#ignore the test in the cubby hole

[emzchaos]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Do Us Part

Warnings: nonconsent and rape; oral, fingering, marital discord, cheating, spousal arguments and mental/emotional abuse, age gap (Peter is 24/25 and reader is 35/36)

This is dark!Peter Parker x 30s/’older’ reader and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find it hard to accept that not all good things last as you face the changes in your marriage, yourself, and your marriage.

Note: I wanted to write Peter again but also I’ve seen this nonsense about how 30+ writers are too old for fanfic which is dumb af. And I wanted to turn the age gap trope a little so that it wasn’t the reader being the younger one in the relationship. I label it older reader but I don’t think being in your 30s is old tbh (my bf is 36 so pfft). It was all just a conglomeration of circumstances that inspired a deceivingly sweet dark Peter and I hope you like it. Also it’s 7.4k so a bit of a longer read.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You walked slowly along the transparent shelves set into the pristine white walls of the cosmetics section. The department store was a haze of distant voices and the chirp of scanners as customers milled the aisles and waited their turn to check out. You whiled away your time looking at things you’d never buy as you waited for your husband to return from the men’s department.

You thought of the sparse make-up bag under your sink and the liners and shades you hadn’t used in years. They were likely expired and better tossed in the bin. You hovered along the crystal bottle of designer scents and stopped to test a particular blush-tinted fragrance.

You set the bottle back and peered over at the dark cubbies that housed the men’s scent. Even from there, you could catch a whiff of the heady scents as a younger man with reddish brown hair examined an angular vial of Dior Men. You suddenly felt out of place; a mid-thirties woman in her out-of-season clothes fantasizing about overpriced perfume.

Your husband's voice further cemented your reality as you fingered the golden cap of the Coach eau du parfum. Wesley rolled his eyes and flipped up the little plastic panel that hid the bold prices and huffed.

“I hope you don’t think I’m gonna pay for that shit,” he sneered, “what have you been doing? I was waiting for you.”

He waved a plastic bag as his lip curled and you pressed your mouth shut tightly and swallowed. The day began with another argument as he discovered the seared hole in his shirt and instead of blaming the crappy old dryer, he blamed you. Most of your clothes had been chewed up by the thing but you never complained.

“No, I was just… looking,” you teetered in your flats and glanced around. The young man at the corner display quickly turned to hide his nosy observation, “did you find some new shirts?”

“No thanks to you,” he sniffed.

“Oh,” you played with the hem of your tee and tucked your hands into your pockets nervously. You’d left him to look alone as you only seemed to irritate him and rarely took your advice on matters of clothing, “well, I thought I’d give you some space--”

“Stop acting so pathetic. Start taking responsibility for yourself. For god’s sake, you're almost thirty-six and you don’t know how to hang a shirt to dry?” He spun on his heel and snapped over his shoulder, “let’s go.”

You flinched but followed behind him as he strode away and you stumbled out behind him through the automatic doors. He tossed the bag into the back seat and slammed the door before flopping angrily into the driver’s side. You mirrored him daintily and squeezed your legs together as you tried to make yourself as small as you could.

“I told you about the dryer,” you said.

“And?” he started the engine and slapped his hand around the wheel, “call a fucking electrician or some shit.”

“Alright,” you shrugged as he stopped at the exit of the parking lot and checked his phone quickly.

“Benny wants to do a round of golf,” he peeled out and you grasped the door as your heart raced. You hated how reckless he was when he was angry. You hated how easily he got angry these days.

“Okay,” you picked at the fraying stitching of your purse.

“Don’t start moping,” he sneered, “I fucking work all week and I can’t go out and have a few rounds?”

“I never-- I didn’t say anything,” you murmured.

“You don’t need to,” he turned the wheel sharply as he cut off another car, “you sit at home all day and do what?”

“I work too,” you said.

“Uh huh, sure, if that’s what you call it.”

You ran your fingertip over the bleach stain on the knee of your jeans and said nothing. When he was in a mood, he would latch on anything until he outright exploded. You tried to think of when he changed, when he had stopped being the chill guy you met back in college. It felt like a slow trickle, small things you ignored until it was a mountain you could not see past.

You felt like crying but you’d stopped that a while ago. You existed in a purgatory of acceptance and helplessness. You wanted him to love you again, wanted to believe you could fix things. So you would keep trying. You would do better.

💍 

You picked out a large flank of steak and winced at the price. You had a special dinner in mind. It was Friday and the work week was done. You wanted a weekend without a fight and Wesley was always one for a nice big cut of beef. You hadn’t made him one in a while, your dinners were the usual repetitive drumsticks and rice or your homemade mac and cheese.

You continued onto the fish section and grabbed some salmon for yourself. You’d gained some weight and decided to cut out dairy and red meat if you could help it. The pile of produce in your cart reminded you of the extra jiggle around your stomach and thighs. You also grabbed one of those women’s magazines that advertised a regimen to help slim your figure. You only hoped you could stick to it this time.

With your weekly haul in tow, you wheeled up to the check-out and waited behind a young man who looked oddly familiar to you. Maybe that was the passing years. You always felt a vague glimmer of deja vu, more often a sense of forlorn nostalgia of what you would never have again.

As you stared thoughtlessly, he looked over and smiled. He bent in front of your cart and picked up a thin packet of seasoning. 

“You dropped this,” he said as he held it out and you thanked him before quickly snatching it and looking away. 

He paid for his large bags of chips and over salted pre-packaged meals and packed up at the end as you loaded up your own goods, the cashier sending them down the parallel belt. You swiped your card and tried to calculate the chunk of money from your last check. You thanked the clerk and sidled past the young man as he finished up.

You rounded the counter as he lifted his three bags. You looked up without thinking, the sleeve of his shirt tight around his bicep. You caught yourself staring and looked back down as you packed in the cans. 

It reminded you of Wesley; he’d also started being more mindful, he hit the gym after work and you noticed the little pudge that started just after he turned thirty was slimming out. It was that exact reason that made you notice the extra pounds on your own frame, not that you didn’t realise before.

The man left and you unfolded the little buggy you slid under the cart. You loaded your bags into it and dragged the cart behind you as you made an awkward exit with both wheeled trolleys. The compact fabric buggy was easy enough to fit on the bus if you stood.

You pushed the cart into the row of empty ones and continued across the parking lot. You rolled up to the bus shelter and checked the bus times on your phone. You dug out your strip of tickets and ripped one away. You leaned on the thin handle of your trolley and looked over your shoulder as you heard someone approach.

The man who checked out ahead of you put his bags on the metal bench inside the shelter as he sipped on a bright drink from the place just beside the grocery shop. He sent you a smile over his straw and you spun back to crane your head and search for the bus.

When the metal beast barreled up and cranked to a stop at the curb, the man waited behind you and as your wheels caught on the edge of the ramp, he reached around you and helped push it over the lip. You thanked him shyly and continued up. Usually you tried to keep the shop light on weekdays but you hadn’t really been paying attention.

You pushed your cart against the small barrier just behind the accessible seating and stood beside it, conscious not to take up too much space. The man stood just behind you two bags on one shoulder and the other dangling from the opposite elbow as he sucked on his straw. You grabbed the upright bar as the bus took off and watched the electronic banner for your stop.

A sharp stop had you veering back and you were caught by the young man as he chucked, “oop, you okay?”

“Yes, thank you,” you muttered and gave a sheepish smile over your shoulder.

“There’s a seat,” he gestured just behind you, “I’ll watch your stuff.”

“Um, no it’s… fine,” you gripped the bar tighter as the bus shuttled forward, “my stop is soon.”

You looked ahead of you and three stops passed before yours. You exited through the front with your buggy and headed down the sidewalk as the bus pulled away. You were exhausted just from your little sojourn and it wasn’t even two o’clock. God, you felt old.

💍

You had a salad chopped and tossed and the steak and fish laid out and seasoned. As you listened to your old Spotify list, the music dipped and the notification blipped over the screen. You washed your hands and grabbed the phone. You frowned as you read the lone message from Wesley, the only one you got from him all day.

‘Just finished at the gym, getting drinks with Andrew,’ you read and re-read the message as your heart fell.

You typed out a whole angry response and backspaced it all. You replaced it with ‘ok, have fun’ and blacked the screen. You shoved the meat back in the fridge and stretched saran wrap over the bowl of salad. You placed it on a lower shelf and closed the door, quickly swiping a can of the craft beer Wesley kept around.

You shut the light off in the kitchen and ignored the pang in your stomach as you cracked the can. You climbed the stairs as you sipped the hoppy foam. You put it on the night table and changed into the old butterfly pajamas you wore most nights and turned on the tv mounted against the wall. 

You turned on Netflix but hardly paid attention to the carelessly chosen movie. You sat against the headboard and down the bitter beer until the can was hollow and your eyelids were heavy. You slumped down so that your shoulders were at your ears and dozed off in the stiff position as the room moved with the colours of the television. 

The anger and alcohol shaded your shallow sleep and you hardly heard Wesley when he came in, only waking when your bladder was ready to burst and his snores rumbled in your head. You went to the bathroom and returned, wide awake, and stared at the shape of him in the dark.

You remembered when he used to kiss you when he came home, even when you were asleep, he’d wake you with the little pecks. You remembered when he was happy to come home. You remembered when you were happy. 

You swallowed the acrid aftertaste of beer and left him to snore. You went downstairs and curled up on the couch but didn’t sleep. You just stared at the shadows of the furniture until the sun rose.

💍

The next day, Wesley didn’t wake until after noon and when he did, he didn’t say a word to you. He took his coffee and sat at the patio table in the back as you stewed and cleaned the kitchen. You had nothing to say to him even if you felt stupid for being mad.

“Gotta head down to the dealership,” he said as he interrupted your scouring of the stove.

“The dealership?” you said after a moment, deciding whether or not to break your vow of silence.

“I told you on Wednesday, I’m picking up the car--”

“We talked about this. We should wait a little longer--”

“It’s my money and I got a great price,” he sighed, “just because you have to pinch your pennies--”

“We’re married,” you squeezed the foam sponge, “it’s our money. Don’t act like I don’t pay for anything around here.”

“Oh thanks, honey, so wonderful you paid for a five dollar steak,” he scoffed, “I’ll be impressed when you can make a mortgage payment on your own.”

“How dare you!” you turned your back to him and kept scrubbing, “fine, but not a penny of my money is going to that thing.”

“That’s fine, I’m selling the old one, that should cover most of it--”

“What?” you slammed your hand between the burner, “you said we would hold onto it so I had something to--”

“Then you can buy it from me,” he said venomously.

“I’m your wife,” you spun to scowl at him again, “I-- what is wrong with you?”

He tilted his head and squinted as he poked his tongue out along his lip. “Nothing wrong with me,” he shrugged, “what’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t--” you warned as you pointed a finger at him through the bright yellow gloves, “don’t do that… I’ve been trying and you just keep pushing me away.”

“Me pushing you away?” he rolled his eyes, “you were passed out last night when I got home. Maybe if you didn’t fall asleep before nine I could actually fuck you… or at least get it up if you worked on losing some of that cellulite on your ass.”

Your lip quivered and you sucked in a breath. You shook your head and turned around again. You ignored him as your hand shook and you continued your work, scratching at the dried-on food around the burner. His empty mug clinked onto the counter and you listened to his exit.

Fuck him and his new car. You were done trying with him.

💍

Wesley’s new car was shrouded in the shade of the garage as the old black Hyundai sat out on the driveway with a red and white “For Sale” sign on the windshield. Right after he got back from his extravagant purchase, he made the listing online and several perusers stopped by Saturday night but Sunday morning saw the car still there.

You sat by the border of stones around the garden as he drank beer in the garage and approached any interested buyers who appeared; although so far he’d only had two before noon.

You tucked your clippers into your apron pocket and dusted off your gloves as you stood. You were a little dizzy from sitting out in the sun and a glass of water was the perfect excuse to drown out the annoying sound of your husband’s voice.

You ignored Wesley as you trod through the garage and kicked your sneakers off on the mat right before the three steps up to the house. You went to the kitchen and put your gloves on the counter as you filled a glass from the dispenser on the front of the fridge. You’d given up everything but water and the slices of lemon were the only flavour you had.

You took the glass and your gloves and headed back. Wesley waited just at the bottom of the stairs as he glared up at you with arms crossed. You sighed and descended but he didn’t let you pass.

“What is your problem?”

“Are you really asking me that?” you hissed.

“You giving me the silent treatment isn’t gonna fix this,” he snarled.

“You know what you said so… I shouldn’t have to tell you to apologize,” you retorted and he stayed put.

“Is this about the car?”

“The car is just another thing,” you cross an arm around your stomach, “you think I couldn’t use it to get around, to get the groceries maybe? Or, I don’t know, maybe since you have such a problem with my home office, I could go out and get a ‘big girl’ job as you put it so many times--”

“Your mother has a car she never drives. You can just take her with you, two birds, one stone. I need to sell this to pay for the new one--”

“The one I begged you not to buy,” you huffed, “you could’ve waited a few more years until we were a little more comfortable--”

“Oh, wait? Until we have a kid and all my money goes to it,” he snapped, “yeah, I’m sure we’d have the money then--”

“You’d have to fuck to do that,” you stepped down the last step and pushed past him.

As you came into the sunlight and shielded your eyes, a figure stood by the garden, knelt just by your tulips as he felt the soft petals. You narrowed your eyes. You recognized him for sure. It was the stranger from the bus.

“Um, hi?” you croaked as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Hey, it’s… you again,” he chuckled softly as he stood, “I saw an ad for a car and… well, I’m getting tired of the bus.”

“Oh, uh, my husband,” you pointed over your shoulder, “you’ll have to talk to him.”

“Okay,” he smiled, “Peter,” he held out his hand and you stared at it. You introduced yourself and shook his firm grip.

“Like I said, it’s my husband selling the car,” you brushed by him and got to your knees by the flowerbed. “Unless you’re looking to buy some wilting pansies.”

“Hmm, I like the tulips better,” he said as he slowly inched away, “thanks.”

You sat back on your heels and he strode over to the open garage. You heard Wesley greet him and didn’t bother paying attention to the same pitch you’d heard all morning. You pulled on your gloves and wiggled your nose as it tingled. You really just wanted to keel over and bawl.

“Sold,” Wesley announced and you heard a clap, “all yours!”

“I’ll just transfer the deposit,” Peter said and a minute passed before he emerged again, the keys hanging from his finger, “Thanks, Wes.”

You hid your distaste. It used to be that Wesley hated being called ‘Wes’ but lately, he introduced himself to everyone as just ‘Wes’. He really had changed. You must have too.

“Hey,” you looked up and blinked as the sun made your eyes water as it shone around Peter.

“You bought it?” you asked as you yanked free a weed.

“Yep, but uh,” he glanced over his shoulder as the old car stereo Wesley used blared out a classic rock tune, “I… wasn’t eavesdropping but I heard some of it and… if you ever need a ride to the grocery store, I usually try for Wednesdays,” he tucked his hand in his pocket, “I don’t live too far and since we go to the same one--”

“No, no, you don’t have to do that,” you looked back to the soil, embarrassed.

“Well, if you change your mind,” he kept the keys dangling from one finger and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and slid out a card with some effort, “I’m supposed to have these handy but I never really use them.”

He offered the business card and you read his name above the title, ‘senior photographer’. You gave a half-hearted smile and put it in your apron pocket.

“Thanks,” you said, “I can manage.”

“You don’t have to though,” he said kindly, “but I’ll, uh, leave you to your gardening. Sorry if I bugged you.”

“You didn’t,” you assured without looking up, flattered that anyone cared enough to even offer help.

“Hey, Pete,” Wesley stopped Peter as he neared the car, “you can have one before you go.”

“Oh, no, I’m gonna be driving,” Peter argued.

“Pfft, it’s a celebration and one won’t put you over the limit,” Wesley insisted and handed him a dark bottle of craft brew, “come on.”

“I really should go--”

“It’s a Sunday, where do you need to be?” Wesley patted his shoulder and looked over at you, “hey, honey, you wanna see if we have any snacks for our guest?”

“I’m not hungry,” Peter said curtly, “really. Just the beer is fine.”

They disappeared back into the garage and you cringed. You hated that. Wesley only every acted like a husband when others were around.

💍

You waited a whole week before returning to the grocery store. You were short on everything and it was a reason to get out of the house. Your husband had made both your home and your workplace hostile.

It irked you that Wesley resented you working from home when a couple years ago he was so happy about it. Then, he’d been so enthusiastic about starting a family but when it didn’t happen right away, he grew disillusioned and bitter. Now, he seemed to have no interest in being a husband let alone a father.

As you packed up your spinach and bottles of Perrier, your cart rolled just a little as someone nudged it from the other end. You raised your head and hid your surprise and discomfort as Peter smiled back at you.

“I thought you said Wednesdays,” you murmured as you dropped a bag in your cart.

“I forgot eggs,” he held up the carton, “I guess I have good timing.”

“You do?” you asked as you pulled your cart forward and maneuvered around to push it out of the way of fellow shoppers. You bent to grab your trolley from beneath and he caught it as you unfolded it.

“I’ll drive you,” he said.

“I told you--”

“I’m here so why not? Save the ticket for next time,” he urged.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does it matter? Why do I matter to you?” you asked.

“I don’t know, I… like helping people,” he shrugged, “what if I told you you were helping me? I have this horrible need to be the hero.”

“That will go away,” you muttered under your breath and he lifted a brow, “sorry, I… thank you.”

“Alright, let’s go then,” he collapsed the trolley and carried it easily under his arm as he cradled his eggs in the other, “I got the A/C fixed on the car too.”

“Mmm,” you hummed and walked with him out of the store. 

You crossed the parking lot and helped you load up the bags in the trunk. That car should have been yours; you’d made enough payments on it yourself but Wesley was such a stubborn ass.

You sat in the front seat as he slid into the other and started the car. He drove cautiously through the lot and you read the store signs as he came to the exit.

“How long have you and… the old man been together?”

“Um,” you glanced over at him and chewed your lip, “since college so… almost fifteen years now.”

“Fifteen?” he turned out onto the street, “really? I thought he was older than you.”

“Christ,” you scoffed, “don’t flatter me.”

“Really, I woulda said twenty-eight at most,” he said coolly, “wow, I feel so young now.”

“And I feel so old,” you grumbled as you crossed your legs, hoping he didn’t notice the wrinkle in the pink capris.

“Whatever, you’re not even forty,” he said, “and time has treated you well so I can only think in a few years… oh jeez, sorry, that came off weirder than I intended. Not that I meant for it to be weird at all--”

You giggled at his rambling as he rolled to a stop at the sign and peeked over at you in the rearview. You caught his eye and quickly looked away, “what?”

“Just… you have a nice smile,” he said as he turned down a side street, “and a nice laugh.”

“Thank you,” your voice was brittle at the genuine compliment, “you’re funny.”

“Am I? I wasn’t trying to be,” he took the same short cut you took when you walked home from the convenience store which was closer than the plaza.

“And nice,” you said as he came onto your street, “you really didn’t have to drive me. You could’ve dropped me at the corner--”

“No way, I was raised better than that, and if you think I’m letting you carry that all in by yourself--”

“Raised to help little old ladies?” you mused.

