#but for now they sleep in different rooms in the same gigantic house and have intense eye contact over their breakfast etc etc

[foulbearobservation]

completely losing it at mother superion unwilling sugar baby (wow what a string of words) especially bc. well. u've gotta be really good at being a nun to be in charge of that many nuns right? and what do nuns have? vow of poverty. i know that they also have the chastity and blah blah blah not important to this ask but i truly would lose it if one of the main points of contention for them were jillian: let me spoil u pls <3 ms: no bc GOD, jillian jillian: oh do u mean like. the one that kidnapped and then drastically aged my child? or That Guy? anyway do u like this one (not signing this one but u can probably guess out of ur frequent anons lmao)

I wanna say I'm sorry for the big brain thought of unwilling sugar baby mother superion but the truth of the matter is that I'm NOT.

Listen the thing is that even if ms stopped being a nun, you don't just like immediately switch ur brain out of poverty mode like she probabaly just is a regular person living within her means BUT to Jillian that seems absolutley absurd. Jillian is like WILDY rich u guys. She's "it's a banana, how much could it cost? Ten dollars?" level rich like she's stupid rich. So she keeps trying to like, do nice things for ms or buy her things and ms is like. what the fuck are you doing? this isn't necessary

and Jillian is just like. Tearing out her hair again because just let me treat you to something nice for once PLEASE, god says it's chill now.

[shadesoflsk]

      LULLABY FOR A BROKEN HEART

pairing: Leon Kennedy x Gn reader.

summary: After a mission, Leon musters up the courage to ask for one thing he's always wanted.

warnings: hurt/comfort, a bit of angst, fluff, Leon is touch starved, no consumption of alcohol but there are mentions of it, injuries, mentions of trauma.

word count: 2.1k

author's note: Hello! So... I had prepared some dad leon headcanons but after reading DI manga latest chapter... I knew I had to write something about it. I wrote this with a platonic relationship in mind but you can also see it as an established relationship! I just wanted an excuse to write about Leon because he is literally an angel ueueueue. He deserves the world.

      masterlist

With heavy and wobbly steps, Leon’s blurry vision—from the lack of sleep— could make out the frame of your door, your apartment’s door. A part of him knows that he may be a burden—or that’s what he believes. Fatality, sorrow, and overall bad outcomes are the only things his mind can register.

He doesn’t want to bother you. Hell, he doesn’t want to speak to anyone right now. The fact that he somehow made it safely to your front door was enough for him to know that you would be so angry at him. You shouldn’t drive after a mission. You shouldn’t—... let yourself die. He knows all those phrases by heart. 

He’s getting better. He’s a lot better, to be honest. He no longer drinks, but he may as well look drunk right now. His head was hurting like hell, but he blamed it on his mission. He’s getting too old for that shit. But, a healthy improvement doesn’t mean that he can’t fall. 

Recovery isn’t a straight line of betterment. There are nights when he can sleep like a baby. But then again, some days, he goes to sleep knowing that a nightmare may attack his dreams. 

His fist bangs against your door, at first trying to be quiet. But after a few seconds, some desperation came within his knocking, and a louder sound filled the already silent night. 

The melancholic feeling of being alone lasts a couple of seconds before he hears some steps inside your home, those get even closer until he sees the door opening. The sight he admires before him is far from comforting. The eyebags under your eyes, your disheveled hair, and the quiet yawn that escapes your lips say it all, you were sleeping. 

At first, you don’t say anything, letting the silence in the air fill the lack of response from both parts. Yours and Leon’s, two souls that are aching right now but for different reasons.

Leon, who is hurting because he doesn’t want you to see him like this. And yours because you’d give him the world just for him to stop blaming himself. Ironic, but in reality you’re two sides of the same coin.

Amidst the countless things you want to tell Leon, you step aside allowing him to enter your apartment. The one he knows as his cozy getaway. His second home. The first one is your mere existence. 

Physical things last no more than a few weeks, months, or years. Everything is doomed to cease existing. He has witnessed it through the years he has worked as an agent. Those gigantic and marvelous houses politicians love to brag about? A bomb would destroy them. That motorcycle he loves? Yeah, that one…. No more than a few pieces remained.

But the simple fact that you were alive and breathing meant so much. He wasn’t a stranger to death. He knows that he has become desensitized to those topics as much as he denies it. But even if someone were to die, their proof that they belonged to this world would live in those who loved them, those who were close to them. 

And that’s why you’re his home. The kind of home that served as a refuge when life got too much, when life stopped basking him with its sunlights but rather sent him a blizzard. Your presence was enough for him because you granted him the affection he has long forgotten he could have.

As he enters your apartment, the normalcy and everydayness of the living room embrace him like a thick and warm blanket. The usual smell of your scented candlelight also brings him back to the reality where he could feel safe.

He’s alone for a while, you let him sit on your couch even though he might stain it with the dirt on his pants and whole body. You don’t exactly care, you can clean it after. 

His eyes are unfocused as he waits for you to come back. At that moment, the memories of his last mission came to his mind. They don’t haunt him like they used to do in the past, where he decided to stop the voices from getting louder by drowning in alcohol.

Now, they replay in his mind like a Deja Vu, like a movie he was the main star in. However, it doesn’t mean they stop stabbing his heart knowing that he had taken lives. 

He used to be a religious person. Right now if someone asks him if he follows a certain God, he would respond with a simple no. But when he sees the bodies of those whom he had to kill, he would offer a silent prayer, asking whoever hears him that their souls could rest in peace.

Leon kills, but he’s also a lover of life. He loves the world and its people. He wants to believe that he'd be reminded as the one who fought for those who couldn’t, even if he didn’t want to be associated with that type of job.

In his mind, it may sound corny but he has started appreciating the simple things in life. The way someone would smile at him in the supermarket, the way a random stranger would greet him even though they don’t know him. It was a nice reminder that he was, in fact, alive.

Your steps break the silence—once again. In your hands, there’s a first aid kit. 

There’s a certain urgency in the way you sit next to him to treat his wounds. Your eyes never leave him as you try to make sure that nothing is hurting him. Even when he has awoken you from your sweet dreams, you’re the same caring and compassionate person as always.

An alcohol swab touches one cut he had on his temple, a bruise already forming on the skin. Proof that his head was literally slammed against a metal tube. Not his proudest moment, if he had to be honest.

“I’m not going to break, you know…” Leon finally speaks as your hand seems to slightly shake out of fear of bringing more pain to him.

You manage to let out a chuckle at his words. “I know. But I’m not taking risks.”

His eyes continue to remain fixated on your face, like a puppy who is looking at a treat. But rather, he’s like a homeless man admiring one of the prettiest houses he has ever seen.

There are no questions asked, nor complaints about anything related to his late-night visit. He appreciates the fact that he’s welcomed no matter what. Nonetheless, he can’t help but thank you for your hospitality.

“Thank you.” He murmurs as you clean another injury that was just above his eyebrow. “You’re too good for me.” Leon's words show a moment of raw sincerity.

Leon’s humanity is palpable, even when he doesn’t notice it. There’s a childlike glimmer in his eyes when he watches his favorite movies, a hint of regret when he talks about his missions, and a big sense of empathy when he speaks about the victims who died at his hands.

Leon’s kindness knows no limits. And you wish everyone could observe what an amazing human he is.

“Why is that?” You asked, scooting closer to hear him better. To pay full attention to what he’s about to say. There’s nothing Leon loves more than knowing he can really talk with someone about his feelings since he has mastered the art of closing off.

“For this…” He admits as his hands gesture your first aid kit, to your apartment as a whole. “I’m not used to being… pampered like this. I get hurt and I fix myself up.” His expression darkens slightly.

“Well… I’m here, aren’t I?” You give Leon a warm smile before pinching one of his cheeks making sure not to touch any of his cuts. “You don’t have to be alone all the time, Leon. You can rely on me.”

Leon’s lips turn into a shy smile as you pinch his cheek. “Yeah, I know.” He’s grateful for your hospitality and overall care. But it’s hard for someone who has always been in solitude to think that it’s okay to rely on someone, that it’s okay to need a person. 

He’s silent for a moment before asking a question that’s been nagging him for a while now. “But… Don’t you get tired of it? Of taking care of me?”

You instantly shake your head, responding with a blunt “Nope, never.” In fact, you would be awake all night long just to make sure he was alright. 

“You’re a God’s sent… I swear.” He chuckles as his gaze moves towards his own hands which are fidgeting. As if he was looking for something to grab, to hold onto. 

He hesitates for a few seconds, he doesn’t want to overstep boundaries but then again… He’s not used to being touched let alone hugged. But right now… he craves feeling the tender and intimate affection that a hug brings.

When was the last time he was touched? He doesn’t remember. The sole thought of admitting it’s been months if not years that he hasn’t been hugged brings embarrassment to his already troubled mind. 

You notice, you know Leon a little too well. You recognize every little quirk he has, from the way he sometimes sticks out his tongue when he’s focused on something to the way he looks at everyone before delivering a punchline.

But you wait for him, you want him to be comfortable. 

As a sigh leaves his lips, he finally speaks. “Can you hug me?” His words come out hushed, as if ashamed of himself for asking something so… banal, so simple. “I really need it.”

The way he speaks, the way his voice suddenly cracks and the way his fingers twitch even more tell you enough.

“Come here.” You encourage him, opening your arms. He wastes no time getting himself closer and wrapping his arms around you. The kindness that you’re showing him could bring him to tears, but he doesn’t let them fall. Right now, he just wants to be embraced.

He was bigger than you, being an agent built his body to be ready to fight, to kill. Of course his muscles would basically bury your frame as he curls himself into the hug. But funnily enough, he feels like a kitten that found solace on a rainy day. He feels getting even smaller and almost disappearing from the catastrophes of this world.

He could easily rest his head on your shoulder. But instead, he decides to bury his face in the crook of your neck, feeling even more at ease in this peaceful moment. Closing his eyes, he lets the warmth of your body soothe his aching soul.

He always takes care of everyone, his mind and soul are connected to people he may as well never see again. He feels too much, he feels everything. Nevertheless, there are times when he wants to be the one being doted on, to feel safe.

And right now… he is safe.

“You may think I’m stupid…” His words are muffled as his face is pressed into your neck, his stubble ever so slightly brushing against your skin.

“I sometimes think you’re stupid.” You tease him, trying to bring some humor to the situation as you sense that Leon is starting to doubt himself. Your arms hug him closer, tighter. Letting him know that you aren’t going anywhere. “But right now… I think you’re the most amazing person ever.”

Leon doesn’t say anything for the moment. His breathing is steady and calm, drowning in your so familiar scent. His fingers caress the back of your head, touching your hair reminding himself that you were there, as if the hug wasn’t enough.

“You’re the most selfless person I’ve ever known.” You murmur, pressing a kiss on the top of his head. “You fight so much, you’re so important to many people. You don’t even know how much I thank life for having a Leon Kennedy next to me.”

Your words break his heart a little. Not because you said something wrong, not at all. But rather… he can’t imagine how his existence could bring happiness to someone. Chris, Rebecca, hell everyone has helped him a lot. But you are like an anchor which he clings to.

“Don’t feed a stray dog…” He tries joking, but his voice is barely a whisper. You’re used to his jokes. Most of the time, they are harmless and light-hearted. However, sometimes they served to hide what he was truly feeling. “They’ll always come back.”

“I don’t want you to come back…”  You respond. letting your hand rub his back. “I want you to stay.”

And Leon is definitely going to stay, he’s going to stay with you and with everyone else. He will fight off every bioweapon, he will succeed in every mission. Just to come back to his home and to his life. A life he’s learning to love and enjoy.

[yakumtsaki]

Welcome back, beloved readers! Things have finally calmed down for me so it’s time to inflict this update on the world. When we last left off, BATSHIT FELINA SMASHED VICTORIA’S URN

-WHY IS IT NOT BROKEN?!?

Because it turned out there’s a cheat to repair urns, HA. In your face!

-I BROKE THAT THING FAIR AND SQUARE

Felina seriously, GO TO HELL. I freaked out thinking I’d have to either quit without saving (hadn’t saved since before SUGAR DIED) or I’d have to deal with Victoria’s missing character file. You’re not allowed anywhere near the mausoleum again! 

-THAT’S FINE, I’LL JUST TRAP MYSELF IN THIS WALL UNTIL I DIE AND THEN YOU’LL BE SORRY

Bruh. I’ve had enough of this house, between the walls of death..

..the eternal yard fire..

..and the fact everyone is afflicted with a gross cold they keep passing around despite the fact I gave them medicine-

-I, a retired Mayor, was clearly the right choice to make medicine.

Well I thought you might do something useful for once, Shajar, but joke’s on me. Point is, it’s time to gtfo..

..to our new gigantic house! Look at all our crap on the lawn, and yes, I’m referring to the sims. 

I unpaused for 1 second to check something and Barf and Failina (Barflina?) have re-become enemies?? Did you stop being enemies at some point because I completely missed it. 

-We did but new house, new us!

It’s done! I went all out on this house for no discernible reason, let me give you the grand tour:

First floor! Man this house is a nightmare. 

Foyer! 

Luxurious pet room!

Kitchen!

Dining room!

Gambling room Library!

And living room!

Moving on to the second floor, Cyn and Sophie/Shajar’s bedrooms I kept the basically same as in the last house. The unfinished bedroom is Sugar and Sandy’s for reasons that will be explained shortly. 

I really feel I made this house too nice for the Unions but what can you do. 

Felina and Barth’s rooms in their ~signature colors~

And Liz and Sophito’s bedroom which is clearly all Liz.

Finally, on the little rooms on the third floor are the music room that @microscotch​ decorated❤️, and a lame room where we keep all our career rewards!

The mausoleum, which is unchanged other than I moved the pet graves in it and put them under each generation..

..and this is the yard! I kept it pretty much the same except larger-

-and I added a lake! We’re all done, time to unpause and enjoy long, safe lives in our new house..

OMG WTF

-YOU CAN’T ADD A FLAMETHROWER IN THE MIDDLE OF A FOUNTAIN, MORON -EVERYONE KNOWS WATER CATCHES FIRE 

BRO. When I tell you guys the entire family almost perished in a FOUNTAIN FIRE. Incredibly fitting cause of death. Thankfully the firefighter heroically saved us and all is well! Now I can’t wait to play a billion sims and pets on this gigantic cc-filled lot with no further problems whatsoever!

Alright then! I had a feeling it might come to this, Sugar take Sandy and gtfo.

-I will but be warned, our absence won’t solve anything! 

Ya, it sure DIDN’T. GROSS. Finally I turned off shaders and it went away, ok Sug, you and Sandy can move back in..

..and we can begin the ENDLESS task of getting all the skill points you lost to zombiehood back. And once you’re back at the top of your career and Sandy tops hers you are OUTTA HERE, you hear me???

-Ya ya, how many times are you gonna kick me out and move me back in? Admit it already, you LOVE ME. 

Ok ‘love’ is a strong word-

-YOU CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT ME.

LET’S MOVE ON

It’s our first night in the new house and this is how Sophie and Shajar sleep. 

-Close enough for me. -I’d like another wall between us, actually.

#itsover

-Ah, nothing like that first sip of whiskey before school!

Ya Barth, I’m a little concerned about your aspiration bar.

-Ah, nothing like the first four glasses of whiskey after shcool!

Ya ok, we’re calling the matchmaker this weekend.

Jimbo (the puppy we adopted to mate with Veronica, I don’t remember if I introduced him) grows up and he looks ICONIC

The difference between their necks LOL

It’s Sophito’s birthday and Liz’s is in a few days, so it’s time to get started on their death portraits. What a cheerful gift, Cyn! 

Family reunion! Look at everyone all together, getting along..

..even Gunther came but completely ignored the party and went straight for the ballet bar, which legit made me emo, idk if you guys remember during generation 1 how obsessed he and Daniel were with the ballet bar, awww❤️ Alright, back to the party, go on Soph, blow your candles-

OH FFS

-SCREW YOU, FAILINA, IT’S BEYOND TIME TO HAVE OUR FIRST FIGHT IN THE NEW HOUSE  -AGREED, AND I CAN THINK OF NO BETTER MOMENT THAN THE ONE RIGHT BEFORE OUR FATHER BLOWS HIS CANDLES IN FRONT OF OUR ENTIRE FAMILY

Ok are you done?? Is this over?? Let’s try the cake again, Soph-

-Sorry, it’s time for me to finally reconnect with iVan, huhu!💗 -Awww, I’m so happy for you, grandma Cyn!

-DON’T BE TOO HAPPY, FAILINA -FUCKING BRAT, I HAD MY BACK TURNED

OK YOU KNOW WHAT, FORGET IT

HERE, HE’S GROWN UP. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SOPHITO 

-WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS FAMILY~👻

Ya idk, Victoria, you tell me, it’s your amazing DNA at work. 

-YOU’RE AN EMBARASSMENT, BARTHOLOMEW  -Well that hurts, grandma! 

-Thankfully nothing a drink won’t fix!

Oh my- I’d like to clarify at this point that this goddamn party is still going on-

-when this simultaneous pet and human fight occurs:

It’s Jimbo vs Shinok..

..and Barflina vs human dignity.

-Oh no, babe, I can’t look! -How could this happen, we were such involved parents!!

And at the moment where Barth throws his sister through a window, the matchmaker rewards us with a genie lamp for treading the arduous path of excellence. I don’t know about you, but what I take from this is we are perfect and should never attempt to improve ourselves in any way! 

[littlest-world]

Ally

A continuation of Proof.

"No- James!"

James was terrified. He had been discovered, and by non-other than his best friend.

"James, I won't hurt you! Come out!"

James was squeezed between the stubby leg of his bed and corner of the room.

"I just want to talk! I'm sorry!"

James covered his ears, but Kyle still sounded like he was shouting into them.

"Please..." Kyle finally lowered his voice, "I didn't mean to scare you..."

James did his best to ignore the now gigantic Kyle, which wasn't easy as Kyle continued to talk to him, saying that he won't tell anyone and trying to convince him to come out, but James didn't respond to any of this, and eventually Kyle left.

James couldn't sleep that night, he was too terrified. But he was also exhausted and so as the sun rose he fell asleep, only waking up at sunset. As soon as he could, James grew and began packing up in a hurry. He might still have a chance to escape. But as he run around the house gathering the things he'd need he heard a familiar knock on the door. It was Kyle.

James froze in place, hoping that Kyle would just go away, but Kyle persisted.

"James I know you're there, and in your, uh, big form."

No you don't know that, go away!

"Please let me in, I just want to talk!"

James wanted to believe that, but he couldn't.

"I didn't tell anyone and you know that! So let me in!"

James thought for a moment and realized that Kyle was right. If Kyle would have reported him he would have been gone by now. Kyle kept his mouth shut, just as he promised to yesterday.

Hesitantly James opened the door. James and Kyle were roughly the same height, but James couldn't help but feel as though Kyle was towering over him. He looked down and saw Kyle's shoes, the same shoes he wore yesterday, vibrant red with streaks of yellow. It suddenly struck James just how much of a difference in appearance could be caused by sheer scale. He wondered how he looked like to Kyle yesterday under the bed...

James shook off the weird feeling and stepped aside, letting Kyle in.

They sat in awkward silence in the living room for a few moments before Kyle spoke up.

"I'm... sorry. For yesterday. For all of it." James didn't know what to say, and Kyle continued. "I... I suspected for a while that you were a shifter, but I wanted to know, and..."

"You knew?" James spoke up for the first time since yesterday's events. "How long did you know?"

"A couple of months? A year? There wasn't a point at which I realized, it was more of a slow buildup."

James looked down. He tried not to see Kyle. The emotions within him bubbled as he processed Kyle's answer, and he felt a strange mix of embarrassment, relief, and anxiety.

"I shouldn't have scared you like that, it was dumb. I'm sorry." Kyle looked away. "I just had to know for sure, and I needed to prove it to myself and... I didn't think about you..." Kyle chuckled awkwardly at the irony of this, but then looked at James with concern. "I hope we can still be friends?"

James stared at Kyle for a moment. "You still want to be my friend?"

Kyle was taken aback by the question. "Of course I do! Why wouldn't I?"

"You want to be friends with a shifter?" James asked carefully, as to not let his hope show in his voice.

"Do you even listen to me?" Kyle paused for a moment, but continued before James could answer, "I don't hate tinies and shifters. I think that it's horrible what we do to them, to you! I hate the way humanity treats you! And I can't stand how indifferent most people are to that!"

James had never heard Kyle raise his voice with such anger before. Any doubt that he had about Kyle's true stance on the matter disappeared immediately.

"Sorry," Kyle saw the shock on James's face, "I didn't mean to shout, I'm just... uugh! I hate that you can't even trust me, and I hate that you have good reasons for that!" Kyle tried to keep calm despite his frustration.

"It's okay, I trust you," James spoke sincerely, "and I'd be happy to continue to be your friend."

"Do you really mean it, or are you just trying to calm me down?" It was a pointless question to ask, Kyle knew that in either case James would claim sincerity.

"Both," smiled James. He was happy. He wouldn't have to hide his secret from his best friend anymore and it was a huge weight off his shoulders.

[mcx7demonbros]

Does Anyone Know The Recipes?

Ft. Gn!MC, all the demon characters (including Little D no. 2, but excluding Mephisto since I don’t know him well).

C/W. Demon cannibalism, human eating demon (yeah, you didn’t read it wrong, it’s human eating demon), vomiting.

No proofread

“It’s ready.” Barbatos comments after he finished making the dishes and smelled the aroma the food permeate. According to the royal law, butlers and chefs are not allowed to taste the royals’ meal, even if it is for the purpose of preparing said meal. Butlers and chefs can only rely on their experience to produce excellent dishes. Even though Diavolo said it was fine, Barbatos couldn’t allow himself to take a bite of Diavolo’s dishes. Especially when the dishes are made of the traitorous and rebellious demons, like this time.

After finishing the dishes, the Royal Butler, along with many other Little Ds, bring the dishes, a total of 666 of them, to the Royal Dining Room. Apparently, this time, Diavolo has crushed a considerably large rebellious force.

“Mr. Barbatos.” Little D no. 2 appears at the door of the Royal Dining Room, panting. “Lord Diavolo summons you to the meeting room. He also needs the testimonies of the rebels you have recorded.”

“I’ll be right there.” Barbatos puts the last dish on the table. He leaves in a hurry to fetch the necessary papers before meeting Diavolo.

