared at the ceiling for about a moment before askint heusc - "look at the footage from the surveillance cameras surrounding the the bar. how many people fled outside?"

daisuke heard another creek above him, and this time he was sure he wasn't alone

and his unknown companion would love to have him in the same state as the corpses

and heusc replied: "twenty four"

daisuke closed his eyes, "is that so?"

heusc: "one person remains inside the building"

daisuke dropped his communication with his ai and positioned himself to a clean posture, back straight and hands tucked inside his pockets

daisuke: "you can come out now. no use hiding. i know you're here"

no response

daisuke clicked his tongue, "i heard you moving around in the ceiling the entire time i'm here and it's only been two minutes. you're not as discreet as you think you are. reveal yourself now and i'd consider lessening your time in jail."

still, silence greeted him

daisuke was growing irritated by the lack of answer given to him.

daisuke: "a coworker of mine needs to be back at the station right now for a reunion with his girlfriend - " daisuke paused as he imagined haru having a girlfriend. " - so let's keep this short and simple. surrender and as i have promised earlier, i will try to get you lesser years in prison"

but daisuke was not intending to keep this promise. even he knows giving a generous offer to criminals would weaken their resolve

but again, there was no answer

but he expected this

he always does to every case he gets handed with, or forced his hands to

daisuke observed the ceiling through a blank lense before sighing "if this is how you want things to go down, then so be it"

daisuke touched his earring and deliberately increased the volume of his voice as he spoke to heusc - "heusc, purchase the bar and its neighboring buildings and set a bomb for twenty minutes. tell the others to get out of here as soon as possible" he sneered at the ceiling. "i don't mind dying inside this bar with the suspect. it's the norm for a police officer to risk theit lives in the name of justice"

he sounded like haru for a moment there

heusc responded immediately: "understood, sir. balance: unlimited"

it was after that statement did a response come to light

the ceiling above daisuke broke as a firm kick broke through the fragile material

daisuke jumped away before a slim figure of a man dropped down from the hole

before daisuke could move, the man dashed pass him and out of the room, his oustretchrd hand barely grazing the bloodied clothes he wore

daisuke didn't waste time and recovered from his stunned state before following after the perpetrator

daisuke kept losing track of the man from time to the time and when he got down to the grounr floor, he saw no sign of him

nobody was present inside the bar anymore per order of heusc and money

all except for haru of course who immediately ran out of the place he was scouring and back to the main room

daisuke knew he heard heusc's order to leave the building but

haru will always be haru

haru, upon seeing daisuke's solemn state, asked: "what happened"

daisuke: "the man - did you see him?"

*haru, confused noises*: "what man? who?"

daisuke: "the man who killed the peple upstairs - he was still here and he ran down, didn't you hear him?"

haru: "no, i didn't - " his sentence was cut off when a figure suddenly lunged at him

lo and behold the criminal who was hiding behind an overturned couch

haru and the man tumbled down to the ground, fists and feet swinging wildly. daisuke watched as haru struggled to acquire dominance over the situation

daisuke: "heusc, identity of the killer"

heusc: "sakatoshi matona, a former bouncer for genyr until he was let go without reason"

haru strung out profanities and grunts as he and the matona rolled on the floor, trying to pin the other down. with a boost of strength, matona managed to get the upper hand and he put all his weight on haru. his hands found haru's neck and began strangling him

daisuke was like aren't you cop? win you idiot in the inside and haru was like aren't you a cop? help me you bastard in the inside. just the norm for the reckless and seemingly suicidal cops

haru: "gwet hiff op opp mii"

heusc: "transalation: get him off of me"

daisuke took action after that. he pulled matona off of haru and immediately socked him on the face

matona stumbled back but daisuke underestimated the time he would tske to recover and he tumbled back as the criminal retaliated with a punch of his own

daisuke dodged the assault but in the process, temporarily losing his posture. matona took this as an opportunity to continue his line of attacks, landing a few good hits on daisuke but majority of the time, he failed

daisuke recovered from the initial shock matona has inflicted him with and returned to momentum ane he was preparing his attack when bam - haru kato

my day be so fine then boom - haru kato

daisuke's eyes widened when haru, after standing up, tried to lock matona's arms to prevent him from moving anymore but instead, his chest met with an elbow

air was taken away from him and haru staggered backwards, clutching his chest and matona seized him

daisuke cursed and shot forward to help him but stopped when matona took haru's gun away from him and pointed it towards haru

matona: "stand back or i'll shoot"

haru raised his hands in surrender but daisuke did not

and haru was: ?????!!!!! tryna get me killed????!!!!

daisuke: "i can keep my promise, you know"

matona pointed the gun at daisuke

matona: "how can you when you're just a lowly cop?"

daisuke took out his cigar and lit up

daisuke: "yes, because a lowly cop can just buy buildings with a single command from an ai"

matona growled "rich, snobby, uncaring, and a liar. you're just the same like the people i killed"

daisuke opened his mouth to reply when a feminine voice cuts in

"finally, a confession. now we can get this over with"

before anyone could react appropriately, matona felt a hand take hold of his stolen gun and tore it away from his grasp before a heel sunk into his stomach, causing him to spit out blood

daisuke saw her, a woman standing with such grace, confidence, and strength with a gun in her hand and a smirk on her brims

daisuke couldn't move not from shock, but with admiration

who was this woman?

and what was this thudding in his chest

doki doki

his face was hot, very hot

and so was the woman

"( YOUR NAME )???"

daisuke turned and saw haru gawking at you

haru: (@[]@!!)

daisuke: （－－）

also daisuke: is that really (your name)? haru's partner? haru's girlfriend?

daisuke: hmp hmp（｀ー´）

you turned to both of them and daisuke was blown away with you that he nearly fell

he thinks you're very pretty

V E R Y

doki doki

you smiled widely at them: "haru, it's so nice to see you again" and then you turned to daisuke

daisuke froze and his cigar dropped

you glanced back at haru: "you already replaced me?"

haru: "tf no! rich boy here wanted to plays cops for a while so he went to our department. you know me, i could never replace you"

daisuke glared at haru

it waa obvious he was trying hard not to upset you (though you didn't look like the type who would get easily offended)

plus he's pushing a single and narrow minded narrative about him towards you. what if you hate him?

but you didn't and merely smiled at him, ignoring the criminal trembling from the pain of your kick

you: "my name is (your name)"

daisuke.exe has stopped working

jk that won't happen to daisuke

for now at least

daisuke: "kambe daisuke"

you, smiling: "nice to meet you, kambe daisuke!"

haru: "how did you find us here?"

you: "was gon get a drink before i head to the station but then i saw police tapes and stuff"

haru looked alarmed: "YOU WERE GOING TO DRINK RIGHT AFTER YOU GOT RELEASED FROM THE HOSPITAL"

you turned away from them, facing matona: "you can continue scolding me after we arrest this killer, haru. sorry in advance for haru, daisuke. he can be pretty overbearing and protective"

daisuke: "i can tell"

haru was offended okay?

you were already teaming up with daisuke to tease? betrayal.

haru: "how dare you (your name) - "

you did not let haru to finish his sentence and starter beating the shit out of matona like DAMN GHORL

daisuke and haru watched from a distance as you expertly used the gun to your advantage without pulling the trigger. you used the metal to hit him in fragile parts of his body in order to limit his movement

daisuke gawked at you

he has never seen such fluid execution for an arrest

daisuke looked: O-O

haru, seeing him, smugly crossed his arms and said: "you get to see how amazing (your name) is as a cop. she's my partner"

just as he said that, you pinned the criminal down on the ground, gun discarded, your one hand straining his arm behind his back and the other pinning his other hand on the ground

you: "i just got out of the hospital. how did i still win?"

daisuke suddenly frowned

oh, right. she's haru's girlfriend.

several minutes later, you successfully managed to arrest sakatoshi matona and the other detectives came to take him. but of course, you made sure you, daisuke, and haru were getting the recognition

like hell you were letting someone else get the glory for your efforts

you returned to daisuke and haru, smiling

they were talkiny when you hugged haru from behind

you: "haru i missed youuuu. it was lonely without your annoying butt looking out after me all the time"

haru flushed red

haru: "if you didn't catch the bullet for me then - "

you: "and let you get shot instead? nu uh, no way. i would take any bullet for you. right, daisuke?"