“Raised to treat ladies properly,” he corrected, “especially pretty ones.”

“I’m married,” your heart pattered as you dared to flirt back, almost in disbelief that he was humouring you, “and your lies don’t work on me, young man.”

“Not that young,” he insisted as he pulled into the driveway.

You got out and went around to the trunk. He handed you the bag with the bread and other light products, and loaded up with the other bags.

“You get the doors, let me do the heavy work,” he said and nodded you towards the house.

You went ahead of him and unlocked the door. You let him inside and pointed him into the kitchen. He placed the bags on the counter and stretched his arms and hands as you set yours on the other side. The muscles of his arms moved under his skin and you could trace the lines of his torso through his grey tee.

“So,” he took out the bottle of Perrier, “this going in the fridge?”

“What-- you’ve done enough.”

“Fridge?” he ignored you and pulled out the other.

You gave a long blink and threw up your hands in surrender, “yes, please,” you came around and reached in to grab the whole grain buns, “bottom shelf.”

You finished unpacking your groceries and took the empty bags from Peter and shoved them under the counter. You stood and looked at him nervously as he watched you, his fingers tapping on the granite.

“Do you want a snack? Something to drink? Water?”

“I’ll have a water,” he said and moved to leaned his elbow on the countertop, his side snug to the edge.

“Sparkling or--”

“Regular’s fine,” he answered

“Ice? Lemon?” you pulled out a tall glass.

“Just ice is fine… then I’ll be out of your hair,” he said.

Ice clinked into the glass and you covered it with the distilled water from the fridge. You slid it onto the counter and stepped back.

“Oh, I… actually, it’s a good thing I ran into you,” he said and took a sip, “my aunt, she likes to garden too but she got some bulbs she’s not gonna use, I thought maybe… maybe you would like some to fill in the holes?”

“What kind?” you asked.

“Some daffodils and some crocuses, I think,” he said, “I could bring them over next week after work?”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” you scrunched your lips, “you could probably just give them to a neighbour.”

“It’s not out of the way,” he said, “you want them?”

You stared at him and thought. He was nice. Too nice.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing, I… I’m sure you have a girlfriend you could be spending time with--”

“I don’t. Not anymore,” he interrupted.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, “I didn’t--”

“Like I said, I always wanna be the good guy,” he finished his water and the last of the cubes settled at the bottom, “thanks.”

“No, thank you,” you said as he set his glass in the sink and backed away, “really, you made my day so much easier.”

“I hope your weekend is better,” he said, “but…”

He didn’t finished and you folded your hands together as he hesitated by the hallway.

“But what?” you prodded.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, “nothing. I should go.”

“Okay,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “see ya.”

“Monday,” he confirmed as he turned to the doorframe, “I’ll bring the bulbs. Just after seven.”

“Right,” you slanted your lips and watched him go.

The door marked his departure and you turned to exhale and lean against the counter. You could still smell his rich cologne. Then you felt guilty. It was stupid to think he was doing anything more than being nice, that the flirting was anything but a joke, but still, you missed feeling that way and it should’ve been Wesley making you feel that.

💍

You squeezed the phone as you clenched your jaw so tight it hurt. Your eyes were wet and finally the tears were ready to start falling. The smell of steak filled the kitchen, another meal you wouldn’t eat. At the last minute, Wesley texted to tell you he was hitting the gym. Again. He was already late after a long meeting but promised he’d be home to eat.

So you waited for him to answer your furious phone call but got his voicemail instead. Your eyes narrowed at the bottle of wine and your chest knotted as the tone sounded.

“Wesley, this is it. I can’t do this anymore! I’m your wife. Do you even want to be with me? I can’t go on like this and now you won’t even answer my calls,” you snarled. You knew he had his phone on him as he no doubt had his Spotify work-out list on shuffle, “when you come home, you can sleep on the couch.”

You hung up and grabbed a stemmed glass from the cupboard. You filled it to the brim with Pinot Grigio but before you could taste it, the doorbell made you jump. You set down the glass and walked up the hallway. Just on the other side of the frosted glass was a silhouette. You opened the door and touched your forehead as you faced Peter.

“I totally forgot you were coming,” you breathed, “I’m so sorry. But thank you, you really didn’t have to--”

“Are you okay?” he asked as the paper bag in his hand crinkled.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I… thank you for the flowers,” you looked at the brown paper bag and he handed it over, another bag on his wrist; white with ribbon handles, “what’s that? You headed out for a date?”

“Um, no,” he said, “actually, I was just…” he pushed his fingers through his hairs, the reddish brown locks slightly curled with sweat, “I wanted to talk to you.” He looked past you and his warm eyes returned to yours, “Wesley isn’t home yet?”

“No, he won’t be for a while,” you backed up, “so you might as well come in. I have a steak no one’s gonna eat.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t be,” Peter said glumly, “and steak sounds good.”

He closed the door behind him and followed you into the kitchen. You put the bulbs at the back of the counter and grabbed the bottle, “wine?”

“No thank you,” he said.

You plunked down the bottle and took a gulp of your wine before you turned to plate the steak and your chicken breast alongside the fried asparagus and roasted potatoes. You set the filet before him as he sat on the stool and climbed up across from him at the long island.

“Thank you,” he watched you slide a steak knife and fork towards him and his gaze lingered on your lips as you took another thirsty mouthful, “this is for you, actually.”

He pushed the white bag over to you and you smelled the subtle floral scent rising from it. You put your glass down and pushed open the top of the bag and peeked inside. You shook your head and rescinded your hand as if you were slapped. It was the same perfume from that day weeks ago.

“You… how?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

You thought back on the day you wanted to forget. He was the other shopper in the perfume section, the one who sent you that sympathetic look as Wesley reproached you. You winced and grabbed your utensils. You cut into the chicken and shoved it in your mouth. You swallowed loudly.

“Take it back,” you sniffed, “I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it.”

“You do. He doesn’t deserve you,” he carefully sliced into the medium rare steak.

“Is that what this is? Some perverted joke? A challenge?” you dropped your fork and knife, “you think you can seduce the sad housewife and then laugh at it? Sow your wild oats?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” he calmly put down the silverware, “I… what I didn’t say when I showed up is I just came from the gym.”

You frowned in confusion and wrinkled your nose. You took another drink of wine as you tried to understand.

“I saw Wesley,” he said as he leaned on his elbow and pulled out his phone with his other hand, “I didn’t wanna say anything but… you’re here beating yourself up over him and-- just look.”

He slid his phone across the counter and you looked at the screen. Your entire body felt heavy and your veins filled with ice. You dropped your head into your hands as you tried to wipe the sight from your eyes; the image of your husband groping a woman in yoga pants, an act she wasn’t deterring.

“I knew it,” you sobbed as the tears burst forth and leaked down your palms, “I knew it. And why wouldn’t he? I’m old, ugly--” you sniffed and pulled your hands away to wipe them on your pants. Peter held out a paper towel and you took it as you avoided his eyes, “thank you but I think you should go. I’m humiliated enough.”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” he said as he climbed down from the stool and rounded the island, “he’s an asshole. He’s blind.”

“Please, Peter, just leave me alone,” you slid off the stool and he caught your shoulders. You looked up at him as you dabbed away the streaks of sadness with the paper towel, “Peter--”

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly, “he’s out there having his fun, so why don’t you have some of your own?”

“Peter, that’s-- that’s wrong. I’m too old for you. And… I’m fat and--”

“You’re perfect,” he reached up to frame your chin with his hand, “you’re gorgeous,” his other hand trailed down your arm and to your hip, “that’s the first thing I noticed about you…” he pulled you closer and tapped your ass lightly.

“No, I can’t-- I just want to be alone,” you pushed on his arms and felt the thick biceps as he flexed and kept you close.

“Well, baby, what I want,” he turned you so that you were pinned between him and the island, “is for you to put on that perfume… I want you wearing nothing but that.”

“Peter,” you pushed on his chest that time and the hard muscle wall didn’t budge, “Peter, go--”

“Baby,” he bent and scooped you up suddenly. 

His hands spread over your ass as he lifted you and crushed his lips against yours. You murmured in surprise and he placed you on the granite countertop. He parted from your lips as you sat up and he shoved your legs apart, inserting himself between your knees. He played with the bottom of the dress you’d worn in hopes of rekindling your dying marriage.

“We can go slow,” he tickled along your thighs and pulled back suddenly, “just a little at a time.” 

He leaned in as he reached around you and grabbed the small white bag. He pulled out the perfume and snaked his hand around your neck. He pulled you to bend over him and he kissed your neck just before he sprayed a puff of perfume across your throat. He stood back and took a deep breath. He put the bottle on the counter and his hands went back to your skirt.

“Peter,” you caught his hands as they crept under the fabric, “please.”

You tried to slide forward and he stopped you as he grasped your hips and held you in place. He bit his lip as his eyes glimmered up at you. He drew a hand away and took the glass of wine and held it before your mouth.

“Drink, relax,” he cooed, “forget about him.”

You stared at him and he brought your hand up with his and wrapped it around the full body of the glass. He nudged it to your lips and watched you until you drank from the crystal rim. He smirked and lifted your skirt as he bent to bury his head beneath the folds.

You gulped and choked on the wine as your skirt fluttered down over his shoulders. You felt his finger on the lace trim of your panties and winced. He squeezed your thighs with his other hand and nuzzled the crotch of your underwear. You tried to close your legs but he kept them apart easily.

He curled his fingers under the elastic of your panties and tugged. He pulled until you lifted your ass just enough for him to get them free and he guided them down your legs before quickly parting them again.

You set down the glass and almost overturned it, the last mouthful splashing up the side. You pressed your hands to the granite and peered down at the shape of his head beneath your skirt. You gasped as his cool tongue grazed your warm folds and delved deeper.

“Peter…” you wisped and closed your eyes as you tried to hide from your own shame.

He purred as his tongue flicked over your clit and you twitched. He caressed the crease of your thigh with his fingers as he lapped at your, his other hand pressed against your stomach until you fell back across the counter. You arched your back instinctively and his hand cupped your tit through your dress.

He blindly pulled until your chest slipped out and pushed the cup of your bra as he teased your clit with his tongue. He felt along your cunt with his fingers and shoved his index inside of you. You moaned as he pushed another inside and curled them as he suckled on your bud.

Your core burned to life. Your entire being was set alight after months without affection. You quivered in delight and fear. Your nerves stormed both out of guilt and hunger. It felt so good but you knew it was wrong. The scent of the perfume filled your nose as your skin grew hot.

He moved his hand in time with his mouth as he doted on you. His touch intensified as your legs bent around the side of the island and your fingernails dragged along the granite, your voice rising without thought. He pinched your nipple and you cried out as you came in a wave of sheer pleasure and grabbed his wrist as you tried to steady yourself.

He eased off slowly as you trembled in the afterglow, his lingering touch tickled along your legs as he pushed your dress up. He pulled you to sit up and lifted the fabric over your head and ripped your sleeves free from your arms. He tossed as side the garment and swiftly covered your mouth with his so you tasted your own arousal on his tongue.

He unhooked your bra blindly and slid it off your arms. You were intensely aware of your nakedness and as you brought your arms up to cover yourself, he forced them down and ran his hands over your bare torso. 

“Beautiful,” he said as he laid a trail of gentle pecks along your throat and chest, pausing to take a nipple in his mouth as he rolled the other between his fingers and sent a shiver through you.

He kneaded your sides and hips, his fingers danced along your thighs and he followed the path with his mouth, kissing and nipping your flesh. He lifted his head again as he took your hands and twined his fingers through yours. He tugged you gently until you slid off the counter and landed on your feet shakily.

“Baby, you’re so amazing,” he placed your hands on his chest and pushed them down his muscled torso and brought them back up beneath his tee shirt, “go on.”

He let you go and you continued to roll up his tee. He dipped his head and raised his arms to help you and you clung to the tee as it fell limp in your grasp. Dazed, he snatched the shirt from your hands and flung it. He once more pressed your hands to his chest and guided you in feeling the lines of his toned flesh.

He pushed your hands against the top of his jeans and leaned into you. He kissed your temple and whispered along your hairline, “turn around, baby.” He squeezed your ass and purred, “mmmm, please, I wanna see that ass.”

You blinked, dazed, and spun slowly. You caught yourself on the edge of the counter as your legs trembled and you heard the subtle zip. He kicked his foot between yours and pushed your legs apart as he led you back so that you were slightly bent against the island. He ran his nails down your back and gripped your hip with one hand as his other drew away from your skin.

You flinched as you felt his smooth tip against your ass and he rubbed it between your cheeks. You inhaled and held in your breath as his hold on your tightened and he angled his dick under your ass and grazed your cunt. He poked your entrance and pressed his chest to your back as his hand covered yours on the granite.

He slid into you and your voice fizzled in the air as he forced the air from your lungs. You pushed your head back and it met his shoulder as his other hand crawled down your front. He spread your folds with his fingers and swirled another around your clit as he tilted his hips and thrust into you slowly.

“Ah, Peter,” you slapped the counter and he shushed you as his hand left yours cold and his fingers stretched over your throat.

His motion picked up as the noise of him crashing into you echoed around the kitchen. Your eyes rolled back as he rammed into you even harder. You were on tiptoes as he was driven by the weak moans that leaked from your lips and your wet pleasure squelched around him. He pressed two fingers to your bud and rubbed until you squeaked and your thighs quaked around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, “I bet you never cum like that for him.”

You whined and he sped up again. He pinned you against the counter so that the lip pressed into your stomach. He took his hand from your cunt and pushed your head down as he kept his other hand around your neck. He didn’t waver once as he fucked you.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he commanded, “I want you to cum again for me. I know you want to too.”

His thick breath warmed the air and grazed your back as he held you down and his hold on your neck tightened until silver stars rose in your vision. Your feet dangled against the tile and you reached down to play with your clit as it buzzed. It was only seconds before you were murmuring in ecstasy once more.

“Fuck, baby, can you feel that? The way your clinging to me,” he puffed as he slammed into you over and over, “he can hardly fill you, can he? Hmmm? Little man.”

You wheezed as he choked you and his other hand kept your head pinned. You heard a distant creak but could barely do more than keep your fingers moving as your heartbeat deafened you. You came again and croaked as your cunt squeezed him hungrily.

“What the fuck?” the voice broke your lusty trance and suddenly you were pulled away from the counter.

Your head lulled as Peter held it up and turned you around, his pelvis slapping against your ass as you faced your husband. Your mouth hung open as your blurred vision barely registered the scene and the deep grunts only got louder behind you.

“Look who’s here,” Peter rasped as he snaked his arm around you.

“The fuck are you doing?” Wesley sneered as your eyes closed and your ass rang with each thrust.

“What you can’t,” Peter snickered, “doesn’t she look so happy?” He grasped your chin and pushed his fingers into your mouth as he held your head up, “well, you into watching or you gonna let us finish, old man?”

[oh-for-fic-sake]

A Man And His Cat

You both explore pet play.

Masterlist

Warnings: Adult situations +18 , Pet play, Spanking, Oral, Its kinky

A/n: Sooo who wants smut? my quarantine imagine went down well so here is another dirty fic. This will probably be a mini series feel free to send me your kinks and I will try and incorporate them. I am still working on my other stories slowly but on a little writers block and I may or may not have re-watched superman vs batman so look out as there might be some more dc on the horizon because omg I nearly forggot how yummy they were. Anyway here is another smut piece for you all hope you enjoy xx

Taglist @two-unbeatable-beaters​ @thatgirly81​

A Man And His Cat

You lounged across the sofa in your hello kitty onesie playing your xbox, you'd gotten Jurassic world evolution and was currently snickering letting your t-rex run around eating people. Henry was upstairs you could hear him moving around in the study. The door bell went off you quickly got up wrestling kal out of the way to answer it hearing the post man call out he had left it on the bin you thanked him bringing the large box inside with a few letters piled on top. Not thinking anything of it you brought the post in kicking the door shut behind you.

"Babe what the fuck?" You froze not sure at first what you'd done wrong

"Shit hands! hands! sanitize them quick! we cant take chances! Your not supposed to answer the door I've told you that! Were in London! For Christ sake" He said rushing to you snatching the post handing you the sanitizer that sat on the table by the door. You shook your head quickly rubbing the sanitizer over your hands letting it soak in as Henry shook his head at you watching closely.

"Sorry, sorry I forgot" he sighed since receiving your official 'shielding'  letter from the government Henry had been a little mother hen....papa bear? Either way he was on edge hounding you about keeping your hands clean not touching anything that could possibly be infected or letting anyone other than himself with in 6ft of you. He even made you take your temperature each day with good reason tho your heart clenched things were getting bad the infection and death rates climbing each day ,there was rumors that the UK was on the course to being just like Italy and Spain. In a way his worrying was your fault when the letter came through Henry had freaked out a bit, it hit him hard when he realized it wasn't just speculation it was a fact that if you caught this thing it would most likely kill you and he was shook to the core. It didn't help when you'd only told him a few days prior not to worry about your condition that it was under control ,which technically it was every two months you was having blood tests every so often your blood count would dip a little but you normally managed it with your diet just eating more meat usually does it, the protein helping your count go up a little. You didn't bore him with the details he didn't need to know to much, you knew what to do and when to do it, it was normal for you. You feel yourself getting rough you get a blood test and up your steroids, you feel better you lower them back down the main goal being avoiding blood transfusions. But Henry had insisted he needed to know everything now he said it'd make him feel better so you told him, sat him down and explained that somehow your body can survive on a borderline blood count it should be 120 to 150 yours hovers around 100 to 110... If your lucky, not low enough for a transfusion but low enough to cause a few problems if it drops any more the lowest it got in recent years was 57.... yeah that wasn't fun, you'd spent two whole days seven till seven getting transfusions then had to go back to have the iron in your blood taken out....It was not pretty, but since then you'd been more careful. You explained the fact that your immune system was practically non-existent you caught chicken pox a year before and it nearly killed you two days after the spots appeared causing all sorts of issues pneumonia, bacterial infections in the heart and lungs then sepsis resulting in a few weeks in hospital in the infectious diseases unit so yeah safe to say catching this thing would be bad. Henry bless him was gobsmacked he knew you was anemic ,that was it, he had enough on his plate you didn't want to add to it.You leaned back on the side unit by the door trying to pet kal who sniffed at your hand then snorted walking off, he didn't like the sanitizer one bit.

"Henry I'm sorry I just-it keeps slipping my mind" he nodded wrapping you up in a bear hug resting his chin on your head.

"I know baby I'm sorry for snapping... I just don't want to loose you, stay indoors and stay safe those aren't just the government's rules ,their my rules as  well baby girl remember?" You nodded kissing his chest before replying.