Meanwhile, a little human is wandering in the castle. They are supposedly to be in the House of Lamentation, sleeping, right now. But their housemates, the Seven Lords of Hell, who had to attend a meeting with the Crown Prince, decided that it’s not safe for them to be left alone at home so they took the human to the Demon Lord’s Castle. After all, no rebel in their right mind would attack the Demon Lord’s Castle while Diavolo is always in good shape and has never shown any sign of weakness before. An attack on the Crown Prince’s residence is no different from suicide.

Well, return to you, the human in the story, you are…were supposed to be sleeping. But maybe your desire to defy Lucifer got the better of you and now you are wandering among the halls of Diavolo’s castle.

“‘Go to sleep’, I’m not a kid, you arrogant peacock!” You mimic the voice of Lucifer and mock him. Fortunately, the eldest is busy meeting and discussing some issues with Diavolo at the moment, so he can’t hear your mimicry. Otherwise, the consequences wouldn’t be just not be able to walk for a week.

While exploring the gigantic castle, suddenly, an aroma reaches you.

“This aroma…it’s calling me to it…definitely. I’m coming.” You begin to dance your way to the location of the aroma.

“Stop right there! This is the Royal Dining Room. Without explicit permission from Lord Diavolo, none would be allowed to enter.” The two guards standing at the large door shout in unison as they cross their spears, preventing you from enter.

“C’mon, guys. You know me. I’m MC, I have come here many times before.” You say.

“Sorry, MC. Rule is rule.” The guard on the left replies, with the one on the right nodding. “You must obtain the Prince’s explicit permission to go in.”

“You know I did sleep with Diavolo, right? He gave me permission when I was in his embrace.”

“Sorry, need proof.”

“Fine. I’ll go find Diavolo. But after he comes here and confirms his permission for me, he will become angry because you don’t believe someone he trusts and you bothers him with such a trivial matter when he has so much things to do.”

The two guards gulp. You turn around and prepare to leave.

“Wait, wait…”

Hearing the calls of the guards, you know you have obtained what you wanted. You enter the Royal Dining Room with a smug face.

“Wow, all of them look so good. This one looks like Thanksgiving turkey but bigger and…more purple. This one looks like velvet Swiss roll. Hmm…what should I try first?” You giggle to yourself.

Around the same time, Diavolo and the Brothers, along with various demon nobles, finish their meeting.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please stay and enjoy late snack with Us.” Diavolo invites. Of course, none would reject a royal invitation.

“Today’s snack was cooked from the rebels who caused us many headaches in the 1st circle.” Barbatos says, many of the demons smiles. Human devouring and demon cannibalism are the two most distinctive marks of demon culture. Many of the demon nobles are still fighting to retain them, despite the exchange program, and Diavolo is actually willing to indulge them once in a while.

Then, the group, led by Diavolo, with Barbatos beside him, followed by the Avatars according to their orders from eldest to youngest, then the nobles from major to minor, they all follow the Prince to the Royal Dining Room.

“Lord Diavolo!” The two guards greet their Prince.

“You two can go back to rest now. We can handle from here.” The Prince says as he smiles at them.

The guards thank Diavolo before leaving.

Diavolo opens the door to the Royal Dining Room himself to show royal hospitality.

What greet Diavolo isn’t the lavish “snack” he thought was waiting for him, but a little human, seating on the chair at the head of the table (which is his), devouring the food, dishes after dishes.

“M…MC.” Lucifer couldn’t contain the shock anymore that he blurts out your name.

Not only Lucifer, but all the other Brothers couldn’t contain their shock and sick. Since God created the universe, it has only been heard that demons eat men, not men eat demons back. But right now, in front of their eyes, their beloved little human is gobbling food made from demon meat.

Meanwhile, Barbatos’s expression freezes. It has become harder to read this demon’s emotion.

“What’s happening?” The demon nobles standing behind the Avatars can’t see the scene taking place. Some of them manage to shove their way up by pushing Asmo. Upon seeing the scene, the demon nobles couldn’t help but vomit right there, at the Royal Dining Room. Fortunately, all the Avatars and the Royals manage to get away and not let the mess dirty them or their attires.

Hearing the commotion, you turn back and see your lovely demons.

Busted. You tell yourself. You get off Diavolo’s chair, clean your mouth and hands with his napkin.

“I did eat a little. But there’s still a lot, so don’t worry.” You try to smile at the demons, who literally are speechless.

“By the way, the dishes I just ate were the most delicious one I have ever tasted. It’s felt like I can never have enough. Does anyone know the recipes?” :D

Got this concept a few weeks ago. Didn’t bring it to fruition till now.

Tag. Just want to see what you guys think.

@the-ghost-of-panda , @delphi-dreamin , @crazyyanderefangirlfan

And @sparkbeast20 this is like the opposite of your headcanons A feast for a demon.

[from-dre]

One One-Thousand

I’d been among the few stuffed animals that Mrs. Carmine had placed inside the crib when she first brought little Cynthia home. The others lining the rest of the room hadn’t been as lucky and so the toddler rarely played with them in the years to follow.

Her bright blond curls stood out in family portraits when set against the straight dark hair of her adoptive parents. They adored the child. She was showered with attention. Always given new toys. It didn’t matter, I remained her favorite. So on the day the screams started, little Cynthia came running for me first.

The Carmines had a television in their living room, but if I wasn’t placed or dropped on the floor in its line of view, I’d be stuck having to piece things together just by listening. What I heard was horrifying. Mass violence overseas. Some type of invasion. Enormous power outages leaving entire countries in the dark. I’d hear Mr. Carmine talking about a potential war and how they’d have to start coming up with an escape plan would it ever reach Stateside. I’d hear Mrs. Carmine sit up crying for nights in a row. Cynthia held me tighter than ever before. After she’d fall asleep, I’d stare at the other stuffed animals in the room with me, all of us with the same blank expressions we’d always worn. I always wondered if they too, could think like me. If they were stuck inside their own bodies like I was, unable to move or speak, just observe and process. I assumed they could. But of course, I’d never know, just like they’d never know if they ever wondered the same thing about me.

“Sam!” I heard Mrs. Carmine crying out to her husband from another room. “Get in here now!” She sounded petrified and began sobbing loudly. Cynthia stopped her coloring, scooped me up by one of my floppy ears, and ran out of her room towards her mother. From the poor girl’s arms, I watched the television but struggled to make sense of what I was seeing. A helicopter was transmitting a live feed from high above. It showed a gigantic gaping hole in the middle of a desert. I couldn’t make out how large it was until I realized the small specks surrounding its outer edge that I mistook for ants turned out to be people. Millions of them. The camera zoomed in as far as it could onto a cluster of them. I could almost make out their faces when Mrs. Carmine shrieked again, covering her mouth. “They’re digging!” She yelled to herself. Cynthia and I were made to go back into her room, though I couldn’t help but think about what I’d just seen. Who were those people? Something about the way they were standing wasn’t normal.

In the coming weeks I tried piecing together what little information I could. Mass suicides were happening globally. People were voluntarily walking into the oceans without trying to swim. All heading towards the hole that had gotten so big it now seemed to cover half of Egypt. Mrs. Carmine began sleeping next to Cynthia at night. She’d taught her daughter to count from ten one-thousand all the way down until she’d hit zero. She told her how that was the magic number that could instantly slow her racing heartbeat if she ever got scared. But how she could only use its magic once in her life. How the fewer numbers she’d need to count, the braver she was. Cynthia never needed to get past six one-thousand.

One afternoon I heard shouting. But it sounded different than ever before. I quickly realized it wasn’t coming from anywhere inside the house. Just then, I heard the front door open and slam shut.

“Carol – get Cynthia now! It’s here! It’s come here!” I heard Mr. Carmine running through the house, gathering things.

“What?!” Mrs. Carmine’s voice from their bedroom.

“Now Carol! Go!”

“Tell me what’s happening!”

“No time, I’ll explain in the car! Get Cynthia!”

The sound of the bedroom door bursting open woke the sleeping girl. Her mother grabbed her hand.

“Come on baby, we’re leaving.” I watched the two hurry out of the room, down the hall, and around the corner out of sight.

“Wait!” I finally heard. The sound of little footsteps ran back towards me and a minute later, I was in the girl’s arms as the three of them headed for the front door, bags of food in hand.

“Straight to the car.” Mr. Carmine said. Then, sunlight. Since first arriving to the Carmines’, I’d been taken outdoors twice. Once for a trip to the park and once to play with Cynthia in the backyard. For the past year and a half however, we lived with the world turning into utter chaos. Now, I finally saw for myself the reality of it all.

The first thing I noticed were the screams coming from half the houses on the block. A few cars had broken windows. Then, a man running, another chasing him while flailing his limbs violently, saying something over and over in a gurgled voice. Mr. Carmine jumped in the car. Mrs. Carmine opened the backseat for me and the girl, then slammed it shut and hurried into the passenger seat. I tried to see where the two men ran to but couldn’t find them. When the car backed away from the driveway they reentered my line of sight.

“Mommy!” Cynthia howled. The gurgling man had caught up to his victim, pinned him to the ground, and was now forcing himself atop his head to get to his ear. He began chanting the same phrase over and over again. A language I’d never heard. In a matter of seconds the man trying to fight himself free stopped moving. He stiffened out. Then, his limbs cracked into a position they weren’t made to take. He began to utter something. His voice had changed into the same demonic growl as his attacker’s. He jumped up and the two began running again. But this time, together, and in complete syncopation.

“Drive, Sam!” Cynthia’s mother yelled.

“What’s happening?” Mr. Carmine muttered to himself.

As the car pulled away from the house, I looked out passed the back window. Trees whirled by. Homes on fire, cars overturned, we were nearing downtown. More packs of those gurgling people, all chanting the same thing, all with cracking limbs running in a form no human body has ever taken before. No blood stains, no wounds, just the same expression on their faces as I had seen on those people surrounding the huge hole in the Earth. It looked, evil. Muscles I’d never seen a face use held their features in place. Unsymmetrical eyes. Lips that snarled. Crooked noses.

“They’re saying whatever it is reached Manhattan last night. By this morning it was here in Florida and an hour ago just outside Sarasota.” Mr. Carmine relayed the news to his shocked wife, too paralyzed to cry. “They turn into these things by some signal the brain picks up when it’s close enough to hear it. Then they go after others, turning more until they have enough and start heading East.”

“Why East?” Mrs. Carmine asked.

“They’re headed in that hole’s direction. Whatever’s buried there, they’re digging for it constantly, day and night, even after some have their arms fall off, they continue to dig. It’s…, this is it. This is how the world ends.” The car continued to race through the city streets.

“Don’t talk like that, I’m sure they’ve started dropping bombs on that pit by now.”

“It doesn’t work! New ones find their way to it! They just-“

Mr. Carmine had been in the middle of catching his breath when an SUV barreled into the driver’s side. We slid to a complete stop with broken glass covering the inside of the car. I couldn’t see the aftermath but by Mrs. Carmine’s hysteria, I assumed the worst.

“No! No, no, Sam, my God!” Cynthia had never been quick to cry. But now I started feeling her chest rise and lower quicker and quicker. “Baby get out of the car!” Mrs. Carmine flew out and grabbed her daughter out and into the street. Cynthia held me tighter. I could see the driver from the SUV’s body had smashed through its windshield. “Oh my God, oh my God. Where? Where?” The girl’s mother was frantically looking for a place to run towards. Screams came from all around us. The storefronts were all broken into. Gunfire from both near and far. “There!” She grabbed her daughter’s hand and the two of them ran inside a neighborhood deli. The chairs that were once stacked up against the door had been pushed to the side. Mrs. Carmine looked around in a panic. Then a voice.

“Over here! Hurry!” From behind the counter, a man stood waving his arm. We ran towards him as he pointed to the walk-in freezer. “My wife and son are in there, come on!”

The two pounded on its outside and a few seconds later the thick door swung open. From back out in the dining area, a loud crash rung out by windows being broken, then the faint sounds of deep gurgled chanting filled the room.

“They’re in! Hurry, get to the back of the freezer!” The man yelled. His wife, young son, Mrs. Carmine and Cynthia huddled together in the dim corner as the man pulled the freezer door shut and stacked as many crates as he could find in front of it. He kept the light on and I watched him kneel down in prayer. Cynthia squeezed me tight and I noticed the young boy with us looking at her in worry, he too held a stuffed bunny in his arms. I made eye contact with it and it with me. I didn’t know what the young boy had named his furry friend or if they’d made as many memories as little Cynthia and I had over the years. I didn’t know how close the two had become or if the young boy had ever been able to read the bunny’s blank face as well as Cynthia had been able to read mine. I didn’t even know if the bunny could feel emotion or think thoughts like I could, but still, we stared at each other in silence. Outside, gurgled chanting neared closer to the freezer.

“Ten one-thousand…,” whispered a shaking Cynthia. “Nine one-thousand…eight one- thousand.” Pounding on the door began. The man prayed faster, louder, with more aggression. The chanting, though in unison, sounded like it came from a dozen or more voices. “Five one-thousand…four one-thousand.” The man began crying, the chanting grew louder, the pounding turned into violent scratching. Panels began getting pulled off in all directions. The bunny held its blank expression, still looking at me, and by the time Cynthia reached one one-thousand and hadn’t yet stopped, I wondered if it knew how scared it should truly be.

[lapismoontide]

Full of Rage

I'm trying not to go off and say things to someone that I don't mean, so I've came here to unleash the beast within.

I am so angry right now.

It seems like nothing goes right for me.

It's the same constant loop of events that happen over and over and over again in my life, and I am so utterly sick and tired of it.

The man I'm with is 2 years older than me. We have been together for 17 years, and it's been nothing but a gigantic struggle the whole entire fucking time.

When will it change?

That's something I constantly ask myself.

Have I tried to do things to make change happen? Oh yeah, that's all I seem to do. Cater to someone in the idea that if I do this different things will change. If I walk lightly, he won't be angry. If I don't say what I think, he won't be mad at me. I'm so fucking sick of this shit. It's so much, I can't even put it all into words. It all always comes out jumbled making no sense to anyone who would read it I'm sure.

So what we have been trying to work on for more than a fucking decade is working. Hahahaha!! Literally, just keeping a fucking job. That's it.

I've worked before, and I am unemployed at the moment. Yeah, I could work. However, every time I do work, my man thinks that he can just quit his job. He thinks that if I am working, there's no reason for him to work. I'll take care of him, his basic needs will be met. He will have a roof over his head, water to wash his ass with, food to eat, internet to play his games on, power to use all utilities, a phone to make calls and talk to women behind my back on, a car to use, gas to put in the car; I could go on and on and on and on.

He thinks that I should work, clean the house, take care of the animals, pay all of the bills (and worry about all of the bills), buy all of the food, cook all of the food; basically do every mother fucking thing there is to do. Take care of him like a mother would take care of a fucking child, and I'm tired of doing it.

So I told him that he can fucking work, and I'll do the rest of it. Which is a fair deal if you really really think about it. If I had to just work, just go to work and that's it? Oh my god, that would be a fucking dream to me. I would absolutely love to just work and not have to worry about a damn thing. Wouldn't you?

How much better of a deal can you fucking get?

He got a job working for a tree company about 9 months ago now. Maybe more. He stayed at this job which was actually astonishing to me, b/c before now he's literally quit every single job for the past decade. Even the tree job, he worked (out of town) the first week having to room with another person (male of course) in a hotel. The hotel was paid for, they gave them $120 a week for food, and they only worked four days out of the week. He comes home after the first week, and says he's not going back. Meanwhile at home, we are drowning. Barely hanging on. Having broken payment promises to every bill company (multiple payment agreements), and he has the audacity to say he is going to quit his job. Knowing that he is the only thing that is keeping us going. So we get into this huge argument, and I basically tell him that I will sign one of my cars over to him if he quits and he can take his first and only check, and leave. B/c I can barely take care of myself, I can't take care of me and him when I have no job, and I'm the only one trying to figure out ways to keep food on the table. Fuck the bills, just food is hard to buy.

However, he ends up going back to the job. Stomping and bitching like a teenager would when you make them go to school, but he goes. So when he leaves this time, he finds out that he is going to be put on a new crew. A crew with a woman as the new foreman b/c they had a crew wreck due to lack of sleep. The old foreman who was driving drove into a sign on the interstate, and it cut his head off. So they appointed this girl that had worked for them for a few months as the foreman b/c idk if you guys know this, but most tree crews like to hire drug addicts with no license. So the only person who had a license that had worked the 90 day probation period was this woman. So she needed at least one person on her crew, and they sent my man b/c he was the newest employee. I thought that this would actually work out b/c my man doesn't get along with any other men, never has. So I knew that him working with a woman, he'd fit right in. He did just that. Never complained about his job ever again. There's a lot to this whole story, I'll tell it another time. Right now however, we're talking about something else.

So he works for this company through his probation period. The lady foreman ends up getting fired, and the only person in the whole company with a license was my man, so he was appointed foreman of that crew. A lot of stuff happens in-between this time, but he stays at the job. Loves it like he's loved no other job. It was b/c he could stay gone all week long, only live at home 2 days out of the week, and do whatever he wanted the rest of the time. He ends up getting fired b/c he was driving the company truck and wasn't supposed to (on his off time). The supervisor actually had told him he could drive it whenever (I heard him). BUT they had a new company take over, and like I said a lot of shit happened. The supervisor threw him under the bus. Acted like he didn't say he could drive, and so he got fired for doing it. That was wrong, I will admit that.

When he comes home, he starts looking for jobs. Says he is older now, says we won't go through the same shit we had been going through prior to him getting this job. Asked me to just trust him, have faith in him. So I did.

He ends up asking that same company for a job in the company in any position. They actually took him back. When the time comes for him to leave tho, he doesn't go. I told him he needed to go, b/c he can't work factory jobs. He can't work any job where he lives at this house and has to go to it every day. He can't do it b/c I am here, and when I'm here he isn't independent. He relies on me too much. Acts like I am his mother too much. I told him what would happen is he would start getting mad about waking up, or mad about me not getting up with him and shit like that. I told him that he'd start bitching and crying, and blaming me for "making him go to work". I stg it reminds me so much of a teenage boy crying to their mama. I told him he needed to take the out of town job. He promised me he wouldn't do all of that stuff. He's "changed". Okay, so I trusted him like he asked me to.

He gets a job with another tree crew, but this one is local. He doesn't take it b/c it's $15 a hour and he was getting paid $24 a hour at the other job. He doesn't understand that he was using almost $500 each week for himself out of town, so basically making $15 a hour is equivalent to the $24 since he's not out of town having to use all of the extra money.

He turns down that job. Says he has another job lined out. He did, and he got the job. This job paid $30+ a hour. Highest paying job in this area, and we are about 5 minutes from the job location. Really great! He works there one week, and then doesn't go the next. Does a no call no show for four days. Tells me he has been given another tree job. Out of town to the same area, just with a different company. Okay, but he didn't even ask what they pay, will he have to room with people, etc. He just impulsively quit the best paying job he can get here, to go with a company he doesn't even know anything about. He just assumes they pay more than the last tree company. He was wrong.

A day before the time comes for him to leave, he tells me that he "doesn't want to leave me". I got so fucking mad, I saw red. You have to understand how frustrating this shit truly is. Then he finds out this company pays $20 a hour, and yes he WILL have to have a room mate. Greatttttt! He tells me he can get the job back with the other company. I didn't believe that, and I told him he needed to go to the tree job.

He agreed, so the time comes for him to leave. I go to the store to get him a few things for his travels. He messages me when I get to the store, and tells me he's told the boss he's not leaving for the tree job. He messaged his job that he did the no call no show at, and they said they'd give him ONE MORE CHANCE.

Okay, I didn't bitch about it none. I just said okay, I trust you.

He goes back to the good paying job. Works a week, and now this week he worked one day, went the next day and worked about a hour and come home. Then today, he quit. Did another no call no show. Great job! He still hasn't provided me with a reason as to WHY THE FUCK he's done this shit.

I told him he needs to go see a fucking doctor because something is fucking wrong with him. He is 34 years old. He shouldn't be acting like this.

I don't expect anyone to fully take care of me. I am fully capable of doing it myself. It pisses me off however when a grown ass MAN thinks that a woman should take care of him, take care of everything, and then still be in a "womanly" role when she's in the bedroom. Fuckkkkkk noooooooo. You put me in a mans role, and I'm going to be in that mentality. Sorry, I don't want to fuck you when I'm taking care of every damn thing there is to take care of. You're like my child at that point anyway, and who wants to touch their son in that way? Get what I am SAYING??????

It makes me the most mad b/c when he quits like this, doesn't prepare, doesn't have any money saved, doesn't have any resources, nothing. What does he do? He expects me to take care of everything. With no job, and I do it. I am getting sick of doing it tho. It's a lot easier to do everything myself on my own. Without a man child hanging on to my tit. He has a mother. She won't take care of him either, but I'll tell him this. That is where he will be going if he doesn't provide a source of income for HIMSELF asap.

Am I wrong for feeling this way? Idk!

[rosesarereds-posts]

"The Only Thing that is Constant in this World is Change"

Every day I wake up 5:00 am in the morning, take a bath, get dressed, and eat my breakfast. "Ate Xiena! Come faster our ride have arrived", a few minutes after I finished my breakfast I hear my cousin Niña yelling at me as our ride to school has already arrived. I would then run as fast as I can so that I won't be left out. After a few minutes, I can already see the gate of our school and the little arc above it that says "Mabini National High School". Everyday I would always walk on the same way to our classroom. From the gate I turn to the pathway on the left and see the same murals on the wall, then I would check myself in the gigantic windows of the multi-purpose room, after that I would walk straight to the little pathway of the 4 storey building and go straight to my classroom. I would open the door go to my seat and wait until one of my classmate arrives. My routine is always like that everyday it never changed and I thought that it will never change. I am not really a fan of changes and I hate it when things don't go as I planned so everyday I try my best to do things in the same way. Even at our house my routine is always the same. I wake up, make my bed, eat, take a bath, go to our sari-sari store to work, eat, sleep and repeat.