he felt speechless when you regarded him

daisuke didn't know what else to say to you so he said: "yes, i agree"

but somehow the the thought of you getting shot angered him

haru looked at daisuke, thinking: he acting kinda sus rn

you turned to haru and the two of you began catching up, smiling and laughing

you two looked comfortable so with each other. you two were carbon copies of one another, except you were ten times better, sorry haru

you two were made for each other

no wonder you're his girlfriend

you: "how's everyone in the precinct?"

haru: "still the same. everyone missed you"

daisuke: "are you two together?"

haru: 👁👄👁

you: *long ass laughing emoji*

haru turned very red, shouting: "WHERE DID YOU GET THAT IDEA"

daisuke: "you said you were partners - "

you: "i didn't know you liked me that way, haru - "

haru: "NO I DON'T KAMBE WAS JUST BEING A DUMBASS"

you tittered and turned to daisuke: "no, we're not together, kambe-san" you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. "sorry if i scared you"

daisuke felt relief wash over him

daisuke: "i was just wondering. you and haru seemed very close so i was just making sure i wasn't misunderstanding"

daisuke froze with wide eyes when you leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek

and you whispered to him: "gotta work on being discreet when you look at me. i can practically see you chasing after me in the future with how you were looking at me. i'm flattered you find me that fascinating"

you turned to the shook haru: "i like this one, haru. we should bring him along with our cases"

you regarded them both: "anyways, i'll be heading over to the station first. i can write up the report and have man behind bars quickly. don't worry though, i'll make all three of us have the glory. i trust that you two can finish up here without me?"

the two men wanted to say something but both of them were stunned. you just kissed daisuke on the cheek and your best friend saw it. daisuke's eyes were wide and haru had his jaw dropping down

they still didn't say anything when you bid them farewell and just watched as you went to a police car with another cop where matona was and sped off

daisuke can feel his heart hammering against his chest

what was this feeling? it was so strange and . . . it's just strange, but he was not oppossed to thie feeling

in fact, he wanted more of it. as long as it came from you, it was fine

haru, however, was not

haru looked like he had seen the most horrifying thing ever

B E T R A Y E D

his best friend and this cop wannabe?

D I S G U S T H A N G

daisuke cleared his throat and turned to haru to say something but was met with a finger pointed at his face and haru looking vexed

haru: "you - "

the bar and the buildings nearby exploded beforw haru could say anything more. everyone except for daisuke was startled and sunk down on the ground

daisuke was not though. and he remained standing. not for the reason he forgot about the bomb he instructed heusc to plant but because

- you kissed him and he was self destructing

daisuke held back the smile threatening to tear through his face

haru: "w-what was t-t-th - "

daisuke: "i forgot about the bomb, sorry"

[indelibleevidence]

Waaa, I need to vent and my housemate is already in bed, so Tumblr, you're up. Tl;dr: first world problems for a disabled person with family issues and no offline social life.

***

I've spent the past week either cancelling fun things, or waiting up during the day (I'm nocturnal) for things that end up not happening, and so I end up losing out on sleep, and now my entire brain feels like soup.

A friend was supposed to be visiting for my birthday, but we decided to be sensible because of the new COVID variant, and not knowing how vaccine resistant it is (my friend has elderly parents, so...)

Then I was supposed to Zoom with that friend and another old friend, and meet other friend's new baby, but Tumblr decided not to show her the message trying to organise it until it was too late, so that ended up not happening (Anna, if you see this, I don't blame you even a tiny bit, these things happen).

Then my sister (who I haven't seen for 5 years, despite her living 1 hour away from me) and brother (2 years, because pandemic and general life business), decide that they want to travel through before Christmas to come and see me, just as Omicron hits, and even though the government hasn't imposed any restrictions on in-country travel yet, I don't feel like it's a good idea to go sit in a pub with a bunch of mouthbreathing strangers who aren't wearing masks because they're eating. And I have neither the energy nor the skill to cook a decent meal for 5 people, because when they were handing out dinner party skills, I was over in the line for a double helping of social conscience because it came with a free chocolate milkshake. So I tell my practically estranged family members to wait until we know a bit more about Omicron, which I'm sure is going to be sooooo helpful for our sibling bonds.

So far, so crappy. But hey, at least I get to have my COVID booster, right? Nope, because the taxi doesn't show up, because the fare was cheap (short distance) so none of the taxi drivers wanted to take it, so I have to just not go, and the NHS has me down as a non-attendance, which puts strain on an already overburdened and underfunded health system. Thanks, taxi driver! It's not like I'm disabled or anything, and taxis are the easiest way to get to places (in theory) without putting extra strain on my body - oh, WAIT... So no COVID booster. But at least that strain on my body thing won't be happening, because I haven't left the house...but wait! Apparently stress while waiting for a no-show taxi, plus getting ready to go out, is just as bad for my body as actually going out. So I get all of the disability flare-up, and none of the booster. Yay.

And then today I was supposed to have my gas and electric meters upgraded to smart meters, only I thought it was just the gas, and if they'd mentioned that they were doing the electric too, I could have told them they couldn't do it, because about 4 years ago a different supplier told me they couldn't, and that I'd have to call the electricity supplier because of some wiring issue that they couldn't fix on their own, because potential asbestos. And then I didn't, because this is a rental property, and I didn't particularly care about getting a smart meter while the one we had worked fine. But I could have TOLD them not to bother. So that led to me waiting up three hours past my usual bedtime, with nothing actually being done, because they need to sort out the electric meter because otherwise a new gas meter won't work.

And this has been the week my body decided it needed a period, and also it's less than two weeks until Christmas, and Christmas is the most depressing holiday of the year, and I haven't done any shopping, and I will be alone over Christmas AGAIN.

Okay, I'm done. Like I said, all first-world problems, but now I'm exhausted and I do not want. *sulk*

[one-abuse-survivor]

before i start, thank you so much for doing what you do;this blog has given me good advice countless times and i really have to thank you for that.

my issues with my parents are that they don't take me seriously. i can literally go up to them and say: "mom/dad, i think i might be autistic or have ADHD (both would be quite likely) can i get that checked out" and list a bunch of examples why i think that and they'll just be "nah, that can't be, you don't seem like that at all" as of i didn't break my mind over it researching it and talking to people who have it to see if we've had similar experiences just to get some kind of reference as to why i feel the way i feel and why i struggle so much with things that so many other people find so easy.

but then, in the following weeks and months (after talking w them) they just randomly point out things about me that kinda annoy them, like me talking out of turn a LOT or me not looking at people or me having trouble focusing if there isn't also music and a movie going at the same time or mom saying that i seem hyperactive to her because i'm always moving my legs or pacing around or rubbing my hands or drumming on the table with pens. things like that (plus a lot more) were the exact things i was telling them about and they just put it off like it's nothing but as soon as it affects and annoys them it's suddenly very real. at this point i'm struggling to talk to my parents about anything even remotely more serious than generic smalltalk and i'm having a hard time believing myself that my struggles are in fact real and i'm not just making them up.

and also on a less related note; the thing i hate most about my parents: if i'm wearing headphones and couldn't understand what a parent was yelling from somewhere else in the house then it's my fault. but if it's the exact same situation but i'm the one calling and they couldn't hear me, then it's obviously my fault too (i kinda get the first one but srsly how could i not wear headphones when they're constantly arguing with my brother in the room next to mine) (either way if one of the scenarios is clearly my fault, then the other shld be clearly their fault bc that's how logic works)

hhhh, this got quite long. i would love to hear your thoughts about this

a continuation from the other ask about my parents not taking me seriously even when i ask them for help with my hardest problems. that ask didn't really go in the direction i had planned but there is so much going on between my parents and me that i really need to talk to someone about

background: i'm around 15-16 rn and have a brother who's 18. primary school was academically very easy for me (lots and lots of great and even perfect grades) but my brother didn't have it as easy (lots and lots of mediocre and meh grades) so my parents really just kinda let me do my thing while they were constantly busy with my brother. so i got really independant and did all of my stuff on my own bc a) i always had done it that way and b) my parents were already busy and stressed. but after my brother got his first computer and got into video games his grades dropped and my parents started constantly arguing with him and taking away his computer and stuff like that so there was always a lot of tension (and i got to a point where i can't handle people yelling; that's what i was referring to with the headphone thingy at the end of the last ask) i don't know if i can go that far and say that my parents kinda neglected me and my emotional needs in favour of saving my brother grades but that's pretty much the way it feels.

i'm now a sophomore (school works a bit different here but i'm the equivalent of a highschool sophomore afaik, here it's just 10th grade) and starting from about mid 8th grade (end of 2018) i've been struggling a lot with self care and upkeep of my already minimal social circle and academic stuff (i'm at the academically highest level of school you could be at my age without skipping any years) and also mental health.