"Yes daddy" then turned and walked to the living room again noticing kal playing in his small cubby hole that had been a cupboard until recently, it had been turned into his own little bed room, complete with bed, night light and shelves that had some family photos of the three of you, you blew him a kiss and he huffed plonking his head down on his fluffy bed stretching out ready for his morning nap, you settled back down to play your game. Henry used the sanitizer then ran a hand through his hair sighing he picked up the post bringing it in placing the large box on the counter. He smirked realizing what it was. His order from bondara ignoring the letters he quickly got a knife slicing open the box. Henry routed around in the box like a kid on Christmas excited he headed up stairs to collect his other investments. You was pulled out of your game by Henry combing your hair back with his fingers pulling it up and back into a high ponytail, something you had no idea he could do, you paused the game turning to him but he held you still facing the TV then you felt them. He had clipped your little fluffy grey kitty ears in your hair pulling the pony tail tighter to secure the bottom of the crocodile clips. You brought a hand up to them confused a little touching them softly. He walked to the side smiling cooing at you

"There she is my precious little kitty! Just look at how cute you are?" You flushed at him as he bent down petting between your 'ears' then he growled in your ear.

"I could just eat you all up" you mewled rocking on the sofa a little anticipating the way this would turn out he gasped a little.

"But whats this? you still need your collar how will anyone know you have a loving owner if you don't have a cute little collar on?" he strode across the room plucking something from the box and retrieved a few more items from the counter that you hadn't known was there ,now tho you could clearly see a folded black towel you moaned at the implication he must have brought it down from upstairs turning he made his was back to you this time standing in front of you.

"As much as I did like your own kitten collar I got you a new one, not from bondara I didn't like theirs much but thankfully etsy is still up and running, here it is see?" You gasped as he revealed a pink leather choker with a pretty lace and ruffle design making it look more like a fancy Lolita choker then a kitty collar apart from the large rose gold D ring hanging from the middle just below a dark pink bow and medium-sized rose gold bell You quickly made to grab for it but he pulled it out of reach .

"No let me do it" you quickly held your head high stretching your neck for him to put it on he chuckled at how eager you was, you smiled wide as he quickly placed it around your neck you sighed when you felt the inside was a little padded with a soft almost suede like material. He spun it around so the bell and D ring was central then hooked two fingers inside checking how tight it was satisfied that it wouldn't choke you he pulled away and watched you closely then he sighed

"No ... its still not right is it kitten?" You tilted your head feeling a little ashamed?upset? he didn't like it? Did he think you were ugly? You blinked frowning at him bottom lip wobbling a little as you were on the brink of tears pulling back from him.

"What-" he shushed you placing a finger to your lips

"Kittens don't talk, now there is something missing pet, Ah! I know now this might be it" he said and picked up a small shiny matching rose gold heart tag, he held it to you to read it. On one side it said kitten the other had 'Property Of Henry If Lost Call' and his phone number on it you gasped a little opening your mouth the thank him but he snapped his fingers at you.No talking. You pouted mewling up at him again not sure how to communicate how much you loved it. Then you clicked leaning forward licking his hand biting lightly before tilting your head nuzzling his crotch. You smirked as his breath hitched in his throat and he grunted swearing quietly unable to stop himself from grinding on your head a little then stopped as you pulled back he grunted again rearranging himself in his bottoms. He made quick work of threading the tag onto the D ring he kissed your head

"Good girl and look baby it was a set" he leaned over you picking up a thick soft paracord lead in pink with leather handle decorated to match your new collar clipping it onto the D ring then looped it around his hand tugging lightly prompting you off of the sofa once you stood he quickly undid the buttons on the onesie letting it fall leaving you naked in the room. You shivered nipples puckering as the soft lead grazed your breasts and tummy as he moved, stepping out of the onesie Henry kicked it across the room.

"There we are kitten, nearly finished now down" he said barley containing his excitment you got down on your hands and knees before him holding his gaze rubbing your thighs together rocking side to side trying to caress your tingling clit between your lips as you felt small trickle of your arousal escape onto the floor mewling at the tiny flickers of pleasure it caused. Henry lead you across the living room to the island in the kitchen crawling was a little tricky at first but you soon found a smooth rhythm staying beside him smiling as the bell tinkled at every movement you made, he smiled down at you from this angle you could already see the bulge forming in his trousers, you went to sit down when he stopped only to have him fold the lead in one hand an strike you with it lightly across your breasts making you yelp out then moan looking down seeing a red stripe across them.

"No sitting until your told now ass up, good kitten just like that" you complied preening at his praise. He bent down holding out a fluffy grey kittytail plug you squealed a little bending further down pushing your tender breasts to the cold floor looking back at him expectantly waving your ass in the air at him. He laughed and crouched beside you running a hand across your dripping pussy  he leaned over kissing your head growling as his fingers massaged your wet center you moaned pushing back on him, he dragged his fingers to your opening plunging two thick fingers inside crooking them trying to scoop out more of your cum holding the plug just below you arched pushing back skimming your breasts across the cool floor trembling as he fucked you slowly bringing the plug to your clit and pressing it in small circles making you buck against him moaning and keening in higher pitches.

"Oh looks like I may have wasted money on lube hey baby? all wet and ready for me already such a precious thing." he ran the plug along your ass smearing your arousal across you all the way down to your slit you moaned as he spread his fingers out pulling your lips with them revealing your quivering hole to the cold air of the room making you gasp and clench as the freezing metal plug passed over it resting heavy on your clit, bucking a little you whined pushing back a little as the cold metal met your heated wet flesh, he held it still letting you warm the toy before running it back and forth slowly twisting it letting your arousal coat it wanting to make sure it was wet enough for him to push it in once satisfied he lifted it moving one hand to your bottom then began pressing it insistently at your tight little pucker. You whined placing the side of your face on the cool tile looking at him, he stroked your head shushing you when he realized just how much bigger this was from the last one

"Ok kitten now try to hold still one big deep breath just like before...Good girl now out push on your bottom" you nodded whining  bearing down on the toy as he held your shoulder using it to pull you back as he started pressing the tail further into you. You arched taking deep breaths when the plug seemed to get wider and wider you shook your head trying to arch away as it stung despite your arousal easing the way, you panicked a little as it seemed to keep stretching becoming sore as your tight ring tried fighting it .

"N-no its to muc-AAHH!" you cried out , he shushed you

"Come on kitten... Nearly there....Just a tiny bit more I promise......Push out again for me good girl! shh that’s it...Such a good girl for me......Ah ah no! stop moving bab-baby no no don't do-HEY! enough!-you’ll hurt yourself!" He scolded you as you tried to push against his hand on your shoulder to wriggle away then when that didn't work you unconsciously tried tucking your bottom beneath you whimpering. He stopped you with a quick volley of sharp spanks you yelped as his hot hand heated your ass, then there was a familiar popping sensation as your bottom swallowed the plug closing snug around it. He had used the distraction to quickly push the last of the plug in with a quick little shunt. You pushed up on your hands breathing heavy as the plug was indeed larger then the one you had used before, you ached as your ass tried fighting it wanting to push it out you let out pitiful breathy moans as you rippled around it.

"Daddy? Its big-im not sure-FUUCK OOHH" you cut yourself off moaning loud when he grabbed the tail and gave a small tug smirking as you cried out then followed it trying to ease the pressure he thrusted it a few times hitting something deep that made you arch high and squeal pressing back on to it as your pussy ceased and your clit throbbed so hard it almost felt raw he let go then twisted on his feet petting your head drawing patterns on your back.

"Oh baby I know its hard but your a kitten and kittens don't talk , if you carry on daddy will gag you understand?" you nodded at him pressing your head into his chest and kissed it softly wanting a little comfort, hissing deep breaths as you clenched around the tail plug whining, he brought the hand from your back and rubbed around the plug pressing it lightly.

"Its a little bigger but look at you? such a good girl look at that pretty little tail now just one more thing and you'll be daddies perfect kitty" he stood back up getting the remaining items a set of mittens that had no thumb piece instead just one Little pouch to fit your hand in with little paw prints on them they would be held on by two thin leather wrist cuffs. you wriggled around now growing accustomed to the bulbous plug pressing on your insides moaning as the ache became more a pleasurable throb you rocked a little in the air mouth open gasping as you rocked faster feeling the plug press against the back wall of you pussy, Henry quickly snatched up your hands one after the other locking them into the paw mittens. He stood back groaning loud as he watched cupping his erection rubbing along the bulge moaning rocking his hips into his palm as you kept arching your back. The sight was more erotic then he could have dreamed, he almost drooled as you rotated and wriggled your hips pushing back and forth trying to make your plug hit the spot he had pressed it to earlier moaning with closed eyes flushing a bright red, flinching as the tail ghosted your legs as it swayed behind you, turning you looked at the soft tail hanging between your legs giggling as the soft fur licked at your thighs. He snapped out of it and tugged you moving slower this time you stopped every so often moaning and whimpering as each step make your pussy twitch as the plug pressed against the back wall of it teasing your sensitive flesh from the wrong side by the time you got to the sofa both thighs were wet and you was shaking with need he sighed sitting down on it legs spread holding the lead tight keeping your head close to his crotch

"Come on baby time for your little treat" he said motioning for you to pull him free you brought your hands up fumbling with the zipper only really achieving to rub him through them ,making him grind against your hands throwing his head back you groaned in frustration whimpering at him resting your head in the inside of his thigh running your nose across the bulge sighing he looked down then petted you between your ears again.

"Oh kitten you can do better then that come on get daddy out." you pouted at him and nipped his thigh with your front teeth making him hiss and tug harshly on the lead growling at you before wrapping the cord around his fist once more pressing your nose into his crotch

"Bite me again kitten and see what happens, you think I wont fuck your throat raw? Ram into your mouth until my cock is choking you? Face fuck you until your pass out? I wouldn't test me kitten not now Ive waited to long to have you like this." His low ground out threats made you moan you couldn't wait until he fucked your mouth, already craving his salty taste, you kissed his cock through his trousers licking at it, it made you realize what you should do you trembled tucking your knees underneath you to keep your weight off of the plug you licked a long strip up the front of his trousers wetting them making him grunt again, one hand rested on your head petting you, you smirked watching through your lashes as he started flushing and panting, he loved it when you did this it was the only time he let you tease mostly because he was enjoying himself to much to fight for control, for all his talk of wanting control you think he secretly liked being at your mercy every once in a while, you poked out your tongue grazing his zipper then bit down making sure to press on him harshly making him yelp and hiss though clenched teeth when you dragged it down, he fumbled quickly undoing his top button and shimmied them down his hips giving you enough room to bite his boxers and pull them down....only you didn't you wrapped your lips over them sucking on him hard through them making sure to soak his boxers with spit making him groan giving a  thrust up to your face fisting his fingers in you hair a little careful not to pull off the ears.

"FUCK kitten!! Oh GOD! fuck pleaseplease do that again!! come on once more such a good girl" you did taking your sweet time kissing and suckling on him nudging him with your nose pushing him up and latched onto the sensitive underside of his cock running your teeth over his hot flesh rocking your hips left and right letting your pussy massage itself poking out your tongue you flattened it running it up the vein near his head pinning it to his hip then opened your mouth around it humming, he jerked up ass leaving the seat moaning out loud swearing at you for being a tease, you continued up finding his swollen crown you licked at it then his slit sucking again on him. He groaned loud and drawn out flexing his fingers and widened his legs you carried on enjoying having the man at your mercy for once kissing and sucking at his twitching length he began rocking faster panting.

"OH! yesyesYES Baby...WAIT HOLD ON!... Fuck slow down!Dont nono that's it kitten thats enough daddies going to cum! NO! ENOUGH!" you giggled as he used the lead to jerk you away panting and sweaty you thought it was funny you'd never heard him that desperate before, he normally had godlike restraint  holding himself back for hours if he really wanted to, he gasped then ran a hand across his face and melted into to sofa fighting of the impending orgasm. You sat there biding your time once he relaxed you swooped back in ready to force him to cum in his boxers, but only managed one kitten lick before being jerked away again he growled at you in warning giving you a stern look then tugged of his top still panting.

"you cheeky little thing!" you grinned raising yourself to your knees running your hands up his thighs as you leaned in kissing along the v of muscles above his boxers licking at his skin then nuzzled him lightly ghosting his stomach with your nose placing butterfly kisses here and there feeling him flex trying to arch his cock up to you, you slowly made your way down again opening your mouth tilting your head to engulf the muscle just on his boxers waistband flattening your tongue relishing in the pleasure filled noises he let loose and in the same moment curled your fingers over it the elastic pulling it away letting him spring free hitting your chin. He grunted as you let go letting the elastic snap back onto his balls only letting his cock free he looked down at you giving you a heated look

"Careful baby you don't want to play these games with me" you blinked innocently at him smiling then began kissing lower until you was at the base of his cock ignoring the small patch of hair at his root kissing him obscenely with open mouthed wet kisses then licked him from base to tip before plunging down on him he groaned closing his eyes tight

"FUCK KITTEN! Oohh god that's so hot, shit your mouth is SO FUCKING HOT UGH!" You sucked him deep swallowing around him letting one hand wander to his balls cupping them and rolling them in your palm your other hand dropped between your legs and you ground yourself on your hand moaning onto his cock as you worked your clit in slow firm strokes making your new gloves sticky and wet from your arousal. He cried out desperately bucking into your mouth and throat moaning and crying out cutting off his own words as you kept changing your pace hearing your little bell jingle with your movements on him bobbing your head slow with harsh sucks to his head then fast making sure to swallow or moan as he hit your throat focused solely on making him cum. Today he would cum first you were going to make sure. You whined as you changed direction on your clit feeling the heat in your belly slowly make its way down settling in your hard clit rubbing and tapping at it moaning louder as your orgasm began to build. He shivered his thighs jerking and trembling as you pointed your tongue pressing on the sensitive vein underneath it he shook his head clutching at the sofa grunting breathlessly each time he felt the vibrations of your throat moaning on him.

"BABY BABY STOP! I cant fuck please its to much- no nononono not yet I FuckFU-Fuuuck ah AH AH OH SHIT FUUUUUUCK" you ignored him, he was so lost that he had forgotten the lead, you used it to your advantage pulling back and sucking hard on his head licking at his slit then gripped his sack squeezing it tight as it tensed upwards then with one small drag of your teeth he whimpered loud and high releasing in your mouth jerking himself uncontrollably into your mouth face fucking you just like he threatened. You gave yourself a mental pat on the back but decided to go further swallowing as much of his cum you could but continued to suck and bob on him then cried out as your rocking hips found that perfect position on your clit making it throb and twitch your walls clenching, spasming making the plug move and caress your depths finally you screeched around his cock and came over your hand soaking the glove he yelped curling his feet into the floor shifting back trying to get away you followed placing your hands on his thighs pushing them back as he tried closing his legs trembling from your own release moaning and withering against him.

"UGH NOO FUCK STOPSTOPSTOOOP! ITS TO MUCH BA-KITTEN STOP IT NO PLEASE" he through his hands down blindly pushing you but you fought him wanting to torture him a bit, a little pay back for the other day you reasoned, but you couldn't fight him long even in his fucked out quivering state he was ten times stronger than you, you dragged your teeth across him one last time as he pushed you back off of him completely.

"Your a little bitch, you know that?" He said head tilted back and one arm draped across his eyes heaving deep breaths you just giggled kissing his thighs

"Where the fuck did that come from Anyway?" You just smirked licking your lip trying to collect the cum that had escaped from your mouth he groaned watching your pink tongue darting out.

“Meow?” You were a dangerous little kitten he decided. He looked down feeling your wet mitten then frowned a little before smiling deviously.

"Oh kitten? You didn't touch yourself did you?" You froze a little then sent him coy glance pulling your hands down slowly hoping he wouldn't notice. He caught your offending hand quickly

"Did you?" You shrugged feigning innocence as he pulled your hand up sniffing it you blushed

"It certainly smells like you" you whined at him flushing embarrassed  making him chuckle, he licked a long strip of of the mitten slapping his lips as he puled away tutting.

"Oh i think you did didn't you? Because daddy knows exactly how you taste and that my sweet little kitten is definitely you on this little mitten, such a needy little kitty hm? Did suckling on daddy really make you that desperate? Poor little baby" you panted as he bent forward his pupils dominated the blue of his eyes hot and playful all in one he peered down at the wooden floor sighing.

"Such a messy little pussy you have" he pushed you back a little you ducked when his leg swung over you and he got up walking to the counter again you watched  carefully as he approached the box you took the time to admire his taught ass as he bent forward a little reaching inside picking something out then folded the towel over his arm then hear the distinct sound of leather cracking on an open palm. You snapped out of your ass worshiping gaze eyes flicking  to his hands as he spun around looking at him as he held a new leather paddle with a paw print on it he smiled slyly crooking a finger at you. Come here. You gulped then rose from your spot on the floor crawling toward him gulping.

"You know kitten you was very reckless at the door earlier it was very naughty trying to torture daddy and playing with yourself without permission? I think you should be.....Corrected shall we say, for future reference just as a deterrent?. After all prevention is better then cure isn't it?" he licked his lips watching you squirm on the spot just across the kitchen island he tested the small paddle again. Your whole body ceased up as he stared at you.

"Erm N-no lets not how about best two out of three? You know three strikes and your out?" He chuckled shaking his head.

"Oh baby but that was three strikes and how many times do i have to tell you? kittens don't talk do they?" You pouted trying to sit your bottom down only to jerk it back up as your tail plug pressed deeper and the soft fur tickled your leg... not only that you didn't want to get it wet with your arousal

"Come kitten what do you say?" You blushed

"Meow" his face lit up yet his eyes only got darker

"That’s it such a clever kitty, but I must say you will be getting more then three strikes of your new paddle trust me now come round here like a good girl" you crawled around to his side squeaking as he lifted you effortlessly bending you over the counter you hissed as your breasts squished into the freezing cold marble your toes didn't touch the floor as he shuffled you up with the edge of the island on your thighs. He stood off to the side a little admiring the way your grey tail hung between your legs, the pitiful noises were delicious he grunted feeling himself twitch already starting to harden again he patted you bottom drawing lines along the soft skin moving to your slit following up towards the plug lifting the tail holding it taught in a fist but not pulling it out just tugging enough to make it press down into your pussy from behind. You moaned squirming trying to follow it as he held it high toes scrabbling up the cupboard door failing.

"Oh baby that's so cute, you know I  can see your pussy trying to find something to latch on to, does it feel hot? Is it empty? Sweet kitten you see if you had been a good girl following your rules, if you had stopped when daddy said and asked to touch yourself daddy would already be balls deep, battering away at your needy little pussy painting your insides with his cum... but no instead you hand to be a naughty girl and will have to settle for your paddle." You cried out as he circled your twitching clit as he spoke emphasizing words with shallow thrusts on his fingers he pulled away picking up the paddle striking your lower cheeks and pussy making you jump and moan hearing a wet slap as the sting settled in he pulled away running a hand over the pink spot

"Oohh look at that hah you have a little paw print on your tush now,I think fifteen will do don't you sweety? Five for each naughty thing you did? You know normally I would have you count and say thank you, but well seeing as your a kitten today you should meow instead" You groaned as he lifted it again slapping a bit harder this time you yelped as he aimed for the under curve of your left cheek then meowed dutifully.

