#guess i should look into what all offices are up for grabs in my state/district and see whos running with what platform

[solarpunkani]

With genuine respect, re: recent ask abt this, the reason a third party candidate won't work is not about numbers and more about the electoral college. Electors commit to vote for their party nominee OR in some states whoever wins the state; tmk there are no third-party electors (certainly not enough to win FPTP) and neither party would replace/challenge an incumbent no matter how unpopular they are. Unfortunately, the two-party system is gonna result in one of two parties, and that simply cannot be fixed with a top-down one-ballot candidate in the next nine months.

There is hope though! It just takes time, just like with environmental reform!! We need a large progressive presence in Congress first, so that we can get national ranked choice voting/get rid of the EC, plus a few other changes. We need more progressives to both vote AND run at all levels/offices and every opportunity, and to continue this high-energy protesting and involvement. It might take 8-12 years (just 2-3 federal elections!) but it is absolutely doable, if we buy ourselves more time this year to be able to make those changes at all in the future.

ugggghhhhh I completely forgot about the electoral college you're totally right about that.

With that in mind yeah you're 100% right. It's just like. God. It feels like 90% of the people running blue for any level are just so increidbly.... basic. Basic at best, pro-genocidal and stagnation fans at worst.

Still, I wouldn't be a solarpunk blog if I didn't have hope for a better brighter future. But goddammit I'm impatient.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Not My Yacht" *Chapter 4*

Part 3

Part 5

Mwahahahahaha!

Okay so-- obviously, this story is taking place in an alternate universe. Clearly. I need you all to follow me along on this journey, suspend your disbelief, yeah? I did my best at a backstory, I went over it for a long time. I'm pretty sure every detail is covered. If not, I apologize, let me know and I'll fix it.

I think this is gonna be one hell of a ride, people. I'm super excited, are you?!

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

(should I keep tagging @storiesofsvu ? I'm gonna do it until she says for the love of god STOP. 😂)

--------------------------

There was a very long, awkward pause before Rafael finally spoke:

“....What did you just say?”

“Please don’t make me repeat it,” You bit your lip as you looked at him with very sad, still very frightened eyes.

“I...I don’t…how...why...HOW is this man your husband?!”

“I...Well, he--” You muttered.

“He’s a PSYCHOPATH, Y/N!”

“Well he wasn’t when I met him!” You screamed unintentionally. You hadn’t meant to be that aggressive, but your instincts kicked in whenever a man yelled at you now.

“...I mean, I guess he was but you just said it yourself: He’s smart. He’s slick. He was sweet and charming and handsome, and I just-- we just-- “

“He seduced you,"

"I fell in love with him, Rafael! Jesus, it wasn't a one night stand. We were in love," You took a shaky breath. "Look I was a young, naïve, impressionable broke college student, okay? And he-- he was kind, and generous, and--”

“I don’t, I can’t have this conversation with you,” He started to walk into his secret room to get your clothes so that you could leave.

“No, please Rafael,” You grabbed his arm. “Please, let me explain? Please,” You pleaded with him.

“....Fine,” He sighed, unable to ignore your whimpers and tears.

“He wooed me, he gave me everything and anything I asked for. He lived in this giant loft uptown, I thought he was amazing. Looking back on it now, the loft was probably owned by people that he murdered and he’d kill people to get things I wanted, but I didn’t know that at the time!” You paced the floor while thinking out loud.

“And then when he asked me to marry him, I was ecstatic! I thought it was going to be my fairy tale ending before I was even 25, I didn’t know--” You suddenly stopped pacing and stopped talking, the memories of that period in your life coming back to you in disturbing waves.

Rafael saw how much you were in distress telling your story. Even though he was disgusted that you were ever intimate with this lunatic, he couldn’t help but feel for you. He stood up and took your hand, leading you to the leather couch in the corner of the room. He sat you down and motioned for you to continue if you could, while still holding your hand.

“I didn’t know that he was just trying to get me to be-- ‘his’, so that he could do whatever he wanted to me,” You barely got the words out while you still burned holes into the carpet with your eyes.

“Oh God, Oh-- Y/N,” He took your other hand but didn’t force you to look up; he wanted you to tell the rest on your own time.

“After we got married he started hitting me for stupid stuff like putting the dishes in the dishwasher wrong, or folding the towels the wrong way. And then he’d--” You felt tears catch in your throat. “He’d make me have sex with him whenever he wanted,”

“Carino,” Rafael instinctively put his arms around your shoulders, pulling you closer towards him. He just wanted to comfort you, he didn’t want to think about what else that monster did to you.

“I--- I didn’t know what to do. I had just graduated, he was paying for my law school, he was paying for everything I had in my life. I felt like I was trapped, so I just-- I put up with it,” You tried not to cry, you swore a long time ago you wouldn’t waste any more tears on him. But right now you couldn’t help it.

“But then it started getting worse,” You finally raised your head to look at him. “He started beating me when he was angry over other things, sometimes within an inch of my life,”

Rafael didn’t know what to say, he knew you weren’t finished so he just kept rubbing the back of your palms with his thumb comfortingly.

“I finally knew either I had to leave, or die,” You got your tears under control as you remembered how strong you had to be back then. And ever since. “So one day when he was on one of his ‘business trips’-- which now I know were probably killings or heists or worse, I packed everything I could fit into two suitcases and I just-- I left,” You sighed.

“I didn’t have anywhere to go. My parents live in Florida, I didn’t really have friends at school, which wouldn’t have mattered anyway because without him paying for it I had to drop out. I slept on the streets for months!” You unconsciously moved closer into Rafael’s chest as you relived the horror.

“Finally I-- I did something that I never thought I would do in a million years, but I was desperate Rafael. You have to understand that,” You looked at him with a terrified look, like he was about to kick you out of his office for real after what you were about to say.