I had always been shy around other people. I don't participate much in discussions as I was shy my answer is wrong and it stayed the same over the years. "Xien answer that question" "Xiena raise your hand" "Xiena answer what you wrote" and "Your answer, it would be a waste if you don't raise your hand" were the words I keep hearing from my friends and people who know me but I kept on ignoring it as I was afraid to change. Everyone have known me to be super extra kind, they painted me to be the girl who never says no to any requests. Even though I am struggling with that image they have on me I didn't change as I was then again afraid that the changes I will make will make the people or my friends turn their back on me. At our house I also don't really express myself so much as ever since I was kid, I was a quiet with nothing much to say type. As I grew up, of course I also had a few sentiments I would like to share but kept it to myself because I was afraid my family would become disappointed. However, I recently have come to realize that changes are needed in our life and my fear of changes have deprived me to grow.

In a one beautiful day, where the sun shined brightly than I have expected. I was doing the usual things that I do. I still vividly remember that day, it was when our personal development teacher was doing her class. She asked a question and no one except the students who always raises their hands answered she said something like this "You all have to answer, there is no wrong answer you all have to boost your confidence, you need to answer to share your thoughts , how about your personal development? what will happen?" while everyone thought that the teacher was scolding us I thought different, those words serves as a inspiration to me. Some might think those are just mere words however, for an insecure and afraid child like me, those words served as an eyer opener and a motivation. When I heard those words I instantly thought "Ma'am said that there is no wrong answes, I need to boost my confidence to grow." At that time, I thought it is only me who can make myself better and it is only me who can make myself grow. After that class I found myself raising my hand more to answer questions and I found myself boosting my own confidence. Ever since that day I found myself slowly changing from a shy kid who don't even have the nerve to raise her hand to answer a question made by the teacher in a discussion to a confident kid who can now raise her hand in every question. That one statement became the first step of me towards changing.

"What makes you that afraid of change?" my internet friend Apple asked me. "It just makes me anxious, I frequently worry about what will happen in my life if I change that uncertainty on what happens is the very reason why I am afraid of change" I replied. "Being afraid of change is normal, resisting change is also normal but you need to recognize that change is a part of our life" she said with much conviction. " Xien, progress is impossible without change, to exist is to change, and to improve means you have to change" she said with a soft voice as if she is telling me the hard truth but at the same time comforting me. "Change is scary but without change you cannot grow if you keep on running and avoid change you will stay somewhere you don't belong, only you can improve your life and to do that you need to undergo in a various changes" she added. Our conversation lasted like that for awhile and as our conversation deepens, I had realized and learned many things. I realized that so many changes happen everyday. Even the mahogany trees in the mini forest changes its color from green to red orange, they wither and changes to a new beautiful leaf. After undergoing various changes the mahogany tree still standstill amd survives. After I had realized that, I thought to myself "Ah, even the trees can undergo such changes but still survives so why can't I?" That is when I decided to take little steps towards change.

One morning where the sun shined the same. I decide to accept change, instead of doing the usual thing I do. I woke up at 4:30 am, ate my breakfast, took a bath, and go early to wait for our ride at the meeting place. As I arrived to the school instead of going to the left pathway to go to our classroom I decided to head straight to the path in Heroes Park to the basketball court and all the way to the H.E room to go to the classroom. I raised my hand to often in class discussion now. I even share my thoughts in every family discussion now. I even decided to change that kind girl who can't say no to everything image as I turned down an impossible request my cousin made. After doing all of that, I realized change isn't as bad as I thought it would be. Sure, there were a few bad reactions about my change but when I did those little changes I felt free. I felt that I was finally able to take control of my life from fear and doubts. I now view change as a challenging task I need to complete and overcome and have finally realized that the only thing that is constant in this world is change.

[the-firebird69]

This is what the Roadhouse bar and grill will look like and we like to have two stories because the office will be up there and the kitchen will be on the left as you look at it the other side is parking this side is parking in the front this parking and it's enough people in there for room in there for 100 people and it's going to be above the whack nearby for a couple hundred people it's a bivouac hotel and it would look like this and it'll look like this all over Earth except some of them will be huge I don't have the same theme the same luck might be a different color and not natural wood because they'll be gigantic I'm going to make some with like 5,000 rooms and it'll be called bivouac

Now we're going to town and we're going to start designing this and getting permitting you can use the modular apartment system and that's for the hotel portion the other will be a modular house type deal when they deliver it in like five pieces and we hope Chris can actually kind of get some money from it cuz other people are joining up and you say they're going to help him

Thor Freya

This is wonderful it's huge it's gigantic the idea is massive and to be able to just go and sleep for a reasonable price and have security and not to have this big huge room or anybody can get in and get through the wall and all this crap it's terrible these things are going to be modular and they're both in and concrete it in and they're safe and pull It resistant there's people there who are on security and they have big ones so they have plenty of money to run it and they'll keep it very clean no bugs under no bugs around it no intrusions I mean this is going to be a class act and we're all involved with all the protecting it it's about damn time

Mac daddy

We're going to build our all our hotels using our son and daughter system in mind and he did it with prisons it's no joke it is a joke because it's not right for what we're saying but it will be a lot nicer and we're going to have some rooms to upgraded but they'll be real money I have 5000 rooms will probably have 100 that are class A you know nice and maybe 200 that are just two bedroom rooms and the rest will be bivouac and we're going to see how it goes cuz everybody can't afford this it cost a damn Fortune to go across the country

Thor Freya

It's hard to spend money these days everyone's so damn picky as well it's such a pain in the Damned ass this place will have great food and great beer and great booze and inexpensive and our brands too and if we feel like a room will probably be able to get one cuz everyone's so cheap it's horrible so damn stupid you're so damn cheap

Mac daddy

We're proving this idea and we're building it now see how it goes it'll probably have thousands up by tomorrow and he wants to put a Hard knock kicker 5150 store at some of them and people will buy them just because they're novelty and we might have allow that too and see how it goes what a great idea

Olympus

[theroadtoanywhere]

The Road to Anywhere: The Full Story

Prologue

For as long as I could remember, my life was something that pleased me and my Momma, the Red Queen. In fact, it never even once occurred to me why I looked... different from her.

I stood behind her, sat beside her. After lunch each day, I would be sent to my room to play with my toys. My life as a princess was divided into periods: I’d wake up, I’d eat, I’d play, I’d bathe, I’d sleep.

There were no windows anywhere in the palace. Not that I minded, though, since Momma told me life was better here, and that I didn’t need to go outside.

My Momma knew everything and she’d always take care of everything.

At least, she said she was my momma.

What a lie that was.

Chapter 1

It all began one day when, after lunch, I went to my room to play with my toys.

That’s what I was doing when I heard the sound from above.

Whiiiirrrr...

I had never heard anything like that before.

Whiiiiirrrr...!

Is that getting louder? I remember thinking, before...

CRASH!

Right at that moment, a strange, big metal thing on a chain fell through my ceiling. It looked like the letter ‘T’ with hooks at the bottom.

It was followed by a boy jumping down through the hole it’d left, a cord attached to him. I’d never seen him before. I’d never seen the color he was wearing before, either. I thought that Red and Pink were the only two colors there was. This new color looked... well, cold. At least, it reminded me of coldness.

Aside from the cold color, his clothes were also odd. He wore a vest with a hood and short pants, and he had no shoes on, only wrappings. (Then again, I wasn’t wearing any shoes either.) Was this boy what Momma would call a ‘peasant’?

He looked me over and said “Are you Garnet?”

I was tempted to ask How did you know my name?, but I was so surprised at what just happened, and what was happening now, that I just replied, “Y-Yeah.”

“Okay then, come along with us,” he said, putting an arm around my waist. “We’re running away together”

I could hear Momma and her guards coming. They must have heard the noise from my room. “But what about-”

Before I could finish, he tugged at the cord. It jerked him upwards, taking me along with him.

I looked down just in time to see Momma through the hole the boy’s metal thing had made. She didn’t look scared or worried for me. She actually looked really mad.

Outside, it was warm. The sky was the same color as the boy’s clothing, with fluffy, floating things without any color, and a big ball of light that hurt to look directly at. The cord pulling us up came from a flying thing, which was like my toy boat but gigantic, attached to an even bigger balloon, hovering above the palace.

We were hauled aboard the boat by what I later learned was called a ‘winch’. Two others were there, another boy and a girl, each dressed in another unfamiliar color. The other boy wore a color that reminded me of the big light-ball in the sky, while the girl wore a darker color that was kinda similar, but not quite. She was dark-skinned, and she wore a vest and had no pants or skirt, just two strips of cloth that hung down in the front and back of her bare legs. He had on puffy, short sleeves and pants with toeless leggings, and wore a strange hat.

They helped the two of us aboard, then shut the door behind us. “Cast off!” the boy in the funny hat exclaimed.

I was a little scared, but also curious. While they pulled up the ‘anchor’ (Because that’s what they called the metal thing.), I took a look around.

The boat had a small house in the back, and near that was a large, round thing. The boy in the funny hat came over and spun it. “Let’s go!”

The boat turned in the direction the round thing was spun, and it flew away from the palace. 

When we were a good ways away, I asked “So, where are we going?”

“Anywhere that’s safe from people like that tyrant.” the boy who brought me aboard the boat replied.

“Tyrant?!” I was shocked at what he said. “How could you say that about my Momma?”

What the boy in the funny hat said next startled me even more. “Princess... the Red Queen isn’t your mother.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe what I just heard.

“She’s your master,” he said. “At least, she was, but hey, you’re free now! We’re all free, here.”

“What are you talking about?”

They then told me everything, about the world, about themselves, about the flying boat that they called the Luminus, and how they found each other and me.

First, the realm of Arc was divided into four: the Red Lands (where I lived before they came to get me), the Blue City (where the hooded boy was from), the Green Country (where the girl was from) and the Yellow Kingdom (where the boy in the funny hat was from). Humans (that’s what they called people like us) were like any other animal here, except that rich folk (like my ‘Momma’) were allowed to keep them as pets.

The boy in the funny hat was called Blane. By mistake, he had learned the truth about a man he had called his ‘father’, the Yellow Count, who also owned a tool called a compass. From what I was told, compasses normally point in only one direction so that you know where you are. But this one was special; It could point in the direction of wherever you wanted or needed to go. When Blane escaped, he stole the compass, which led him to the other two.

Hinto was the hooded boy’s name. He was trapped in some place called a ‘zoo’, after being captured by the Blue Baron. Blane met him there, and rescued him.

The girl, Orrin, was also in a zoo, which was owned by the Green Duchess. The Duchess also owned the Luminus, which they stole after freeing Orrin, and before the Compass led them to me. They only learned my name when they overheard the palace guards talking about me and the Red Queen, how I’d been ‘adopted’ after my real Momma died.

Now here we were, the four of us on what was called an ‘airship’, and they were asking me to join them in looking for somewhere, anywhere that they could be free.

“So, what do you think?” Blane said to me. “You up for adventure?”

When you’ve spent your entire life in one place, following a routine, only for you to suddenly leave that place, with that routine broken, the change actually feels nice. Was this what being free really felt like? Nobody telling you what to do, how to act? I had heard of freedom from the Red Queen’s subjects, but to actually feel it sent a chill up my spine, yet at the same time it felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. 

“Okay,” I nodded. “I’m in.” The other three smiled. I smiled too.

And that was how, for the first time in my life, I found new friends.

Chapter 2

There’s a castle somewhere on the outskirts of the Yellow Kingdom. We parked the Luminus next to it and walked up to the door. It was locked.

“Hello?” Blane called out. There was no reply.

“Anybody there?” I called. A strange face appeared at the top of the rampart. It looked like his helmet was his head, and he had holes instead of eyes. He called back to us: “Hello! Who’s this, now?”

“We’re just travelers,” Blane lied. “Who lives here?”

“It’s our castle,” the man responded. “We are all its proud lords and masters. What of it?”

“Not much,” Blane explained. “Just let us stay here for a while, and-”

“Out of the question!” the man exclaimed. “You are human-types! You are so far below us, you lowly little garbage man!”

“Okay, that’s it. I’ll show them what we humans can do.” Hinto started to march up to the door, but Blane stopped him.

“You don't scare us, human vermin!” the man boasted. “Go and soak your heads, ye seeds of stupid people! I pick my nose and wipe it on your blimp! You and your silly, so-called human trrrravelllllers!” He trilled the Rs, and somehow, the Ls in travelers, before making a rude noise by sticking his tongue out and blowing.

“What a weirdo.” I said to Blane, who I noticed was getting irritated. “Now look-” he began.

“I don't wanna talk to you anymore, you empty-headed human waste dispenser!” the man interrupted. “I fart in your faces! Your mother was a bonnacon and your father smelled like Limburger!”

I didn’t understand half of what he just said. Orrin called up to him “Anybody else up there we could talk to?”

“No,” he replied. “Now leave these premises, or I shall taunt you a second time!”

“Okay, look,” Blane declared. “We need a place to stay, so we're not going anywhere until-”

BOING!

It was at this moment that a large round thing (I later learned that it was called a ‘pumpkin’) was launched over the rampart.

“OH, DEAR GODDESS!!!” Blane shouted.

We all scattered as the thing smashed on the ground. Before we knew it, they were throwing fruits and vegetables at us while cackling like maniacs. In the end, we ran for it.

“So, what now?” I asked once we were out of their throwing distance.

“We can’t just straight up go in there,” Hinto said. “Unless we sneak in there...”

After a while (don’t ask how long) we had this large wooden creature (”It’s a cat,” Hinto said) built and ready for action. We made it hollow, so that we could go inside it. We rolled it up to the door, and hid inside it before they could see us.

Outside, we heard the door open, and then them talking, before the whole thing started to move with us inside.

Once we felt it come to a stop, Blane whispered “So, now what?”

“Now, we wait for the perfect chance to jump out, and-” Hinto started to explain, when suddenly...

BOING!

Everything lurched. We all screamed. It was pretty scary. Then, with a crash, we landed.

They had just launched us out of the castle.

So we gave up on trying to get in.

In a jungle somewhere in the Green Country, there lives a monster with seven heads. We learned this the hard way when we were trying to see if we could build a house for ourselves.

We were planning on what kind of house it should be, when it came bounding over.

“Halt!” it said. “Who art thou?”

“We’re just passing through.” Orrin replied.

“Human travelers, eh?” One of the heads said. “In that case, I shall have to kill you.”

“Shall I?” another head asked.

“I think not.” a third head objected.

“Well, what do I think?” the second head proposed.

“I think kill them.” yet another head joined the conversation.

“Oh, let's be nice to these kids.” the third head suggested.

“Oh, shut up.” the leaderly head grumbled.

“Could we just-” Blane began.

“And you too.” the leaderly head interrupted.

“Come on, let’s bite their heads off!” the fourth head said.

“Oh, bite your own head off!” a fifth head barked.

“Yes, do us all a favor!” A sixth one agreed.

While the heads argued, we snuck back to the Luminus and left.

The Luminus had this box thing that was called a ‘radio’. When the airship was stolen, that radio was broken so nobody could use it to track us down.

Which is why, as we were trying to figure out our next move, we were stunned to hear it come back to life, even though it was beyond fixing.

A female voice came out of it, clear as crystal. “Little ones,” it cooed. “Listen close and listen well. I know of someone who can help you.”

“Oh, really?” Hinto was suspicious, and I can’t say I wasn’t, too. “Who would help people like us?”

Her response was a surprise. “Another of your kind. A wild woman. The enchantress Sigal.”

“Another human?!” Orrin gasped.

The voice continued. “She knows of a cave which no one has entered. Wherein is carved the location of a most wonderful haven. Seek you the Fortress of Lost Dreams...”

And with that, the radio made a crackling noise, then was silent.

“The Fortress of Lost Dreams?” I didn’t know what to make of it and, from the others’ expressions, neither did they.

“It is kinda suspicious,” Blane said. “What do you think?”

“Maybe it’s a sign from the Goddess!” Orrin suggested.

“Yeah, it was a woman speaking to us,” said Hinto. “And the radio should be dead.”

“Well, I guess it’s worth a shot.” Blane decided with a shrug.

“Okay,” I agreed. “Let’s go!”

And off we went.

Chapter 3

The one thing we didn’t count on, when we told the compass to take us to Sigal, was flying straight through what was called a ‘stormcloud’.

During my time in the Red Palace, I had heard the occasional storm. I listened to the booming thunder from my bedroom.

But here, out in the open, there were also these flashes of light that came with the thunder, called ‘lightning’. Water also seemed to fall from the sky.

“Just a little storm,” Blane called out. “No big deal!”

The thunder was louder here than in the Red Palace. I ran for the Luminus’ hold, my hands over my ears.

And that was why I didn’t hear the others warning me that I was too close to the railing.

BOOM!

The thunder and lightning came too close to the Luminus for comfort, and I slipped, startled...

...and I fell into nothingness.

The next thing I knew, I was below the Luminus, seeing the airship getting smaller and smaller. I thought I heard Blane screaming my name.

In that moment, I felt like my mind was big enough for only two thoughts:

I must’ve fallen over the side,

and

I’m gonna hit the ground and SPLAT,

both of which were stating the blatant obvious.

It was like every dream of falling that I’d ever had, just a fast drop straight down. Luckily for me, there just so happened to be a group of houses right below me, and a man pulling a cart with a giant pile of straw. That’s where I landed.

Unfortunately, that’s also how I got mistaken for a human witch from the sky. As I crawled out from the straw, I heard other people whispering about me, and these strange beings approached. They had long, stiltlike legs, and they moved along like some demented caterpillar. (I only know what a caterpillar is from a book on bugs I had in the Red Palace. It was the only book I had.)

In a few seconds or so, they had surrounded me. I couldn’t run away even if I wanted to.

“Careful lads,” said the one at the front. “No telling what kind of dark magic she’s capable of working.”

“Am I in trouble?” I asked them.

“I’ll say you are,” said the leader. “You are hereby charged on suspicion of witchcraft, and shall be brought to the Mayor of Freymere to be judged forthwith.”

And with that, they were skittering off to the ‘town hall’, carrying me with them, while a crown of people followed.

They carried me into a place that must have been the town hall, and there they dropped me and retreated to a respectful distance.

Pardon the interruption, Sir,” the leader said. “But as you can see: we’ve caught a witch. May we have her locked up, or burned?”

The Mayor seemed to take interest, as the crowd shouted stuff about burning me. “How do you know she is a witch?”

Someone shouted “She fell from the sky!” which the others confirmed.

“Bring her forward.” the Mayor ordered, and the tall beings did so.

“I’m not a witch.” I told them. I explained that I had just fallen from an airship. He looked me up and down, then asked the crowd “What makes you think she's a witch?”

"Well, she turned me into a toad!”

Everybody turned to look at the man who had spoken, whom I had clearly not turned into a toad. “A toad?” the Mayor questioned.

There was a pause, before the man said sheepishly “She could’ve.” The people then began to shout “Burn her anyway!”, but the Mayor calmed them down.

“There are ways of telling whether she is a witch,” he said, and the mob begged him to tell them.

“Tell me,” he asked “What do you do with witches?”

The outcry of “Burn ’em!” echoed through the town hall.

“And what else do we burn apart from witches?” the Mayor proposed.

“More witches!” shouted a man who was then nudged by the lady next to him. Someone else suggested “Wood!”

“So,” the mayor said. “Why do witches burn?

The people stood in complete silence, thinking. Finally, one of them spoke up. “'Cause they're made of... wood?”

“Good,” the Mayor smiled. “So, how do we tell whether she is made of wood?”

“Build a bridge out of ‘er!” The man who had been silenced said.

“Ah, but can you not also make bridges out of stone?” the Mayor replied, to which everyone muttered “Oh, yeah...”

The Mayor then asked “Does wood sink in water?”

“No,” the people answered. “It floats! Let’s carve her into a boat! Put her in the lake!”

“What also floats in water?”

Everybody started giving different answers each:

“Bread!”

“Fruit?”

“Uh... soft sand!”

“There’s a kind of rock that floats, I think...?”

“Leaves!”

“Paper! Wait, that gets soggy...”

“Seafoam, seafoam!”

“Sponges!”

“What about a goose?”

Everyone stopped and looked at the tall beings’ leader. “Exactly!” The Mayor nodded. “So, logically...”

“If... she... weighs the same as a goose...” the man at the head of the crowd spoke slowly. “Then she's made of wood.”

“And therefore...”

The people seemed to come to a realization. “A witch!”

They dragged me outside, to the Mayor’s scales, which were the biggest I’d ever seen, and they sat me down on one end. They had an animal (That must be a ‘goose’, I thought) that they put on the other end. The scale must have been off-balance, because I seemed to weigh the same as the creature. As the crowd dragged me to a wooden pillar sticking out of the ground, I shouted and shouted but nobody listened to me.

But then, just before they could tie me up, I saw my friends.

They were pummeling everyone who was unlucky enough to be in their way. When they got close enough to me, I reached out my hand. Blane took it.

We ran for our lives, out through a gate and through the woods, until we were back at the Luminus.

As we took off, I breathed a sigh of relief.

We made it out alive.

Now we just needed to meet Sigal.

Chapter 4

The compass led us to a rocky area on the border, between the Blue City and the Red Lands. That’s where we found Sigal.

She was casting spells on a pile of burning sticks, changing the colors of the fire. Hinto got her attention. “Are you Sigal?”

She looked up at us, and her mask, which made it look like her eyes were the size of ping-pong balls, startled me. “I am she.”

We told her that we were seeking a certain cave, and that we needed her help to find it. “You seek the cave of Ganamar?” she said.

“Yeah,” Blane replied. “Can you take us there?”

“Yes, I can help you find the cave, and the last words of the sage Donnan carved within.” Sigal began to lead us along a particular path. “But follow only if ye be youths of valor, for the caverns are home to a beast so ruthless, so clever, that no human can outwit it and escape with their life! The stolen treasures of its victims lie strewn about its lair! And so, brave adventurers, if you do doubt your courage, come no further! For death awaits you all with big, nasty fangs!”

We arrived at this opening in the ground, with Sigal telling us to go in. It lead into some kind of rocky chamber. We were making our way through when Orrin suddenly cried out “Look there!”

Just as we’d been told, there were words carved into a wall.

They read:

And then, below that:

“What is that?!” Hinto stared at the last word.

“He must've died at the end of it.” Blane guessed.

“If that’s the case, he wouldn’t even bother carving ‘Aaarghh’,” Hinto argued. “He'd just say it!”

“Well, that’s what it says here,” Blane pointed out. “Unless he was dictating it and the guy who wrote it took down his death rattle.”

“What about that ‘great peril’ he mentioned?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Blane pondered. “Wonder what he meant by that...”

“Whatever it is couldn’t be worse than me.”