i got quite depressive and started isolating myself and casting away friends and my grades went down a lot, which really disappointed me because my great grades were kind of my trademark thing. but i didn't feel safe talking to my parents because of the huge distance that we built by me "never" needing their help with stuff.

in that time (almost a year ago, our anniversary is in twenty days or so) i got a girlfriend and i'm hella glad that i can talk to her about everything but i feel like i can't just go dump trauma and parent issues on her forever

about last november or so i was at a pretty low point and was suicidal and that's kind of when i snapped and went to my parents to talk so being cast away and having my issues invalidated really really hurt then and made me spiral even deeper and my gf was the only thing keeping me afloat.

i'm kind of a bit better now but i have rebuilt my view of my parents from "idk we never really interact" to "trying to interact or talk is not worth the energy" and needless to say i don't like them that much

oh and i forgot about all the times i got panic attacks and sensory overloads @ school because there are so many people there (1700 students + 200 teachers) and it's loud everywhere and of course asking my parents for what to do if suddenly everything is too bright and too loud and you can't move or talk because of it didn't get me anywhere (and since i didn't know what it was called or how to describe it properly, i didn't really find any Information online either

and just typing this makes me think of so many more things that they did that aren't okay things to do (a lot of gender identity stuff for example because i'm also neck-deep in that) . but writing this has also helped a lot right now. thank you for being there and listening.

and just in case i'm ever gonna pop back in to say something i'm gonna drop a name for easier identifying

sincerely - 🌌 milky way anon

Hi, nonnie! Thanks for the kind words, I'm really glad my blog has been of help ❤️

I'm sorry your parents are making it hard to believe your struggles are real :( you deserve to be taken seriously and to get access to all the help you might need. Just the fact your symptoms are there and you're noticing them and they're interfering with your daily life is enough to get them checked, regardless of if you need a diagnosis/meds/anything else. No one deserves to live wondering if their struggles are worth discussing with a doctor or professional.

And you're right: if one of those things was your fault, then the other should be theirs, logically. But I don't even think it's "your fault" you didn't hear them because you were wearing headphones, to be honest. I think it's just something that happens from time to time and that doesn't warrant getting mad over; I think it's the kind of thing that simply needs to be talked about so everyone in the household knows how to communicate with everyone else without getting frustrated. It's as easy as saying "hey, whenever I put on headphones I'll just text the family group chat to let you guys know I won't hear you. If you need anything in those moments, just text me instead". I do this with my girlfriend sometimes—if we're wearing headphones and we're in the same room, we simply pat each other when we need something and wait until the other takes off their headphones to talk. It really doesn't have to be an issue where anyone is to blame. You're allowed to take steps to feel safe and comfortable in your house without getting punished for it.

But, of course, this doesn't work if the people around you choose to prioritise "being right" and proving you're wrong over a peaceful and healthy cohabitation, which is what most toxic and abusive people do.

As for your second ask, I would say if it feels like your parents neglected you and your needs because they were always focusing on your brother, then it's okay to say that they did. The fact alone that those feelings are there makes you deserving of talking about it and wanting to heal from it; the cause of those feelings doesn't have to be something major, or sound deeply traumatising when you say it out loud, in order to "count". And people whose emotional needs were consistently met don't feel like they weren't.

I've already shared this video before, but if you want some resources on identifying and healing from emotional neglect, I really recommend watching it. Please bear in mind, though, that the video says it's important to not blame parents for emotionally neglecting you, but I don't think that's the message a lot of people need to hear and I think you should allow yourself to feel angry at your parents for not meeting your needs and causing you trauma. That's pretty much the only thing I'd criticise about the video.

I'm sorry to hear you've been struggling with your grades and mental health lately, nonnie. I had a quite similar experience when I was in high school—I used to always get great grades, but my mental health and trauma put a lot of strain on them (as well as on my social life; I lost a lot of friends in those years) and it was really distressing to see the only thing that made me "worthy" crumble between my fingers like that. I'm still trying to unlearn this idea that your grades define your worth, and it's been really hard.

I'm so sorry your parents weren't there for you when you hit that low 😔 I'm glad your girlfriend could help you stay afloat in that moment, but they absolutely should've been there for you all those times you reached out to them for help with your struggles, and the fact that they didn't is emotionally neglectful of them.

I'm glad you're in a better place now ❤️ I really hope you can find out all the information you need on gender identity and sensory overload and any other issues that might be affecting you. Know that you deserve for your parents to be there for you. You shouldn't have to face any of this on your own, or even with only the support of other people your age. You deserve for them to care. You deserve to have your symptoms checked out. You deserve adult guidance to find resources to help you better understand and manage your struggles.

Sending all my virtual support your way ❤️ and happy belated anniversary to you and your girlfriend!

[sourbat]

Oh my god I'm sorry I only asked for magtock for my friend HAHA uhh how about abigail/charles for 10 instead?

Sounds cool, friend. Charles/Abigail it is. 

A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

Again, took some liberties with this one. 

Another all-nighter, Abigail muses as she saves and exits a document. A glance of her wristwatch reveals it is nearly midnight. She expels an amused sigh. Fourteen hours today. Not quite as impressive as her seventeen-hour record, but still worthy of a few self-praises. She mentally pats herself on the back, shuts down her laptop and begins packing her belongings, ready to head to her room when the door to her office clicks open. She raises her head and sees Charles slowly making his entrance, looking poignantly reserved, but carrying a frightening weight on each stiffened shoulder.

“Long night?” Abigail asks, smiling clearly as Charles takes a seat in front of her desk.  

Charles rolls his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes. “When is it anything but?” he remarks, shutting them as he presses the appendages into the sockets.

“Would you like to talk about it?

Charles ceases his complaints, raises his head and stares auspiciously at Abigail. Her smile nets his eyes, and without breaking away, he answers, “With you? Always.”

Like always, his response comes off as overly formal. Even his stare, though expressive at its most center, gave off a natural severity to it. Years of important planning, business ventures, and life-threatening scenarios have left each pupil permanently radiating solemnity.

It takes an expert to read between the lines.

Abigail raises a finger. “One sec,” she says, then leaves her desk and heads to one of the shelves tucked in the corner of her office. She picks up a bottle of gin. “Martini?”

He raises one as well; first, to protest, but drops it as the thought lingers. With a glance around the room, Charles relaxes into his seat. “Why not?”

“How dirty do you like it?”

“I like the alcohol to speak for itself.”

Abigail pours an equal amount of vermouth and gin into a mixer. “Coming right up.”

Charles listens to her pour the concoction. A few seconds, then ice clinks into the steel mixer. His eyes shut as she gives it a shake, and when he opens them, smells the subtle tang of green olives wafting in the air.

Holding the drinks, Abigail passes the desk, taking a seat by the dying fire. She places the glasses on a coaster, then reclines into a sofa, resting one leg on top the other. Her tired eyes close, and for a while, it’s the sound of crackling wood and Charles’ footsteps approaching her. She waits until she feels the pressure of the neighboring cushion shift, then, without opening her eyes, asks, “what was it?”  

Charles picks up his drink, then stares into the flames. “The boys tried turning the hallways into a slip-n-slide, with alcohol as their liquid of choice.”

“Sounds like quite the havoc.” Abigail smiles as she hears Charles sigh next to her. She opens her eyes wide enough to catch the glimmer of weakened flames on her right, then runs to her left to rest a hand on Charles’ lap. “Let me guess,” she says, “Toki and Pickles?”

Charles huffs. “And Nathan.”

“Nathan was part of it?”

“He suggested the location,” Charles replies with closed eyes. A hand drags through his furrowed brow, failing to ease the strain of the recent memory. “It was Toki’s idea, and Pickles supplied the alcohol.”  

“How very organized,” Abigail notes, then raises her glass for a sip. She stirs an olive that bobs at the bottom center while Charles contemplates his own. A snicker. “They’re evolving.” 

He stops himself from taking a sip. “That’s not funny,” he warns, but she merely smiles at his frown, then rests her head on his shoulder.  

Dancing shadows begin to stretch as the last of the firewood snaps, cracks in half and reveals its molten red core. Abigail waits, feels the rough knob of Charles’ muscles against her temple, but doesn’t respond to it. She knows he doesn’t mean it. It’s the stress. The long, unpredictable shifts that could easily result in someone’s life ending if one wasn’t careful.