"Very good again" he struck you again lower on your thigh no harder then before this time you meowed again moaning as your pussy clenched dripping on your touching thighs. You closed your eyes tight as he continued peppering your ass with the paddle the final five landed in quick succession on your weeping pussy you meowed loud and hard sobbing each pussy spank had directly struck the underside of your clit. Throwing the paddle on the counter he cupped your red swollen lips his hand cooling the burn. He smiled then tilted his hips up bringing his fully erect cock to your entrance. Throwing the towel down on the floor. You sobbed higher as he drew lines on your slit teasing your muscles you jerked against him just on the edge of cumming kicking out your legs.

"You know I have been doing some reading about squirting, I think I've sussed out how to make it happen on command shall we test it out?" You shook your head grunting as he thrust forward you cried out feeling him force your walls apart making room for his fat throbbing cock it stung more then ever with your weight on your tummy and plug in your ass but you loved it.

"Ugh! NOOO!AH AH FUCK!" You mewled grunting at each punishing thrust stretching you he was fighting the plug in your ass for room holding firm  he grinded your clit you screeched as he angled his hips and tugged up on the tail making the embedded metal run along his cock growling. Before you knew what happened your body ceased walls tightened clamping around his cock moaning and gasping releasing, flooding over him he laughed groaning as your steady stream of cum hit his abdomen and washed over him.

"Oh fuck! yes I knew you could do it good girl, fuck that's so HOT! again more come on baby you can do it! Give it to daddy once more then I'll fill you" he grunted doubling his efforts stroking his cock around inside of you giving sharp tugs to your tail jolting you back against him to meet his brutal hips making you whimper at the harsh treatment one of his hand snuck below you pinching your clit almost jerking it off.

"FUCK I’m nearly there KITTEN! OH SHIT! Fuckfuckfuck you better fucking cum for me! Or I'll get the wand out again!" That did it You threw your head back placing your toes on the cupboard door rocking against him cumming again long and hard, so hard you couldn't make a sound all the air left you and you just hung there your mouth hanging open in a silent scream he grunted gabbing your shoulders pulling you back to him making your spine curve painfully as you fell apart around him again your sopping pussy sucking on him trying to trap him with on final painful thrust he growled rubbing his cock head on your cervix releasing torrents of cum into you. He lowered your shoulders down feeling you go limp taking a moment to catch his breath then he pulled the box towards him panting heavy fishing out another plug

"NOnonono please Henry no moreIi cant-I came again I promise I did please don't get the wand out!" You panicked pleading with him as his hand disappeared into the box pushing back on him, he smiled waving a dildo plug on your face

"Not a wand see this is for your pussy love, to keep my cum inside you for the rest of the day.....after all you was a bad kitten" you mewled relaxing happy he wasn't going to torture you again to tired to argue you laid still as he pulled himself from you quickly plugging you up before anything could escape. You moaned and wriggled he slid you off of the counter to you feet quickly supporting you as you nearly dropped to the floor smirking a smug little smile you reached behind you to pull the tail from you he smacked your hand away

"Ohh no I think I will have you stay like this all day, at least then I know you wont answer the door" you gaped then pouted at him crossing your arms at him

"A-all day? What if I get cold" he chuckled walking across to the sofa throwing you his tshirt you quickly tried slipping it on but dropped it due to your mittens you sulked stamping a foot he pulled on his boxers then returned picking up the tshirt sliding it on you then quickly undid the mittens you flexed your fingers when they were free , he collected the damp towel on the floor wiping down your thighs and between your legs you took the other end patting his pelvis down blushing realizing just how much mess you'd made you looked down still wiping him tears sprung to your eyes sniffling

"Oh god this is so embarrassing" could hear the quiver in your voice, ready to cry out of shame he growled not having non of that he shook his head hooking his fingers into your collar pulling you up on your tiptoes forcing you to look him in the eye.

"Not its fucking hot! I cant believe how sexy that was feeling you cum so thoroughly, drenching me uncontrollably, fuck it was the most amazing feeling! And I cant wait to make you soak me again and again, one day I’m going to drink it from you." You blushed shocked by his words as he leaned in kissing you passionately sucking on your tongue he pulled away tossing the towel into the washing machine then pulled the leather cuffs from the loops in the mittens throwing then in as well quickly turning it on to rinse and dry. Then quickly he scooped you up settling back on the couch, you squirmed pulling the tail from under you he held it up your back lightly  then handed you the controller.

"Now show me your Jurassic park d-did you let the t rex out?" You smiled giggling at him nodding then snugged back into him as you started making a new paddock in the game. These next few months were going to be the best of your life if today was anything to go by.

[sepublic]

Ant-Watching

           Y’all ever watch ants?

           That’s what I just did. I came back from running an errand for someone else, and I decided to go visit my local gas station, right near where I live, just to see if there was anything I wanted to pick up. But, my attention was quickly piqued by a long line of ants, strewn across the sidewalk surrounding the gas station. I was of course intrigued, and tracked them from one end up the brick wall of the gas station, and into the tiniest possible hole there. I’m not sure where the hole led, it seemed so tiny, and I’m not sure how such a small, precise little tunnel could form in the seams between the bricks, leading all the way into wherever it was, within the gas station.

           Tracing the other end of the line, I saw the familiarly-textured dirt of an ant colony, nestled within beneath the local, obligatory bush placed next to the parking spaces. I’ve gotta admit, I have to hand it to whichever Queen Ant established this colony, she chose the perfect spot… Or not. Being directly next to a gas station, in the patch of dirt and shrubbery as close as possible to it, that’s an amazing source of endless, reliable food right for this colony, so close and convenient!

           On the other hand, I could see the proximity to the gas station leading to the colony having an exterminator called upon it. I’d be sad to see it go, but alas, such is life. Ants keep making do regardless. I wonder what happens to ants who survive the destruction of their colony, the eradication of their queen- Do they just blindly wander until they starve to death? If you introduced an ant to a new colony, would that colony accept, or instead reject and kill, the poor little creature?

           I went inside the gas station, did some snooping. I couldn’t find where the ants were, but if I had to guess, directly on the other side of the wall they were crawling into; There was a countertop with a trash area underneath. Is this where the ants were getting their loot- Some small tunnel outside, leading directly into the inside of this dark cubby where all of the trash and food was dumped? Either way, it was such a jackpot for them, I felt weirdly proud of them despite having nothing to do with it.

           I went back outside, and I noticed on my way back to the line, bristling and bustling with ants crossing by one another in opposite directions, that there was a dead bug. Quite a bit away from the line of ants, it was the dessicated corpse of… A cockroach? A beetle? I wasn’t sure what. Regardless, I wondered if the ants could make use of it; Or if they already had, the corpse seemed not much more than empty, chitinous shell, which might’ve been too hardy for the ants to break apart. Or, maybe they hadn’t bothered because it was too far away…

           To test my theory –because I honestly didn’t care if people were watching, I was allowed to do what I wanted, and as corny as it may sound, I think Dana Terrace and The Owl House helped me develop the bravery to be as weird as I wanted in public, and it’s enriched my day greatly for it- I skidded and lightly kicked the dead bug, all the way to the ant line. And, success! They seemed attracted to it, and next thing I knew the bug was bristling with shiny little ants; I’d accidentally overturned it while moving the dead bug, and exposed its much softer underbelly, ripe for the taking and picking! Now I felt proud, and this time it felt earned because I DID contribute, I did help with something the ants couldn’t have done on their own! I did good.

           So, I’m getting a bit existential about the life of ants. How it’s all long, thankless, endless work, as they drag food back, go on an arduous trek that for us giants, is just a few steps. Rinse, repeat, help feed the young, and so forth; Survive, but for what purpose? There is no downtime. Such is life, it’s interesting how we developed from just basic propagation, to really enjoying the fruit of existence; But only after we ensured it’d last, that we had reliable stuff to keep going on through. In the meantime, I decided to go back to the brick wall. There was another, tiny little hole, and I could see what looked like the tiniest little… egg shell? It was a shell of some sorts, gradually being dragged through, as if unclogging this second hole.

           I was half-tempted to help the ants with it, but I decided not to interfere, in case I did something wrong, or if I misunderstood what they were getting at. But, I later checked, and indeed they had dislodged it, and were now moving down the length of the wall with it! It was a roly-poly shell, I wonder what killed it- The ants, its own natural lifespan? But as I checked, I noticed this one particular ant, hauling a crumb of food bigger than the others I’d seen. While other ants returned from the gas station with tiny little beadlets of food, this ant had a larger, misshapen, yellow-ish grain of something. I wasn’t sure what, but it seemed an arduous and difficult task to handle it, to get it down the side of a vertical brick face.

           But, when I checked on the ant again- It succeeded! It was on the ground, scooting the grain, one gradual, agonizing millimeter at a time. I turned back to the dead bug, thought about helping the ants by pushing it all the way, right next to their nest; I grabbed a dead stick nearby that seemed sufficient, and for a moment I reveled in the power I had. I was no longer a child who’d be grabbed along by my parent and told not to mess around- I had the freedom and autonomy to observe insects, however I wanted! So I used the dead chip of wood to try and scoot the dead bug along…

           Alas, the wind came and it scooted it past the ant line, back upright. I tried again to scoot the dead bug back to its trajectory, but then some ants crawled up the stick, and onto my hand! I panicked for a bit, I think one might’ve bit me… But I brushed them aside. Eventually I settled for righting my previous wrong, by overturning the bug and returning it back to the line; I’d just settle for that, for now. No time for ambitious projects on behalf of the ants…

           Though, I DID consider buying just a little bit of food, and maybe scattering a piece or two by their nest, to see what the ants did with it! Ant feeding… Imagine that, like throwing bread crumbs to the pigeons, except I’m throwing tiny scraps of food to ants, diligently tearing apart and working, hauling, etc. Breaking it down bit by bit to divide the work, the power of infinitesimal hands amounting to something huge! I ultimately didn’t buy anything, alas, but it’s a fun thought, and I might try it another day and opportunity.

           Anyhow, I watched the ant struggle with its lone yellow grain; Somehow, likely because of the wind, it had gotten separated from the line, its grain moved away. I felt some compassion, and I grabbed another tiny dead stick-chip, and pushed it back to the line; This was much more successful, and the ant began moving the grain along the line, once more. I kept watching, and got tired of crouching upon the balls of my feet, so I just went F it, and sat down onto the concrete.

          THAT was much more relaxing, and for a while I enjoyed and watched and marveled, mesmerized at the coordination and moving patterns of it all, the shiny ants, how some had tiny little beads in their mandibles, etc. At one point I looked back along the line, closer to the nest, and I saw a tiny roly-poly, a living one; Nearby, stumbling across. In morbid fascination, I checked to see what would happen; Would the ants pursue and harass it, or was the reliable source of inanimate food, more preferable than taking on live prey?

           Thankfully, despite bumping into the ants at the line, the roly-poly was unscathed and ignored. It departed from the line, and headed elsewhere along the patch of dirt where the shrubs grew, the patch where on the edge dwelled the ant colony. I turned my attention back to the ant with its large grain. By this point, I was used to the hot sun beating down on me, but it wasn’t unbearable, and I felt gratitude for the brief periods of cloudiness and shade. Agonizingly, I watched the ant make its progress…

           At one point, it actually veered off-course, as these ants seem wanton to do, for some reason. I couldn’t let that happen again, so I grabbed another of my dead, discarded sticks –the ants ignored the cellulose they seemed unable to work with- and pushed it back on course. To my delight, the ant kept working, and I internally cheered as it pushed the grain up the slope of the driveway, surprisingly more easily than I’d anticipated, and much faster too! At one point, a kind passerby asked if I had a flat tire; To him, it must’ve looked like I was staring at the tire of the car parked in the space right next to the colony, as the ant line passed nearby. I said no, and he went on his way.

           The whole time, some other people went on their way, passing near me. Nobody stopped to look or notice, at least as far as I could tell; I was much too engrossed in these ants. I’m glad nobody stopped to bother or harass me for it. Eventually, the lone ant began transporting the grain into the final stretch, in the seams between the blocks of concrete, right before the colony itself! There were points where it seemed like other ants were helping with the burden, perhaps other ants took over for the original. I thought about how this lone ant likely went through all of this effort, took it upon itself without any thought, and would get no recognition for it.

           It didn’t think about it, it just did it; It saw something to be carried and worked with it, no thought about how hard it was, no consideration of letting someone else do it. It found something and grabbed it and moved! Marvelous. The ants kept moving the grain, at one point I lost it beneath a wood chip wedged in the concrete, but the ants succeeded in moving the grain past the chip, beneath and over as needed. Finally, right before the grain reached the colony, right before it arrived at the entrance to be dropped down, I hastily took a photo;

           And at the last possible second! I’d fumbled with the perspective, zoomed in, tried to figure out where my camera was looking at, before re-orienting and focusing on where the ant and its grain were, and finding it. I’d planned this for a while, a victory photo for when the grain had reached the colony, and I’d barely snapped my picture before the grain dropped in, out of view! I felt oddly triumphant; But then again, I HAD contributed, hadn’t I? I felt proud of these ants, of the ant- They’d finally done it! This long, agonizing work… The grain would make good feeding for the young and everyone else.

           And then, likely- The ants just went on! They went right back to work, always focused in the now. Never wondering, never questioning, such a simple existence. No higher thought nor reason besides doing what needed to be done, no particular selfishness, no shirking of the work, they just did it. It was almost robotic, although I knew that ants didn’t have any actual hive minds; They merely coordinated well. As one person said, if a giant watched us humans work and collaborate together, WE’d look like the hive mind! I’d sat and watched for a while, taking different positions, sitting and crouching and kneeling in various ways; But after faithfully, diligently watching this one particular task and its undertaking, more or less the whole way through, until it was finally finished…

           Well, I felt finished myself! And so I headed inside the nearby dollar store to cool down with its AC, near the frozen section, before getting back into my car, and heading home- Where I’ve since sat down to type this all out. I dunno, something about watching the ants in nature… It just gets to me, I think I ended up kinning a couple of ants along the way. Very wondrous stuff, and time really passed by; It was so much more fun, engaging, and unique, than what I usually did to pass the day along, whenever I drove out. 10/10, would do it again, Ants are wonderful and would recommend!

[bluebellhairpin]

Hush

Loki Laufeyson X Reader

A/N: Get ready for some angst my bro-dudes. Might be fluffy later. We’ll see how much of a bad author I’m feeling today. P.S. We’re bringing back the ‘Old Avengers’ (Thor=pop-tarts, Clint=air vents, etc), hope ya’ll don’t mind, I just really miss those days. - Nemo

Request: 44. "I don't sleep. My mind has a scary capability of being dark and demented." - "So you're scared of your own dreams?" - "Yes." — With Loki saying prompt. - @dicksoutformtl

Prompt: 44. "I don't sleep. My mind has a scary capability of being dark and demented." - "So you're scared of your own dreams?" - "Yes."

Warnings: Mentions of death, nightmares and PTSD. It’s only mild, but I thought I’d mention it just in case. Preparation is key folks.

Summary: Everyone knows Loki has done some bad things in his past, such bad things tend to stay with him for a lot longer then others might think. Lately the lingering thoughts have seeped into his dreams to give him restless nights. You, a new resident at the Avengers building, have noticed how he stays up later and it awake earlier than everyone else. So you decide to try and help the Prince by proving to him that your powers aren’t as lame as they sound.

Masterlist  

As a child, you were always quieter than other kids. It wasn’t a sort of disease, and it wasn’t even part of your abilities. It was just how you were.

Your father always told the story of you as a newborn. How a few hours after you’d been born your mother had a postpartum hemorrhage and had to be sent to a hospital with more qualified staff. That hospital was over three hours away from your hometown, and after you mother had been taken to the better hospital via helicopter, you and you father along with your grandmother and aunt were taken afterwards via car.

During that entire time, you were mostly passed through the care of your father and aunt, your grandmother looking after you when she wasn’t with her daughter. Even though most babies might have been crying, hungry, or distressed without their mother for almost a week, you were quiet, only ever making a fuss when it was the exact time you were to be fed, and even then you were still quiet.

You father always said it was like you knew the extent of the situation, that you crying would only make it worse on him and you mother.

You were discerning even as a baby, you knew when you needed to be quiet and when you needed to speak out.

You gained your abilities after a school excursion to a radiotherapy facility. The radiation that was being passed through parts of the building was something otherworldly. Out of your class, five people died, and the rest of you were under testing for the next two weeks for any side effects. They people testing you all were surprised to find there was no signs of cancer, but there was signs of other things.

One kid, name was Harold, got the ability of telekinesis. He was obsessed with magic back then, so you saw that his abilities linked with that. In fact, you found, everyone's abilities linked with their major interests or personality traits at the time.

Jannie got the ability to shape-shift, she was very insecure about her body, so she used it to make herself look better. Some days you wished you had her power instead.

Victor gained a perfect memory, he could remember everything from faces and names to entire dictionaries. He was the classes A+ Student, had been ever since.

Kandice was able to communicate to animals. She wanted to be a vet, and with her new ability she could get answers to questions right from the animals.

Others were able to excel in physical sports, lie without getting caught, freeze time so they could read more books, one could even lift entire buildings so she could be like Superman.

You often compared your abilities to that of the others. Since you were so quiet, you gained the ability to make other things quiet. You thought it was stupid. Why would anyone want to live in a world of silence? But then you found it was useful.

One particular day at school you walked passed a crowd, in the centre of it was Harold, of which had gone down a much darker path then simple hand magic, and a kid two years below you. The kid was helpless as Harold kept ‘grabbing’ his books and spraying them everywhere.

You sighed at the sight, thinking you could again do nothing as other walked on or stopped to laugh. But then in hit you.

You could make things quiet, thinks like music and talking, but what's to say you can’t do that to other things too? There’s that saying, ‘quiet mind’, maybe you could quiet Harolds mind so much his powers stopped working.

So you moved further into the crowd, closer to Harold, and focused on his head, right where his brain was. You didn’t know what you were doing, but you knew you needed to do it fast.

You soon found out that fast wasn’t the best, and that you had definitely not used you powers to that extent before. Within a few seconds of telling Harold’s mind to be ‘Silent’ he had dropped to the ground with a thud. His powers were no longer working, as was his mind.

You rushed over to him, not having meant to make him collapse, and rolled him over so he was facing the sky. His eyes were glasses over with a white gloss, they couldn’t seem to find a place to fix themselves on, but that soon disappeared as you let go of your hold on his mind.

“(y/n), when the hell did you get here?” he said, voice slurred as he moved to sit up. “What am I doing on the ground? Ugh, let me go!” he yanked his arm out of your grasp and you leaned back to give him more space.

“I was helping.” you mumbled, choosing to not say who you were helping, since you did (kind of) help both him and the kid he was tormenting.

“I don’t need your help. Never have and never will.” Harold said, standing with a sway before walking off with his two ‘best friends’ in tow.

Once upon a time you were rather close with Harold. Not after his got his telekinesis. He seemed to figure he was better than a person with the power to ‘make things quiet’.

Looking back you knew he was wrong. Your powers sounded lame, to most they were, but you and SHIELD soon found they weren’t. Instead they were very useful.

As a result, but the time you’d been out of school for three years, you’d been taken in by SHIELD and used for stealth missions, even teaming up with The Captain America on few occasions. Those were fun missions.