We all jumped at the unfamiliar voice and turned around. Behind us was this creature with an almost human face and sharp teeth.

It was one of those moments in our adventure where we all knew what this thing was without a doubt. Sigal had warned us about him.

As the Beast prepared to pounce, Hinto hissed “Somebody do something!”

That somebody turned out to be Orrin. “Wait, wait!” she cried. “What if I teach you a knock-knock joke? You go first.”

After some consideration, the beast said “Knock-knock.”

“Who’s there?”

The Beast paused. Orrin exclaimed “He bought it! Run!”

So we did. However, getting back to the exit was easier said than done: there were two tunnels ahead, and the Beast was bounding after us with a “Hey!”

“Compass, get us out of here!” Blane ordered the compass, and the arrow pointed at one of the tunnels. Immediately, we all ducked into that tunnel.

We came out of the cave, and bolted for the Luminus without looking back. We scrambled aboard and quickly launched into the air before the Beast could reach us.

The Luminus kept going up, higher and higher, until it seemed like we were sailing on the colorless stuff, the ‘clouds’.

Blane had just asked the compass to take us to the Central Wastes, when something jolted the airship from below. We ran to the side and looked down.

There was a huge mass below us, like a statue bigger than our small airship. When I looked closer, I could see that it was a giant woman who looked like she’d been carved out of stone and weathered down, yet she was flying through the air like she weighed nothing at all.

“It’s a skymaid,” Blane said.

By chance, she was flying in the same direction the compass was pointing, so we let her take us along with her.

And soon, we were there.

Chapter 5

The Fortress of Lost Dreams towered above the Central Wastes, almost touching the sky. Once we lifted the Luminus off of the skymaid’s head and touched ground, we went in.

The fortress wasn’t as colorful on the inside as it was on the outside. In fact, it was a bit creepy. We were looking around, trying to figure out what to do next, when we heard that voice again.

“Congratulations,” she said. “You made it. You’ve done well in bringing the compass to me.”

The owner of the voice wore the strangest, darkest dress I’d ever seen, and her skin was the color of milk. Before any of us could say a word we were surrounded by dolls, made of metal and string and old parts of clockwork. They were beautiful, but scary.

I knew then we’d been tricked.

Before we could make an attempt to escape they crowded us. One of them snatched the compass. Two more of them held a huge net. As we were trying to get the compass back, we were all wrapped in the net. It was a little like being dropped into a web of darkness, and in the darkness we screamed and struggled, until we were tumbled out of the web into a cage.

We were lowered into a pit with vines growing around the sides, and they left us there.

“So, what now?” Orrin was obviously worried.

I didn’t know what to tell her.

Blane looked around. He looked dejected.

Then his eyes widened, and he didn’t look anywhere nearly as dejected anymore.

“Look around us!” he said. So we did.

We realized that there was a way to escape. This is how we did it.

First, we all pressed ourselves against one side of the cage, and reached out to grab the vines. We pulled with all our strength, reaching out and grabbing higher and higher vines, until the cage was off the floor.

We kept climbing the vines while still in the cage, until we reached the top of the pit. We heard voices, then.

“Ere, I saw the lords ‘n ladies arrivin’ just a min' ago; What’s the mistress summoned ‘em ‘ere for?”

“Oh, that? Just to bear witness to when Empress DeVoid connects her wand to that compass she got.”

"A compass?”

“A magic compass, mind you. A recent acquisition by the Yellow Count, until it was stolen, but the Empress tricked the thieves into coming here. They’re in the dungeon now.”

“What’s so special about this compass?”

“It always guides you wherever you want to go. With the Empress’s wand, it can even open gateways! Even to places beyond Arc, if you know what I mean.”

“Aha, so she can finally dethrone the Great Banisher Lady Alba ‘erself, eh?”

“Indeed. You know how Her Majesty the Empress has been yearning for her vengeance on the Goddess. Come, I want to see what the Cosmic Gardens look like.”

As we heard them leave, Orrin whispered “She’s gonna do something terrible to the Goddess, isn’t she?”

“We can’t let her.” I replied.

“So, how do we get out of here?” Hinto asked.

“Uh...”

At that moment, one of the vines that we were clinging to snapped. We were so surprised that we all lost our grips.

We fell, screaming, back to the bottom of the pit. When we landed, the cage broke open. Good thing none of us were hurt.

“That works,” Blane groaned.

We got out of the pit by climbing on the vines. Now that we were free, we were off to save the Goddess. All we had to do was get the compass back and get out.

To be honest, we weren’t expecting it to be so complicated.

Chapter 6

We crept through empty corridors, making our way through the Fortress, trying to find DeVoid, our hearts pounding in our ears.

Finally, we came to a great door, hearing more voices on the other side. I recognized two of them: DeVoid and the Red Queen.

“I don’t know what kind of time you call this. I’ve been worried sick about my Garnet.”

‘Patience, Dahling. Soon, you shall all see your precious pets again, just as we shall gain all the power in the world.”

Carefully, making sure that the door didn’t make a sound, we snuck in. We saw DeVoid and the Red Queen with three others - I knew they were the Yellow Count, the Blue Baron and the Green Duchess.

DeVoid held up a stick thing (A ‘wand’?) and attached the compass to one end of it.

I felt a wave of energy crackle through the air. My friends felt it too, from the looks on their faces.

The doll servants applauded as DeVoid looked proudly at what she created.

“Now then,” she said, putting the scepter down on a table. “Let us fuse, and so combine our strength in the coming revolution.”

She began to glow, and the other four were drawn towards her, along with the dolls. For a moment after that, I couldn’t make out where the woman I thought was my ‘Momma’ started and where all the others ended.

What came out in the end was some sort of multi-armed... thing that was dark all over. There was barely any color to them. They looked like something out of one of those spooky stories I heard the servants tell back at the Red Palace, only this was all too real.

“Now we are one,” the Specter spoke, and their voice had an echo.

By this time we had crept over to the table with the scepter. Quickly, I snatched it... just in time for the Specter to turn around.

“You little THIEVES!” they bellowed. We decided to run, then.

So we did.

We escaped to a big room filled with bottles of swirling light of different colors. Unfortunately, it was a dead end. And the Specter was making their way in.

“We should have known you'd be clever enough to escape the dungeons,” they said. “Of course, all things must come to an end. Give us the scepter, and we’ll say no more about it.”

We could’ve just given in and done that, but we didn’t want to endanger the Goddess. So I grabbed one of the bottles and threw it at the Specter.

As the bottle smashed, a knight on a horse instantly appeared and ran them over. The Specter was stunned for a moment.

I looked at the others. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I could’ve said, but chose to not say anything. It wouldn’t matter anyway, because we were thinking the same thing.

We began grabbing bottles and smashing them on the floor, releasing whatever was sealed inside them. Gargoyles with spears, bull-headed soldiers, cannons that went off on their own, whole armies; Whatever fantastical thing was inside any bottle we broke open attacked the Specter on sight. I guess it was payback for being stuffed into a bottle.

But the Specter obviously wasn’t willing to give up. They just tossed aside the things from the bottles as they kept moving towards us. Soon there were no more bottles to destroy.

We backed up against the wall. I clutched the scepter tightly.

The scepter.

It could be our only chance... or it could end up killing us all.

I held it up, and imagined someplace as far away from Arc as I could. I thought of whatever was beyond the sky, far beyond the big glowing ball that I had learned was called the ‘sun’. I thought of somewhere that wasn’t the Cosmic Garden.

And I opened a gateway.

It was like being back in the storm: The world swirled and shook around us, but we were fine. I could see the Specter being pulled back, struggling against the wind. They were screaming at me, demanding that I close the gate, begging, pleading, then screaming.

And then they were gone, and there was nothing to be heard but the howling of the wind.

Unfortunately, the gate was pulling us through, too. We all held on to the shelves for dear life.

Then it stopped.

We all collapsed to the floor, relieved that it was over. I was wondering why it was over when I saw her. My friends looked up, and saw her too.

Her hair was long and colorless, but she was beautiful. She wore a long, elegant dress, and there was a shiny ring around her head.

I knew who she was without being told.

She spoke first, and she said “Well done.”

Chapter 7

The Goddess Lady Alba smiled. It was the warmest smile I had ever seen from anyone.

“You truly have proven yourselves worthy of a place in my court.” she said.

“Your court?” I asked.

“You mean... the Cosmic Gardens?” Blane guessed.

Alba nodded, a gateway opened behind her.

Beyond that gate, everything glittered and shimmered and gleamed. I had never seen anything so magical as that place.

“Shall we?” she asked. We looked at each other.

After a moment of consideration, I gave our answer:

“I don’t think so.”

We explained to her that there was still trouble here in Arc. Humans everywhere were probably being oppressed, treated like animals and abused and who knows what else. We wanted to change all that for good.

“If that is your final decision, then I shall abide by it. Thus, I leave you this, as the new rulers of Arc.”

She picked up the scepter and presented it to us. I bowed, and took it gracefully.

As she departed through the gate, she said “Good luck, brave ones. And should you ever need me, you know what to do.” And then she was gone.

She was right. We did know what to do, just in case.

Epilogue

We’ve had our ups and downs since then, managing the whole land, but that’s to be expected, as a family, ups and downs.

We are now the empresses and emperors of Arc, with the scepter our holy treasure. Thanks to us, human beings have rights now, and all is well with the world.

I still remember that day, when I was spirited away from the Red Palace and met Blane, Hinto and Orrin. If Blane hadn’t found out the truth about our former lives, we wouldn’t be where we are now.

In fact, it took all of us to make a difference.

But sooner or later, we’re gonna need someone to inherit the throne. Someone willing to keep the peaceful coexistence we have now.

Orrin brought up the idea of having our own children. We did had real Moms and Dads once. What could possibly go wrong with being Moms and Dads ourselves?

I just know I’m gonna be a better parent than the Red Queen ever was to me.

After all, every child has to grow up like I did.

- EMPRESS GARNET -

[moemoemammon]

Following that "least favorite" request could we get their reactions to being to told that they're their favorite, but to not tell the other brothers so their feelings don't get hurt? Maybe because they relate to them the most or just get along really well. Thanks!

You're My Favorite! But Don't Tell the Others-

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

There are no words to explain the overwhelming satisfaction ion Lucifer’s face after you tell him that. Of course, it’s only natural that he would be your favorite, all things considered.

The Avatar of Pride won’t ever forget this moment. He carefully considers your words and agrees not to tell anyone, as much as he’d love to bring it up, because he knows more than anyone what kind of chaos would ensue should the others (especially Mammon) find out.

But they can tell something’s up when the eldest has been heard humming all day. He moves about the house with even more grace than usual, and hasn’t scowled even once.

But the REAL shocker was when Mammon tried hiding a bill right as Lucifer walked in... and the eldest let him off with a warning. A WARNING! The brothers thought the Devildom must’ve frozen over, but you and he knew different.

“MC, I would like you to accompany me to Le Pluvier this afternoon, once you've finished your studies. I've already made reservations, so be sure to get ready on time. I've made sure to consider the things you might like to eat, so I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself. Don't be late." "...I'm grinning? I don't know what you're talking about."

Mammon

The gigantic grin on Mammon’s face is so bright, it could rival the sun. You’ve seriously made his day. No, his year. Actually, he’s pretty sure he could ride this high for the next millennia! There’s nothing in this world that could dampen his spirits right now! 

He feels like he just won big at the casino! Of course he’s your favorite! He WAS your first demon, and now he’s gone and claimed his rightful spot as your number one! Good luck trying to keep him from saying anything. Mammon’s gonna throw it around in everyone’s faces for as long as he can milk it.

And you thought he was clingy before, just wait till you see how he treats you after hearing that. Despite always calling you his ‘servant’ or his ‘human’, you’d  think your roles were reversed. Mammon spoils you every chance he gets, buying you clothes and trinkets, filling the spaces in your room with the things he knows you like, monopolizing you completely until nearly everything you own is a gift from him.

Your words also help soothe that jealousy of his a little. Only a little, though. It’s easier to watch you talk to other demons when he knows he’ll always be your first man.

“Didja really have to stay after class that long? I know you were talkin' to that demon that lent you a book, but you outta ask ME for stuff! Tch... you're lucky I'm in a good mood today! But I guess I don't have to worry about some low level demon like that, seein' as I'm your favorite!"

Levi

Wait wait wait....Come again? Did you seriously just say what he think you said..? That had to be a mistake! Some kind of...uh..verbal typo! Because there’s absolutely, positively, NO WAY in all of the nine layers that he could be your favorite demon. And yet you still insist that you’re telling the truth, and Levi feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. 

Red faced and stammering up a storm, Levi looks like he might die. Is it really okay for a shut-in otaku to feel this giddy? Seriously, he hasn’t felt like this since he got his hands on a signed copy of a Ruri Hana audio drama! No no, this definitely beats that!

You’ve managed to inflate his nearly nonexistent ego, and now he feels like there’s nothing he can’t do! Maybe he could even go to Majolish right now?? THAT’S how good he’s feeling!

Almost as bad as Mammon in keeping it a secret. He doesn’t tell anyone right away, but they’re suspicious when they notice how much time he’s spending out of his room. And then when he and Mammon get in another petty argument, he drops the bomb that he’s your favorite demon in the entire Devildom, and you can guess how things go from there.

“Uuuoooo...!!!!! I've decided..! Since I've got a serious stat buff, I'm going to open a booth at the next convention coming up..! I'll sell my Ruri-chan fan art and spread her influence all over the Devildom! I'd never have the guts to do it normally, but I feel like I could do anything right now! Y-you'll go too, won't you MC?"

Satan

You nearly made this man spit tea all over his book, and now he’s coughing and spluttering and trying to figure out what could’ve prompted what he’s taking as a confession. You.. do realize what you’re saying, don’t you? And you know the kind of effect your words have on him?

Satan isn’t the type that wears his heart on his sleeve, so you have to look for his subtle expressions to tell how he’s feeling. But there’s nothing subtle about the redness of his ears and how he’s begging you not to look at him right now. For the sake of his sanity, give him a minute to recoup.

When he does recover, he agrees to keep it a secret for obvious reasons. And it’s hard to tell that he’s in a good mood, other than the fact that he hasn’t tried to pull any pranks on Lucifer lately. But Asmo sees all, and literally hounds him into spilling the tea.

He tells him a lie of course, but now the other brothers are noticing just how happy he is. Satan's smiling way too much today, isn't he? And he didn't even get mad when Beel got whipped cream on his jacket! Well, not THAT mad, anyway.

"Haaah... everyone's been harassing me all day, claiming I'm smiling a lot. I'm sure I look the same as I always do, but I'll admit that I've been happy ever since you told me that this morning. Wait.. you did think I've been grinning too, do you? I have??"

Asmo

Asmo always jokes about being your favorite and announces it as if the two of you are married, but when you actually confirm that his longing for you isn’t one sided, he ends up smearing lip balm across his cheek in shock. Did you... really say that just now? He knew it all along, but hearing it like that is just...!

Ooooh, he’s so happy he can hardly contain himself! Asmo throws his arms around you, peppering your face in kisses until you feel sticky from lip balm, wipes your face clean, then marks it up all over again. Good luck getting rid of him, because he might never let go.

Immediately posts it to Devilgram. Did you really think he’d let such a momentous occasion go unannounced? You must not have been paying attention to the kind of person he is! Asmo would put you on a pedestal in front of the world like a precious jewel if he were able, but this’ll have to do. He won’t hide his love at all!

Of course, the others don’t take too kindly to it, not that he cares. He never leaves your side, pampers you like crazy, and has even attempted to get you to move into his room. Lucifer put an immediate stop to that, though. Boo...

“I just can't get enough of you, MC! Just being near you gets me so excited that I can hardly stand it! You'll take responsibility for what you're doing to me, won't you? And in exchange, I'll take my time showing you just how much I love you. After all, you're my favorite, too!"

Beel

Beel never has a problem with choking while he eats, and it comes as naturally as breathing. Unfortunately neither of that applies right now, since you just made him choke on a meatball sub.

He usually takes your words with quiet acceptance, but this might be the most emotion you've ever witness from the stoic demon. His eyes are wider than that time that laid on an entire gingerbread mansion, sparkling up with such deep emotion you wouldn't be surprised if he cried. Instead he softens up and immediately embraces you.

...And doesn't let go. Sandwich long forgotten, he's been carrying you around all day, and ignoring any questions or protests from his brothers. Also insists on feeding you throughout the day. The food tastes better when he can enjoy it with you, so why not just bring you everywhere?

When he isn't carrying you, he's following you around subconsciously, either close up against you like a protective wall, or just far enough that you're within his line of sight. As far as not telling anyone, he... tells Belphie immediately. It was an accident though, since there's not much he keeps from his twin.

"MC, I won a meal ticket for Godevil Chocolatier. Let's get something for dessert today. Ah, you can get as much as you want, too. I really want to see what things you choose. They might become my favorites."

Belphie

There's nothing in this world that can wake Belphegor from his sleep, unless he allows it. No loud noises, no amount of shaking or smacking, and not even dragging him around the house. But the moment you whisper that he's your favorite demon, the Avatar of Sloth is wide awake.

Hey, you're not just saying weird things to get a reaction, are you? Because if so, this is a new level of cruel. Yet you confirm that you mean it and swear him into secrecy, and Belphie tries his best not to show how happy he is. A smile keeps creeping up on his face that he struggles to force down. It's annoying...

As funny as it’d be to tell everyone the news, he's good at keeping secrets. Instead, you've noticed that he's been sleeping a little less that before. When he does take one of his hundreds of naps, he finds some way to be closer to you. He's even been seen sleepwalking to your exact location somehow-

It's hard for him to believe that you're not teasing, though. How could HE be your favorite demon here? Belphie doesn't do anything special to win you over, yet after everything he put you through, you like him enough to deep him your favorite?

"You're weird, MC. I mean... me? I won't deny that I'm really happy though, but I guess I'm in disbelief. You should spoil me even more until I believe you. Lend me your lap for a few hours, okay?" "...I wonder what Lucifer would think if I told him, heheh."

[babymetaldoll]

Birthday wishes (Spencer Reid/ Reader)

Requested: Nope

Summary: Spencer overthinks Reader’s birthday present ‘cos he doesn't know if they are dating or not

Warnings: No… maybe a few sexual references but nothing too explicit. 

Category: Pure sweet, delicious fluff 

Word count: 3,2K

Part II

Masterlist

.

What makes a relationship official? Are you just "going out" o "just seeing each other" after five dates? Five incredible, unique, perfect dates? or do you have to ask: "Would you be my girlfriend?"

Spencer rolled in bed and kept asking himself questions he couldn't answer. Were he and (Y/N) a couple? So far, he hadn't asked, ‘cos he was scared, which made no sense, ‘cos he had already asked her out and they had already kissed. Besides, they had already met for five years, which meant, well, it felt like they were already a little ahead on the "getting to know each other" part.

So, after five dates, were they already dating? Were they exclusive? Could he tell her he loved her? No, probably no. Who could he ask about it? No one in the team knew what was going on between them. They didn't want to tell them. It was too soon. Besides, Spencer didn't even know if they were an actual couple.

Reid kept rolling in bed. It was already three in the morning. He was overthinking everything, and he knew it. But it was (Y/N)'s birthday, and the present he had for her was hunting him. He couldn't shake the thought he had gone a little too far with it. He wanted to give her that present ever since he saw it, months ago. He bought it and kept it hidden in his closet. He had no idea why he was hiding it if no one was ever in his house. No one but (Y/N), but she never went through his things. If so, she would have found the picture of her he also had hidden in his drawer.

It was a picture of the two of them sitting together at the round table in the BAU conference room. They were eating a cupcake, and their lips were covered in frosting. They were laughing. They were happy. It was Penelope's birthday, and they had thrown her a surprise breakfast celebration. JJ had taken that picture, and secretly, Spencer asked her for a copy.

When they were just friends, he didn't overthink that present, he just got it for her. But now everything was different. And he was scared of every movement he did around her, terrified he could frighten her away.

- "Stop!"- he commanded himself and closed his eyes. He had to sleep at least an hour, or the rings under his eyes were going to scare (Y/N) away. Not like she hadn't seen him looking like he hadn't slept before.

.

Penelope had baked a gigantic Halloween themed birthday cake, ‘cos he knew (Y/N) was a sucker for horror movies. It had pumpkins, a Jason mask, and a knife stabbing the cake. It was perfect. JJ and Emily brought presents and more food. Everyone had helped to make sure her day was special. Derek decorated her desk with balloons and confetti, got her a funny birthday paper crown, and wrote "pretty girl" with his terrible handwriting. It was adorable. She was like a little sister to him, and he just wanted to make her smile.

And Reid, well, he… he was all over the place. Hanging more balloons all over the bullpen and making sure all the food was ready. He actually got there an hour and a half earlier than everybody, just to make sure everything was set.

No one got how he could think he was fooling them about his feelings for (Y/N). To be fair, he wasn't trying at this point. He was now too concerned not to scare her away by accidentally saying "I love you" or saying they were in a relationship, ‘cos he didn't know if they were. All those things Spencer could quickly fix asking, but he was too scared to ask.

.

- "Happy birthday!!!"- Penelope yelled as soon as (Y/N) set foot outside the elevator. She was greeted by her friend's tight hug, and along came the rest of the team.

- "Thank you so much!! Thank you!"- she was moved by all the love they gave her, they were her family far from home, and they meant the world to her.

- "Hey! happy birthday"- Spencer was the last one to hug her; he waited until everybody had walked back to the conference room. She smiled and bit her lips as he moved a step closer and wrapped his arms around her.

Those arms made her feel safe and loved, and it was an addictive sensation; she didn't want to quit. She was a self-declared addict to Spencer Reid, and the latest weeks had been the best of her life. But she still felt she was walking on eggshells around Reid. She loved him so much, and she was scared, 'cos she thought she might say it too soon. Was it too soon considering they had known each other for the last five years? she had been in love with him for the last four and a half years. But yes, it was too soon.

They hadn't even had sex yet.

Sex with Reid. That was a thought that had kept her awake many nights. It kept coming to her mind, especially when he held her the way he was doing now. She could feel herself melting to his touch, and the idea of feeling his skin against hers, the idea of being naked with him. The thought of having him inside of her was too much to process. If kissing him was breathtaking, having sex with him had to be heaven.

- "So, happy birthday"- he repeated and smiled at her, still holding her tight but now staring at her blushed cheeks.