Since meeting Charles, Abigail’s been nothing short of astounded. Charles’ long term connection with Dethklok was an impressive feat on its own; few managers had the honor of sticking with their band for such a long time. More remarkable was the empire he created since launching the band’s career. Abigail knows it’s unusual, perhaps outright insane that she’s spent several hours navigating dangerous hallways loaded with traps, conversing in meetings with klokateers who will likely die by the week’s end, or working alongside a band that seems to draw death in its wake. It is insane, but when she takes a step back and sees the results, the rising bar graphs reaching impossible levels, the scientific breakthroughs and the growing economy, she can’t but push a little more, try a little harder. She does this because she knows she’s part of something great, something far bigger than she can completely comprehend.

Abigail carefully brings the glass to her lips. 

Whatever she’s taking part in, the music she’s helping produce, none of it would be possible if it weren’t for Charles. She sighs a refreshing breath, tasting the remains of a subtle, smooth burn. “Relax,” she says, then, with the hand resting on Charles’ leg, gives it a light pat.  

“Took an hour to clean it up.” A burning piece of wood cracks as the two sit in silence.

Abigail raises her hand, locates Charles’ chin and, with just her index finger, brings it up to meet her expecting stare. “Just say the word, and I’ll have him kissing your feet when I’m done with them.”

Charles’s lidded stare glimmers under the deepening orange flare. His jaw slackens, and lips part. “There’s no need to be cruel.”  

“Are you sure?” she asks, and watches in mild amusement as Charles returns to his drink.

Martini glass pressed under his nose, Charles takes a whiff. His eyes slowly close as he raises the glass to his lips, and takes a hearty gulp. The wood cracks and embers sizzle from the center. Abigail uncrosses her legs to stretch.

Charles swallows. “You sent them to another country.”

“I did.”

“With no money or guards to look after them.”

Drink finished, Abigail takes the olive from her empty glass. “You’re correct,” she says. She bites into her olive and savors its tangy flavor.

Charles stares at the remains of his drink and shakes his head at it. At her. “For music.” 

“And I made damn good music,” Abigail declares, then wraps her arm around Charles’ neck. She pulls him in gently, letting him consciously do the work for her. “And you need a break.”

The words come off too sultry to be professional. Abigail’s aware of this, but doesn’t mind. She’s only been working at Mordhaus for a few months, but since becoming a member of the staff, has spent more than her fair share of tiresome, therapeutic nights with Charles. It had started as a mistake, him entering her office confusing her for a previous assistant, but sticking along to provide her some suggestions when she complained of the many distractions offered by the band. He showed up again a week later, appearing stressed; and she, remembering his service to her, offered her support. Since then, they maintained these impromptu meetings, with one appearing before the other, always unannounced, but usually asking for the same, unspoken thing. Until recently, Abigail assumed it to be good company, but the more she dwells within Mordhaus’ cold walls, the longer she works and watches the expanding empire, and then concludes her day here, in the middle of the night, with him, Abigail isn’t sure she can remain satisfied with such a answer.  

The fire dies, and the light dims, held only by the few lamps Abigail kept on as she worked. Shadows cast over each of their forms, creating dark silhouettes that make it near impossible to read another, but Abigail is confident she sees something glimmer, a sparkle of hope that reflects in Charles’ glasses. 

The door bursts open.

A klokateer steps forward. “My Lord. Madam.”

Charles breaks from Abigail. “What is it?” he asks, weary voice replaced with a more controlled tenor.

The klokateer raises a flashing, red screen. “It’s Lord Skwigelf. He, along with Lord Wartooth and Murderface–”

Sighing, Charles readies to stand up, but is met with Abigail’s arm blocking his path.

“I’ll take of it,” she declares, not looking at Charles until she leaves the seat. She buttons her suit top, runs her hand through the bottom of her weighted hair, and puts on a fresh smile. She faces Charles, appearing before him as a new, refreshed person. “Finish your drink.” 

Charles frowns. He stirs the floating olive as he twirls the glass between his fingers, then, with an exhale, raises the glass and finishes the rest of his drink. Oh, so it’s like, Abigail thinks. Amused, she watches Charles come to stand. Like her, the effects of the day are washed away. He stares firmly at her. “I must insist that you let me talk to the boys.” 

Abigail crosses her arms. “And I insist you let me make their remaining night hell.”

The room goes silent again. Charles narrows his eyes into a testing, but apologetic stare. Abigail easily counters it with one of her own, abundantly filled with immovable determination. 

“We go together,” Charles finally announces. “I will speak with the boys.” 

“And I’ll offer… suggestions,” Abigail adds, watching Charles’ expression shift from concern to approval in a matter of seconds. A snicker unfolds from her person.  “And–”

“And?”

“And if one of them insults you,” Abigail leads, watching Charles’s brows lift at the unfinished suggestion, “then maybe I come up with a suitable punishment that makes them second guess their actions?”

Charles fixes his glasses. “Nothing…drastic, alright?”

“Of course, Mr. Offdensen,” Abigail replies. It’s dark, but the few remaining embers behind her light up enough to catch the formation of a small, relieved smile. “Alright,” she says, louder so that the klokateer can hear, “let’s go then.” 

Charles nods. “Of course,” he responds, then offers her his hand. “Lead the way.

It’s the first time he’s offered. Abigail says nothing, but gives a proud nod, and as she turns to the turn, feels the weight of the alcohol lift her spirits, fluttering across her chest as she approaches the door. A hand brushes her, large and cooler, and when she reaches for a coat, takes it from the hanger, rises and turns, meets soft lips brushing against her.

It’s a moment in time that ends quicker than either can register, and with a klokateer describing the unfolding events, how the guitarists challenged each other to a series of games, and after a row, were evenly matched, thought it was best to drive drunk to the nearest Round One and conclude their marathon, neither has time to react, much less respond to the fading embers of affection. Abigail listens intently, and Charles by her side, neither expressing anything more than what’s expected, and neither giving the other more than the sporadic, but overly professional glance.

A hellicopter takes flight. Its passengers huddle close, standing beside one another, arm around waist, another carrying a set of binoculars to locate the three missing guitarists.

Under the roaring turbines, a hand shifts across the side, sending a welcoming shiver.

Green eyes flutter. A head rests on a shoulder, and hair pools and flows gently in the wind.

It's the beginning of a brand new day, and Charles finally smiles.

A klokateer assigned with cleaning enters the office sometimes later, finds the lingering warmth and empty glasses. Sensing a return, they replace the sullied glasses in preparation for round two, walk to the fireplace, and add logs and set the hearth aflame.

[hexenloveletters]

Dear D,

I am writing from my extended sofa bed. My small flat in Tallinn only has two windows, one in the living room-kitchen and the other one in the bedroom. The windows are big and when I look through them from a sitting position I only see the sky and clouds. Working from home is isolating and this view adds to it.  Sometimes I find it comforting- my situation, and sometimes it makes me restless.

I read your letter in the middle of the night. While reading it, I had a feeling of happiness and satisfaction mixed in with the overwhelming tiredness from working long hours. I often imagine you coding, cozy and satisfied. I do apologise for this projection!

After two weeks of high-high-productivity, I am left on the couch, immobile and apathetic. Yesterday I took a walk along a beach which smelled like shit, no two ways about it. I turned to the forest and only when I felt just a tiny bit of panic about getting lost did I finally feel more present in my body. I went for the walk angry, but came back with a couple of gluten-free cookies, more or less at peace.

It's been about seven months since my diagnosis. It's an inflammatory bowel disease, and in my case, I have problems with my gut. Your GUT GUT GUT message got me chuckling. I had to change habits and observe how my relationship to my identity changed. It's still an ongoing process. I am the most calm I have ever been and I know I wasn't able to listen nor care for my body until now. I often have the need to preach about what I think made me sick, so others don't make the same mistake, but I only have these conversations in my head.

I am still friends with H, but our friendship never deepened. I didn't have time and energy for other people, even though I wanted to.

Cooking for others is a stress for me too!!! Actually even cooking for myself is a sort of a stress. But I am so much more agile around the stove these days and I am proud of the one way I can make chicken.

The ''moranje'' of everyday life has me pinned to the ground, haha! I am swaying between two moods when thinking about my work (in terms of business): being optimistic and scared to the bone.

Yesterday I saw Talk to her by Almodovar again. There are pieces of Pina Bausch's coreographies at the beginning and end of the film. When I saw the performers move, I felt something ignite.