Eventually those in charge of the SHIELD remnants viewed you as someone worth adding to the group called Avengers. You felt honoured.

At the same time they added the Asgardian Loki to the team. You felt enshadowed.

You’re powers were cool, at the best. Loki’s abilities we far superior to yours, no matter how repeatedly useful you were told yours were.

Loki thought you were strange, like you had just as much purpose as he did in being an Avenger, and yet you were still so ordinary. He didn’t really understand what you were meant to do.

You were always so damn quiet.

“Where’s (y/n)?” Steve asked, walking into the common room to find most of the over Avengers lounging around wasting time on mediocre tasks.

“Just walked passed me.” You said, looking up from your computer to see a flustered Steve. He always felt bad about not noticing you, even though you always told him it was fine.

“Sorry, I just needed to tell you you’re on for a mission with Loki tomorrow afternoon.” he said, looking over at Loki as he spoke. Loki nodded at his words before going back to the TV, continuing to watch the show playing on the screen. You wondered how he could like watching Shameless so much so often. You decided wondering about other-worldly beings wasn’t the best idea, so you went back to your computer screen as soon as Steve excused himself from the room.

A few hours passed and most others had turned in for the night, or moved to their own places. Clint was no doubt in his ‘cubby hole’ near the air duct near Natasha’s room, Tony would be down in his workshop, while the others would most likely be sleeping.

Loki was still watching Shameless, without too much sign of stopping.

“You gonna head off soon?” You called over to him, closing your laptop with a soft thunk. You’d noticed he was always the last person to go to sleep, and the first awake. It worried you a little to see him not getting a lot of sleep. Thor was Asguardian and got more sleep than Loki did.

“Maybe.” he said. You sighed and walked over to sit on the other end of the couch, kicking his legs off one end so you had room.

“I’ll stay up with you.” You said, letting yourself get semi-comfortable as you ignored Loki’s glare from his new-found slouching position.

“What are you doing here, exactly?” He asked and sat up so his back was less strained.

“Watching Shameless with you. What does it look like?” You scoffed, shaking your head and crossing your arms.

“No, I mean here. With the Avengers. From what I know you aren’t that great.” he bluntly stated, turning to face you more fully as you whipped your head over to look at him.

“Well, no. I guess they’re not - I’m not that great. But I can be useful.”

“Like? Give me something to work with.”

“When I work with Cap- Steve, I focus on stealth. My powers are...” you paused, deciding to say it straight, not worrying about how lame it might sound, “... I can make things quiet, so I can run, unlock doors, smash glass without making any sound while Steve deals with things in a more straightforward manner, like a decoy.”

“What if you run into someone more powerful than you? Smarter? More combat-inclined?” Loki asked, leaning his head on his hand as if her was actually interested in your answer.

“Then my code name comes into play. I tell them to ‘Hush’, and their mind goes to sleep. They drop to the floor unconscious, their powers no longer able to work, and they wake up in about a half hour.” You said, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Why not tell them to be silent? Surely that’d work faster.”

“Silence is more powerful than a Hush. As I grow older and more experience my powers become more powerful. When I was a teenager I would tell someone to be ‘Silent’ and they’d just drop unconscious. Nowadays if I did that the person could suffer severe brain damage, or be sent into a long-term coma, or die. I don’t really want to kill anybody.” Loki looked at you with more wonder then the shock you were used to seeing when you told your story.

“Sounds like you could be rather dangerous if you wanted.” he said, sitting up straighter again and smiling lightly at you.

“I suppose.” You mumbled, looking down at your hands before up at Loki again. You and he stared at each other for a while, ignoring the show as the credits of another episode started to roll.

“What else can you make quiet?” You felt you knew why he asked that question.

When new members of the Avengers join, they are set rooms in the building, usually close to other new members. Yours and Loki’s rooms are right next to each other. When he does sleep you hear him. He shouts, almost screams out at times, usually about how sorry he is, or how he wishes he could turn back time to fix what he did.

Night-terrors were like that. Almost everyone in the building suffered from them, even you sometimes.

“I can quiet-down thoughts. Here.” You said, stretching out your legs and patting your lap. “Put your head here. I’ll see if I can help.” He frowned at you.

“Help with what?” You gave him a ‘are you serious?’ look.

“I know Loki. I know you don’t sleep. There’s no shame in not hiding it.” You sighed, he reluctantly moved down so his head was in your lap. His feet had to dangle off the edge of the couch so he was in the right spot.

"I don't sleep.” he admitted, “My mind has a scary capability of being dark and demented." He finished with a breathy chuckle, you smiled lightly down at him.

"So you're scared of your own dreams?" You said quietly, resting your fingers on his temples.

"Yes." He mumbled, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath as you started to work your magic.

“The mighty Loki, only afraid of himself.” He let out a light laugh at your quip at his ego, not saying anything, partially to not ruin the mood, and partially because he could no longer form any sentences.

You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, his eyes fluttering open to lock with yours, and unspoken agreement managing to be shared between you both in those few moments.

You weren't useless, not to him.

Because of you he was able to sleep that night without fear.

That night, and a lifetime more after.

[antiquechampagne]

Chapter 20 - A Little Poke

Payne sat there in the night, the breeze lightly teasing at her hair. The temptation to run returned; to dissolve into the dark. Squeezing her eyes shut, she rose and returned to the tumble down house. Three pairs of eyes reflected the orange firelight as they turned to welcome her back.

“See, told ya… bad meat, right Payne?”

She nodded, and quickly placed a hand on her side. “Sorry if I had you worried. I sometimes have bad reactions to things. I’m fine now.” Payne let out a little sigh. “Since I don’t think I am going to manage to sleep any time soon, I’ll take first watch, if that’s okay.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. Payne headed up to the second story before hearing who would relieve her. Honestly, she didn’t care. She needed the time to clear her head. The hours passed quietly, cooling her mind.

A few hours after midnight, she heard someone climb the stairs. Nate appeared and stretched as he walked towards her.

“You doing okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, nothing a little time won’t heal.” She turned to him, a question bubbling below the surface. “Can I ask you something, about before the war?” she said sheepishly.

“Sure.” He sat down next to her, the moonlight glinting off the gold accents of his worn vault suit.

“You said you were in the war, right?” He nodded. “And you came home, starting a family. What was it like, coming back? Was it hard to not be a soldier anymore?”

Nate sighed. “I was discharged about a year a half before the whole world went to shit. The military had guys on hand to try and ease us back into civilian life, but you could tell the Department of Reintegration Services was really just lip service. The whole operation was underfunded and understaffed.” He shook his head slowly. “I found it really jarring. You see a lot of stuff in war, stuff you can’t just talk about with people. In some ways, you never really stop being a soldier. Nora helped with that. Her father was a psychologist; I guess she picked up something from him. She was the only one who ever really got me to talk through the stuff. Guess that is one of the reasons I loved her. She knew what to say and when.”

Payne rubbed at some discoloration on the barrel of her rifle. “I guess a lot of other guys didn’t have that.”

“No, I guess not.” Nate propped his hand under his chin. “Why you asking?”

“Well, for you, the war just happened, right? Now you are running around in all this shit. It’s gotta be like going back to war.”

“You have a point. Guess it’s a good thing you never really stop being a soldier, then.” He flicked a thumb towards the stairs. “Go on and get some sleep. I’ll be fine.”

Payne got up and started down.

“Hey, Payne?”

She stopped, and looked back.

“Thanks for asking.” A weak smile warmed Nate’s face. Payne nodded.

The next morning everyone rose early and headed out. As they walked, Hancock noticed Payne rubbing the palm of her hand. He fell into step with her.

“Your hand okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, it will be fine. It’s just the burn from last night when I almost fell in the fire. My glove is irritating it.”

“And here I thought it would be all taken care off since you took a little nip from your ‘juice box’ this morning.”

“Burns take a long time to heal for me, even with… a little help.” Payne found the term ‘juice box’ distasteful so she avoided it.

Hancock looked up and scanned the sky, quickening his pace. “We need to find a safe place soon. Rad storm is rolling in.”

“I don’t see anything.” Nate looked around. Almost on cue, the distant rumble of thunder confirmed Hancock’s hunch.

Hancock wiggled his fingers in the air. “Special ghoul super power.”

Nate motion to the group. “We’re close to a place that might work. Follow me.”

They closed hidden bunker’s door just as the first splatters of radioactive rain hit the ground. Nate and Piper stepped over a broken protectron to get as far away from the window of the small room as they could.

Hancock stood by the shielded window, looking out at the storm. “How did you find this place?”

“I just stumbled upon it… that protectron gave me a bit of trouble. That terminal locked me out, but I guess it has something to do with this lift. It looks like it still might work.” Green lightning ripped through the sky close to them. Nate’s pipboy started to crackle. He dug some Rad-X out of a pocket and popped some in his mouth before handing the bottle to Piper.

“I hope this storm passes quickly. I don’t feel like glowing when we show up at The Slog.” She held the bottle out to Payne, but she declined.

“I’m fine. A little radiation doesn’t bother me.”

Unfortunately, the rad storm resolved into a raging thunderstorm that had them staying put for more than an hour. Nate entertained himself by trying to pull more scrap out of the defunct robot, while Hancock seemed to be enjoying himself just watching the rain. Piper grumbled while she tinkered with the computer terminal.

Payne tried to ease her boredom by rummaging through the meager furnishings. She found nothing useful, which she expected since Nate had obviously been through here before. Reclining on a concrete wall, she happened to glance behind a nearby shelving unit. There something caught her eye. Nudging the heavy cabinet with her shoulder, Payne uncovered a hidden cubby carved into the wall. The space was awkward, but she managed to slip her hand into the hole and pulled out a couple of Jet containers.

“Hey Hancock, Merry Christmas!” she playfully tossed them over to her boss.

“Sweet! Thanks. Anything else fun back there?” He asked.

Payne wedged herself in tighter between the wall and cabinet, trying to reach the back of the stash. She felt the telltale shape of a handful of syringes and grasped for them. As her fingers tightened around them, she heard a sharp snap. Feeling the sting of the delicate glass as it dug into her skin, she instinctually pulled back.

“Fucking HELL!” Payne yelped as she quickly extricated herself, whipping her head around wildly. Blood coursed liberally down glass, leather and flesh onto the concrete floor. Piper stifled gasped.

“What happened?” Nate was on his feet in an instant, guiding her to Piper’s recently vacated seat by the desk.

Behind her helmet, Payne grit her teeth. “Chem syringe broke. Damn it.”

A large cylindrical shard of glass protruded obliquely from the meaty part of Payne’s palm, slicing neatly through her black glove. Nate quickly studied the injury, gingerly turning over her hand and placing it back on the desktop.

“Piper, get the first aid kit out of my pack.” Ordered Nate.

Hancock stood next to Payne, watched as Nate pulled rags, needles and antiseptic from his bag next to her limp hand. Payne’s uninjured left hand clenched in pain against her thigh.

“What kind of chems was it?” he asked.

“Med-Xss.” Payne answered, her speech started to slur.

“Med-X? Are you sure?” Nate turned to her. “Then why are you in so much pain?”

“Chemsss don’t work right on me.” Payne shook her head. As she continued, her voice became slow and measured. “Med-X paralysesss my musclesss and increasessss pain.”

“Lucky you.” Hancock jabbed. Looking down he noticed her right shoulder slumped. He guessed under her helmet’s visor more evidence of paralysis presented itself. More pressing was the large pool of blood spreading on the table.

Nate cut away the leather glove and inspected the wound. Tendon and bone shown through the bloody glass.

Piper turned away, color draining from her face. “Okay, that’s enough for me.” She proper herself up in the corner with the door, trying desperately to watch the rain through the window and ignore the gory scene.

“Oh, come on Piper!” Hancock chided. “You’ve seen worse than this!”

“Shut up, Hancock!” Piper quickly turned around as she caught another glimpse of Payne’s mangled hand. “Not this close up!”

Payne hissed as Nate gently tugged on the glass. “That’s really in there, isn’t it.” He said.

“Jusst pull it OUT!” She snapped. “Or I’ll do it mysself.”

Payne steeled herself. Focusing on her breathing, she forced it to be even and slow. Nate gripped the glass shard. The jagged edges slid slowly through her torn flesh. Once free, Nate let out a sigh of relief and went to grab a needle.

“You didn’t get all of it.” Payne spat through a clenched jaw.

“What?” Nate lightly probed the wound. Payne sat as still as she could stand, agony pulsing through her arm and into her brain. Frustrated at his pace, Payne pushed Nate’s hand away.

“Here!” she hissed as she took his finger and pushed it along the fleshy bit near her thumb. Under his fingers, he felt something hard and unmoving beneath the meat. Grabbing a pair of forceps, he fished around in the bloody gash. Payne rolled her head as stars appeared in her vision. Hancock placed a hand on her shoulder. Finally, Nate fished out the slick shard and washed out the wound with a bit of purified water. Swiftly he stitched the wound closed.

As he finished the last few stitches, Hancock squeezed Payne’s shoulder. “Badass, sister. Took that like a fucking trouper.”

“Thanksss.” Just as she looked away from her hand, she felt the pinch and heard the plunger release of a stimpak. “Awww, fuck… really Nate?”

Nate look up confused. “What? It’s a stimpak. Don’t want you to have a scar, do you?”

“It told you. Chemsss don’t work right on me.” Nate apologized while he continued to wrap her hand in makeshift bandages. She looked up at Hancock. “Too late now, I sssspose. How far to the Sssslog?”

“A mile or two. You gunna be okay?” Hancock helped her to her feet. Payne tested putting weight on her right leg. It was weak and wobbly, but she could walk… barely.

“When we get there, I am going to sssleep all this off.” After trying to fit an old glove from her pack over the bandages with no success, Payne resorted in just wrapping more rags around her hand to protect it from the sun.

The rain stopped. The group slowly made their way through the wastes, slowed by the mud and Payne’s limping gait. Because of the stimpak, she had to stop frequently to catch her breath. By the time they reached The Slog in the afternoon, Payne was dead on her feet.

As they approached, a ghoul dressed in a flannel shirt stopped his digging and headed in their direction, arm raised in greeting.

“Hey, Nate.” He smiled. “Hi John! What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

Nate answered. “Hey Wiseman. We’re here to see how your latest resident is doing. Where is the big guy?”

Wiseman turned and called out. “Hey Strong, your human is here to see you!”

From behind the building, a hulking green figure appeared. The super mutant lumbering towards them, towering over the rest of the residents as he passed by the swimming pool turned tarberry bog.

“Strong go with human?” his voice low and booming.

“In a little bit, Big Guy. How are the defenses going?” Nate asked.

“Strong build walls to protect squishy ghouls. Still no find milk of human kindness.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it soon.” Nate turned to Wiseman. “How’s it been? Any problems?”

“No, surprisingly.” Wiseman shrugged. “Strong has been a great help. Some residents are still wary of him, but nothing a little time can’t help. Truth be told, he takes a little getting used to.”

“I figure we can lend a hand around here before I head out with Strong. I have quite the trip planned.”

“And when you work hard, you play hard.” Hancock smiled.

“And I bet you brought the party hats. You can always count on Mayor Hancock to have a good time.” Wiseman put an arm around Hancock’s shoulders while guiding the group around the ruined resort. “Who’s the slow one?”

“Don’t let her hear you say that. She’s my new body guard, Payne. She’s a bit worse for the wear at them moment.”

Wiseman and Payne exchanged acknowledgements.

Piper held back with Payne. “Jeeze, those super mutants aren’t much prettier up close, are they?”

Payne, in her exhausted state barely managed a faint grunt in response. When they reached the main building, Payne saw rows of beds inside.

“If you all don’t mind… I’m going to rest for a bit. My head is killing me.”

“There are guest beds on the left. Let me know if you need anything.” Wiseman continued to show the rest of the group around, Strong in tow behind them. A few minutes later, Payne drifted away into a painful and restless sleep.

[ecodweeb]

Hyundai Hitch Install (Guide)

Y’all asked for it, so here ya go. Here’s my write up on the install of the Curt 11486 hitch on the Ioniq EV. If you’re reading this before you install, allow me to suggest a few other Curt accessories for you: ball mount (45521), 1-7/8″ ball (40061) and/or 2″ ball (40003), hitch pin (21580), and wiring harness (56381). I will cover my wiring harness installation in this guide as well. This project requires about $5 in parts from your BMW dealer.

Let’s get started

First, I suggest reviewing the Installation Guide. Ignore all the trim modification instructions, you’re going to be winging it. I didn’t think to take photos of the panels as my spouse modified them, at the time of this writing it’s raining and will be raining for at least a week, so if/when I have the opportunity to get photos of our panel mods, I’ll update this post. 

Required Tools & Parts

Ratchet

10mm socket

17mm socket

Rotary Tool

Safety Glasses

BMW Stud Bolt 07-12-9-904-544 

BMW Under Cover Rivet 07-14-7-311-614 

Washer that fits BMW stud

Multi-bit Screwdriver with box end bit

Optional, but recommended tools

Trim Panel removal kit (or you could 3d print one)

Small flat head screwdriver

Vehicle Lift

A second pair of hands

1. Relocating the High Voltage Battery Cable

The Curt hitch is a direct bolt on to the frame, the problem is this is in the way:

Remove the 10mm nut and let the cable hang. 

This will let you get the hitch aligned to the holes in the frame. My hitch might have been a little warped (cheap Amazon warehouse return), but we broke off two of the frame nuts during this installation. Your mileage may vary.

 Assemble the new wiring harness fastener

Install the new wiring harness fastener

After we used the rotary tool to get some of the excess filler out of the hole on the cable clip, the Under Cover Rivet slipped right in, almost right through. The Rivet head was not much wider the widened hole, so we had to add a washer. I’d suggest it regardless. You’ll gently tighten this with the box end bit, after you get the clip positioned.

The cable clip has a lip that hugs the frame rail, rotate the cable clip so that the top of the lip rests against the bottom of the frame rail. Tighten so that the clip wiggles a little but doesn’t twist.

2. Panel Modifications

Like I said, I suck here. We make too large a cut out for the receiver, I’d measure. We did everything by eye.

All the panels will need to be modified, because the Ioniq EV tried to have a solid underbelly. Modify as you see fit.

2.1 Update 6/16/2020

A member of the Hyundai Ioniq Worldwide Group on Facebook followed this how-to and provided the following photos and tips on cutting the plastics:

Here’s the pictures for plastic cutting   Right side

Zap strap the sliced section after installation The tape is approximately right amount to cut. Little too much Was cut. I just needed one more car to get it perfect Center

Left side

3. Wiring Harness Installation

The Curt 56381 Wiring Harness Installation Guide can be followed pretty much step by step. Other than attaching the ground to the body, the entire process is plug and play after you remove the panels. 

The ground wire is on the driver (left) side of the car, which is the same side of the harness that needs to be grounded. The passenger side has the exhaust fan for the battery pack. I’m curious if RHD vehicles have these parts in the same locations.

I did not run a constant 12v to the battery for obvious reasons. I ran a ground and the 12v constant from the wiring harness control unit through the floor panel. 