- "Thank you"- she giggled nervously and looked down

- "I hope you are hungry, ‘cos we've got a whole breakfast party ready for you"- she nodded, but neither of them moved- "Garcia really went overboard with everything she brought…"

Why would Reid hide the fact he had gotten half the things on that table? Something inside him kept forcing him to hide his true feelings for (Y/N) 'cos he was still sure she would reject him. Again, they had been into five dates, held hands, kissed, looked at each other with puppy eyes for hours over dinner. Why did he feel he needed to hide his feelings?

- "And maybe we could go out tonight…"- he whispered as they walked to the conference room- "I would love to take you out for dinner on your birthday"- (Y/N) turned to him with the brightest smile and nodded.

- “Sounds like an excellent plan”

.

- "And where's your present, pretty boy?"- Derek asked Reid frowning after (Y/N) finished opening all the presents the team had gotten her.

- "I…"- he had an awful excuse- "I left it at home, I'm sorry."

No one was ever going to believe that. He knew it

- "I was…. well, I had a lot of things to bring, and I left it on my table, but I'll bring it over later, ok?"- (Y/N) just nodded and smiled, thinking they had a date later. But the rest of the team was confused. Reid would never forget something. Never, eidetic memory, he was doomed.

- "Are you ok?"- JJ walked to him as they cleaned the table after breakfast and looked at him, worried.

- "Yeah, why?"

- "You look nervous"- Spencer even stuttered to answer

- "I, I, I'm not nervous, JJ, I don't know what you are talking about"

- "Spence, come on… tell me, what is it? What happened with (Y/N)? why didn't you bring the present you had for her?"

Reid sighed. He knew he could trust JJ. He was just… ashamed of sharing his feelings with someone.

- "I didn't forget it"- he whispered- "I want to give it to her later."

- "Later? when?"- he stayed quiet for a few seconds and then took a deep breath

- "Wehaveadatetonight"- Spencer slurred and closed his eyes, ‘cos he didn't want to look at JJ's face

- "What? Sorry, I couldn't understand that"- he sighed, frustrated

- "I said, we are goingoutonadatetonight"- it took her a second to understand it, but when she did, JJ wide opened her eyes and looked at her friend in shock- "Don't say a word"

- "But oh my god!! Spencer!"

- "Shh!! please don't say a word!"

- "Spence! It's huge! It's your first date!! When did it happen? when did you finally ask her?"

… And Spencer actually thought no one knew about his feelings.

- "It's not… our first date"- he whispered and looked at his shoes. JJ stood next to him in shock and hit his arm as her mouth fell open.

- "JJ, please, I'm just telling you ‘cos I trust you I don't want anyone else to know?"- he begged

- "How many dates so far?"

- "Six, including tonight."

- "Oh my god! are you two together??"- JJ was making her best not to yell, but she was in shock. However, she realized it was a sensitive subject for Spencer. She wanted to make her best not to make him feel uncomfortable.

- "We've been going out for a few weeks now, but…"- Spencer made a pause and sighed- "How do you know when you are in a relationship with someone?"

- "Usually, you talk about it… you haven't?"- his silence was too long, enough sign for JJ to get he hadn't had that conversation.

- "Ok, you should ask her, Spence. If you've been out on several dates already, it means she likes you the same way you like her."

- "But I love her…"- Reid looked at her friend with puppy eyes. He was honestly anxious about the whole situation and couldn't say another word.

- "She is crazy for you; you have to believe me"

- "I know she likes me, but it's nerve-wracking to feel you love someone who just likes you"

- "Believe me, Spence, she doesn't just like you"- he just sighed and nodded, not because he believed her, but because he didn't want to persuade that conversation. However, JJ wasn't going to let it go so quickly.

- "So… what did you get her?"

- "It's nothing, just something I thought she might like"- he tried to make it sound like it wasn't a big deal.... like he wasn't freaking out. But he was dying inside.

- "What is it?"

- "A necklace…"- JJ nodded, surprised- "And a ring"- surprise was not enough to describe her face. Shock might have been closer. Yes, JJ was in shock.

- "Are you going to…"

- "No! no, no, I'm not, I mean, it's too soon to…. I just don't want her to feel pushed, I bought her the present months ago, and I never thought we were going to be … well, whatever it is that we are now… that's why I need to know where we are now… I don't want to blow it."

Spencer bit his inner lip and pouted. He was upset, he was having a hard time explaining his feelings and his mind, and most of all, a hard time sharing what he was feeling. JJ smiled at him and simply shook her head, with an honest, proud look in her eyes.

- "I know it sounds scary, but the only way to know is asking her"- he just nodded and let out a deep breath. That wasn't the answer he was waiting for.

.

(Y/N) looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. She was glad no psycho killer had decided to start attacking innocent that night, ‘cos it meant she could actually go out on a date with Reid. Their sixth date. Usually, the sixth date meant sex for her. But she had no idea what it meant for Spencer, and she wasn't going to push him. She just couldn't shake the thought off her mind, but she had to. Thinking about sex with Reid was too much.

- "Wow"- that was all Spencer managed to say as soon as (Y/N) opened the door for him. He looked at her up and down. His eyes couldn't stop running through every inch of her skin. It was like the dress was hugging her body, wrapping her and following every curve of it. He couldn't believe someone so beautiful wanted to go out with him.

- "You look very handsome"- (Y/N) smiled and chuckled. Reid just shook his head and stared.

- "Come in, just let me get my purse and put on some shoes, and I'll be ready to go."

Spencer couldn't speak. He just nodded and watched her walking to her room. He couldn't even be subtle at that point. He couldn't and wouldn't stop staring. Not if she was going to look so hot.

The thought of having sex with his best friend was hunting his mind since they were on their third date. That was the very first time they made out on her couch. They hadn't even passed second base, but for Spencer, that had been enough to start fantasizing about how it would be, how it would felt, and… when it would be.

- "Buttercup?"- he asked and couldn't see (Y/N)'s wide smile as soon as she heard that word. She loved it when he called her cute names. It made her feel special and closer. She had always called him "honey" even before they started going out. After their second date, Spencer had finally seemed comfortable calling her that.

- "What is it, honey?"- she asked, walking out of her room, wearing her favorite shoes and carrying a tiny purse.

- "I just wanted to… give you your birthday present before we leave"- Spencer smiled at her, and she could tell he was nervous.

- "Sure… thank you, by the way."

- "I still haven't given you the present. Why are you thanking me for?"

- "‘Cos you organized the best breakfast celebration the BAU had ever seen"- she simply answered, and her smile stopped his heart for a second.

- "You deserve it"- he simply replied, standing right in front of her. He could only think about leaning in and kissing her, but he was so nervous, he just stared at her, feeling his hands sweating.

- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah, it's just that… sorry, you look stunning, and I can't stop looking at you"- (Y/N) felt her cheeks burning red in a second. Spencer Reid had just told her she was beautiful. That wasn't something she was used to, but she would gladly live the rest of her days hearing him saying it.

Slowly, (Y/N) wrapped her arms around Spencer's neck and moved closer, not taking her eyes from his.

- "Can I ask for a birthday kiss?"- the way she whispered those words did things to Reid. Things he didn't know how to handle just yet. All he managed to do was to smile and reach her lips. It started like a sweet, loving kiss, but soon it changed. It was getting harder and harder for the two of them to hide their true feelings.

That kiss was screaming: "I love you." It was hungry and also filled with the deepest desire. It wasn't plain lust. It was the eagerness to feel the one you love as close as possible, for as long as possible.

- "Are these "birthday kisses" a limited edition, or can I keep asking for them for as long as I want?"- she murmured, rubbing her lips against his.

- "All the kisses you want, as long as you want them"- Spencer whispered and deepened the kiss as a soft moan left (Y/N)'s lips. That was music for him, the music he wanted to listen to all day long, if possible.

They had saved way too many kisses during those years. They could kiss forever, just to catch up. But there were dinner reservations and a present in between. So the kisses had to wait a little bit.

- "I got you this"- Spencer whispered and moved his lips from hers, smiling at the soft whine that came from her as soon as he did.

- "I thought about you when I saw them a few months ago ‘cos I knew you would love them, and I've been saving them for today"- he opened his satchel and handed her a small box.

- "Thank you, honey"- (Y/N) was blushing, trying not to show she was so nervous. It wasn't just because of all the kisses. It was because now she knew he had thought about her months ago, and got her a present. That was melting her.

(Y/N) was speechless when she opened the box. She looked at him. He was blushed and excited at the same time.

- "Spencer… you shouldn't have"

- "You deserve to have these; do you like them?"

- "Of course I do, you were right, I love them… would you?"- (Y/N) handed Spencer the necklace, and he clasped it around her neck. She looked at the ring and smiled, sliding it in her finger.

- "I didn't want you to feel I'm pushing you to…"

- "No, honey, it's ok. I know you didn't mean anything like that"- she was blushing as well, but loving the gesture- "It's beautiful, Spencer."

- "No, you are beautiful"- (Y/N) giggled at his words and sighed

- "No, you are beautiful"- she repeated and hugged him again.

Spencer looked at her in adoration and ran his fingers sweet and carefully down her rosy cheeks. 

- "I... wanted to ask you something"

- "What is it?"- that was it. It was now or never for Spencer.

- "Do you… want… do you want to be…"- Spencer was trying to say it without stuttering- "Would you be my girlfriend?"- her smile made him sigh relieved, as she leaned in and kissed him softly.

- "Of course I would…"- he held her closer and pecked her lips once, twice, three, four times, before cupping her face with both hands, deepening the kiss.

- "Do you want to know something funny?"- she whispered when Spencer rested his forehead on hers and looked at her in adoration

- "What?"

- "That was my birthday wish."

- "What?"

- "I wished you'd ask me to be your girlfriend."

Reid smiled and sighed. He held her hand and kissed it, speechless, thinking he had been a fool for holding that question for so long.

- "Do you want to know what I wish for right now?"- she whispered and smiled- "I'm wishing we were having dinner 'cos I'm starving."

Spencer chuckled and shook his head.

- "Come on, Buttercup, let's get you the best birthday dinner"- he walked with her to the door but stopped when he felt her pulling his arm. 

- "And do you think we could come back here after dinner?"

- "Sure, what do you have in mind? Wanna watch a movie?"- but she shook her head.

- "I wanna kiss you until I can't move my lips anymore"- she confessed- "Now that you are my boyfriend, I think I can say those kinds of things, right?

Reid was in shock, his mouth hanging open, his red cheeks burning. And his girlfriend - he loved the idea of calling her that - smiling in front of him.

- "Would you like to do that, doctor?"

 - "What if we ask for take-outs and stay on that couch all night long?"- he simply answered, finally not overthinking every word.

- "I thought you would never ask."

[ashintheairlikesnow]

For Vampire Chris! What if he and Jake went to a museum and came across some of Tooley's paintings? And Chris has a panic attack! We would finally get some Jake comfort. And maybe Chris would reveal more horrible things that Tooley had done to him.

CW: Discussion of death, blood, vampire whumpee, caretaker and whumpee

The sun sets early in the winter, and it's the only reason they can make this work.

Chris is barely awake even so, sipping from a coffee cup Jake filled with the contents of one of his blood packs, hoping he doesn't trip and spill and lead to Jake having some very awkward, panicked explanations to make to anyone nearby.

He'd slept in the truck Jake borrowed from Nat most of the way over here, curled in the passenger seat. He looks for all the world like any high schooler who stayed up too late the night before, dragged out by his family, forced to go learn when all he wants is rest.

Chris is draped in a hooded sweatshirt pulled on over his head, hair mussed from sleeping in the closet in the little nest-bed he made for himself in there. It sticks out like stray from beneath the hood he's pulled up, coppery strands occasionally covering his eyes and making him shove them out of the way with a snort that has no right to be as adorable as it is, considering the monster who makes the sound.

Not a monster, no. Not really.

Or his monster, anyway, the same way his mother is his mother. Jake is starting to understand the little vampire - more than three times his own age - has chosen him for family now.

The sweater he wears is kind of a joke, actually. Jake bought it weeks ago from a website that puts the covers of books on clothes, and it's an old cover image from Dracula.

Jake thought it was funny, anyway. Nat was less amused. Chris only smiled and said something about being happy the hairy palms thing isn't true.

The air is chilly, and Jake shivers a little as they head in from the parking lot across a small sidewalk next to a park and toward the museum itself, but of course Chris doesn't even notice. He seems to be enjoying it, the way it blows around his hair as they make their way slowly up the steps and past the row of Grecian-style columns that mark the entrance.

Jake has to visit for one of his classes, an extra-credit something-or-other, and Chris had asked to go along with him.

Jake had been hesitant, but seeing the way the vampire's green eyes sparkle as he moves around in public like any other person, well... he feels like he made the right choice to bring him along now.

"Finish up your drink, you can't take anything in once we pay and get past the lobby," Jake says, and Chris nods, gulping the last of the blood as fast as he can as they push through wide double-doors. Jake tries not to imagine how it must feel, swallowing thick congealing cooled blood. Someone's life, someone's heartbeat, down your throat...

Really, is he that much different? Jake has eaten a dozen cows' worth of beef in his life.

Does Chris see them all as just livestock? He doesn't act like it, but then, there are people who treat pigs or cows like pets and not like food...

His stomach flips a little and he forces himself to look around, up at the chandelier at the high ceiling, the heavy wooden desk they have to walk to off to the side to get their tickets. To stop trying to understand if Chris is a sort of stray they've adopted, or if he's a higher-level predator living with prey.

Once Chris drops the cup into a trash can, Jake throwing a couple wadded-up tissues on top so no one can accidentally see the smear of red around the edge of the lid, they buy their tickets, and wind their way through and past the little velvet ropes that mark off the entrance.

The museum opens before them into a grand hall, with paintings the size of two-story buildings on either side, permanent installations in the museum. Commissioned for its opening, sometime back in the 70's.

Jake picks up a brochure so they know which way to go - LGBTQ+ Art in Pre-War America is the temporary exhibit he's here to see, traveling work that is usually housed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.

"Oh, nice, it's on the first floor. Looks like you go through a couple of 'specialty' rooms, just showing off stuff from the in-house collection. Sounds cool, right?"

Chris, looking from side to side at the gigantic paintings that hang on the walls in the opening hall, hums softly, a tuneless constant sound. He doesn't answer Jake's question. He hums often, and Jake barely notices any longer, but there's something edged to it, now. As if just being around the paintings is making him nervous.

"Okay, little man, let's go over here." He touches Chris's arm, lightly, through the thick fabric of his sweater. The vampire looks over at him, smiling with his lips pressed together to hide his teeth from any potential prying eyes.

He follows easily, but he sticks closer to Jake than he normally does, and his eyes are constantly roving. They move through an exhibit of Pre-Colombian pottery first, on their way to the room in the back where the temporary showcase is.

Jake watches Chris's fingers twitch with the urge to touch, to learn by feeling the bumps and ridges in the ancient clay, and how he holds back as best he can. His urge to lift the clear protective plastic boxes right off the pottery so he can get at it is nearly physically painful.

Jake pretends not to see it when Chris's fingers trail along a column, settling for the white-painted rectangle the pottery is balanced on, taking in the rough texture smoothed by the matte paint.

"Did you ever meet anyone like you that was old enough to have made stuff like this?" Jake asks, stopping in front of a water jug in the shape of a man playing a flute with a dog at his feet. The dog wears a carved smile marked with disturbingly human-looking teeth. The paint it must have been covered in is worn by time, leaving the reddish-brown of the clay behind, with the faintest streaks of white still in the crevices.

"No," Chris replies, tilting his head, making direct eye contact with the statue in a way he never quite can do with any real person. Not comfortably, anyway. Jake has seen him force it and shudder afterwards, overwhelmed. When he'd asked about it, Chris had said he never liked looking at anyone's eyes, even before, when he was alive. It's too much, was all he would say. It's always too much. "None, um, none of us live that long."

"Why not?" They're alone in the room. It's the only reason Jake feels safe asking.

Chris's tongue runs over the sharpening bumps of his growing-in fangs, pressing against them, easing the itch and the ache of their return. After a second, he pulls a plastic bat on a cord from inside his sweater and puts the bat into his mouth, chewing on it idly, jaw working. "I, I, I don't know. That's just what what what my, my, my pack told me."

"I thought vampires lived in covens."

"No." Chris doesn't elaborate on this one. He can be weirdly secretive about how he lived before he came to Nat's, before he was pulled out of a basement, a living drug for a wealthy asshole.

Secretive, or just forgetting whatever wasn't essential.

He moves away to another pedestal, a shard broken off of a larger vessel, marked with a deep white and intense black angular design. He hums again, and Jake takes the hint and leaves him alone.

They spend several more minutes looking over the pottery before they head through a second room full of what must just be the favorite pieces of museum employees, as there doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason, and each little card with the name of the piece and its maker has a paper next to it with a note on why each employee loves this piece in particular. Chris lingers around older things, a woven tapestry from medieval England, landscapes from the 19th century. He stares for a while at a painting called The Country Path by Joseph Poole Addy, a pale watercolor of winter trees with bare branches breaking the line of sky and a woman bundled in a coat carrying a basket down an equally colorless road.

Chris's humming getting louder, and he rocks a little, forward and back, his eyes moving again and again through the lines of the painting.

Jake wonders what it is about this one specifically that catches Chris like that, and when the vampire finally moves on he checks the employee's statement. Joseph Poole Addy, Irish painter in the 19th and 20th centuries, blah blah, something something countryside... Jake frowns, and glances over at Chris, who isn't looking back. He's moved on to something else.

Jake decides to ask him later.

They make it to the exhibit they're here to see, and Jake whistles under his breath as he enters. There are vibrant, saturated paintings lining the walls, a couple of large sculptures on the floor that still are taller than he is, a few smaller ones on pedestals. The work is mostly figurative, although there's some early abstraction there, a hint of the contemporary push to take even figurative work out of simply being an echo of a real life thing.

Chris looks at a sculpture, his head cocked so far to the side it looks almost birdlike, not quite human. Jake thinks his own neck would ache for days if he tried to do that. "Must've been, um, later," He mumbles to himself.

Jake files that away in his mental list of things to talk to Chris about later.

He walks slowly along the line of paintings. The whole point of being here is that he's supposed to pick a specific piece and write a short essay about it and the artist who made it, prove he saw it in person.

The class itself is about how to encourage better outcomes for healthcare in marginalized populations - but if she's giving out extra-credit for looking at queer art, well, Jake is happy to spend an hour in a museum.

After his dismal performance on the last test, he could use whatever credit he can get. Besides, the exhibit is actually kind of cool with that in mind. Every one of these artists was in some way outside of the sort of het ideal, and Jake smiles a little as he catches the heaviness of a look between two men seated across a table from one another, looks over the clasped hands of women, sitting with everything from shoulder to hip touching, who are listed as 'friends visiting the riverbank'.

Art that celebrates, hidden in plain sight. Art that rebels by sliding details in under the surface where only those looking for them will find them.

Each piece has another little paper, although this just has details about the artist and their work, what they were known for. He can use it as a jumping-off point for his paper, anyway.

"You, you, you finished her," Chris whispers, standing in front of a sculpture of a woman with her head thrown back as if in uproarious laughter, a woman with curls expertly carved so that her hair seems to have been there before the stone it's made of somehow. "I wonder if she, um, if if if she saw it."

"What'd you say, Chris?" Jake blinks, pulled out of his own internal reverie.

"Nothing," Chris responds, and walks slowly around the statue. The woman's smile is a shining light in the room. No one could carve like that without being at least a little in love with the subject.

Jake wanders away and then comes to an abrupt stop before a large painting, probably taller than Chris is. The background is near-total darkness with only a suggestion of stone, a single beam of light shining down to illuminate the central figure.

A naked boy clothed only in scraps of torn cloth that only emphasize his nakedness everywhere else is crouched in terror. His knees are bent and his feet are on the floor, one hand holding his weight with fingers slightly curled, his spine bent and arched as if he is caught in the midst of turning to look up to find the direction of the light. His other hand is thrown out, as if trying to ward off an attack.

He bleeds from a dozen or more places, the blood curving perfectly around his form, giving it extra weight and heft that makes it seem like he'll step out of the canvas, grab Jake, and shake him.

Jake's heart starts to race as he stares.

There are bones littering the ground around the thin, wasted boy, not bleached but sort of yellowed, marked with little notches as if cut with a knife. There might still be bits of skin attached to some of them, a hint of muscle. The detail makes Jake sick, but his panic, that comes from something else entirely. Just behind the panicked boy there is a body, as if just fallen, the eyes still open in the final terrified throes of death. The body's fingers are still dug into the dirt floor as if the dead man had been trying to pull himself somewhere, to escape.

A skull watches with eerie cheer from one corner of the painting, a few teeth missing and knocked out from its garish grin.

Barely visible, a thin wash of grayish-white, there is a pale, gnarled hand near the bottom reaching out from the background as if to grab the boy's ankle and drag him into the darkness.

Count Ugolino's Last Son, oils, 1932, reads the little plaque beside the painting. Its faint brassy shine glints in the carefully calibrated light. Edward Tooley, 1907 - 1936.

Jake swallows, but the lump in his throat doesn't budge, and he swallows again. And again. He can't take his eyes off the boy's painted hair, a dirtied copper, strawberry-blond badly in need of a wash. The wide green eyes with their terror writ large and clear, painted with lovingly perfect detail.

The boy in the painting is the perfect identical twin of the vampire who is still staring at the sculpture on the other side of the room. The fear in his face is so expertly done as to seem more photographic than painted in oil. The blood that drips to the ground follows his anatomy with absolute perfection. The bones are not bleached by they so often are in paintings, no, these...

These...

Jake holds his phone up and takes a photo, and then another of the little plaque.

"Chris." His voice cracks and Jake clears his throat. His heart is still pounding. "Chris, come look at this."

"Yes, Jake," Chris answers, sounding a little faint, and then he seems to simply appear at Jake's elbow, the teenage boy who has seen two world wars and a half-dozen smaller, stupider ones.

He goes still at Jake's side when he looks up. Jake looks over, just slightly, glancing sidelong to see a look of something like... wistfulness on the vampire boy's face.

"Tooley," He breathes. His hand goes up, and out, and he would have touched the canvas if Jake hadn't reached out and grabbed on to stop him. Chris jumps a little and turns to meet Jake's gaze. His eyes are pink-tinged in the whites, as if he's holding back tears. "Is, is, is he famous?"