Next week I am off for Pula. Much of my plans are being arranged by my gut these days- but as far as my heart is concerned, I'll stay there until middle of August, and maybe there is a chance for us to dance there?

Pinkie and Pupi are just beautiful. Cats were always my favourites! You know what else is beautiful? Spring! And you! And your letters! I'm crying emotionally since last Friday, but it's all good.

I had a straining work period that I mentioned earlier, but it was followed by a friend visiting me. I went from sitting at my desk for insane stretches of time to walking around the sunny Old town, climbing, going for a trip in the bog and at the seaside, and even watching Eurovision with a bunch of dear people. I felt the happiest.

My friend S, who visited, is doing a residency in Denmark. She and another Croatian friend of mine met an Italian guy there. They asked for his last name. When he said ''Cattebriga!'' they just screamed with laughter.

Whatever mechanism for survival you're using is the correct one and you shouldn't feel bad about it. I am available for all the unsolicited advice about gut health, on stand-by with my pdf-s. Do listen to what your chest is trying to say, even though it's hard with everyone around us yelling about all the healthy habits we need to incorporate.

I added some drawings that I made through this period of figuring out what to do with my body. Don't know where to put them, but maybe they were made for this letter.

I love you D!

Hugs,

N.

[eeveedel]

i'm sure you already got this request but please pleaseee write a second part of that abo verse🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻it needs a happy ending with harry coming home and meeting his newborn baby or even louis being still pregnant , whichever you prefer :D

Order up for a part two of this ol’ thing. Please note that this is obviously ABO heavy and contains adult content as well as mentions of past mpreg, implied male lactation, and body insecurity.

Also, quick extra note: Louis is referred to as the baby’s mother because of the time period. While I picture an ABO verse version of the 1940’s being more accepting of same sex couples (if they are alpha/omega couples,) I also think that most people would use heteronormative labels for these couples as well. That means male omegas would get some feminine labels. Just a head’s up in advance for anyone wondering or potentially bothered by that.

I that’s it, folks. Enjoy xx

***

Alex had not been home for ten months.

He’d been on three different trains, and he was finally getting off at a stop that looked familiar. It was so late that the station was empty now, but he was still familiar with the inside of the station, and he knew exactly what laid beyond it.

He was home.

He should’ve been back sooner.

He had written Louis nearly every day and gotten letters just as regularly, but he’d kept putting in requests to go home for one week, a weekend, an afternoon. He’d seen other men who had been allowed short visits home to see their mates and their families, and even if those that went home were older and had higher rankers, he held onto the hope that he could get a visit, too. He just needed to go see Louis, make sure he was okay, buy him the food he needed, make sure he was surrounded by soft things and make sure that he knew Alex still loved him so much.

He kept getting denied, with the same condescending speech from an officer to go with it.

“Can’t spare the manpower right now, son. But the sooner we win, the sooner you can go home, huh?”

After the third denial, Alex had nearly punched a hole through the barracks wall before curling up on his cot. He was angrier out there, surrounded by stress and sadness and alpha energy. He didn’t like it. He hoped it would go away.

“Mate,” someone close by had sighed to him after that third time, “I think they’re afraid that if you go home, you’re never going to come back and fight.”

After a couple more rejections, he was sure they were never going to let him see home again if they could help it.  

And it was true, anyways. If he had gotten to see Louis again, had gotten to hold onto peace for a little while, he wouldn’t ever let go. They could drag him back onto the battlefield and his head would still be in their old apartment.

But it turned out he just needed an evacuation to get sent back.

He felt hollow from hunger, but once he was out of the station he didn’t try to find anyplace to get food that would still be open. Instead he kept right on walking until he started towards the more familiar neighborhoods and into the cheap made flat buildings, and then finally to one building in particular. The front door didn’t lock at all, so he slipped right inside and went to the stairs, taking them two at a time up to the third floor.

Of course he didn’t have a key anymore to any of the doors up there. And once he found the door he needed, his hands froze at his sides, unable to lift and knock.

As he hovered in front of the door, his mind started going. What if this was the wrong place? What if Louis had up and gone somewhere else? Of course he hadn’t mentioned anything like that in his letters, but Alex had stopped getting those a few months ago. Louis had written him every week right up until the beginning of the year, when their baby was supposed to be born, and after that, there was nothing except one short letter.

I’m okay. Come home and see us, please.

Love, Louis

Alex had kept that letter in his coat pocket even when he was floating in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

Louis had told him then to come home. But maybe he had gotten tired of waiting. Maybe he had gotten scared and started hiding things.

Somehow, Alex was able to dig down deep and pull out the strength to knock carefully.

If he strained himself, he could maybe hear shuffling on the other side. But a few seconds stretched by, and it made his skin itch. That was too much, too long to wait. So he lifted his hand and knocked again. This time, the door quickly opened, and a small body was drawing forward, nearly into the hallway.

“I told you not to – “ Louis whispered harshly, and then he paused, blinking.

“Alex,” he whispered. His eyes were wide, “Darling, what – “

“I’m – home,” Alex stuttered, “I can stay home now. I – they evacuated us and half of us got discharge out of it and I didn’t have time to write you but – baby, I’m home. I’m home and I’m going to stay home,”

It was a rush, and he could barely get out the words, he was so distracted. There was something real in front of him that he had only gotten to dream about for almost a year.

Alex had kept one image of Louis in his head for the last several months. Right up until the winter, Louis had sent him bundles of letters, like he promised, documenting every time his legs ached or there was a kick in his belly, every food he craved and every time he just wanted Alex home, which it turned out, was nearly every second. But amongst all his letter, he’d only spared one photograph, something one of their neighbors had taken. He’d been smiling in the picture, his skin golden and his cheeks swollen and pink, his hands cradling his full moon of a belly.

Now, Louis looked tired, his hair rumpled and his long fringe tangled. There were swollen, dark bags under his eyes, the color of his irises a bit dim. His skin didn’t have the same glow, and his cheeks had lost their fullness, returning his face to its usual sharpness. As he stood in the doorway, he kept his arm around his waist, where he still looked a little wider than Alex remembered.

Louis’s other hand, the one not at his waist, tightened a bit on the doorframe.

“Come in,” Louis murmured, his voice a bit firm, “Come in, please,”

Alex particularly stumbled forward, and Louis let go of the doorframe, backing safely into the flat. As soon as Alex was inside he pushed the door behind him closed and then reached for Louis, grasping him by the shoulders. He dragged his hands up his neck and cupped his cheeks, pulling Louis in and kissing his ragged, bitten lips firmly. Louis’s mouth stuttered a bit under the touch and then his lips moved easily, kissing Alex back with the same eagerness.

“You’re real, huh?” Alex said when he managed to pull back, “You’re real and not something I dreamt up to get me through the days?”

“I’m right here, honey,” Louis laughed, “I’m right here,”

Louis stroked his hands up the sides of Alex’s wrists, dragging over his skin, scenting it, letting the smell and feel of him soak into Alex’s skin.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come home,” Alex said, “I tried so hard, I just couldn’t – “

“I know, I know, you wrote me enough letters telling me that,” Louis smiled softly, “I’m not angry, darling,”

“You stopped writing to me,”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy, so tired,” Louis lifted a hand to Alex’s cheek, stroking at his skin, “I’m sorry I snapped at you, just, there are neighbors coming in at all hours, trying to give me things, and they wake the little one up – “

Louis’s voice cut off almost as soon as he said it, and his eyes widened a bit as Alex looked at him, his chest suddenly feeling tight.

Of course, he hadn’t just come back to see Louis.

“Um,” Alex murmured, “Is – “

“She’s in the other room,” Louis said, “She’s asleep,”

“She?” Alex echoed. Louis paused in stroking his cheek.

“Yes, darling,” Louis smiled, “Do you want to come see her?”

“I – “ Alex started, then he looked down at himself. In the last town he’d stopped in, he had used the last of his pocket money for a hotel room. He’d had a bath and had scrubbed away some of the dirt and blood clinging to his skin, and he’d paid someone else to wash his uniform. But there was still grime clinging to his nails, and probably still some in his hair and in the fibers of his shirt.

“I’m dirty,” he managed.

“You’re fine, honey,” Louis sighed, “She’s yours, she’s tough. A little dirt under your nails isn’t going to hurt her,”

“Okay,” Alex agreed, his voice still feeling too weak.  