I ran the wires through the holes for the straps. We tested it on my backup 12v battery (with 3D printed adapter plate being worn as a necklace). 

Finally, I attached the cables to a cigarette lighter plug. Puts the jumpbox that lives in the hatch to good use. I’m looking for a smaller one that can fit in the little cubby on the driver side.

Clever or rigged, it works. Now it’s time to #TowElectric.

[distant-rose-archive-blog]

Sins of the Father

Note: Okay, okay, this request is ridiculously late and I am a terrible, horrible person and I hope 15ekaytert887 will forgive me. Anyway, she requested the following: “Wes does something bad and Killian begins to worry that his son is going to be dark like he was and then Emma somehow shows him that that’s not the case.” I tried super hard to keep true to the request as well as to my characters. This one got away with me honestly. I thought I was going to cap at 4,000 words but then it just took on a life of its own. As always, @welllpthisishappening, you are the light of my life and a trooper for encouraging me and reading all the spam messages I send you. Available in AO3 flavor here: [LINK] Summary: “Seed is strong, lads. The sins of the father always come up in the sons.“ Killian’s old captain once told him that before punishing him and his brother severely for a crime they didn’t commit. However, Killian now wonders if there is any truth to it, considering the intense violence he witnesses his son committing. (AO3 Request) Rating: T Word Count: 7,800+

Killian finds his son sitting outside the Dean’s office with a bloody lip, a bruise ringing around his right eye and discolored knuckles. The Dean of Students had called and said there was an incident, which Killian now knows from surveying his son and taking in the visual evidence that the incident in question was a fight.

Wes doesn’t know he’s there, not yet, and he’s staring at the wall in front of him with blazing blue eyes and a clenched jaw. His posture is stiff, as if he’s waiting for the perfect moment to bolt. His shaggy pale blonde hair is matted with sweat, strands curling over his ears and sticking to his forehead.

“Westley…” Killian calls, concern in his voice.

Wes looks up and Killian watches as a muscle jumps in his jaw. The fire isn’t quite replaced in his eyes, but he looks more surprised to see his father standing in Storybrooke Central High School’s administration office than ready to punch a hole through a wall as he did before.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Wes asks, eyebrows furrowing together. Killian sees there’s something dark on his son’s forehead. He can’t tell if it’s another bruise or a smudge of dirt.

“The Dean called and said there was an incident and that they needed to talk to me about it,” Killian replies with an arched eyebrow. “Get into a fight, lad?”

“Normally Mom handles this,” Wes states, ignoring the question entirely. “I’ve never seen you come in before. I was beginning to think you were as allergic to school as I am.”

“Your mother is on-call, so I’m handling this. What happened, Westley? Fess up,” Killian commands, purposefully omitting the fact that the Dean had specifically asked for him to be make an appearance rather than his wife. He can’t fathom the significance of the request, but he knows whatever it is, it’s not good.

Before Wes can even speak, the door to the office opens and Dean Rooney, a haggard man with increasingly graying ginger hair and a handlebar mustache far too big for his face, appears.

“Mr. Jones, so glad you could make it. Please, come in…there’s a lot we need to discuss…”

Killian moves forward and Wes stands to follow them both. However, Dean Rooney places his hand out, gesturing to them stop.

“Westley, I know you’re an old hat at this, but I would like to speak to your father privately, if you don’t mind.”

Wes’s eyes widen again, once more he looks surprised. Killian watches as his son sits down tentatively, jaw working. It’s obvious that this request is something new to the routine and he’s not sure how to handle it. Killian cannot help but feel the same. As his son had stated, Killian is not usually the one who handles school calls. He doesn’t know the routine, but something about this entire situation feels off.

Killian follows the man into the office, sparing his son on last glance before entering. Dean Rooney shuts the door behind them, closing the blinds. The action puts Killian a bit more on edge.

“Mr. Jones, I don’t think we’ve been formerly introduced. I’m Edward R. Rooney, Dean of Students,” the man says, holding out his hand for Killian to shake.

“Killian Jones, Deputy Sheriff,” he responds, taking his hand and giving it a brisk but firm shake.

“I know,” the Dean replies, looking like he’s fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

Dean Rooney gives him a condescending smile, which makes the muscles in Killian’s only hand twitch. He takes a small breath and returns that smile with a waning one of his own.

“Have a seat, Mr. Jones,” Dean Rooney says, gesturing to the chair situated in front of the desk. It looks like one of the chairs from his kids’ classes; wooden and uncomfortable. Killian wonders how many times his kids have sat this seat.

“You said that there was an incident today. I’m assuming by the look of my son, he got into a fight,” Killian starts as he sits down in the chair. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees and fingers curling around his hook.

“Incident…that’s a word for it,” Dean Rooney says, raising his eyebrows and looking down on his desk with a snort.

He picks up a large file. It’s a good few inches thick and completely full of paper of various colors.

“Do you know what this is?” Dean Rooney asks. He doesn’t wait for Killian to respond. “This is your son’s permanent record. Everything Westley Graham Jones has done since he entered kindergarten is in this file. It’s practically a book.”

Killian doesn’t respond. His fingers tighten around his hook until his knuckles go white. He senses that Dean Rooney isn’t done. He waits.

His hunch is founded when Dean Rooney opens the file and starts flipping through the papers. He goes all the way to the back of the file and looks back up at Killian with an intense frown.

“Stealing things from kids’ cubbies in kindergarten…Cutting school halfway through the day in second grade…faking sick in third grade…Pretending to be another student in order to take a test for them in the fourth grade…Entering the girls’ locker room that same year…Starting a hunger strike in the fifth grade…Starting a school wide food fight that same year…Allowing all the frogs to escape from the science lab in the sixth grade…Stealing tampons of all things from the nurse’s office also that same year…staging a “human pac-man” game in the halls in the seven grade…eighth grade was a little quiet except for the water fight in the boys’ locker room. Those are just from the highlight reel…Or if we’re looking at what happened today, those are the warm up rounds…”

“What happened today, Mr. Rooney?” Killian asks impatiently, bringing his hand up to massage his temple.

“It’s Dean Rooney, Mr. Jones, and your son sent three boys to the hospital today with broken bones and serious injuries. One boy’s arm was so badly damaged that the doctor isn’t sure he will get full motion from his elbow joint again.”

“What?”

Killian’s eyes go wide in surprise. It never has occurred to him before that Wes was capable of inflicting such damage. Wes, while athletic, is wiry and lithe. He didn’t have the same big build and strength that Killian’s elder son Harrison had.

“I have the video right here,” Dean Rooney says, picking up a video cassette off his desk and shaking it in Killian’s face. “I want you to see what your son has done so you realize why you are here and why he’s being suspended for ten days.”

Killian wants nothing more than to bat the cassette out of his hands but he holds himself back. Dean Rooney rolls a large television next to the desk and pops the cassette into the player before turning the television on. The screen blinks to live and all Killian sees is static before a video takes over. Judging from the footage, the video has been taken from a high angle in one of the hallways. The video is in muted color and offers no sound, but the picture is quite clear.

The hallway is empty save for three boys who are chatting by the lockers at the bottom of the screen. They are all smiling and laughing. Killian can’t hear them but they’re obviously joking about something. It isn’t long before Wes shows up on the screen. Killian knows his shaggy blond hair and red hoodie anywhere. He looks murderous; stride purposeful and fists balled at his sides as he approaches the boys. He goes up to the largest one in the group, a lanky dark haired boy in a green jacket and ripped jeans, and starts saying something. It almost looks like Wes is yelling at the boy, jabbing in him in the chest harshly with his finger. The boy pushes Wes away from him and says something that almost looks taunting from his posture. The two other boys start crowding Wes.

Wes still looks pissed and steps forward again, still jabbing with his finger. This time the other boy doesn’t push him. Instead, he takes a swing at Wes, a sloppy one with no sense of form. If Killian was this boy’s father, he would have been ashamed it. Wes ducks it easily, grabs the arm in question and uses the momentum of the other boy to bring him forward. He brings his knee up to connect with the boy’s nose. Blood spurts and Wes doesn’t even blink, he tosses the boy back into the lockers. The boy’s head connects with the metal so harshly and even without the sound, Killian flinches. Killian is still new to some medical jargon and diagnosis even after being in Storybrooke for eighteen years, but he’s almost perfectly certain that blow was enough to cause a concussion. 

The other boys aren’t just uninvolved bystanders. One, a reedy blond, grabs Wes around the shoulders and puts him in a headlock while the other, a stocky boy with black hair, cuffs Wes across the face. Wes seems to snarl in response, clawing at the blond’s arm. He somehow takes hold of the boy’s wrist and twists it viciously. Killian watches as the injured teenager lets out a silent scream on the screen. He releases Wes who lets go of the blond’s wrist just to grab higher on his arm. He jerks the boy until his front hits the wall. Wes slams into him and in a show of viciousness, once more twists with enough of force that the arm turns at an unnatural angle. Killian closes his eyes as he’s hit with a sickening sense of deja vu. His son fights just like him; quick, dirty and vicious.

The stocky one grabs at Wes and pulls him off the blond who crumples to the floor and appears to be whimpering, cradling his obviously broken arm to his chest. It’s obvious none of these kids know how to fight unlike Wes who has been trained at Killian’s knee since he was young. The stocky kid is able to get in a few hits on Wes who barely seems to feel them. The boy looks terrified like he’s fighting because he feels he has no choice while Wes seems to be zeroing in on him like he’s ready to kill. Killian knows it’s over. He knows what’s going to happen next. He sees his son glance at the boy’s knees and Killian doesn’t need to watch to know what Wes is going to do because he knows he would do the same in that situation. He watches anyway.

Wes slide tackles him, bringing him to the floor. The stocky boy falls easily, but Killian knows it’s far from over. Wes gets on top of him and begins to punch the boy repeatedly in the face. Blood spatters across the floor, staining Wes’s knuckles and dribbling all over the kid’s clothes. Killian’s entire being is focused on the screen as he watches in horror. His eyes strain to the point where the screen seems to blur and suddenly Killian is watching himself trying to punch the child into a grave instead of his son. Shaggy blond hair turns black and the red hoodie turns into a leather jacket. He wants to throw up.

Killian can’t breathe and the scars on his back, the first ones he ever received, start to ache again. The video in front of him seems to make them open up again despite the fact that they last time they bled, Killian was eleven years old.

“Seed is strong, lads. The sins of the father always come up in the sons,” the voice of the captain, the one who Brennan Jones sold his sons to, rings in Killian’s ears like the old bastard is right next to him. Killian remembers the words vividly because the old captain had spoken them before whipping him and Liam for stealing silver - a crime they hadn’t committed. The old captain hadn’t cared. He just figured that Jones brothers had inherited their father’s penchant for thievery.

The old captain was bloody right. Killian had inherited his father’s sins, but they hadn’t truly come to light until his pirate years. Brennan’s sins had taken awhile to show up in Killian but apparently Killian’s penchant for violence is showing up much earlier in Wes. Killian’s sins went far beyond just violence though. He had lied, cheated, stolen, pillaged, plundered and murdered countless, including his own father. How long would it be before these sins showed themselves in his son or even his other children? Harrison and Neddy seemed gentle and sweet enough, but how long would it be before darkness emerged in them? What of his precious girl? When would her heart blacken?

“Mr. Jones…are you still with me?” Dean Rooney calls, breaking Killian away from his thoughts.

Killian blinks, bringing himself back to the present and rubbing his thumb against the side of his nose with a shaky breath. He looks back at the Dean with weary eyes. The man looks equal parts irritated and impatient.

“Yes, Mr. Rooney?” Killian gestures for the man to continue.

“It’s Dean Rooney, Mr. Jones. Dean Rooney. I take my job seriously and I expect you to respect that. As I’m sure you can understand this is not acceptable behavior here at Storybrooke Central High School,” Dean Rooney starts and Killian can tell he’s in for a long hull. “This kind of violence cannot be tolerated. Your son has been misbehaving since he entered the school system and not once have you shown up to address the issue. Only your wife has. I called for you specifically because I don’t think your wife has been taking this matter seriously enough. His behavior has not curbed with her handling. Perhaps a more masculine authority figure will do the trick. Take more of an interest in your son’s academic career or he’s out of here. I don’t care if his mother’s the Savior.”

Killian wants to scream at him. This isn’t Emma’s fault or her lack of parenting. Emma is a great mother and not once has she ever let the kids off the hook in regard to their natures. The blame lays at his feet. It’s his bad blood here, but he can’t bring himself to speak because he’s still reeling over the video.

“I’ll talk to him,” Killian says, feeling exhausted and heavy.

“You will do more than just talk to him,” Dean Rooney replies firmly. “You take see to it that his behavior stops. And you will put him in counseling. If it were up to me, Mr. Jones, he would be expelled but the Disciplinary Committee is softer than I am and says that ten days of suspension is the correct punishment for the crime despite the fact your son impaired the starting pitcher for the baseball team. However, I will not let him through the front doors unless I receive word that he is in counseling. Do I make myself clear?”

“Aye.”

"Leave. Take your son and get out of my school. Now.”

Wes looks somewhat anxious when Killian leaves Dean Rooney’s office. Anxious but not remorseful; more worried about what happened in the office than repentant of the fact he had beaten three kids to a bloody pulp. Wes’s eyes meet his and he sees his own eyes staring back at him. It sickens him.

“Dad, I”- “I don’t want to hear it,” Killian cuts him firmly. “Get up. We’re leaving.”

Wes follows Killian out of the building and into the black SUV he and his wife had bought when Neddy was born and they could no longer squeeze the entire family into the tiny yellow bug. The old bug was still kicking; Emma preferred using it when she was on patrol. The SUV is all Killian’s, and occasionally Harrison’s now that he had his permit.

Wes gets into the passenger’s seat as Killian piles into the driver’s side. As soon as Killian settles into his seat, he leans over and gives his son a whack on the back of his head. Wes yelps and looks over at him with a stunned expression. Killian is not one for striking children, including his own, but the situation calls for it.

“What the bloody hell you were thinking?” he barks at the boy.

“Dad, listen to me, it’s not what you”-“Stop talking,” Killian hisses, interrupting him once more. “I honestly don’t want to hear it. I saw the video, Westley. You could have killed one of those kids. You’ll be lucky if they don’t press charges. Your mother and I might have to cuff you. Do you even understand what you have done?”

“Dad! Just listen”- “No. I’m done. I told you I don’t want to hear it!”

“Are you going to listen to my side of the story at all?” Wes practically screams at him, frustration plainly evident on his face.

“Your side of the story is that you put three kids who don’t even know how to properly throw a punch in the hospital. Your side of the story is that you were using techniques I specifically taught for life and death situations only on them. Your side of the story is that you’re grounded until I say so and you’re going to hand over your phone to me right now.”

“What you kidding me? Mom would have at least listened to my side to the story!” Wes protests.

“Phone. Now!” Killian commands, using his captain voice; the one that brokers no arguments.

He holds out his hand, waiting for his son to obey his request. Wes does in a begrudging fashion, scowling as he hands over his most prized possession.

“So, this is it? You’re really not even going to ask for my side of what happened? This is ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. And so unfair!” Wes whines, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His face is red with anger, but Killian doesn’t care.

“What’s unfair is that you twisted a kid’s arm so hard that you broke his bones and he’s never going to move that elbow the same way. Not only that, but you beat a kid’s face in. I watched the video, Wes. You can’t lie about this. Honestly, I can’t even look at you,” Killian responds in his fit of anger.

He keeps his eyes trained on the road because if he looks at his son, he knows what will be staring back at him - the worst part of himself. He needs a drink. Or twenty.

Killian makes a near beeline for the kitchen when they arrive home. He needs something to get rid of the edge that had been settled in his bones since he watched the video. Wes moodily bumps past him, which causes Killian to pause in his path and send his son a vicious glare.

“Go to your room now and don’t come out until I say so,” Killian orders him.

Wes, in typical teenage fashion, rolls his eyes and glowers at him.

“Yes, Captain,” he replies sarcastically, giving him a mocking salute.

“You’re very lucky I’m your father and not your captain,” Killian replies darkly, his mood continuing to sour. “You could be flogged for the shit you pulled today. Hell, even kicked off the ship. You were out of control.”

“If I was on a ship, you would be forced to listen to my side of the story or there would be mutiny,” Wes mutters under his breath. “No crew would stand for you playing judge, jury and executioner. This is bullshit.”

Killian ignores him in favor of pulling the rum bottle from under the sink and taking a clean glass from the dishwasher. He pours himself two fingers of rum when he hears the door to Wes’s bedroom door slam shut with a thunderous bang. Killian pauses for a moment before adding more rum to the glass, nearly filling it to the top.

He sits himself at the kitchen table, drinking at a more than healthy rate. Killian stares at the family photo hanging on the wall. It was a photo taken a few months ago, not long after Harrison finally got his driver’s permit. They’re all smiling. Emma and Killian sitting side by side, their heads so close together that their ears practically touch. Seven-year-old Neddy is sitting in Killian’s lap, his dark hair, wild curls not unlike Liam, tickling Killian’s nose. Beth is leaning over him, her head close to Neddy’s, with her brown hair falling like a thick curtain over Killian’s shoulder while Wes stands beside Emma with his hand resting on her shoulder. Henry and Harrison stand behind them, Harrison practically looming over everyone including his older half-brother. Henry is not a small man by any means, but he’s completely dwarfed by Harrison. Henry might have fourteen years on Harrison, but Harrison has at least five inches on Henry. That doesn’t seem to matter though in the photo. He looks just as delighted to be there as anyone. All look happy and full of a light; no hints of the darkness that laid behind the surface.

What the fuck had he been thinking? He had sired four children carelessly without thinking of the consequences. Sins aren’t something that just go away. The blood may wash away, the bones might decay and the metal possibly rust, but the darkness always remained. He had passed it all on without even a thought. How long would it be before it all came to the surface? Killian didn’t know but the thought of it made him finish his drink.

He raises the bottle to pour himself another glass full, but pauses for a moment before deciding to cut out of the middle man and drink straight from the bottle. He pushes away the glass and glances away from the happy family photo. He can’t look at it without feeling ashamed with himself.

The bottle is nearly finished and his mood is even more melancholy when his wife finds him. She pauses for a moment at the doorway, blinking and assessing him quietly before approaching.

“I see we invited Captain Morgan over for a visit today,” she says carefully.

Killian snorts.

“Actually, this is the Appleton Estate you got me for Christmas. Not that Captain Morgan swill you keep rambling on about every time I have a nip,” he replies, his words slightly slurring.

“Please tell me you didn’t just down hundred-and-fifty dollar rum in one sitting,” she comments, looking exasperated as she shrugs off her red coat and places on the rack right next to his leather one, Harrison’s brown bomber jacket and Wes’s red hoodie.

“Like I said, just a nip,” he responds wearily.

“If this is what you call a nip, then we have bigger problems than I thought. Jesus, Killian. Who died?”

“No one that I’m aware of,” he responds. “But Westley gave it a trying effort.”