"I guess. He's... he's here, isn't he?"

"He always wanted to, um, to to to to be famous." Chris's eyes move over the details, but it's not with surprise, it's with easy familiarity. He's seen this painting before.

He's been this painting before.

"That's you, isn't it?" Jake asks in a hushed voice. "Like, that was really you."

Chris looks away again, a faint flush in his cheeks. He's full enough of blood for it to happen, and you'd never know he isn't alive if you didn't already. "Yes," He whispers, and wipes at the corner of his eye with one hand. "That, that, that's me."

"Were you his model?" Jake blinks, looking back over the painted twin of the vampire beside him. The fear in the boy's face, woven in with a kind of awful resignation. It's all so perfectly rendered.

"Yes. Sort, um. Sort of. He, he, he kept me in a room." Chris exhales, slowly, and his eyes shift over to the paper with the little bit of biographical information on it. Edward Tooley's early works focused on landscapes or retreads of common historical subjects, only to find greater excellence and focus when he began to paint, again and again, the same figure - a representation of the darkness of the human soul - he stated appeared to him and demanded to be portrayed... art historians believe Tooley was driven by the demons of the Great War that had taken his family from him one by one to seek out uncomfortable subjects that force viewers to see the damage humans do to one another...

Chris's nose wrinkles as he reads, his lips moving slightly with the words as he takes them in. "I never did that. Never, um, wanted to be painted. Also, um this, um. He was... wasn't... he wasn't... wasn't like the paper says."

Jake looks over, reads it himself. Gregarious, sociable, popular with the libertine art crowd... he frowns. "What part is wrong?"

"This." Chris points, this at least he can safely make contact with, and presses the pad of his finger under a sentence that reads took inspiration from the ugly side of the city hidden under its shining lights. "He, he, he he didn't care about anyone in the city. He thought everyone who, who who who who-who wasn't him was, um, was stupid."

"What did he care about?" Jake imagines telling his professor that instead of an essay, he's going to bring in a vampire who literally knew one of the artists in person. How she might react.

Probably call the cops and report an unsecured vampire loose on the streets. But maybe she'd listen to what Chris had to say first.

"Blood," Chris says, softly. His voice is getting lower and lower, until it's barely more than a whisper. "Pain. Fear. Being... being the the the the last person who, who saw someone. He, he, he, he liked to lay them out and paint them, liked me to, to, to... arrange them for him."

Jake's eyes go unwillingly back to the dead body behind the scared boy in the painting. The grasping fingers, the open eyes that look sightless, lifeless, at nothing at all. When he looks, he can see - more suggestion than made clear - that the body's throat is torn open, as if by an animal's teeth.

Now, only now that he's looking for it, does he realize there is the slightest hint of red tears on the cheeks of the painted boy, a sheen of pink on his teeth where he begs for mercy from the grasping singular hand coming out of the dark.

His stomach flips again. "Chris, are you saying-"

"His, his, his name was Ben." Chris nods at the dead body in the painting. "I asked. Before..." He gestures, a little vaguely. "That."

Jake feels a sudden, wild urge to look up missing persons cases from New York City in 1932. See if there's anyone named Ben on there. He knows without having to do so that there definitely will be.

"What happened to him... after?"

"I don't know. I, I, I was never let out when Tooley was gone. I... wonder how, how, how many of me there are." Chris looks up at the echo of his own face, his head tilting again. His lips tremble, just a little, and then part to show the hint of white teeth wet with pinkish saliva. "On walls, in houses, in... in places like, um. Like this. How many there are... is, is, is, is that what I still look like?"

Jake clears his throat again, looks down at his feet. This feels, suddenly, like he's walked in on someone looking down at his own dead body in a funeral home. Interrupting a moment so immensely private it shouldn't even exist.

"Yeah," he says, a little gruffly. "Yeah, that's it. More or less. Except I hope I scare you less than that. Also you wear a lot more clothes with us."

Chris laughs - it's a huff of sound, barely-there. Then he turns away from himself. "We, we, we can't see ourselves, in mirrors," He says, and he's got the little plastic bat back in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the carved silicone. "But I have mirrors everywhere. On these walls."

He goes suddenly terribly still. He isn't breathing.

He doesn't have to, but the realization that he isn't even pretending is a jolt of awareness of exactly how dead Chris is. He leaves the exhibit, and Jake is left to scramble after him, struggling to catch up to someone he should be able to easily outrun.

He breaks into a flat run when they get outside the double-doors, jumps the steps three at a time with grace, and runs across the grass and towards the stand of trees halfway across the park. Even Jake, who works out four days a week, is breathing hard and has a hitch in his rib by the time he catches up.

He finds Chris curled up under a tree in the evening dark, the stars starting to twinkle overhead as the sun finally allows them a clear night sky to shine in.

Jake drops to his knees, ignoring the damp that seeps into his jeans from soil that still hasn't dried since yesterday's rains, and he leans over, putting a warm hand to either side of the vampire's face.

Chris looks up, his eyes glinting like a cat's briefly in the dark, and there are trails down his cheeks, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl that is anything but angry.

No, this is grief.

This is loss.

Jake knows the feeling.

"Talk to me," Jake says softly. "Tell me what it was like, what it's been like for you. Tell me about the life you've lived before I knew you."

"It, it, it hurt," Chris whispers, and his own hands cover Jake's. They're the same temperature as the air around them, and Jake shivers a little. It's almost a chill. "Every time. I, I, I try not to kill, Jake, I try so hard, but but but he would keep me so hungry and I couldn't-... stop..."

Jake thinks about the robbers Chris killed - for him, to save him from them - and how he'd locked himself in the closet afterward. Had he cried like this, over taking lives even when in defense?

"The museum thing said this guy Tooley died in 1936. He was only, what, twenty-nine? Did... did you-"

"Yes." Chris's voice is thick but it's not quite with regret. "I was hungry. He, he he he he didn't bring food. I was so hungry... then I was, um, was alone for a while... then, then, then, then then then I was taken for, for, for the, um, the trade, for my v-venom, and..."

"Got it. I got it, Chris. It's okay," Jake says, softly. "It's going to be okay. You're with us, now. And we'll never, ever make you hurt someone that way. We'll never make you go hungry. We'll never hurt you or use you."

Chris ducks his head, rocking forward until it knocks into Jake's shoulder, and Jake slides his arms around the vampire's shoulders, listening to his soft, muffled sobs, wondering how red his shirt will be stained by the time the vampire's tears have been cried out.

The same mouth that tore out the throat of a dead body that lays in a painting on the wall is so close to his neck it would take less than an inch for him to bite down. Even without fangs, he could lock his jaw and break the skin.

The same dangerous monster that has killed likely dozens to stay alive, the same stalking predator that has been the last sight of far too many, cries in his arms. Just a teenage boy who has been lonely, and terrified, and hurt for too long.

A teenager... and a monster that hunts prey after dark. Jake tightens his arms around Chris, holds him tighter.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter how long he's been alive, not really.

He's just Chris.

That matters more.

-

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @endless-whump @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 8.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage

Warnings In This Chapter: Angst

A/N: Always the most gigantic, humongous shoutout to my loves @xjoonchildx​, @ladyartemesia​, @ppersonna​ for rooting me on and making it so easy to write these characters who I have come to adore!

The house was quiet when you first woke up. There's an overwhelming sense of comfort in the air as you step out of your bedroom.

You've been getting into a daily routine here, without it you'd probably feel lost or without a purpose.

You really adored the small waterfall alcove beside your room. The sounds are so peaceful and the koi that swim beneath the glass floor are absolutely gorgeous. Entering here was always the beginning of your daily routine.

You weren't fond of wearing heels and for the first time in a long time you had on sneakers. After feeling sick for a few days you decided on a comfortable hoodie, albeit still expensive but you like it. The leggings you wear hug you closely and it brings you ease.

"Little dove?" you hear from behind as you stare down at the koi fish.

"Morning," you say, turning your head to the CEO as he leans against the doorframe of his bedroom.

His eyes are bleary, his forehead creased from the bright light that bleeds through the stained glass windows.

"Why do you always get up so fucking early? You should be sleeping, the baby needs rest. Does it not?" he asks, scratching at his neck with a yawn.

"I'm used to getting up this early, I did have a job not too long ago," you reply, looking over the waterfall walls.

He puts his head back against the door frame, his fingers combing through his sleepy bed head.

"I shouldn't be speaking to you anyway. It's before your morning coffee," you jeer, sitting down on the marble bench.

"Shut up," he retorts but you can hear the humor in his voice. You notice the corners of his lips flickering upward as he shoves off of the doorway.

"Madam?" you hear from the end of the hall.

Your attention turns to Maya as she bows.

Yoongi watches your face light up, he sees the true joy in you and he snorts gently in response. You're really a blessing to this house.

"Good morning Maya!" you say, standing up from the bench quickly.

"Easy does it, little dove." Yoongi murmurs, folding his arms.

"The neighbor Kim Yoona is here to see you." Tilting your head, you can't begin to register the name.

Yoongi laughs gently as he enters the hallway.

"Get me an Irish coffee, please Maya. I'm going to need it if Yoona is here," you turn to him as he speaks, watching as he rubs hand fists over his eyes.

"Who's Yoona?" you ask softly.

"Namjoon's wife. She's actually really sweet. Which is against my religion... so," he says before putting his hand on your lower back to escort you to the staircase.

You don't pull away from him oddly enough. You let him guide you, it's easier than fighting so early in the morning.

"She went to Sairmount Academy like us, too." he notifies you as you descend the stairs together.

"Huh." you mumble thoughtfully.

There were very few memories of Sairmount Academy you remembered. It's kind of bizarre knowing that Yoongi was around all throughout your schooling.

You didn't care to remember many things from school. It was always the same, you were poor and people were rich. You were bullied, Leena and Jin were the only ones who cared for you.

"Morning Yoona," Yoongi says as you reach the bottom floor.

Turning to you, you take in the woman who stands by the couch. She has light brown hair with dirty blonde highlights. Her body is slim and proportionate adorning light ripped jeans and a cashmere turtleneck. The thing that stands out the most though, is her paddock boots. She must really love her horses. She's clean cut and absolutely gorgeous.

But, as she smiles something seems familiar to you.

"Morning, Yoongles," he grimaces at her nickname, accepting the coffee that is rushed over to him.

"Why are you here?" he asks, leaning against the marble stairwell banister.

"Came to see an old friend." Yoona replies.

Tilting your head, your eyes begin to widen.

If she had black, long hair with small polka dot bows and if she was years younger, she would look exactly like an old friend.

"Bang Yoona?" You ask softly and she points to herself with a comical wink.

"That's me," she cheers happily.

"Oh my God!" you cry out, rushing over to hug her.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow as he watches you both hug. His heart warms at the sight of your pure excitement.

"Small world," he murmurs above the lip of his coffee cup.

"I changed my last name when I got married," she tells you, placing both hands on either side of your face as she pulls away.

You can remember when you were little. Yoona welcomed you quite like Leena. You were happy to spend time with her when you were seven. But, after time went on, she left to Germany with her parents when they accepted different jobs.

You were sad back then having only Leena but then it became a distant memory as you got older.

"You look amazing!" you compliment her as she brushes some hair behind your ear.

"As do you! Once Joon told me that it's you that got pregnant with Yoongi's baby I had to see you!" Yoongi smirks gently as you pull away from one another.

"This is such a pleasant surprise!" you cheer as she slings her arm over your shoulders.

"Come spend the day at my house. Leave Yoongi to his sad self," she winks at you and you giggle in reply.

"Fuck you." Yoongi mumbles. Yoona sticks her tongue out at him before pulling you towards the door.

"I'll show you my horses! They're so beautiful!" she tells you enthusiastically.

"Hey." Yoongi calls to you, whistling loudly for your attention.

You turn to him, a wide smile on your face which makes him smirk.

"Be careful and no riding the horses with the baby inside of you," he says pointedly.

You nod happily before hooking your arm around Yoona's waist.

"Watch out for her!" Yoongi calls to her and she snorts gently as you both walk up the entryway steps.

"Always. I probably know her better than you do," she retorts with a laugh.

Yoongi grimaces at the thought before rolling his eyes.

"Yeah well she's having my baby," he retorts softly.

He watches the front door close as he sips his coffee.

"Maya!" he calls to the empty house as he pushes himself off the stairwell.

"Sir?" he hears in the distance.

"Bring me my yearbooks!" he calls as he begins to ascend the stairs.

You better be careful or he'll raise hell with the Kims.

The walk to Namjoon's house is absolutely breathtaking. You've always stuck around the house, taking walks around the long stoned paths by the garden. But now, walking towards the large mansion in the distance, you can only be in awe of the sights before you.

"I cannot believe what a small world we live in." Yoona says, ripping you out of your trance.

You giggle as she hugs you tightly to her side.

"I know," you reply as you both move out of the way as a car passes by.

The limousine begins to slow down, the window sliding down as well.

Very unfortunate for you, the face of Sera is right in your sights.

"Good morning Yoona! You look ravishing today!" Sera's voice is filled with overly sweet tones.

Your stomach begins to roll at how fake she is.

"Hi." Yoona says briskly, hand gripping beneath your arm tighter.

"See you've taken on a pet project. How gracious of you." Sera says, leaning her body out the window and grimacing in your direction.

Your friend from childhood stops in her tracks. "I think Y/N is delightfully where she should be in life. Unlike you, Sera. If anyone needs a pet project, I'll be sure to have them reach out to you."

You can hear Sera scoff loudly as Yoona tugs you down the road.

"Oh, and Sera?" Yoona calls Yoongi's wife.

You watch the pretty woman angle her head out of the car as if she would be expecting an apology.

"It's 2020, no one drives around in a limousine anymore. It's an embarrassing way to flaunt your money. You should get a Rolls Royce or an Astin Martin. No one wants to see you in a rickety old limo. That shit is for the birds," you put your hand over your mouth, gasping with a laugh as Yoona tugs you down toward her mansion.

"I cannot believe you!" you squeal as she laughs loudly.

Entering Namjoon and Yoona's house you're astounded at how different yet gorgeous it is to where you live now.

The house has an English feel to it, limestone and wooden hardware really bring it all together. The house screams Victorian Gothic and you find it all so wonderful.

"What do you think?" Yoona asks as she passes through the sitting room

"This is beautiful, Yoona. I can't even believe it!" you say in awe. Your eyes glance up, looking at the chandelier before she's tugging you into the next room.

"Namjoon and I are a bit obsessed with old English history. Like this, this is my most prized possession in the whole house," she says stopping in front of a large glass case.

Looking down, your eyes widen so big they could almost fall out of your head.

Gorgeous jewels and diamonds sit nestled in silver and gold. There are crowns, necklaces, earrings and all sorts of other baubles.

"Holy shit!" you whisper out.

Your hands situate behind your back as if you're in a museum.

"All of these belonged to King Henry the Eighth and his many wives! My favorite is Anne Boleyns." Yoona says pointing at a crown that is more grandiose than all of the others.

"Yoona, these are really beautiful," you breathe out.

She wrinkles her nose gently, leaning against the varnished hardwood table.

"Ready to go see my horses?" she asks as her maid brings you both glasses of water.

You nod to her happily as you move away from the royal jewelry.

Stepping out into the backyard of her house, you can't seem to see where the line is drawn between her house and Yoongis. The grass is perfectly cut and a luscious green that makes you feel at peace.

"Just over here." Yoona calls to you as she takes off toward the horse barn.

"Whoa." It feels as if you're almost in a movie.

You can see men walking to and fro with metal buckets filled with water and different foods. They all have on the same uniforms, something akin to what jockeys would wear before a big race.

The horse barn, as you approach, looks just like a home. Something comfortable and clean that could very well have people living inside of it.

"My pride and joy is Rapture. He's won five awards since he's been born and he is the biggest sweetheart," your heart warms at how enthusiastic your childhood friend sounds.

The barn doors open and you feel as if you've been thrust into a fairytale.

There are six horses, all beautifully kept with various colors and sizes on their coats.  Whinies and neighs enrapture your ears as the animals spot Yoona.

"It's like you're the Snow White of horses," you whisper to her as she picks up some carrots by the front door.

"Well, they're my babies," she replies, a motherly smile plastered on her face.

"Jooheon," she calls out.

You watch a man around your age appear. His hair is a light shade of blue and his eyes are soft and doe-like. His cheeks are high and his jaw is sharp like it has been carved by the gods.

He's incredibly tall and muscular, his thick thighs quiver and flex as he walks towards you both.

"Madams," he says, bowing down to you both.

His eyes lock with yours as he stands back up, a smirk on his features as he winks at you.

Finally, Yoongi had brought home his laptop for work. He hasn't really given much thought to why he feels the need to stay home so much these days. He doesn't want to think about it, he just lets things be.

Throwing his feet up on his desk, his eyes falter to the stack of yearbooks that Maya has so kindly brought him.

Seeing Yoona this morning, someone he's always known suddenly knowing you, it made him curious.

How could he have gone throughout all of his Sairmount schooling AND college to never know you?

Sipping his coffee, he opens up the first yearbook.

His eyes narrow at the pages, looking over all the small kids with the same uniforms.

"Y/N. Y/N." he mumbles as his index finger glazes over the children's faces.

His eyebrows crease as he leans back in his desk chair.

You were in none of these pictures, not that he could see anyway.

Flipping through the pages of the book, he passes the newspaper club, the computer club, the chess club before finding solo pictures of each student.

His lips puff out as he skims along the pictures.

"Holy shit," he whispers, setting down his coffee cup.

There you were. Small and cute in front of his eyes.

But, there's something familiar about you as he continues to stare at the picture. You with your small tie and blazer, he feels like he's always known you.

Then it hits him, you were in his class. He fucking remembers you, sitting three seats behind him in History.

Purchasing his hand beneath his chin, he stares at the small pictures in his history textbook. He couldn't be bothered to study for the pop quiz and he knows that he probably failed.

His father was going to be disappointed, as always. His father is never proud of anything he does so why should this matter.

"Sir Min," the teacher, Mrs. Park, calls to him.

With the roll of his eyes, he looks up at his teacher.

"Yeah," he mumbles as Hoseok slides a note beneath the lip of his book.

"Do you realize that I've been calling your name for the past three minutes?" Mrs. Park asks as she leans down on her desk.

Running his fingers through his hair, the tip of his tongue grazes over his teeth. He leans back in his own chair, eyes glazing over the teacher with a bored expression.

"No. I was too busy looking at what underwear people used to wear," he mutters aloud.

He can hear other kids snickering and murmuring at his joke. A sly smirk begins to spread over his face while he fixes his tie.

"You think this is funny? You think failing is funny?" she quips as she holds up the quiz.

He can feel his neck heating up out of embarrassment.

"The future heir of Kisung can't even pass a history quiz? Maybe your parents should get a phone call," she asks him, her legs wading through the multitude of desks before plopping the sheet down on his table.

He takes in all the red lines that are scoured over the paper.

"I bet you can't even tell me when the Mongols invaded the Goryeo dynasty," she says earning a multitude of hushed voices.

He turns his head to the others behind him, his eyes dancing over the kids that sit with their eyes on their desks.

Then they falter to you as you stare at him shamelessly. Your small hands form fists as you look from him to Mrs. Park.

Secretly, you begin to raise your fingers.

One.

Two.

One.

Six.

He clears his throat as your eyes falter to your desk and he turns back to the teacher as she raises her eyebrow.

"The Mongols invade Goryeo in 1216," Yoongi says as he swings his arm over the lip of his chair.

She purses her lips at his answer, eyes narrowing at him.

Maybe your information was wrong.

"Well, if you knew that then why did you fail the quiz?" she asks softly, retreating to her desk at the front of the class.

He breathes a gentle sigh of relief, turning his head to you. He nods to you as Leena pinches your arm. Nodding back, the corner of your lips flicker upwards before pinching your best friend.

Yoongi chuckles to himself as he recalls the memory.

You saved his sorry ass that day, if it wasn't for you he would have had to kneel on rice in a corner for God knows how long.

"Interesting," he whispers to himself as he continues to flicker through the yearbook.

"You have a phone call, Mrs. Kim," someone announces from the entrance to the horse barn.

She hums in reply, running her hand over the soft mane of Rapture.

"I'll just be a minute, why don't you spend time with the horses. They seem to love you," she suggests and you nod happily as Rapture rubs his large face against yours.

Giggling, you hold out an apple slice for him and he takes it without complaint.

"You're so pretty," you tell the horse as he munches happily on the slice.

"Do you know anything about horses?" you hear from behind you.

Turning to the owner of the voice, you smile gently as Jooheon wipes a rag over his sweaty face.

"Unfortunately not. But, they're very beautiful," you reply as Rapture nuzzles the back of your head.

The stableman chuckles as the horse rests his head on your shoulder.

"Rapture always finds it easy to feel comfortable around gorgeous women," you can feel the apples of your cheeks blushing as Jooheon tosses the rag he holds up in the air.

"I'm sure you really like this job," you say, running your hand over the horse's neck.

He nods to your statement, leaning back against one of the wooden doors. "I've always liked animals more than people. When you look into a horse's eyes, you can see so much emotion. You can practically see their souls bare in front of you."

His admission makes you think. You can understand people that love and respect animals more than people.

"That's really sweet," you tell him as he fixes his uniform.

He gives you a smile, one that's enchanting showing off his perfectly white teeth.

"It's just the truth," he replies as Rocket, an all white horse, nuzzles his face.

"I know, girl. Don't get jealous cause I'm talking to a pretty woman," he whispers and this time your ears heat up.

"The Madam was telling everyone that you're an old school friend," he says, patting the horse's face.

You nod, a reminiscent smile on your features. "Yeah. Yoona was a good friend when we were younger."

He takes delight in how you smile, how perfectly shy you are.

"Did you move in around here?"

"Yeah. I'm living with the Min's," you answer as Rapture snorts gently onto your cheek.

"Must be nice to have money," he quips.

You shake your hands quickly. "Oh. I'm not rich."

He hums playfully, looking over your expensive attire with an unsure eye.

"I thought Min Yoongi was married," he counters as he slides his right foot up onto the stable door behind him.

You watch his thighs flex once more before clearing your throat. "He is. I'm just... I'm pregnant with his... y'know... his baby."

Jooheon whistles loudly at the admission. "Interesting. But, you're not dating him, are you?"

The question makes you laugh, feeding another apple slice to Rapture while shaking your head. "No. I am not."