“But take your boots off first,” Louis said, “You haven’t woken her up yet, I’d let it to stay that way,”

Alex nodded and bent down to undo his boots, and he left them on the living room floor before straightening back up and following after Louis. He walked slowly, trying to keep his feet soft as they entered their room. There was a crib now right by their bed now, a bit scuffed up in places but far too nice to be bought on their own. A neighbor had probably given it to Louis. It seemed like everyone in the building loved him, but Louis with a child was probably an entirely new thing to be adored.

Louis approached the crib and Alex followed after him, until they were both close enough that Alex could glance inside. When he did look, he had to focus on his feet on the floor, Louis next to him, concrete things to keep him grounded as his thoughts nearly ran away from him.

There was a baby there. His baby, their baby. And she was so tiny. Tiny and delicate and with a sparse head of dark hair. Around her there was the familiar pale pink of their favorite blanket, the faded, striped fabric of one of Alex’s good shirts, a tiny brown toy bear.  

“She’s so beautiful,” Alex breathed out, and Louis made a soft noise of agreement next to him.

“What – “ Alex started, but Louis cut him off, probably already predicting what he was going to ask.

“Anna,” he murmured, “M’sorry, I had to name her myself. But I thought maybe you’d like it. Mum thought it was too plain, though,”

“No, no,” Alex shook his head, “It’s perfect,”

He gripped the edge of the crib, risking another glance inside, like this was something forbidden that could be snatched away from him.

“My shirt’s in there,”

“And our blanket,” Louis nodded, “I wanted her to know what you smelled like,”

Alex just nodded and looked down for a little while longer, and then finally Louis sighed and leaned over the crib, placing his arms carefully inside.

“Darling,” he whispered softly as he worked his hands under the tiny body, “Someone’s here to see you,”  

Anna stirred as Louis touched her, her face pinching, and soon her red lips parted and she cried out shrilly. Alex started a bit but Louis just sighed as he picked her up completely.

“You’re alright,” he said gently, “Your daddy’s finally home, precious, come say hello,”

Louis lifted Anna, swaddled in one of her blankets, fully into his arms. He cradled her carefully, naturally, even as she kept crying. He must have done this so many times, held and clothed and cleaned and fed their baby alone, in this apartment that didn’t even have a real bathroom or enough heat in the winter.

“Here,” Louis said, angling his arms close to Alex, “Take her,”

Alex just stared at Louis.

“What if – “ he said, but Louis interrupted him.

“I’ll show you how to hold her,” he said, “You’ll both be alright, I promise,”

Alex just stared again, and then finally, cautiously, held his arms out. Louis carefully shifted Anna in his arms, still wailing, and brought her close to Alex, murmuring how he should hold his arms as he handed her over.

Finally, the little body was safely settled in Alex’s arms, so small but somehow so heavy, and so warm. Her big, dark eyes blinked up at Alex before closing completely, her face relaxing, her mouth pursing and fishing a bit before she became quiet again.

“Hello,” Alex murmured, “Hello, darling,”

Louis stayed close and gripped tightly onto the inside of his elbow, stroking his thumb over the spot as Alex held her.

“Have you been good for your mama?” Alex whispered, “Hm?”

“She’s been good,” Louis said, “Very sweet,”

Louis’s fingers reached out and pushed aside the blanket that surrounded her, exposing more of her face.

“I think she looks like you,” Louis said, “Her hair’s a bit curly,”

“Maybe,” Alex said. He was trying to take in all the details of her face, but he couldn’t quite find himself in her yet. But he could easily find Louis’s long lashes, his perfectly shaped nose.

Alex reached out a finger and prodded at one of Anna’s tiny, closely curled fists, and in a moment, her fingers uncurled and she grasped onto his finger, making his chest go tight.

“She likes me,” he said.

“Of course she likes you,” Louis said, “She’s yours,”

They stood like that for awhile, quiet and just looking at the tiny thing in Alex’s arms, and then Louis prodded his shoulder again.

“I’m sorry, love, but I need to go to bed, I’m falling asleep on my feet,” he murmured, “Do you just want to hold her for awhile?”

“Yes,” Alex said quickly, “Yes. And I’ll put her to bed,”

“I know you will,” Louis said. He kissed Alex’s temple, “I love you,”

“I love you, too,” Alex murmured, “So much. Love you so much,”

“I know, my darling,” Louis said, “I always know, don’t you worry about that,”

He pressed another kiss to Alex’s cheek, and then wandered back over to the bed. Alex went into the second room, near the kitchen, so Louis could sleep in peace.

He kept Anna close to his chest as he wandered in circles around the kitchen, the living room, and back again.

It was dawning on him now what it meant to be back. He had spent so long writing letters, hoping to get back home, clawing and scratching for the mere possibility. Getting home was all he had wanted, and now he had it. He had Louis in the next room, beautiful and resting, and his daughter in his arms.

His daughter. He had a daughter now.

Alex’s eyes burned, and he felt a part of him, something a selfish and ugly, rear up. For a moment he wished that he could just make himself some tea and take a bath and then settle next to Louis, alone and quiet, and just to have a few more days of the life he used to know.

But then Anna stirred, and all of those desires shattered.

He had come home for a reason, and now he had it. He wasn’t going to wish it away for something else.

Alex pressed his daughter close yet again, and angled his mouth down to really speak to her.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said first, “I’m so sorry for where I’ve been but I’m going to take good, good care of you now. Okay?”

Of course Anna didn’t react, just squirmed a bit and remained dozing, and that only made him what to keep going.

“I’m not going to leave you again,” he said, “I’m not a very good person, baby. I’ve learned that about myself. I – I’ve hurt people. But I’m going to try to be a good father to you, okay? I’m going to teach you how to treat people better than I have,”

The words spilled easily from lips now as he huddled Anna close. Maybe his voice was just a lullaby to her, because she had completely stilled, barely even flinching at his words.

“I’m going to make sure I’m here with you, and that I’m going something good. I’m going to buy us a big house, okay? A big, nice house, somewhere proper for you to grow up, and I’ll hang a tire swing in the backyard for you. I’ll be here to see you crawl and speak and walk. I’ll buy you crayons and books and dolls, whatever you want. I’ll even buy you a dog if you’d like one. I – “ Alex’s voice caught as he tried to speak next, but he swallowed it down and forced himself to keep going, “I’ll give you siblings. I’ll give you too many to count. But first I have to marry your mama, baby girl,”

His throat felt go tight at that. It wasn’t a lie, the furthest thing from it. He’d promised Louis they would get married as soon as Alex had the money for a ring and a real wedding. He wasn’t any closer to that promise now, since his army stipends were probably barely enough for Louis to cover the rent on his own. But it would happen. He knew that much.

 “And that’s the big thing I need you to know,” Alex finally said a loud, “I want you to know that I love your mama so much, baby girl. He used to be my favorite person in the world. But now you’re here, so I think you two will have to share that title,”

He bounced her gently after that, and she didn’t react, just stayed quiet and still. He sighed. He was out of words, anyways, out of explanations for where he had been and what was going to happen next.

Alex wandered back into the second room, then, and went over to the crib. He set her down, and she didn’t wake up and scream, so he assumed she was okay and comfortable. He shifted around her things, her blanket and his shirt and her bear, and then he drew his hands away.

He wanted another bath, but he didn’t dare turn on the tap and wake either Anna or Louis up. So he just took off his uniform, left in a pile on the floor, and then went over to the bed completely bare and crawled next to Louis.

But before he even could tuck an arm around his mate’s waist, he heard his voice.

“You were very chatty just now,” Louis murmured, and Alex paused.

“Did you – hear much of that?”

“Tuned most of it out. Wanna give you as much privacy as this place allows,” Louis said, “It’s a miracle I stayed awake for longer than a few minutes, anyways, I felt like I was on my last legs when I got into bed. But now that you’re here I think I’m wide awake,”

Alex hummed softly, and then settled his head down on his pillow and reached out again to put an arm around Louis. But again, he was halted, this time by Louis twisting around again and pushing Alex’s hand away.

“Alex, wait,” Louis said.  

Alex stopped, blinking at Louis’s form in the darkness.

“What’s wrong?”

“I -- I just had a baby,” Louis said carefully, “I’m not gonna feel like you remember, s’all”

Alex nearly froze, his hands hovering over Louis’s body, and then he breathed out sharply.

“God, honey,” Alex sighed, “I’ve dreamed about coming home to you for almost a year, you think I’m going to care about that?”