“What happened with Wes?” Emma asks, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Killian ignores the question, staring down in at the near empty rum bottle in his hand. He runs his hook down the side of it. Emma watches him patiently, waiting for answer. She’s gotten better at reading him; now knowing when to push and when to pry. A brittle smile crosses his lips. He’s become as much of an open book to her as she is to him, which shouldn’t surprise him as much it does considering how long they’ve been together.

“Why did we decide to have children, Swan?” he asks finally.

Emma’s confusion only mounts with this question. She gives him a long look before deciding to humor him a bit.

“Well, we never really decided. I mean we talked about it before the wedding and decided to table it until after we were married for a few years, but then after Final Battle we had that three-month sex-a-thon where I wasn’t the best about birth control and we ended up with that giant six-foot, four-inch kid who, scary enough, is now old enough to drive…and the other three just kinda walked out of me after that. I mean, we didn’t plan for it to happen but I think it turned out pretty well all things considered. I’m happy with the results.”

“I think you might want to reassess that,” Killian said, still concentrating on the bottle.

Emma blinks for a moment before marching over to him and placing her hands on his shoulders, pushing against them in hopes of making him look her in the eye.

“What is going on with you?” She demands, her patience breaking and her frustration shining through. “What happened with Wes that’s got in you in such a fit?”

“Our boy fights like his old man, Swan, just like me,” Killian replies, letting out a bitter chuckle. “Fights like he’s got the devil in him and I guess he does. He’s got my blood after all. Sins of the father…”

“Seriously, Killian, answer me,” Emma hisses through her teeth. “I have no idea what’s going on with you and all you’re doing is spouting a bunch of drunken nonsense.”

“My father was a liar, thief and a coward who sold his sons, Swan. I’m a pirate who pillaged, plundered and murdered more than I can count. A villain. I only wonder what will become of my children.”

“I don’t wonder at all because our children are fantastic. They fuck up from time to time, but their hearts are always in the right place, just like you,” Emma starts, bringing her hand up to his face and rubbing her thumb against his scar in a rhythmic motion. “You’re a hero, Killian. I know you’ve never believed it but you are and you’ve come so far. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, the way our children see you. What your father did has nothing to do with you and what you did has nothing to do with our children. They’re their own people with their own destinies. They’re good kids. You’re a good man. No more sins of the father bullshit, okay? Now tell me what’s wrong…”

Emma’s eyes find his and Killian is almost caught in the intensity of it. He can tell she is being completely serious at the moment and honestly, he’s never loved her more for it even though the core of him disagrees with the very notion that he’s redeemed enough to even be considered a hero. He moves his head in her hand, placing a kiss on her palm.

“Wes got in a fight today. It was bad, Swan. He beat the ever living shit out of those kids. And when I mean he beat the ever living shit out of those kids…I mean he could have killed them, Swan. Rooney called me. Showed me the video, the bloody rap sheet he has on Wes. Christ, Emma? It’s like a bloody book. He’s suspended for ten days and they won’t let him back until he gets counseling. They wanted me on his case because they didn’t think you were taking it seriously enough.”

Emma takes her hand away from his face, bringing both of hers up to her face and rubbing her temples profusely. She looks nearly as stressed out and weary as Killian feels.

“Jesus fucking Christ on a pogo stick, Westley Graham Jones,” Emma groans. “What set him off? Are Bobbi and Gideon okay?”

“I have no idea what set him off,” Killian admits. “And why would Gideon and Bobbi be of concern? They’re not involved…” Killian’s more than aware that Gideon Gold and Bobbi Mills are his son’s best friends and that they are extremely close, but he’s not sure why his wife would think they would be connected to the fight.

Emma gives him an exasperated look.

“Killian, they have everything to do with it. Rooney showed you the “rap sheet” right? Literally everything on there is related to those two. The stealing back in kindergarten? Wes trying to get back things taken from Gideon. Pretending be someone else for a test? Also Gideon. He was sick that day and they don’t allow re-takes. The hunger strike? Bobbi’s allergic to strawberry jelly which is the only kind they used to make sandwiches until your son made a stink. The tampons? For Bobbi, she was stuck in the bathroom and didn’t have any. Your son has a good heart, Killian. He just doesn’t think sometimes.”

Killian swallows, looking back down at the bottle.

“How do you know all of this?” he asks hoarsely.

“Because I talk to him,” Emma answers simply with an almost sad looking smile. “And maybe you should too.”

“It still doesn’t excuse what he did though,” Killian replies with a sigh, rubbing his temples.

“I wasn’t making excuses for him, Killian. He’s fucking grounded as hell. A month at least. No video games or computer unless it’s homework. And he’s writing an apology to those kids and their parents. They probably deserved what was coming for them if I know Wes as I do, but it might stop them from pressing charges. And I agree with the walrus that he should talk to someone, but that’s not why I’m telling you about him being an idiot over Gideon and Bobbi. I’m telling you that because you’re sitting here thinking you’re a monster and our son is a monster and I’m telling you that you’re wrong.”

Killian’s quiet for a moment as he listens to his wife speak. He can’t name all the emotions that are running through him, but the one that feels the most prominent is gratitude. She always knows what he needs just like he knows she’s uncomfortable with overly emotional situations. Instead of pouring his heart out like he wants, he focuses on the more humorous element of her speech.

“The walrus?” Killian’s eyebrow quirks.

“Rooney. He’s an asshole and don’t lie, that ridiculous mustache makes him look like a walrus,” Emma says, a smile gracing her lips.

Killian laughs and this time it’s genuine. Their eyes catch for a moment and they smile at each other.

“I love you,” he says earnestly.

“I love you too,” she replies, leaning over and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “Now, go talk to our son.”

Killian hands his wife the bottle as he gets up to make his way up the stairs. He looks back at her and watches as she brings it to her own lips, finishing off the rest of it. She catches him looking back at her and wags the bottle at him.

“This was good stuff and I can’t believe you just drained it all in an emo moment. If I didn’t love you so much, I would be so pissed off right now. Now go. Do what you do best and be Dad,” Emma calls to him, nodding her head towards the top of the stairs.

Killian chuckles and continues his ascent. As he reaches the top of the stairs, he hears Wes’s voice. He frowns for a moment. Who the hell was he talking to? He didn’t have his phone since Killian had confiscated it in the car.

Unless…

Killian reaches for the pocket where he had placed Wes’s phone. It’s empty. Killian lets out a soft sigh of frustration. Pick-pocketed by his own son? That’s a humiliation he never expected. Wes must have lifted it when they were walking into the house while Killian was distracted. He is getting old.

True enough, Wes’s bedroom door is cracked slightly open and Killian can see his son laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his phone next to his head. Killian hears the rhythmic thudding of a tennis ball hitting the ceiling alongside the conversation.

“I’m telling you, Gid, he didn’t even let me talk. He looked at me like I was a bloody demon” Wes says moodily.

“Well, you did send three kids to the hospital, Westley. The entire school is a bit freaked.” Gideon’s calm voice is clear with a slight robotic tinge, which allows Killian to deduce that the boy is on speaker phone.

“Fletcher threw the first punch. I retaliated. I was a little rough, but I had to be after what they did to you. That can’t be tolerated,” Wes replies, still tossing the ball against the ceiling.

Killian leans against the wall, closing his eyes. His wife was right. The fight was linked to something the boys had done something to Gideon. He privately wonders what they did to deserve such brutality and whether his son will trust him enough to tell him.

“One of these days you’re going to get tired of fighting a crusade on my behalf,” Gideon replies and even over the phone, Killian can hear the weariness in Gideon’s voice. He sounds both tired and resigned.

“Never,” Wes responds sternly. “They can’t treat you like that. You’re my best friend. You’re everything. And they’re fucking assholes. They could have caused serious damage, Gid. It’s not like they were throwing little pebbles at you. They were rocks, Gid. Big rocks. If they had hit you in head, you could have had brain damage or worse, they could have killed you. Let’s call it what it was. They were trying to fucking stone you. Like medieval death sentence bullshit. You nearly broke your jaw. If you didn’t have magic, you would be in the hospital.”

As Wes speaks, Killian can hear his voice getting louder and angrier. It’s quite obvious that Wes is very upset about what happened, perhaps more so than Gideon. Killian knows that the local of the kids in Storybrooke weren’t fond of Gideon. He isn’t blind. He’s seen the looks and how some kids even crossed over to the other side of the street so they weren’t on the same sidewalk as him. He hadn’t realized that the situation was quite as severe as what Wes and Gideon seemed to be alluding to.

“Do your parents know…?” Wes asks quietly.

Killian strains to listen more because he is also wondering about how much the Dark One and Belle knew. He can’t imagine either would be idle about the abuse their son is facing. Killian fears he already knows the answer.

“No. I don’t tell them. I never have. They have other things to worry about,” Gideon says in a calm matter of fact tone.

“That’s fucked up,” Wes replies, sounding even more upset. He stops bouncing the ball and squeezes it hard between his fingers. Killian watches all the color leaves his knuckles.

“It’s not your place to say.” Gideon’s voice is so frosty that it causes Killian to suck on his teeth a bit.

“Bullshit. Of course, it’s my place. Anytime something involves you, it’s my place. You. Bobbi. Neddy. Beth. Fuck, even perfect fucking Harrison. If someone fucks you, they fuck with me and every time you’re hurt, I’m hurt. Don’t make me fucking say it.”

“I don’t need you to say it, Westley. I know it.” Gideon’s calm demeanor falters a bit. “You pretend you don’t, but you care. You care about all of us. I think you might even care too much.”

“I don’t care enough.” The way Wes says it makes it sounds like it’s an unshakeable fact.

“You have a heart, Tin Man. You may not show it a lot, but you have it. I’ve always known. Even before you tried to steal the ball back for me all the way back in kindergarten,” Gideon responds. His voice is back to it’s normal calm and collected tone, but Killian hears the affection underneath it.

“Oh my god, don’t get sappy on me, Gold. It’s unsightly,” Wes responds with humor. The tone is playful, however Killian is more inclined to believe it’s a cover up to mask the fact that Wes has reached his emotional limit.

“Then I shall spare you and bid you farewell,” Gideon replies. “Pleasant evening and pleasant dreams, Westley Graham.”

“Goodnight, you fucking weirdo,” Wes replies with a snort before reaching over to end the call.

As Wes leaning back from ending the call, his eyes flicker towards the door and meet Killian’s through the crack. Killian watches with faint amusement as Wes’s blue eyes go as wide as saucers.

“Fuck,” Wes breathes out.

“Ah, yes,” Killian replies, slightly entertained. “Fuck.”

“You gonna go ballistic about me swiping the phone?” Wes asks, glancing down at the phone on his bed before looking back up at his father.

Killian walks forward, pushing the door fully open and leaning against the doorway. Wes responds by sitting upright, swinging his feet so that they’re resting on the side rail of the bed. He leans back to assume a casual pose but Killian can see the tension still lingering his shoulders.

“You can keep the phone,” Killian says after a moment. “But only because if we take that away too I would fear for my own sanity. You’re grounded for a month. No video games. No computer except for homework. House arrest basically for the ten days you’re suspended, but once you’re back in school, you’re to come home straight after soccer practice unless your mother and I need you for work at the station or with the Jolly. You’re going to start seeing Archie.”

“I expected as much,” Wes says with a shrug.

Killian hesitates for a moment. Now that he knows why Wes did what he did, he’s not sure how he’s going to handle the next bit of his punishment. However, despite the new knowledge, Killian knows it’s necessary to help keep the parents from pressing charges against his son.

“You’re also going to write a letter to the boys, their parents and the school, apologizing for your behavior and promising that you’re going to turn over a new leaf.”

“No,” Wes hisses through his teeth. His eyes flash with anger and Killian can see the storm brewing behind his eyes.

“Yes,” Killian says firmly.

“You don’t know what those kids did! You didn’t even ask me why all this bullshi”-“Yes, I do,” Killian cuts him off. “I heard you talking to Gideon. I know about the stoning.”

“Then you know why I can’t say I’m sorry because I’m not,” Wes states, still staring down his father with intense eyes. “I’m not like you or Mom or Grandpa David or Grandma Snow or Henry or Harrison. I can’t just forgive and forget and pretend to be remorseful. Those assholes got what they deserved. They wanted to hurt Gideon. They don’t deserve my forgiveness, my mercy or even my fake ass apology. I’m not a hero. I’m never going to be. Stop trying to make me like you.”

“This that what you think this is?” Killian asks, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “You think I’m trying to make you like me?”

“Yes.” Wes says it so firmly that Killian almost believes it too. “You want me to be to be some goody two shoes hero who just lets bygones be bygones because who cares if they tried to kill the freaky boy who has magic.”

“Westley,” Killian says his son’s name softly like he did the first time when they placed the screaming, squirming boy in his arms. “The last person I want you to be is me. And trust me, I’m no hero.”

“Bullshit,” Wes replies with a roll of his eyes. “You and Mom are like the fucking dynamic duo. Batman and Robin. Except you’re actually married and children, though comic freaks would debate that. But for real, you don’t get more heroic than the two of you. You got even Grandpa and Grandma beat.”

It’s in this moment that Killian realizes that his children don’t know the darkness in his past. They’re aware he was a pirate, but they’re not aware of the numerous upon numerous crimes he committed. They don’t know that he murdered both their paternal grandfather and their maternal great-grandfather in cold blood. They don’t know how many times he’s tried to kill Rumpelstiltskin or that he shot Belle. They aren’t aware that he once abandoned their Aunt Ariel’s beloved Prince Eric to die for the Jolly Roger or that he once tried to torture Archie. He and his wife have glossed over these facts and this has allowed them to see a more romanticized version of Captain Hook rather than the villain that he used to be.

He can’t let it continue.

Killian steps forward and sits down next to his son, looking him straight in the eye. Wes looks back at him with a puzzled expression. He takes a deep breath.

“I’m not a hero, Westley,” he starts. “I might try to do heroic things, but that’s because I have more blood stained on these hands than I can even begin to deal with. I have a lot to atone for. You and your siblings are aware that I’ve been alive for good awhile and I can’t say I’ve done a lot of good in all of those years. In fact, I’ve done a lot of bad. More bad than you can possibly imagine. If there’s a crime in down in the books, chances are I’ve done it. Except rape. I’ve taken many man’s wife, but never against her will and that’s one thing even I can’t condone. I guess if I can pride myself on anything, it’s that. There’s a lot I can forgive but that…But everything else? Probably done it at least a dozen times without even blinking…you see…you see me as this great hero, but the reality? For the majority of my life, I was a villain.”

It all pours out of him from there. Everything he’s done from the moment he could remember right up until that very morning. Wes’s eyes look as if they want to pop out of their sockets and there are a few times where he looks like he wants to say something, but Killian doesn’t let him. He keeps going; revealing every sin and every depravity. When he’s finished, Wes is silent and Killian allows him to process everything. He just unloaded near two hundred years of crime on his fourteen year old son. It’s bound to be a bit overwhelming.

“So…” Wes says after a moment. “You are were like a real douchebag?”

Killian is silent for a moment, mulling over his son’s words. A part of him is offended by the term, however it isn’t exactly incorrect.

“Aye,” Killian replies. “I guess I was a real douchebag.”

“Huh.” Wes is quiet for a moment. “Why did you tell me? Like no one has ever said anything about you being a complete dick before. I mean everyone seems to adore you. Fuck, Mom married you. I exist. How? Why?”

“I changed. I changed for your mother,” Killian replies softly. “She is the light of my very dark life and she challenged me to be a better man and I’ve done my best to honor that challenge. But you see, Westley, I don’t want you to be like me. I want you to be you and to use the brain that you were given because you are capable of being a thousand times the man I will ever be. It’s there in you. You are born of the greatest light I’ve known, you just need to let it out and not let the darkness win.”

Wes is quiet again. He picks up the tennis ball, fiddling with it. Killian watches as his fingers trace the white seam.

“That’s a hell of a pep talk. Like that’s fucking award worthy right there and I’m not even mocking you for once. But I’m going to be honest with you, Dad, since you’ve been honest with me. I still really don’t want to write those apology letters. I know it would be better if I did from a moral standpoint, but I just…”

“Wes, keeping up with this honest rapport we have going on, I do not give a damn whether you genuinely put your heart and soul into it. I don’t even care if you don’t feel one ounce of remorse. What those boys did was heinous and they deserved something to come for them. I think your mother would agreed to that even. However, that’s not why we want you to write the letters. We want them done so they don’t press charges and you don’t have a criminal record officially. I think your mother can tell you all the joys of being stuck in the brig. So please, for yourself, write the goddamn letters. If it’s to heinous, just write ‘I’m sorry for the damage I have caused’ and say nothing else. Okay?”

“Okay…I’ll do it but only so you don’t book me,” Wes grumbles, sighing heavily.

Killian places his hand on his son’s shoulder before leaning forward and giving his son a kiss on the forehead. He hasn’t kissed his son since he was in single digits, but the moment seemed to call for it.

“Good. Now go call Bobbi and tell her you’re under house arrest,” Killian says with some amusement before getting up and heading for the door.

“Hey Dad…” Wes calls as Killian gets to the doorway.

Killian places his hand on the wooden panel and turns to face his son. Wes bits his lip for a moment before speaking.

“Dad, I know you don’t think it,” he starts. “But you are a hero…you did terrible things…like I’m still processing everything and all, but you owned up to it. A lesser man would have kept it all under the rug, especially when everyone is so willing to forget and let it go, but you didn’t. You told me the truth. You didn’t try to excuse it or downplay it….Fuck this is sappy, but only a hero could do something like that, so you’re my hero. That’s the one and only time I’ve ever going to say that. If you tell anyone, I will deny it.”

Killian opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He looks Wes in the eye and sees that he truly and firmly believes it. His fingers tremble against the wood under his fingertips. He can’t speak but he brings himself to nod.

And with that small gesture, Killian closes the door behind him so that his son can’t see the tears starting to fall down his cheeks.

[robertkstone]

Chevrolet Colorado vs. Ford Ranger vs. Honda Ridgeline vs. Toyota Tacoma: Down on the Farm

I am parked on a grassy hilltop, sitting on a hay bale in the bed of an atomic-orange 2018 Toyota Tacoma, soaking in the warm, pale, late-afternoon California winter sun, and watching a black-on-black Honda Ridgeline descend the opposite hill. It pauses at the top and then slowly moves toward me. As the Ridgeline inches down from the ridgeline, a massive black and white form suddenly looms in front of me, blotting out the sun, the truck, and even the hill.

Enter Safran the steer. All 7 feet and 3,000 pounds of him.

Safran steps forward, looks down at the Ridgeline, and gallops after it. A dozen or so similar large forms appear and watch Safran chasing after the Honda. He cuts off the Ridgeline and lowers his head toward its grille, as if to say, “Me first.” The Ridgeline smartly comes to an abrupt stop.

Pleased with his intimidation of the Honda, Safran gambols back to our group of humans and bovines, hanging out at the back of our now-hayless Tacoma, 2019 Ford Ranger, and 2019 Chevrolet Colorado. He pauses at the Chevy, gives it a lick, and merrily trots off to join the dozen cows and donkeys that had followed him down the hill. It’s dinner time.