Jooheon nods slowly as he stands up and you can hear the horse barn door opening to your right. "Can I ask you out on a date then?"

Puffing from his cigar, Yoongi leans back into the armchair he sits in. His fingers pull and push at his cards on the green felt.

"I call." Jeongguk mumbles and the CEO tosses some extra chips into the center of the poker table.

Although Jimin was invited to tonight's poker game, Yoongi thought it wise that he didn't accept. The shorter man was hanging on by a hair, the last time he was in this house.

Guk was more than happy to sit in his seat beside Taehyung for the evening.

The classical music swells throughout the room and Yoongi stares down at the chips in hand. Once that memory of you from childhood came flooding back, he can remember smaller ones too.

Ones like when you were being bullied or when the girls tried to steal your lunch. He can remember all the times he heard Leena screaming to protect you, and he finds himself feeling more accepting of her.

"Yoona had a great time with Y/N today. She loves her," Namjoon says, earning everyone's attention.

"Well I think they used to be friends, no? I don't remember much about Y/N but I remember that she was friends with Leena, Yoona and of course Jin," Hoseok says.

"What do you mean 'of course Jin?'" Yoongi finds himself asking, something inside of him growing terse and annoyed.

"Well he was always with them. He was Leena's boyfriend when we were younger too. He was the only boy that used to hang around with them."

He starts to simmer down at his admission. "Oh," Yoongi whispers.

"Read 'em and weep, hyungs," Jeongguk says with a smug grin, flipping over his cards.

Taehyung groans long and low, his hands carding through his hair as Guk shows them a straight flush.

"Goddamn. This kid wins in everything! Whether it's boxing, car racing or cards!" Tae complains as Guk collects his chips.

Yoongi chuckles to himself, lifting his whisky glass to his lips.

"I'm really glad Y/N has a friend around here." Namjoon says and to this the Kisung CEO nods.

He wants you to thrive. He can say this until his face turns blue.

As Maya begins to deal the cards once more, the library door slowly begins to open. The sound draws everyone's attention and they stay silent as you enter.

Your face is buried in a book, your feet slowly shuffling into the big room. The sight of you makes Yoongi smirk, your hand is pressed on your flat stomach as you continue farther into the room.

You look precious. Your hair is slightly wet from a shower not too long ago and your eyes are enraptured with the words you read.

"Beautiful," he whispers under his breath but the sound is swallowed by Namjoon clearing his throat.

You look up quickly, clearly startled by the noise.

"Oh my God, it's Thursday! I'm so sorry!" you cry out as you slam the large book in hand shut.

"No worries, little dove. Come. Get a book," Yoongi calls to you as you try to leave.

"Hey Y/N." Namjoon says with a comforting smile.

Your eyes meet his and the friendly face makes you smile widely. "Hi Joon. Good evening!"

You wink at Maya, scurrying behind her to find a new book to read.

Oh, Joon is it?

Yoongi rolls his eyes as he burns out his cigar. He wafts the smoke away from your direction, picking up his whisky glass.

You had changed your clothes. Now wearing a purple free flowing sundress.

Might be better to not have tight clothes on, if they make you uncomfortable. The father of your child finds himself thinking.

"Y/N. Can you tell Leena to call me, please?" Taehyung whines.

Turning to him, you narrow your eyes playfully.

Why can't Yoongi see you like this? Is it because he's too big of a dick?

He wishes you would be so free with him…

"Tae. I'm told that you're in the dog house," you jeer as you grab a book.

Tae, is it?

Yoongi gulps down the rest of his drink, his throat burning as his gut explodes with alcoholic fire.

"Tell her I'll book the penthouse. I promise," he says, holding out his pinky.

Humming cutely, you step onto the platform beside Maya. Grabbing his pinky, he gives you a wink and it almost sends Yoongi onto the fucking floor.

"Don't you have some reading to do, little dove?" he asks quickly, watching how tightly Taehyung grips at your pinky.

You look over at the CEO before nodding. He gives you a small smile and your heart stutters as you return it.

"I'm Jeongguk! But, you can just call me Guk or Gukkie," the youngest calls to you.

You bow your head to him with a smile. "Nice to meet you."

"That's Hoseok," Namjoon says, pointing his thumb to the left of him.

You give a small wave before looking down at the book you hold.

"Well I'll let you get back to it. I'll just be reading," you say, mostly to Yoongi.

He nods above the lips of his glass, watching you press the book to your flat womb.

You're fucking endearing as all hell.

"Or, you can join us," Joon suggests.

Yoongi grimaces at the idea. Why would he fucking ask you to stay? In a room with all these handsome men? No.

"No. She said she wants to rea-" the father of your child begins to say before you cut him off.

"I might destroy you," you quip and his mouth hangs open at your banter.

Yoongi watches as Maya begins to smile, a proud smirk gracing her features already.

"Poker is about luck," Hoseok jeers.

"Well I did get knocked up on a pass by. Seems like I'm pretty lucky," you joke, making the others laugh.

Yoongi snorts to himself as you share camaraderie with his friends.

"That's my baby you're talking about," he says, pointing his index finger over the lip of his glass to you.

You give him a warm smile, the apples of your cheeks raising as you giggle.

"Here, noona. You can sit in my seat," Guk says and it rubs Yoongi the wrong way almost immediately.

"She can have my seat, you're a guest," he says quickly.

"Oh no, it's fine. Noon-"

"Y/N, come." Yoongi's voice is strict and you roll your eyes at his commanding demeanor.

Setting down the book on the lip of the table, you take his seat. He stands behind you, handing the burnt out cigar and ashtray to Maya.

The smell might make you feel sickly.

"Jeongguk always wins," Hoseok notifies you and you hum curiously.

"We'll see," you reply as you begin to stack Yoongi's poker chips. He can smell your shampoo, violets and vanilla--it smells amazing.

"You know how to play?" He whispers softly in your ear, you shiver at his warm breath, smelling the alcohol on his pallet.

It reminds you of your first night together and you press your thighs into one another at the memory.

"Oh, I know how to play," you reply.

He places his hand on your shoulder as Maya begins to deal.

"Don't spend all of my money, we play with real bucks here," Yoongi says, his thumb grazing over the softness of your skin.

You feel yourself relax as his skin grazes yours. It feels comfortable, it feels kind of right.

Lifting your cards, your thumb skims over the tops and Yoongi holds his breath waiting for what you're going to do.

A diamond ace and a ten of diamonds sits in your hand. Yoongi presses down on your shoulder, almost as if he's proud of you.

"Raise," you mumble as Yoongi slides his thumb over the column of your neck.

You can see all the other billionaires staring at you and you calmly grab three poker chips before throwing them into the middle of the table.

"She's got a good poker face," Hoseok quips as he lifts his glass of brandy.

You feel your heart pick up speed as Yoongi slides his free hand over your other shoulder.

"Good girl." He whispers softly in your ear and your eyes flutter shut at his praise.

What the fuck is going on?

This Yoongi, the one behind you feels so different than the man who you moved in with just a week or so ago.

"Who are you and what have you done with Yoongi?" you quip into his ear softly.

You watch as Maya begins to flip three cards, you snort gently as a king, a queen and a four, of the same suit appear.

"He's gone." Yoongi murmurs, earning widened eyes from you as you focus on your cards.

You watch as the others toss chips into the middle and you throw a few more as Yoongi sips his whisky.

Your stomach begins to coil as he presses his thumbs down into your shoulders with soothing circles. He's fucking massaging you.

You find your body relaxing into his chest and stomach.

Yoongi watches the way your thighs quiver as you cross your legs. He can see the back of your neck flushing and his tongue licks over his bottom lip slowly.

"So, Y/N," Joon says, elbowing Hoseok with a wink. You shy away from the CEO's touch and he feels like he's being rejected all in a quick second.

Yoongi sighs gently, his eyes flutter shut and he loosens his grip on you.

"Yoona tells me you got a date today," you clear your throat uncomfortably as the men look pointedly at you.

Yoongi's eyes widen at the new information. He pulls away from you, making up the excuse in his mind to grab another grab of whisky.

He can feel the rage beginning to burn through him, as if someone has lit the end of a stick of dynamite. His eyes flutter shut and he steadies himself on the lip of the bar.

How fucking dare someone try to ask you out. How dare they?

"Oh well, Jooheon is really kind," he hears how soft your tone is and he can't help the way his hand shakes as he picks up the whisky bottle.

Why does the prospect of you dating drive him almost to the brink of insanity?

"You told him no, right?" he finds himself asking, he stares at his reflection through the mirrored wall. His face is pink with anger, the veins in his neck protruding as he grips tightly onto his glass.

You can't see him, but you can hear how livid he is.

"Well, I-" before you can even reply, he's charging across the room.

His hand grips at your arm and without a second thought he's tugging you to the library door.

You swallow thickly as he kicks the door open with his foot in a moment of blind rage.

"Yoongi!" you complain as he pulls you into the game room next door.

He slams the door shut behind him, his back presses into the cherry wood. Narrowing his eyes at you, he sneers.

"You told him no, right?! You do remember the contract, correct? Or, are your childish feminine hormones making you blind?" he barks out.

Your face begins to set into a scowl as you continue to stare at him. Why not be a brat? It's something you're quite good at when you're upset with him.

"Well if I can't get cock from you, then I'll have to get it elsewhere," your statement drops like a bomb and in a second he's pushing you up against the wall.

"Don't you fucking dare get snarky with me, like that. No cocks are going in this tight little cunt, do you understand me?" he seethes through his teeth.

Your eyes meet his, both sets are glaring and determined.

"Well then, guess you should have accepted my offer to fuck me," you quip.

He chuckles darkly, the sound shaking you to the core. And, for the first time he places his hand over your stomach.

"You couldn't handle this cock in your pregnant pussy, believe me. If I even see you with another man, I'll fuck him up."

"Why, jealous?" you ask as his thumb swipes over your stomach.

The feeling of his hand over your child can only compare to the sun. It feels wonderful.

"What do I have to be jealous of? I have it all. And that includes you. You're mine," he barks out and you hum unsurely, turning your face away from him as his forehead presses to yours.

"Just because I'm having your baby, that doesn't make me yours," you reply, your eyes focus on the pinball machines at the far end of the room.

"Yeah. It really does, little dove," you can hear the agitation in his voice, the annoyance he feels can match yours.

The tip of his nose grazes over your cheekbone as he presses his face closer.

The burning anger in him subsiding as he continues to drift his hand over your stomach.

"Just... don't." It's practically a plea falling from his lips.

Your eyes flutter shut at his now soft tone.

"I told him no," you whisper and you can feel his breath of relief as it rushes over your lips and neck.

"Then why are you pissing me off?" he asks gruffly.

"Because you made me mad," you retort as his hands grip at your sides.

He stays silent for a second before responding.

"I know. I'm getting way too good at that. I'm sorry," he whispers.

You swallow thickly, he's apologizing? He's really not himself today.

"Did you get a concussion?" you ask as he pulls away from you.

He raises an eyebrow as he keeps you at arms length. His fingers comb through his hair, a few odd strands falling back into his eyes.

"A concussion? What?" he replies, confused.

"You're acting weird," you comment as he fixes his blazer.

He begins to smirk as he leans back against the pool table. "I told you, old Yoongi is gone."

Humming unsurely, you intertwine your fingers.

"I'd really like it if you could not give me whiplash every few minutes. Makes it a lot bearable on my neck," you say as you fix your dress.

His eyes falter to your swollen breasts, his tongue licks over his lips while he does his best to calm his breathing.

"I'll be more thoughtful," he whispers and you bite your bottom lip, nodding carefully.

"We should get back," you tell him as you push off of the wall.

He nods gently and he grips at your wrist as you try to walk away from him. You turn to him as his eyes become softer. "No boyfriends, no dates."

You smirk as you look him over. "No boyfriends. No dates," you promise and he cups your cheek gently without even thinking.

"I like the fierce you. Makes my heart feel warm," he comments, leaving you in the game room on your own.

When he touches you, it makes your heart feel warm as well.

Next Chapter --->

Third Wheeling Taglist- @wickizer​​, @imluckybitches​​, @slothykreuger​​, @claireelise19​​, @ggukkieland​​, @rspbrryy​​, @iv-bts​​, @bambuzlee​​, @chanelbts​​, @mxxngxdss​​, @bluewhale52​​, @milesjeon11​​, @diamonddia-mond​​, @vinylphwoar, @yxnxxli​​, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn​​, @bts-7beauts​​, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace​​, @eclectically-esoteric​​, @nikkiordonez12​​, @kaitswrld​​, @skamlover200​​, @sevgilove98​​, @kooeuphoria​​, @jikooksgirl19​​, @hobbledehoy26​​, @singular-itae​​, @dchimminie​​, @lowlifeoeuvre​​, @sugaslittlekookies​​, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth​​, @softysuho​​, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire​​, @betysotelo18​​, @jeonmisha​​, @iwanttohitmyself​​, @ayyyocee​​, @neverthefirstchoice​​, @itsbangtanoclock​​, @little7bitchh​​, @veryuniquenamegoeshere​​, @deathkat657​​, @firstlovesuga-93​​, @namjoonia​​, @paperpurple​​, @muzikabijou​​, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites​​, @kleff03​​, @ruinsofangels​​, @brightwingr5​​, @leekanchol​​, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside​​, @melaninkpops​​, @y00ngisbabygirl​​, @ungodlyjoon​​, @prochnost513​​, @dunixxd​​, @athenakyle​​, @igotnotype​​, @chxmachxps​​, @tinymintyoongi​​, @vangameren-blog​​, @alpaca1612​​, @ohcarolinamin​​, @thegreatestsushi​​, @jooniebugg​​, @eltrain80​​, @btsmylife21​​, @deeepvibes​​, @httpminyg​​, @deliciouslydisturbed365​​​, @rkchmestizangmaldita​​​, @jimin-chu​​​, @pimpnameyannie​​, @preciouschimine​, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet​, @vanillamyg​, @aamxxrii​, @kooafraid​, @ladykadyrova​, @singjisu​, @yazanii​

Some people couldn’t be tagged! I’m sorry about that!

[rowanaelinn]

Fire on Fire - Chapter Six

this is finally going somewhere! i had to cut this chapter in two otherwise it would have been six thousand words so… sorry for the cut😬

Warning for sucidal thoughts in this chapter.

chapter five // chapter seven

“She did not!” Aelin laughed loudly, still in her nightclothes. “Why do we always miss that?”

“Miss what?” Sam asked as he entered the room, two bowls of cereals in his hands. He gave one to Lysandra and brought two spoons so Aelin could eat in his bowl. Lysandra and Aelin just woke up, it was four in the afternoon and Aelin didn’t eat anything since last night, so she was starving.

Aelin, Lysandra, Nehemia, and Sam might have partied a little too hard last night. So this morning, Aelin and Lysandra decided to stay home. Sam didn’t look happy about Aelin missing class but he didn’t say anything, knowing Aelin’s mind was made. He came back from school an hour ago and woke them up.“Gods, I love these cereals,” she moaned at the taste. Aelin loved food, and it showed on her body. The only good thing about her injury is that now she didn’t have to pay attention to everything she ate to fit in stupid costumes. She might miss dancing but she loved food more.

“I finished the last box, by the way.”

Aelin nodded, making a mental note she’ll have to ask Quinn to go grocery shopping as soon as she could.

“Leave me some, Lys,” Nehemia said as she threw herself on Aelin’s bed. She was glad to have a gigantic bed when the four of them were home, which is almost all the time lately. Nehemia threw her hair behind her shoulder, silently asking her friends to pay attention to them.

“That color suits you, Mia,” Aelin smiled and it was genuine. Nehemia had fresh new braids, they started black but ended in a deep ocean blue. The girl never wanted boring colors in her hair and almost everything suited her. Lysandra and Sam agreed with her, making Nehemia smile arrogantly. But Aelin knew that Nehemia was hiding a real smile behind that.

“Might dye my hair blue to match you,” Aelin said and Nehemia looked thrilled.

“Don’t you dare!” Sam said, turning to Aelin and almost spilling the cereals and milk on her bed. “Your hair is so pretty. Buy a wig but don’t you dare dye it.”

“Excuse me?”

He pouted, “Please?” Even with this ridiculous face, he stayed beautiful. She loved the twinkle of mischief, the hint of exasperation at her, and the kindness that made her feel good, the kindness that made her want to be the best person she could be.

“Okay,” She sighed and he had a victorious smile drawn on his face. “Let’s go for the wig.”

He smiled and kissed her, pout-ring all his love for her in it. She could spend years kissing him. “You two are gross,” Lysandra complained, Sam and Aelin pulled apart and Aelin sent her best friend a vulgar gesture.

“Anyway, Lys, what did we miss?” Sam asked again, this boy was the most curious of the four. He liked to hear gossip about everyone.

“Ansel was high at Nox’s party two days ago.” Aelin was sad they missed a party just to be at a Gala, but her parents were home for once and demanded that she was with them.

“You’re joking?” Nehemia asked and laughed as she took Lysandra’s spoon to eat some cereals. The brunette threw the dark-skinned girl a look that promised violence.

“You’ll never see me taking drugs, that’s for sure,” Aelin sighed and rested her head on Sam’s shoulder. “God, I already regret drinking twice in a week.”

“Good,” Sam said and she rolled her eyes.

The four friends spent hours talking and laughing together. They practically all lived at her home, anyway. Sam and Lysandra’s families were fucked up enough, so they spent their time here. Nehemia’s parents worked too much to notice that she didn’t come home most nights. Aelin’s parents were never here either, so she welcomed the company.

When it started getting dark outside, Aelin’s phone rang. She had no idea who called her but it could be one of her parents, calling her from wherever they were now or even Aedion who had a habit to lose his phone.

“Hello?”

“Aelin?” A deep voice asked and Aelin thought she recognized it in the back of her brain but she couldn’t put a name on who it belonged to.

“I’m not trying to be rude but, who are you?”

The man laughed and the sound gave her chills. “It’s Arobynn Hamel. Your mother was supposed to give you my phone number but I guess she forgot.”

Her body froze. Arobynnn Hamel. Of course, she knew that voice, she had watched enough interviews of him to become familiar with it, she even met him two days ago. She sat straighter in her bed, attracting the worried gaze of her three friends. With a more serious face than they had ever seen, Aelin motioned for them to remain silent.

“Oh gods, I’m sorry, Mister Hamel. She didn’t give me your number, I’m very sorry.” She was so embarrassed, Mala knew how much Aelin would be mad at her mom for it. Her friends looked surprised at who called her.

“Calm down, Aelin. It’s okay.” He comforted her as he laughed softly. “And call me Arobynn.”

“Alright.” She said and waited for him to explain why he was calling her, not that she wasn’t happy about it because she was. She just knew she would embarrass herself if she opened her mouth and started talking.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” He asked and Aelin furrowed her brows. That was weird but exciting at the same time.

“No, I am free. Why?”

“We didn’t have a lot of time to talk Saturday and I think it’s a shame. I am still in Orynth for two days and would like to talk with you. Your mother told me you wanted to be an author or work in the publishing industry, is it true?”

“Yes,” it was the fastest answer of her life. Yes, she had always dreamed of working around books.

“From what I’ve heard, Aelin Galathynius, you are special. I’d like to see that by myself. Allow me to take you out for dinner tomorrow and we can talk about your future.”

If Arobynn Hamel helped her… She could become a successful author. She could picture it, a small house, Sam at her side, a study full of books she wrote, a life away from the spotlight, a happy life. It’s exactly what she wanted. Special, he thought she was special.

“Dress code?”

He laughed again and Aelin couldn’t help but smile. “Something like the dress you had on Saturday should be good. I’ll pick you up at seven, is it good for you?”

“Perfect.”

They hung up and she looked at her friend, still surprised, and smile. She was thoughtfully happy.

“Aelin?” Aedion asked, tearing her from her daydream. “You there?”

“Sorry. What is it?” She was tired and hungover, she didn’t get lots of sleep last night and she was feeling the effects. Dorian had left early this morning, long before anyone woke up. It was better than having to face Aedion’s judgmental looks.

“I asked if your scholarship got renewed for next year, Lysandra got the answer in the mail yesterday so you’re supposed to have yours too, right?” She looked up from her bowl of cereals, confused for a second. When she met Rowan Whitethorn’s face, with the same confused expression as her, she remembered.

Lysandra, Aedion, and everyone else believed she got a scholarship, frankly, she had no idea how they believed her. But they never had a reason to distrust her, that’s probably the reason.

Most of her relation with Arobynn was secret and the money he spent on her was part of the lie.

“Yeah, everything is taken care of.” She smiled, it was the truth in a way. She dared to look at Rowan and she didn’t why, didn’t know how, but she knew he didn’t believe her. She could see it in his frown and eyes.

“Good,” her cousin smiled as he drank his coffee.

She smiled back, he was worried for her, she knew it. It’s exactly why she didn’t tell him anything, he didn’t need the stress. “I’ve got everything under control.”

---------

“What are you still doing here?” Arobynn asked, startling Aelin. She had been too busy on her computer to hear him coming. “It’s past nine, we finished hours ago.”

They both had worked for hours today and she was tired. “What are you still doing here?” She asked.

“I asked first, darling.” He sat in his chair in front of her. She was still in her seat, the chair almost belonged to her for all the time she spent on it. She wanted to be annoyed at him but today had been different. He had been different. He wasn’t the Arobynn she had known years ago but he was close, closer than he usually was lately. Aelin was pretty sure he hadn’t had a drink all day, which could explain his mood. That was a good thing.

“I’m writing and waiting for my cousin to check his damn phone so he can pick me up.”

“Where’s your car?”

“Broken,” she grilled through her teeth. The damn truck had decided not to work this morning, causing Aelin to have a nervous breakdown. “A friend of mine had a look at it and told me it would cost me more to repair it than to buy a new one, so here I am, depending on my cousin.” She hated it, hated to depend on someone. But it seemed to happen a lot lately, so she might have to get used to it. “What are you doing here?” She repeated.

“My meeting lasted two hours,” he said, his voice hard.

“Ah, sucks when you have to actually do your job, right?” She remarked and didn’t know if it was a reproach for the way he over-worked her or a teasing. Maybe both, she didn’t want to wonder about it too much.

“Someone’s feisty today,” he joked and she fought a small smile. “Ready for Monday?”

“I already told you no, Arobynn.”

“Why not? You finish the school year in four days.”