“Just,” Louis sighed as he settled back down onto the mattress, “Just keep that in mind,”

Alex nodded, and then cautiously reached out a hand, firmly settling it on Louis’s waist. The other man tensed and then quickly relaxed underneath Alex’s touch. He sighed softly and shifted, but he didn’t move away, and it only made Alex want to touch Louis more. He ran his hand all over him, along his chest and his belly and his hips and his legs. Louis’s chest was swollen and soft, there was more flesh at his waist. But he still smelled the same, still made Alex’s own skin feel nice and hot and his belly feel tight.

Louis squirmed under his touch, his body very much awake and alive, and when he spoke his voice soft and careful but still delicious and keening.

Alex pressed his nose to the back of Louis’s neck and breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of spring and sweet things, and he pressed his hands firmly to Louis’s skin, drawing another gasp out of his mate.

“Louis,” Alex murmured, “Let me make love to you,”

“Uh,” Louis groaned, and Alex pet his side carefully.

“Baby, you wanna?”

“Yeah,” Louis answered, “Alex, yes, please,”

Alex nodded, then slid his hands down to the tops of Louis’s legs, rucking up the edge of his sleep shirt. Alex’s fingertips skimmed over his bare hips and the curve of his bum, and Louis groaned again.

“Missed you,” Louis murmured, “Missed you so much,”

“I know precious,” Alex said, “You took care of yourself while I was away though, right? Made yourself feel nice?”

“Yes, but not like you can, ah – shit,” Louis said, his voice cutting off as Alex pressed a fingertip to the rim of his slick, ready entrance. He prodded at him a bit, trying to get his fingers inside enough until he was open. Then he pulled his hands away and instead went to grab his length, smoothing a hand over Louis’s belly as he pressed his cockhead to his entrance.

“You’re going to give me another baby to take care of,” Louis huffed, “I swear you will,”

“I’ll do my best to try and stop,” he said, “I can get out of you – “

“No, no,” Louis sighed, “I waited close to a year for a knot, honey, if we get another baby we get another baby out of it,”

“Alright,” Alex sighed against his shoulder, “Whatever you want. I made you wait too damn long, I’m gonna give you whatever you want now,”

He pushed his cockhead inside of him, letting Louis’s heat swallow him. Lois groaned, his body shifting a bit before relaxing once again. Alex kept a hand on his hip, smoothing over the skin, and he squeezed a bit at the flesh as he pushed his hips forward, letting himself become swallowed up completely.

Louis moaned rather loudly at that, and Alex squeezed his hip hard.

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he murmured, “Don’t wake her,”

“Uh huh,” Louis sighed, “I know, I know, just wanna let me know you’re makin’ me feel nice,”

“You can tell me, darling, just tell me when you’re quiet,” Alex sighed as he shifted his hips, “Christ, can’t believe you had to take care of yourself for so long. You looked so pretty in that one picture you sent me, I wanked to that for weeks,”

“Lord,” Louis huffed, “I missed you. Had to wank with your shirts on my nose so I could smell you. And everything felt so good when I was knocked up but it still wasn’t enough,”

“I know,” Alex said, “But I’m gonna take care of you now. Won’t leave you again,”

“I wouldn’t let you leave anyways,” Louis said, and then his voice faded into a whimper, “Alex, baby, harder, please,”

“Yeah?” Alex murmured, “You want more, honey? Wanted to come back and be sweet to you, make love to you. But you wanna get fucked, don’t you precious?”

“Oh,” Louis gasped, “Oh, Christ, yes please,”

“Alright,” Alex laughed, and then kissed the back of Louis’s ear before catching his lobe between his teeth, biting enough to make Louis squeak, “Be quiet, though, gotta be quiet,”

He snapped his hips hard and Louis gasped and pushed back. Louis’s skin felt hot, and Alex felt slick pouring over his cock, wetting the sheets below them. Alex reached up to pinch at one of his nipples but Louis slapped his hand away.

“I’ll leak, don’t,” he huffed.

“Alright,” Alex sighed, “I’ll play with your tits later, honey, bet you’d like that,”

“Christ, don’t know why I missed you,” Louis groaned, “Fuckin’ menace you are,”

“Uh huh, still got you all wet, huh,” Alex said, kissing the back of Louis’s neck. Louis still groaned.

“Just do what you’re good for,” Louis huffed, and Alex laughed weakly before bucking his hips forward, burying more of his length inside Louis. The other man groaned, and then his voice became a soft whimper as Alex rocked his hips gently against him. He kept his nose pressed to Louis’s neck, and his hands skimmed over the front of his body, feeling every generous new curve. He would take his time exploring Louis’s body in the morning, if they had time, before Anna woke up.

He had only been home for a little while and there was already so much for him to think about.

And Louis smelled unbearably sweet. It didn’t help clear his mind.

Finally, Louis hissed sharply and then his body tensed, before he mewled and Alex felt new wetness spread underneath them as Louis released. Alex rocked forward more, until his knot swelled and he was spilling and stuck inside Louis, exactly where he needed to be. He kept his nose pressed to his scent gland, ran his dry lips over Louis’s bond mark, while the other man curled up against him and sighed.

“Thank you,” Louis finally whispered.

“My pleasure, honey,” Alex laughed weakly, but Louis groaned.

“No, no I meant – “ he shook his head, his hair rustling against his pillow, “Thank you for keeping your promise. For coming home,”

“Oh,” Alex paused, lifting his head a bit, “Should’ve been sooner,”

“It doesn’t matter,” Louis said, “God, you’re here in one piece and not in a box, that’s all I care about,”

Alex nodded and squeezed his eyes closed, pressing nearly his whole face to the back of Louis’s neck.

“I’ll never forgive this war for taking you away from me,” Alex mumbled, “Never,”  

“It’ll be okay,” Louis said weakly, “It’ll be okay, baby, war’s nearly done now. And you’re out, it doesn’t even matter now. Let other people fight it out, it can’t hurt us anymore,”

Alex’s eyes felt wet at that, and before the first tear could even spill fully out, Louis’s hand found his own, and he stroked Alex’s knuckles gently, bringing him back to earth.

“You’re alright,” Louis said, but Alex’s lips opened and a weak sob let out, making him press his mouth against Louis’s shoulder. He wouldn’t wake Anna up with his crying. That would be a bad second impression, even if she couldn’t fully remember this.

But Louis kept stroking his hand, and eventually he squeezed Alex’s hand hard.

“Alpha,” Louis said firmly, “Alex,”

Alex froze, and he pulled his mouth away from Louis’s shoulder, blinking into the darkness as Louis kept squeezing his hand.

“I – “ Alex managed, “I’m your alpha,”

“What else would you be?” Louis said, “It doesn’t matter you couldn’t be here with me every second. I survived before I met you, I can survive without you if I need to. I just don’t like it. I want you here, I want to see your face when I wake up, I want you to know you’ll be walking in that door every day. I love you, and that’s how you take care of me. You love me right back, and I don’t need you here to know that. I can feel it all the way across the damn English Channel,”

Alex just stayed silent, his hand curled tightly in Louis’s, and then he breathed out long and hard as he shook his head.

“Tough as nails, you are,” Alex huffed against the back of Louis’s neck, “God, who let me keep you,”

“Me, for whatever reason,” Louis sighed. He shifted a bit, pushing his body forward. Alex’s knot was starting to loosen, and he shifted and pulled himself out of Louis. But then he gripped Louis’s hips and turned him over onto his back, and settled his body over top of him. He pressed a kiss to Louis’s mouth, and the other man returned it, a smile on his lips as he did so.

“You just gotta promise me one thing,” Louis said when Alex pulled away.

“Anything,” Alex murmured as he kissed the corner of Louis’s mouth, “Anything you want,”

“When you buy me that big house,” Louis said, “You better get me a bedroom with a nice view,”

Alex lifted away, and then just blinked at Louis before he let himself laugh, loud and hard, and he collapsed on top of Louis and squeezed him as Louis started to laugh, too.

The noise was enough to make Anna wake up wailing.

[solomonfiore]

A Night in Kyiv

“I’m an angel who was attending a school of Satan.”