I Wanna Be a Cowboy

Too often comparison tests involve journalists attempting to simulate a car’s duty cycle. Supercar on a track, SUVs in the dirt—you get it. With the Colorado, Ranger, Ridgeline, and Tacoma on hand, I figured, why mimic work when we can actually do it?

Farm Sanctuary, a nonprofit farm-animal rescue founded in 1986, provided the opportunity. With locations in Watkins Glen, New York, and another about an hour north of Los Angeles, the organization specializes in saving farm animals—chickens, pigs, lambs, goats, cows, horses, you name it—from abuse, neglect, and dereliction. Farm Sanctuary’s SoCal location in Acton (home to Safran and more than 100 other animals) was kind enough to entertain our harebrained idea and put us and our pickups to work.

Midsize pickups—often marketed as “lifestyle” trucks—might seem like an odd choice to put to work when more capable vehicles exist. But today’s midsizers are more capable than many full-size pickups were as recently as 20 years ago. Take it from this city slicker, Middle America: Your big trucks are overkill.

Even so, it would be ignorant to overlook that the majority of midsize pickups spend more time hauling air than they do hay. So we’ll spend some time testing how these pickups handle lifestyle duty, with city commutes and highway slogs, too. Our winner will be both the hardest-working hand on the farm and a natural city slicker, too.

Out Standing in the Field

A few days before our convoy to Farm Sanctuary, we were overlooking the Santa Monica Bay and getting to know our trucks. At first glance, they all seem like they’re cut from the same cloth: four doors, 5-foot beds, and four driven wheels. But on closer examination, there are some major differences among them.

The Honda is the nonconformist of our group; our Ridgeline Black Edition is the sole unibody pickup in our truck posse. Based on the Pilot platform, the Ridgeline is designed for those who want truck utility but crossover comfort. Its 280-hp 3.5-liter V-6 is paired to a six-speed automatic and an all-wheel-drive system—the only non-4WD system here. Although there are compromises in using a unibody for a pickup—mainly towing capacity, which is a group-low 5,000 pounds—there are some packaging advantages, too.

With knobby tires and squared-off sheetmetal, our Tacoma TRD Off-Road tester is the polar opposite of the Honda. Toyota has a global reputation for excellence and durability with its midsize pickups, and from the way it sits in the parking lot, the Taco seems up to the task. Our tester is powered by Toyota’s optional 3.5-liter V-6 backed by a six-speed automatic.

Our Colorado Z71 is a familiar beast—it won back-to-back Truck of the Year awards in 2015 and 2016. Despite its size, the Colorado is a truck that makes few compromises. Its optional 3.6-liter V-6 is the most powerful here with 308 hp on tap, and it’s mated to an eight-speed automatic.

There’s been a Ranger-sized hole in Ford’s lineup the past eight years, but the global Ranger is finally home with some modifications. The most extensive is its powertrain—a 2.3-liter turbocharged I-4 borrowed from the Mustang. In Ranger trim, it produces 270 hp and gets a 10-speed automatic. Our Ranger XLT FX4 tester looked the part, but there was a problem—it was missing a tow hitch. We agreed to begin our evaluation with the Ranger XLT in town to gather initial drive impressions then swap for a black Ranger Lariat with the tow package to complete our testing.

For now, we had to press on.

City Slicking

The Toyota Tacoma is the best-selling midsize pickup in the country, but from behind the wheel, it’s hard to figure out why. “Toyota wins all the style points,” features editor Scott Evans said. “Thank goodness for that because it has a lot of offsetting to do.” It’s hard to pinpoint just one flaw with the Tacoma because there are so many.

Most of us found the Taco to look the best both inside and out. Its cabin, with high-quality materials and killer styling, is particularly noteworthy when compared to the plain Chevy and Ford. Unfortunately, even the shortest of us had trouble fitting in the Tacoma’s cramped cabin. Finding a comfortable driving position in the rock-hard seats is made difficult by a steering wheel that barely telescopes and a seat that doesn’t raise or lower—the latter is probably for the best because even 5-foot-9 Scott reported his hair was brushing the Tacoma’s headliner. The back seat is even more cramped—kids or dogs are the only creatures squeezing back here.

It doesn’t get much better from there. On paper, Toyota’s 278-hp V-6 should be plenty for this truck, but its power is only available if you’re near redline, which the transmission doesn’t like. It’s as if gears two through five don’t exist; you’re either barely idling in sixth gear or screaming at 6,100 rpm in first.

Also frustrating are the Tacoma’s sensitive brakes and stiff ride. The Toyota bucks like an unbroken stallion during even the most gentle limousine stops, and its suspension is oversprung. I know what you’re thinking—“The ride sucks because it’s got an off-road package, idiot!” Take it from someone who daily-drives MT’s Ram Power Wagon—off-road capability doesn’t have to mean punishing ride quality.

Our off-road-packaged Ranger XLT had suspension issues, too; its ride is so soft that the truck is always bouncing. Every gentle turn, bump hit, or door closure makes the Ford rock like a cheap motel’s vibrating bed. It was so bad that we crawled underneath the truck to see if any part of the suspension was loose. It wasn’t.

As we found out later when we doubled back with our Ranger Lariat replacement, the awful ride can largely be attributed to the $1,295 FX4 off-road package, which the Lariat didn’t have. Without it, the Ranger rides slightly better, but it’s still undersprung. “The ride and body movements are still busy, but it’s acceptable now. Instead of being thrown around, I’m just getting constant jostles and kidney shots,” Evans said.

Although the Ranger had lots in common with the Tacoma in the ride department, its powertrain thankfully saves the day. The Ford has the worst weight-to-power ratio of the bunch, but it doesn’t feel it. Its turbocharged engine is responsive, and the tight ratio spread of the 10-speed auto helps ensure that power is never an issue, even if the gearbox is occasionally clunky in heavy traffic.

The Ranger’s sheetmetal makes a good first impression, but the cabin (of both testers) betrays the real age of this rig. Sure, it’s been gussied up with some digital displays, but there’s no hiding that little has changed since this developing-world pickup debuted in 2012. Ergonomics aren’t great, and the cabin is tight, with pinched head- and shoulder room (especially in back). Utility is limited because the rear seat back merely flips forward but not flat.

After the frustrating limited functionality of the Ford and Toyota, the crossoverlike Honda impressed us. Up front, there’s a massive center cubby and comfortable bucket seats. In back, occupants are treated to their own USB ports and HVAC vents. When they aren’t in use, the Ridgeline’s rear seats flip up and out of the way, providing secured storage for goods that don’t fit in the segment-exclusive hidden trunk in the bed.

The drive experience is more crossover than truck, too. “This feels buttoned down, alert, and modern; the ride is definitely carlike,” road test editor Chris Walton said. Associate road test editor Erick Ayapana agreed, adding, “Relative to its body-on-frame competitors, the Ridgeline is smooth and predictable.” Honda’s V-6 is generally a strength, with its six-speed making up for its lack of torque.

The Colorado is the Goldilocks of the group. “I had no idea the Colorado was still so far ahead in terms of refinement and ride,” Walton said. The Chevy is trucklike but behaved well both through bends and on badly maintained roads. Its powertrain won praise, too. “It feels peppy, and the transmission is responsive, especially compared to the Toyota’s,” Ayapana said.

Although Chevy has refined the Colorado’s powertrain since it won its Truck of the Year awards, it hasn’t spent much time on the interior. With the exception of its infotainment system, the roomy cabin has a Playskool quality to it, with oversized knobs and buttons for those who drive wearing their work gloves. It’s functional but not aesthetically pleasing.

After living with our trucks for a few days in the city, we packed up and headed to the edge of the county to try our hands (and trucks) farming.

Farm Aid

It was early. The roosters weren’t even up yet. The only sound was the trucks ticking in the cold behind us.

It may have been our first time working on a farm, but for Farm Sanctuary project assistant Caleb Bachara (who would be guiding our efforts), it was just another day at the office.

Because Farm Sanctuary is a nonprofit, its small staff is never truly able to complete a day’s work of maintaining the 26 acres and 100-plus animals on site. But we’d aim to knock out as much as possible with our support trucks during our time there.

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Best Cat Tower and Condo Reviews

You have probably played Neko Atsume long enough to wonder if real life cats truly adored cat towers and cat condos the way those virtual cats do. To answer simply: yes they do! You just have to find the best cat tower that your feline best friend would enjoy. See, there are a lot of different cat furnitures that cater to different cat preferences.

Cat guru Tony Buffington has explained cat idiosyncrasies in a talk (e.g. why they lounge in the house’s highest spot), so now all we have to do is narrow down our best condo reviews to help you find one that suits your pet’s unique needs and preferences.

What to look for when buying a Cat Condo?

The frustration that comes when your cats ignore the piece of furniture you were so excited to bring home is real and biting. To avoid such waste and heartbreak, here are some things you should consider when buying a cat condo.

Height: Generally, cats like to be in a tall spot, but there are some cats that actually have fear of heights. You know your cat very well, so if you are able to observe where they usually hang out at home, you will have an easy time deciding whether you need a tall cat condo or a shorter one.

Comfort: Cats love to lounge and nap in comfy places, so look for a cat condo that has cushioned hammocks and beds 3. Activities offered: Cat condos are supposed to be wonderlands where your cat could enjoy doing a multitude of things. So if you are to buy one tower, go for a furniture that also doubles as scratching pads, comfy beds, exercise hubs, and also stimulates your cat’s mental health.

Top 7 Condo Reviews

Molly and Friends Pinnacle 86 in. Cat Tree

This cat tower by Molly and Friends could easily accommodate more than 5 medium-sized cats all at the same time! At 86 inches tall, this will surely satisfy the scouting cat who always loves to be on the highest spot in the house. The Molly and Friends Pinnacle is also made of carpet and sisal rope, making it a good scratching post aside from a cat tower.

With two condos and four comfy cradles in varying heights, your cat will never run out of lounging choices. The topmost bunk is a tunnel bed, cozy enough to lull your fur baby to sleep deep in the night.

This tall tower has been made with a secure base that ensures it will not tip off even if heartily played on or jumped at by your bigger cats. The rope and carpet material used are also sturdy enough to stand the test of time. With proper cleaning and maintenance, this cat tree would easily outlive generations of felines.

Pros

Catnip spray ensures attention and pleasure of any cat

Furniture is easy to assemble

Out of the box functionality perfect for the beginner

Innovative design – cats love the tunnel part and allows interaction between two cats occupying the tree at the same time

Compact enough for smaller apartments and condo units

Cons

Can only accommodate two to three cats since it’s only a two-level tree and scratch post

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PetFusion Modern Cat Activity Tree & Scratching Post

This 30-inch-tall cat scratching post also provides two spacious beds where your cats could lounge and nap all day. It is also stimulating given that the topmost bunk is easily accessible with one big leap from the floor. It even comes in a stylish and modern color combination – white and brown – visually pleasing both to cats and their owners.

One more thing: the PetFusion Modern Cat Activity Tree & Scratching Post comes with a free catnip spray. For those who have tried catnip, you know how this magic works, as also explained by cat care specialist veterinarian Ramona Turner here.

The catnip spray is a nice touch that guarantees that your cats will enjoy playing and scratching this furniture for hours on end. It is a good and healthy way to get them occupied and scratching on the post instead of on all your other furniture and curtains​

Pros

Sturdier than most cat towers and can accommodate muscular cats without buckling over the weight

Arrives in a gigantic box – no assembly required

All surfaces, even the ones inside, are covered in comfy carpet material

Cons

Some towers are crooked and since it’s so tall, it also very noticeable

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The Refined Feline Lotus Cat Tower

One of the most luxurious and best cat towers is this Refined Feline Lotus Cat Tower. It takes one look to realize that this one’s luxury cat furniture since it comes in a rich brown color that complements most homes. You would definitely love having this on display in the living room, since it has that elegant aura.

Also, it is a hit for most cats because it has five levels of varying heights, which provides a multitude of options for your cat to where it wants to lounge, sleep, stretch, and scratch for the day. There is a cushioned cubby hole in the lowest level, ideal for cats who love to sleep close to the ground.

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Cat behavioural expert Marilyn Krieger explains in this article why multi-tier condos like the Refined Feline Lotus Cat Tower appeal to cats. It stands very tall but is secured at the base and balanced all the way through.

Pros

Visually pleasing so you would enjoy it as furniture just as much as your cat friends would

Features multiple tunnel holes that cats enjoy navigating in

Doubles as a comfortable bed since the cubby condo is adorned with a comfy cushion

Cons

Not much for cats to chew on or scratch at, since it’s mostly hardwood

Needs careful assembly since it gets delivered in pieces

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Bowsers Cat Tower – Cool Hues

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Making it to our list of best condo reviews is the Bowsers Cat Tower – Cool Hues. Cats may have different preferences and idiosyncrasies, but one thing they all have in common is their love for boxes. Veterinarian Claudia Vinke of the Utrecht University explains this behaviour in a study, concluding that boxes help in cats’ stress reduction.

What’s better than a cozy box in the eye of our fur babies? Well, how about a cat tower that is basically a tall stack of boxes varying in sizes? Our cats would flip!!! Luckily, that is exactly what the Bowsers Cat Tower is. It even comes in cool colors that are attractive at first sight!

The five solid wood cubes containing various colors and holes could be arranged as you wish, but they vary in size so it is logical to put the largest cube in the lowest level to avoid imbalance of the cubes!

Pros

A unique cat tower that requires no assembly other than stacking boxes

Simple furniture that also requires a simple cleaning regimen (although cat hairs sometimes get stuck because of the fabric scrunches)

Look quite basic, but actually provides a stimulating experience for cats when they have to find a way to climb and go down using the tunnel holes, steps, and even the surfaces

Cons

Smallest box is only ideal for growing kittens

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New Cat Condos Premier 6′ Cat Tower

The best cat tower is one that provides physically stimulating exercises as well as a comfortable place for your fur baby to doze off. New Cat Condos Premier Cat Tower is exactly that. At six feet tall, it offers a multitude of activities your cat will surely enjoy whenever it is feeling lazy and rest-y and even when it is feeling frisky and adventurous.

At six feet tall and with four varying levels, this cat condo ensures every cat’s personal space remains un-invaded, even in households where there is more than one cat. It is made of wood, carpet, and sisal ropes that could withstand your cat’s manic scratching and biting, which by the way is perfectly normal, as proved by proved by Harvard-educated trainer Mieshelle Nagelschneider.

It comes in various colors for you to choose for, so no more sacrificing the aesthetic of your home just for a cat tower your cat will love. Cleaning this cat tower is also a no-brainer since you can both vacuum and dry clean it.

Pros

Heavy duty furniture that does not shake or topple over no matter the weight of the cat playing in it

Good for multiple-cat households

Comes with cat teaser toys that keep the cat’s attention

Cons

You have to check for loose and visible staples that could hurt your kitty

Click here for best price

IRIS 6-Tier Cat Tree Condo

Six-tier cat condos make for good and interesting cat furniture for two main reasons: the height makes it so that the uppermost level is the highest spot in the house, which cats really love, and it usually offers a multitude of other activities that will keep your cat occupied and entertained. With the IRIS 6-tier cat tree condo, both of these reasons are achieved.

There is a total of 8 scratching posts, 4 cubby hideouts, one dangling rope for a swing, more than 10 perching spots, and countless tunnels and holes that could stimulate your cat physically, mentally, and even visually. This can hold your feline’s attention for longer hours particularly because there are so many things they can do in here.

A little spray of catnip to seal the deal will guarantee limitless hours of fun and peace for your cat. No more scratches on the sofa bite marks on the curtains – only a cat wonderland where there are no unsatisfied cats and unnoticed toys.

Pros

Highly adjustable and may be personalized – most of its parts can be reoriented and moved to suit the preferences of your cat(s).

Made up of material that is comfortably soft, but can also withstand rough play

At 84 inches tall, it stands taller than most other cat condos

Cons

Could be quite tricky to assemble since the instruction manual is all photos

Click here for best price

TRIXIE Pet Products Baza Grande Cat Tower, Cream

If your cat’s one of the adorable ones that do not enjoy being in the highest spot in the room, you might want the TRIXIE Pet Grande Cat Tower since it’s not very tall but still offers all the comfort and entertainment as most trees in this best condo reviews list.

There are six short scratch posts in this cat tower where your kitties could sharpen their claws and fangs. When they get tired, the hammock and the cubby are always welcoming for a good cat nap. Most of the surfaces and the lounge are covered in fleece, so ultimate comfort is guaranteed for your soft kitties.

Do not be fooled by this cat tower’s cute and cuddly feel, though, because it is very sturdy! Two very healthy cats can even cuddle up against each other in the hammock and it will not buckle under the combined weight!

Pros

Comes with a teaser toy that provides entertainment options other than scratching and napping

The material is incredibly fluffy cats need only two seconds or less to get comfortable and doze off in one of the tiers.

Ideal for smaller kitten households where the cats are still very small to enjoy the gigantic cat condos

Cons

Hard to assemble

The cat teaser toy only lasts a few days

Click here for best price

TRIXIE Pet Products Miguel Fold and Store Cat Tower

Another cat condo that is perfect for those who do not have much space is the TRIXIE Pet Products Miguel Fold and Store Cat Tower. Unlike other cat towers that take eons to assemble and this assemble, it only takes one folding and unfolding action to make it stand and to tuck it away.

It has two layers – the lower bunk serves as a hideout bed while the surface on top is a lookout. Other added parts are the cat teaser toys and the sisal rope-made scratching pad which helps keep your cat’s claws and teeth in perfect shape.

A commendable feature of this cat tower is its balance since the cross function keeps it stable. This means that even the healthiest of felines could sit atop and the tower would not lose its balance.​

Pros

The included cat teaser toys are more durable than most dangling teaser toys

It’s a portable tower that even kids could assemble and take care of

Comes with a removable hammock cushion that you could easily throw in the laundry whenever it gets dirty

Cons

Does not offer many activities other than scratching, pouncing on the teaser toys, and lounging

Not ideal for households with multiple cats

Different Types of Cat Towers

If you have tried multiple cat towers but still fail to capture the affection of your fur babies, you might just be getting the wrong kind! Try to mix it up a bit and understand that what worked on other cats may not always interest your own unique friend. Here are some types you could try:

Multi-tier cat towers: Some cat towers stand as tall as six or seven feet and offer a good number of activity and exercise options. These are ideal for households that have more than one cat.

Luxury cat towers: Intricately styled and visually pleasing to the eye, luxury cat towers appeal to the sensibilities of some cats simply because of their elegance. If your felines seem not to respond to carpets and sisal ropes, it could be that they prefer harder surfaces like wood and plastic.

Natural log cat towers: Some cat towers are made up from actual barks and logs, and this type appeals to most outdoor cats since it simulates the feel of actual trees, hence it provides better sensation as scratch pads.

Box stacks: Cats who do not respond to usual condos and towers might just fall for the oldest trick in the book – cubes. Stacked cubes make wonderful cat towers too since they provide stress relief and the option for cats to traverse tunnels.

Final advice

Cats are finicky beings, so sometimes the only way to find out the furniture it would love and respond to is to try a few ones. It may be expensive and tiring, but, let’s face it, what wouldn’t we do for our lovely little cat best friends?

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