“I have a job, Arobynn. I can’t just-”

“Everything’s taken care of.” He cut her off with a smile. It was the kind of smile that told her he had done something and was feeling rather proud of it.

“What.”

“Did you know Rofle was my friend? After a drink or two, he agreed to let you come back in September, right after your internship at Hamel Publishing.”

“And you did that after I told you no?” Her tone was rising. “And are you friends with everyone here?”

He rose from his seat to stand right before her. She had to raise her head to look him in the eye. One of his calloused hands rested on her cheek, caressing her cheekbone. "You know how powerful I am." She did, Arobynn wasn’t just a successful author or the CEO of a publishing company, those were just hobbies for him. He had grown up in a rich family, had been raised to be like every rich people. He had learned how fake smiles and words were weapons, how to manipulate people. He had a way to manipulate everyone he called his friends, whether it was a picture, a video, or a letter. He had something on everyone. “I once promised you I would make you shine, Aelin. I won’t let a shitty job ruin that promise.” For years he had told her she was special, he had told her she could reach the stars should she just let him help her. And for years she had believed him, so she decided to do it again. She only nodded and it seemed to be enough for him.“I’m calling a cab for you.”

“No.”

“No?” His voice was surprised. “Is it because of the money?”

“For fuck sake Arobynn I can afford a cab ride,” that was a total lie, but he didn’t need to know that. “I just… can’t.”

Understanding and pity flashed on Arobynn’s face and she had to keep herself from yelling at him for it. “You still can’t?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” She said voice hard that didn’t let room for questions.

“Pack your things, I’ll drive you.” This was what Arobynn from four years ago would have said, what the Arobynn she had come to know would have said. In a flicker of hope, she said yes. Hope that she could erase what happened between them, that she would forget like Arobynn repeatedly asked her to, and just start again because she didn’t know how to survive another person leaving her.

-----------------------------

It was the middle of the night when Rowan heard her cries.

At first, he had ignored them, trying to give her privacy. It was unusual of her to let someone hear her, so Rowan thought it might be very bad. But after five minutes of cries, he couldn’t stay in his bed anymore.

When he walked into her room, his heart broke a little. She was in bed, sleeping, trashing against the sheets, crying, and trying to talk. Even with only the light from the bathroom, he could see the pain written all over her face.

He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t just walk back to his room and ignore her. So, he shook her shoulder, trying to wake her up but it didn’t work. She kept jerking in her bed as if she was fighting with the pillows and her blanket.

“Aelin,” he said, using both his hands to shake her. “Aelin,” he repeated louder. Her eyes jerked open, she turned her head several times, trying to figure out where she was. Her whole body shook and a second later she leaned over the bed and vomited her guts out. Rowan held her hair back, avoiding touching her directly so as not to overwhelm her.

When she lay back down in bed, she was still crying, her limbs shaking as if she were hypothermic even though Rowan could see the sweat glistening on her skin.

Rowan had only seen one person look so wrecked in his entire life, himself. He saw it every time he woke up and looked into the mirror. It was worse ten years ago because he had no idea how to hide it, in a decade he learned how to conceal everything. How to recognize which night was most likely to give him a nightmare, learned how to stay quiet while he felt like dying inside.

“You should take a shower,” Rowan said, voice softer than he has ever used with her. He had been wrong, so wrong.

“I don’t think I have the strength.”

“To shower?” He asked but there was no judgment, he only wanted to make sure.

“To live.” Her small voice broke and his heart did too. When she looked up at him, eyes filled with tears, Rowan didn’t see anything but desperation and loathing. He knew it wasn’t directed at him but at herself.

“Come here,” he said as he slid his arms under her body. “We’re gonna clean you up, okay?” He lifted her up from her bed, avoiding the content of her stomach on the floor as her weak arms curled around his neck and he guided her to the bathroom.

————

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Reader) -- chapter eleven

I’m backkkk <33 Enjoy!

Today’s chapter title comes from “Wildest Dreams” by Taylor Swift and honestly? That song is Hotch and Reader’s song tbh

Chapter Warnings: fluff! Crime scene stuffs, case stuffs, and Hotch is an asshole at the end (what’s new?)

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Eleven: I thought, “Heaven can’t help me now.”

When you wake, you have a strange sense of Deja Vu. Hotch is shaking your shoulder again, only this time, you’re not in your bed.

“We’re landing soon,” he says softly, hand lingering on your shoulder, but you welcome its weight and warmth, forgetting for a moment that the rest of the team is on this jet.

“Mm, okay…” You bring the blanket underneath your chin, only this is when you realize it’s not a blanket.

You tilt your head down to look at the fabric, then lift your eyes back up to see Hotch isn’t wearing his jacket.

His jacket.

Oh my God.

He sees the realization on your face and smiles, but instead of commenting on it, he turns to start waking the others. As expected, Rossi didn’t sleep, but Reid is still quite frankly passed out. Emily, JJ, and Morgan are coming around, though, and upon seeing that, you scramble to get Hotch’s jacket off of you, catching Rossi’s eyes in the process.

“You were cold,” Rossi says with a shrug, and a smirk.

You shouldn’t be mortified, but you are.

After folding Hotch’s jacket over your arm, you wait until your boss is sitting back down to hand it to him with a raised eyebrow. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome,” he says, thinking nothing of it as he shrugs it back over his shoulders. When he sees you’re still looking at him like that, he adds, “You were getting goosebumps. Would you have rather I let you freeze to death?”

Is he making a joke? You wonder, with the corners of his lips tugging upward. You shake your head, saying nothing else.

No wonder you slept so soundly.

+++

Upon arriving at the local police station, you’re all met with the usual: desperate officers who want you to snap your fingers and find the unsub ASAP.

And, they always look pretty displeased when you admit that you need time.

You swear sometimes people think the BAU is made up of sorcerers who can see the future and not regular humans who are just trained to recognize and predict behaviors.

Regardless, they’re happy you’re here.

“I was shocked myself when I made the connection,” Sheriff Ansley says, nodding to the pictures of the other seven victims, with Nathan and Jonathan at the end. “Those others were so spaced out, we just… Oh, it sounds bad, but when you’ve got other problems coming across your desk, they can all blur together.”

“We understand,” you say, trying to be the comforting one here, even though you’re feeling more and more like time doesn’t exist and that you’ve entered a third dimension.

A few hours of sleep and jet lag can really do a person in. Especially with the added stressor of Hotch standing next to you.

“Morgan, L/N, I need you to come to the crime scene with me,” Hotch says, and your eyes widen the moment your name slips from his mouth. Is he trying to mess with you? You figured after covering you up on the jet, he’d make a conscious effort to be as far away from you today as possible. Just because Morgan is also coming along doesn’t mean much. Profilers aren’t dense.

“Prentiss and I will go talk to the victim’s family,” Rossi says, nodding to Emily.

Reid says nothing, too engrossed by the pictures and details tacked up on the board. Though, after a moment, he says, “I need a map of the town. Maybe the region. Yeah...the region.”

A little confused, Sheriff Ansely replies, “We’ll get that for you.”

JJ notices the confusion and says, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

With everyone focused, you pile into a vehicle with Hotch and Morgan up front (you purposefully sit in the back) to head to the crime scene. Sheriff Ansley leads in her car, and about two seconds in, you wish you would’ve thought to ride with her.

“You know I have to ask,” Morgan begins, a shit-eating grin on his face as he looks over at Hotch. “What did you get up to last night? Get lucky?”

Hotch looks ready to backhand his fellow agent. “No.”

Morgan keeps going. “Come on, Hotch, it’s about time you get some.”

“For now, I’ll stick to the case.”

Morgan huffs, giving in, which you think is for the better. But when Morgan turns his head to look out the window, Hotch catches your eyes in the rearview mirror.

You sink as far down as you can in your seat, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your smile.

+++

You have no clue what you were expecting when you pictured the outside of Jonathan King’s house, but it wasn’t this.

A few police cars are already here, their men having already gone in to look around, but not touch anything. A few cars look tiny next to the monster that is the mansion you’re looking at.

“I thought this was a small town,” you mutter, closing the car door.

“Jonathan’s daddy was the owner of the only car dealership in town,” Sheriff Ansley explains. “They were big money.”

“I can tell,” you shake your head. “Definitely don’t have houses like this where I’m from.”

The sheriff chuckles. “Yeah. Before they built it, this was a wide open field. Tiny house. Space for all kinds of animals. Had a red barn out there,” she points off to where a gigantic pool complete with a rock waterfall is.

You hum. “A lot changes for the worse sometimes when money comes in.”

She looks at you then, almost like she respects you a little more now. Which isn’t unusual. The sheriffs in small towns don’t exactly like having to call the FBI in for help. Some do it rather begrudgingly. It’s more often than not that you find yourself being the bridge between big city and small town.

“Any signs of forced entry?” Hotch asks the first officer he sees and they shake their head.

“Nothing. But this damn mansion is so big…” He trails away, looking around at it all.

“I understand,” Hotch sighs. “If you find anything, let us know.”

“Hotch,” you speak up, nearly tapping his shoulder, but you quickly pull your hand back. “If this unsub is a woman, then it’s likely there won’t be any forced entry.”

The sheriff nods. “She has a point.”

“How?” Morgan asks, eyebrows furrowed over his sunglasses.

“Seriously?” You deadpan. “Do you want me to demonstrate?”

He catches on, and drawls, “Go right ahead,” prompting you to shove his shoulder.

“Focus,” Hotch scolds. “I hear you. He probably let her in.”

“Did Jonathan have a reputation of being a player?” Morgan asks. “Take a lot of girls out on dates? Get serious with a lot of them but never marriage-serious?”

Sheriff Ansley nearly snorts. “Oh, yeah. He was the town’s bachelor. New woman every week. Swore every single one was The One.”

You nod slowly. “He must’ve picked up the wrong one, then.”

“Evidently so,” she replies quietly, leading the three of you into the house.

Hotch opts for looking around the house with the sheriff while you and Morgan go to Jonathan’s bedroom.

And he’s still lying there. Wonderful.

You nearly gag, but stop yourself. You’re never going to get used to this shit. At least there isn’t blood literally drenching the walls like that other case.

Moving on.

“Looks like it’s the exact same MO,” Morgan comments, idly checking the body for anything the officers might’ve missed.

You dig around on Jonathan’s dresser, drawers, nightstand, everywhere.

“This guy was seriously rich,” you mutter, picking up a few really expensive watches. Upon opening one drawer, you literally find a wad of cash. At least two thousand dollars, stuffed in between pairs of socks. “The unsub didn’t take this?” You hold up the cash to Morgan.

“She must not’ve spent time here,” he concludes. “Doesn’t look like she took any trophies either.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you say, then crack a smile. “So you’re on my side then, huh?”

He turns his head, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“It’s a woman.”

Morgan chuckles. “Yeah, kiddo. I’m on your side. This has woman all over it.”

“Kiddo,” you groan, tossing the cash back in the drawer. “Any clothes from the unsub lying around? I’m guessing she’s smarter than that.”

“Yeah, there’s nothing,” Morgan says, going into the bathroom. “The window in here is locked tight.”

“I really doubt she forced her way in,” you say. “He probably took her out on a date, brought her inside willingly, and didn’t realize until it was too late that he should not have messed with her.” You pause. “Does this place have security cameras? It looks expensive enough to have them. We should get Garcia to get the footage.”

You’re too busy rambling to see that Morgan has walked back into the room, only this time he’s eyeing you carefully.

You turn your head, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Listen, I know these guys were…” He gestures rather than saying it.

“Rapists?” You say tiredly, placing your hands on your hips. No need to be afraid of saying the word around you. You’ve heard it plenty and said it yourself more times than you want to. “What about it?”

“I just wanted to say I know how good it can feel to see someone like that taken down,” Morgan says slowly. “And then you feel guilty for feeling good.”

You set your jaw, hating he’s right. You’ve yet to admit it to yourself, though. Isn’t it wrong? On multiple levels? You’re supposed to catch the bad guys, not relate to them so much that you understand why they’re doing this.

“And I know it can also bring up some bad memories, but, I’m here for you,” he says, keeping his eyes on yours. “I mean that.”

“Thanks, Derek,” you whisper. “It does...kinda feel good, but...I know it’s the wrong way to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Make a difference,” you shrug. “If I killed Trevor, I’d be taking the short route. That’s why I’m here. To make a bigger difference.”

He smiles then, gently. “And you’re doin’ it. Trust me.”

You let yourself smile, too. “Thanks. Now let’s get back to work before boss man comes in here telling us to focus,” you mimic Hotch’s voice and tone at the end, making yourself laugh as you turn back around.

And that’s when you have the absolute shit scared out of you because Hotch is standing there, frowning at you. Oh, he totally heard that.

“Sorry, sir,” you murmur, knowing you should apologize while you’re ahead.

Thankfully, to save yourself from embarrassment, Morgan’s phone starts ringing. He pulls it out and puts it on speaker.

“Talk to me, babygirl.”

“All of our other victims? Yeah, they were accused of rape, too. Four of them were acquitted or blatantly dismissed, three of them with such short sentences it probably felt like a vacation.”

You roll your eyes. “Sounds about right.”

Hotch eyes you, but talks to Garcia. “Get us a list of anyone in this region that fits those same criteria.”

“Already done, and it is heading to JJ as we speak.”

Morgan shakes his head at how good she is. “Oh, and check and see if you can get the footage from Jonathan’s security cameras at his house. Y/N thinks he should have some.”

“She’s correct, I just found them,” Garcia says, no doubt through a smile. “I’ll send the footage over and start looking.”

“We should get back to the station and go over those names, see if we can narrow it down at all,” Hotch says. “Hopefully Garcia can get us something from that video.”

+++

Garcia gathers one thing from the video, but it’s not anything to do with facial recognition.

For now, it’s obvious this woman is a strong suspect because she’s the only one seen entering and leaving the house (she walked out right through the front door with her head down) in the window of time that Jonathan was killed. But...

“There’s not a clear shot at all,” Garcia says. “Because they’re… How do I put this? His lips are basically attacking her face and it’s a miracle they made it inside instead of just going at it against the door.”

Morgan snorts out a laugh, Reid (who is working on connecting the nine victims further) goes impossibly red, and Hotch shakes his head.

“Well, we’ve got a physical description now,” Rossi says, trying to see the bright side before Hotch loses it, you’re sure.

“Yeah, but it’s just a young brunette in a dress and heels,” Emily argues. “That’s nowhere near narrow enough.”

“Brown hair is actually the second most common hair color,” Reid supplies. “The most common is black, but they’re usually lumped together in studies. A recent one found that 84% of the world’s population has dark hair. But, of course, women are more likely to color their hair than men—”

“We got it, kid,” Morgan says gently, tapping Reid’s shoulder to get him to slow down.

“So,” you chuckle, “she has dark hair, which are the two most common hair colors.” Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a thought occurs to you. “Wait, can I see the video again?”

Garcia plays it again.

“Pause there,” you point to the woman’s hands. “See how she reaches for his wrist?”

“Where are you going with this?” Morgan asks.

It’s then that it occurs to you just where you’re going with this, and you try to hide your embarrassment.

“You can play it again.” After a few seconds, you get Garcia to pause again. “See? She tries to pin his wrists. She’s dominating. She’s the one in control there. See how his back is against the door, too? He didn’t start that way, she turned them around to get the upper hand.”

“So she’s confident,” Emily ponders.

“In sexual situations, at least,” you add. “Some women who are outwardly shy, but like to dominate in bed. It can be different for everyone.”

“So you’re saying we’re looking for a super quiet, shy woman?”

“Not necessarily. Given that she has had enough confidence to kill these nine men without anyone noticing, I’d be willing to bet she’s pretty confident now. It could be a newfound confidence, or she honestly could have always been this way. A lot of Dominatrixes are pretty confident outside of the bedroom, too. Maybe not in the same way, but they are. Just comes with the territory.”

“A territory you seem to know a lot about,” Morgan teases, poking your shoulder.

You scoff. “You wish.”

But your eyes find Hotch’s and you feel another rush go through you, all the way to your toes. You burn every single time you’re underneath his gaze. Averting your eyes quickly back to the screen, you try to shift in your seat in the least noticeable way.

It’s not like he doesn’t already know. If he seriously doesn’t know or at least have some suspicion, then you might suggest he get a new profession.

Redirecting the attention back to the case, Hotch turns to Sheriff Ansley and says, “We’re ready to give a preliminary profile.”

The team stands to head out to the main area. You and Hotch are the last two left, which you’re sure he did deliberately.

“You should take the lead,” he says, and you swear, your heart falls out of your ass.

“What?” You’ve never taken the lead on a profile in your life. Why would he just spring this on you right now? On this case, of all cases? Seriously?

He doesn’t change his mind. “I trust you to get all of the details right. And we’ll jump in when needed, but I want you to take the lead.”

You’re shaking your head. “Hotch, I haven’t—”

“It’s an order,” he says, voice firm. “Understood?”

“Yes.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes what?”

Bastard. He did it again. “Yes sir.”

And your jaw nearly ends up on the floor when he smirks, a quiet, “Good girl,” falling from his lips.

Damn him. Now you’re supposed to give the profile? How bad would it be to let Emily take over so you can jump Hotch in the nearest supply closet?

You never find out how bad it would be because Hotch walks out and thanks the officers for being there, and introduces you, giving you zero time to recover.

“Thank you so much for your patience,” you say first. “The unsub we’re looking for is, in fact, a woman, confirmed by some security footage that was recovered from Jonathan King’s home. She’s a brunette, average height, attractive, and she’s confident. She’s killed nine times and hasn’t been caught yet, so she’s likely to be gaining confidence.”

An officer raises his hand, so you nod to him. “No offense...but your description fits practically every girl in this town -- I guess, besides the killing part.”

“That’s what we figured,” you admit. “Unfortunately, this kind of unsub is the hardest to catch. They don’t stand out at all, they blend right in. It’s partly why they go so long without being caught.”

“But they’re not impossible to catch,” Rossi adds, helping you out with the annoyed officers. “This unsub has already killed twice in a week, which could be a sign that she’s beginning to devolve. When they’re in this state, they are easier to catch because they tend to get reckless and forget things, change patterns, which is what we need.”

“So we need to keep a tight lid on this for now,” JJ says. “The media isn’t going to cover this at all tonight because we need our unsub to believe she’s still getting away with it.”

Another officer pipes up. “If the news isn’t gonna report this, how can we keep people safe?”

It’s a valid question. It’s one that you always get when you decide to not have media coverage.

“Keep an eye out. And don’t take any women home,” Morgan offers.

But that doesn’t seem good enough, because the same officer says, “All due respect, sir, but asking a man not to do that is like asking him not to breathe.”

The amount of laughter and you got that right’s that you hear from the other male officers makes your stomach twist. Morgan’s small laugh makes you want to smack him.

“Well, try to refrain for a while,” you state plainly, bringing the focus back around. “If you can help it.”

Another officer says, “I don’t know if I can…” and clicks his tongue mockingly.

“Well, this unsub targets rapists,” you say loudly, placing emphasis on the word. “So if you aren’t a rapist, consider yourself safe and sound.”

That causes an uncomfortable silence to settle over the room, but you could care less. It should make them uncomfortable. It’s unfair that it’s something women have to just live with. It’s bullshit.

Emily and JJ share a look with you, the only kind women can understand. Makes you want a drink. And it’s not even late afternoon yet.

Rossi helps draw things to a close while Hotch practically stares you down. Not subtle at all. You feel it, and for that reason, you don’t look at him. But he’s hard to ignore.

Especially when he walks over and says, “I need to have a word with you,” and walks past you, giving you no choice but to follow.

Well, you could choose not to follow, but you’re not so sure you want to take your chances there. Not that the thrill of the idea doesn’t get you all excited, but now is not the time or place.

So, with your heart racing and your annoyance showing clearly on your face, you follow your boss to an office at the end of the hall. He’s waiting for you, already inside, and he doesn’t look happy.

What’s new?

He shuts the door behind you, his arms crossing over his chest again.

After a few moments of silence, you raise your eyebrows. “What?”

“Don’t be a brat,” he says sternly, causing your stomach to twist for different reason. “And don’t say what. You know what.”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t, actually. That’s why I asked.”

He looks ready to absolutely devour you in the worst way possible, yet he doesn’t move. “I understand that after the case in your hometown—”

“God, why does everyone keep bringing that up?” You’re two seconds away from throwing your hands in the air like a child, but you stop yourself after the look he gives you.

“Because it just happened three weeks ago,” he replies, voice even. “And because it took a toll on you. That’s not something to be ashamed of, it’s just a fact.”

“You’ve never been up my ass about cases like this, not until you found out.”

“My knowing has not changed anything,” he says, and you think he might mean it. “And last I checked, this is your first case with a female unsub attacking rapists.”

You could punch him. You really want to punch him. “What’s your point?”

“I need to know that you can be objective,” he says. “I know you relate to our unsub. I know how easy it was for you to put yourself in her shoes. You did it almost immediately. I bet you knew it was a female unsub within the first few seconds of the debriefing.”

He’s right. Dammit. “And?”

“I need you to be on our side of this case.”

“I am!”

“Are you?” He counters. “If you knew who this unsub was, would you turn her in?”

“Are you suggesting—”

“Hypothetically.”

“Yes! For God’s sake, yes, I would turn her in.”

“Are you being honest with me?”

“What is wrong with you today?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you have something else to say you might as well say it while we’re alone.”

He doesn’t move. Or say a single word.

So much for that.

“Look,” you uncross your arms, tired of fighting already. It’s exhausting on any normal day, but pair it with jet lag and it being between you and the man you obviously care for, and it’s a million times more exhausting. “Yes, I get where this unsub is coming from. Honestly, if it was legal and if there was a market for a job like what she’s doing, I probably would’ve gone into it instead of the FBI. But there isn’t. Because killing people is illegal. So I decided to go to the FBI to make a bigger difference— a real difference. Yes, I relate to the unsub. I get why she’s doing what she’s doing. But just because I get it doesn’t make it right.”

“Good,” he nods. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I shouldn’t have even had to say it.”

The room falls silent.

Hotch sees it then, that look in your eyes. During the profile, it was all determination and confidence. When you entered the office, it was bratty and defiant. 

Now, it’s hurt.

That’s all he sees. And frankly, that’s all you’re feeling.

Since he doesn’t say anything else, you take it upon yourself to say, “Excuse me,” and join the team in the conference room with only one question on your mind.

Does he not trust me at all?

Next chapter