Anatoly Onoprienko

We have broken our way into an abandoned tenement in the slums of Kyiv. Piles of trash are scattered about recklessly. A black pentagram has been spraypainted on the wall. We mark all the squats we occupy this way as a tribute to Beelzebub. The wallet I stole from the old man I stabbed to death in the park earlier that evening has enabled us to spend a little extra money on drugs. A hypodermic needle filled with high-grade heroin sits next to a piss-stained mattress lying on the floor. I stole some vodka from the market on the way back from the Peste Noir concert. Most of the bottle has been finished. We're thoroughly drunk by now. You can't wait to make love. You're already lying back against the side of the mattress with your skirt hiked up over your pale, young legs. Our skin has yet to become leathery and peel away from our bones like it has to a lot of our friends who are addicts, though my track marks are becoming blacker and blacker—the chronic nature of my abuse growing impossible to ignore. I'm grateful that I was able to cop some decent drugs for a change. Due to the grinding poverty we are forced to endure on a daily basis, we often have to use a substance that is less potent and far more toxic than heroin to keep from getting sick. Were it not for the deplorable conditions of our environment we would not have to inject this garbage known as desomorphine. We are smarter than this! We are better than this! But the hopelessness of our situation keeps us down. We cannot raise our voice to our oppressors for fear of reprisal.

After having suppressed my rage throughout my adolescence, I found solace in Satanism. Huysmans once stated that Satanists are no more than disappointed Christians. Well, I am disappointed. Not only in Christ, but in the entire world. I am disappointed with the U.S. and globalization's fallout. I am tired of being caught in the middle of a tug-of-war between Poland and Russia like a helpless child growing up in a dysfunctional household. Centuries of oppression boil inside me, but I’m not allowed to scream. I must suppress this fury.

I’m getting sick. I feel weak. Tingling sensations radiate down over my shoulders, emptying out into my legs.

You want to make love, but I tell you we must shoot up first.

You have only been using needles for a week. You were twelve when you became my lover. Now you are thirteen. Your arms are as white as a Calla lily drenched in a gauze of mist. They show no trace of abuse. You’re still inexperienced and squeamish so I have to inject you myself.

Everything unfolds before us in black and white as if we were actors in a film. Our favorite scene gets played back over and over again unto eternity. I hear your breath in my ear while I find a tender, blue vein under the light of the moon. The plunger descends beneath my thumb and memories of our love are pushed back into my mind…

You were lost when I met you. The drowning ghost of Ophelia lived inside you. And your emerald eyes climbed out of the black waters of your long hair to cling to me for dear life. I introduced you to the Devil and you embraced His power wholeheartedly. I took sadistic pleasure in seeing what heresies you were willing to commit in His name. We vandalized and burned churches together when I wasn't introducing you to the lowliest depths of sexual degradation. But as our fascination with the occult grew into an obsession, it became apparent that we had both become equally enmeshed within a web of inescapable evil. Murder became more than just a means of fueling our habit. It became a mainstay.

We left a string of killings behind us. We talked about them for hours together, recalling certain details about the incidents that one of us may have missed in the heat of the slaughter. For instance, you were particularly interested in what our victims were wearing. Whether it was the diamond brooch we pilfered from your aunt after clubbing her to death in the schoolyard or the ring I had slid from off the finger of a dismembered hand seconds before proposing to you under a sanguine moon, you always had an eye for accoutrement. You remembered the pattern of the knickers that the street vendor from Andriyivskyy Descent wore when we stripped him down at the abandoned factory and forced him to drink drain cleaner, putting cigarettes out on his chest as he ingested the toxic concoction. After removing a pauper's private parts with a box cutter and feeding them to his dog, you kept its collar, not only as a memento, but to wear around your own neck as a fashion statement. You always had a strong sense for aesthetics.

What fascinated me was how some of our victims would assume an entirely passive stance once they came to the realization that their death was inevitable while others would scream like bloody hell until their very last breath. A trucker we ambushed on Hertsena Street was surprisingly resigned after I had slit his throat. Having worked at a slaughterhouse, I knew it took considerable time for a pig to die after this. Instead of panicking or trying to escape, he just lay there in the brush beside us, surrounded by tall stalks of hazel grass as a burbling fountain of maroon viscera bubbled out of his mouth. Watching the individual suffer is half the entertainment when committing a homicide. He wasn't animated enough so I stabbed him in the eyes with his own house keys hoping that would jolt him into action, but he hardly flinched. We took turns carving upside down crosses into the fat of his thighs but he nary moved an inch. On the other hand, a young woman and her five-year-old daughter would prove to be quite the handful. Not the daughter. The daughter behaved in much the same fashion as the old man, though I only know this from what you’ve told me. I was busy with Mother Goose. She sure squawked like one. Enough for me to have to stuff her mouth up with my own sock while gutting her. After considering these psychological phenomena, I asked you whether or not you intended to die softly or put up a fight.

Your purple lips curved into a serene smile. Lightly dusted with pollen from an upturned window box of chrysanthemums nearby, your cheeks betrayed an ever so slight blush of excitement. Bearing the tenderness of a kitten and the immaculate aura of a cherub, you answered thus:

“If it is for my Master, the Great Spirit Lucifer, I shall approach my grave with open arms. He has assured me during His visits that we will have a place beside Him at the foot of His throne so long as we have done His bidding on the material plane. The violence of our passion burns with a flame intense enough to carry us into the netherworld where we will rejoice together in love everlasting."

The Gods of the Pit must have been watching out for us. For we had successfully taken out almost a dozen people without a trace of the law in sight. But the season of our good fortune would abruptly change one afternoon.

We had been terrorizing a homeless woman in a field just outside of Puscha-Vodytsia. Cold drizzle pelted us as I smashed her head in with a shovel. Amping up the bludgeoning to a hyperbolic frequency, you, my ashen-haired accomplice, whipped her with the branch of a tree. In beige, mercurial gobs, the three of our shadows fused to create a single form projected onto the shivering walls of grass around us. The ghostly reflection of our struggle wavered in the wind. She whimpered and drooled as her brains spilled out of the top of her cracked skull with the same disorder as the tentacles of a freshly beached squid. On a trail less than a yard away, a little boy happened to be riding his bicycle. I knew he recognized you as the missing girl in the papers because he stopped momentarily to get a better look at the scene. I tried to catch him but he sped away.

Now we are on the run, hiding out in the slums of the Ukraine.

Your beauty shines through the gray pall of the room. You excite me beyond measure despite the potency of the heroin. I'm no longer paralyzed by the grinding stress of being hunted amidst a country about to go to war when I’m entering the clean, silky haven of your insides. It seems I could live off your spit and your fluids forever when we are bound together physically. I see the look in your pleading eyes and know what you want me to do. I wrap my hands around your throat and start to squeeze. It’s hard for me to stay focused on making love to you while I'm choking you, but I do it because you’ve come to love it so much. I derive no pleasure from this. I have to be careful not to deface your fragile skin or use too much pressure while at the same time maintaining my own level of arousal. This is difficult for me, particularly when I'm high. I do this strictly for you.

You’ve told me you’ve experienced visions of the Beast while being throttled and tonight something wondrous happens. Lucifer comes to visit, not just you, but both of us while our bodies are entwined together in that squalid lair. Inky jets of smoke climb out from the back of your head as you speak in tongues entirely foreign to this world. Sweaty bundles of pale yellow and green fungi growing on the far wall behind us swell to life. An oozing globule of sulfuric vapors congeals to form a static cloud in the shape of the Horned God. He stands over us, calling upon us to express our devotion to Him through the throes of our lust as we writhe about the floor in throes of illicit rapture. Your face begins to twitch as I apply extra pressure to your platysma muscle, clenching my teeth together so tightly they threaten to pierce the insides of my mouth. Your throat—so pure and white that it never so much as reveals the horizontal stress lines that all of us possess from infancy on—is now wreathed in blue and purple corals of broken blood vessels as ecchymosis sets in from vagal inhibition and the increased strain against your hyoid bone. Your hypoxic climax is a sea of convulsions squirming in my clenched fists. Milky clouds fill up the green domes of your eyes and a tear of black blood runs down your left cheek as my darkness empties into you, blotting out what little you still possessed of your purity like an oil spill spreading out from the center of a crystalline pond.

I collapse on top of you, resting my head atop the thin plate of your solar plexus. You’re coughing violently. You pull yourself out from beneath me. I lift myself up and watch you in silence as you gasp for air while clutching your throat. At first I’m worried I’ve gone too far this time, but you flash me a faint smile to assure me you’re okay once your composure’s regained. I breathe a sigh of relief. I haven’t disappointed Lucifer by denying Him the sacrifice we’ll be offering Him when we execute the joint suicide pact we planned for tomorrow on Walpurgisnacht.

"Regie Satanas," I mumble under my breath.

Solomon Fiore - March 18, 2017

<photos: Aleksandra Petrova>

Special thanks to Aleksandra Petrova of the Kitsune Klan.