“I do,” He put a hand to your face. “Whatever you’re going to say, I understand,”

“Okay,” You nodded softly. “I...I became an escort,” You turned away from him and his soft hand on your cheek. Even though he just assured you he understood, you could feel the judgement.

“Not a hooker,” You quickly added, like that made it any better. “An escort-- for older, wealthy gentlemen callers,”

“Ah,” He nodded. “I see,”

“...I changed my name, cancelled all my credit cards and got new ones in my new name. And I started making pretty good money. Enough for a small apartment and food anyway,” You continued. “I had accepted the fact that my life was going to be just what it was at that time-- living my life out as a whore,”

“You’re not, and never were and never will be, a whore Y/N,”

“Rafael, please,” You shook your head with a sarcastic laugh. “Maybe I was a fancy whore, but still one nonetheless,”

“No you--” He didn’t want to get into female derogatory slurs with you right now, so he just let it go. “...Okay, continue,”

“So then I just-- got lucky,” You played with the buttons on his shirt once again nervously. “I shouldn’t say lucky, that’s awful to say about a person’s death,”

“...Death?”

“Yeah um,” You picked harder at the buttons. “A regular of mine, Bartholomew Ridgewood. He was a very wealthy stockbroker who had no family or friends, just-- me, apparently,” You shrugged. “He had a heart attack and died, and then his estate contacted me to let me know that he had left his entire fortune and penthouse to me,”

“Seriously?” Rafael almost laughed at the crazy notion.

“I know right?!” You suddenly exclaimed. It really sounded like something out of a soap opera. “So, I used the money to immediately enroll back in law school, and got a job with Rita, and-- here I am,” You motioned towards yourself, in a ‘ta da’ fashion.

“So, let me get this straight,” Rafael began going over detail of your story in his head. “You actually have a huge fortune, but you’re still going to law school, AND holding down a job?”

“...Yeah,” You pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Why?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Why?” You half laughed. “Well for one, because I don’t ever want to have to depend on a man’s wealth to survive ever again,”

“How would that even happen? Did you blow through it that fast?”

“No!” You suddenly stood up in anger, not believing he was questioning you now. “But it still scares me that something will happen to it, and I’ll be helpless again,” You crossed your arms. “And two, I want to help people like me, without a voice. And three, a recommendation from the District Attorney to any law firm is a very highly coveted accomplishment, Rafael,”

“Right,” He nodded. “So much more coveted than a lowly DA’s recommendation,”

“Are you-- Are you serious?” You laughed in disbelief. “Wha--How, HOW did you get to that from any point in my horror story?”

“I don’t-- I don’t know, maybe if I had known you sooner I could have protected you,” He rubbed the back of his neck. Why DID he say that? Why was he suddenly jealous that you had consciously chosen to work for Rita over him? Why did that even matter at this point?

“No, you couldn’t have,” You shook your head as you sat back down next to him. “I got away from-- By the way he went by Tommy Richmond back then, if you want to add that to your case file,” You pointed to the folder on the desk.

He stood up and walked over to it, pulling papers out of the folder and examining each identity he had found so far. Tommy was on the list from a few years ago. Eric Braverman was next on the list, then Eddie Warshack and then Billy Forsythe, before William Lewis. Eric’s ID was from Connecticut, Eddie from Pennsylvania, and Billy from Ohio.

“....So this shows that once he left New York he went south, but then came back up? That doesn’t make any sense,” He flipped through the papers as thoughts ran through his brain.

“Doesn’t it though?” You stood up and walked over to the desk. “He came back for me. He’s probably looking for me. Maybe he thought I fled the state and he went looking and came back,” Your face turned paler the more you thought out loud.

“I have to get out of here,” You suddenly decided out loud. You briskly walked to the secret room and pulled your clothes out with one minute left on the dryer, but you didn’t care. You were quickly putting them on when Rafael ran in after you.

“What? No, no you don’t,” He tried to stop you from unbuttoning his shirt. “Not now that I know he’s looking for you, you’re not going anywhere,”

“Look Rafael,” You stopped undressing and looked at him very seriously. “He’s smart, and he’s fast. I’ll bet you right now that he is doing some very specific research on anyone that was in that station the day you picked him up. And that includes you,”

“And why would he waste time on that if he’s looking for you?” Rafael raised a curious eyebrow.

“Well obviously if he thinks he’s at risk of being caught I’m the furthest thing from his mind right now! And he’ll study you all like lab rats, trying to figure out your fears and weaknesses, and prey on them. That’s exactly how he manipulated me,”

“So he researched you?”

“No, I don’t think he needed to back then! I just fell into his arms, no hard work on his end required,” You scoffed at your naivete as a young girl.

“....So why do you need to leave?” He crossed his arms.

“Because he’ll figure out we’re....involved,” You gestured between the two of you.

“Involved?” He half laughed. “Y/N we haven’t even-- we haven’t done anything but talk!”

“And yet I’m standing here in your office in only my underwear and your shirt like you said, a sex fantasy!” You gestured to your still scantily clad body.

That gave Rafael an idea.

Without warning his arms were suddenly around your waist, pulling you roughly into his awaiting mouth. You were shocked at first, but soon welcomed his tongue into yours as it began exploring your mouth. His hands slowly moved up your waist through his shirt, approaching your bare breasts. Before he could reach them, you pushed him away.

“What the FUCK are you doing?!” You yelled angrily. “Do you really think now is the appropriate time to do this?”

“Well, if Lewis thinks we’re ‘fraternizing’, shouldn’t we actually ‘fraternize’?” He gave you a smirk.

“He doesn’t think anything yet! I have no idea where he is, you have no idea where he is,” You sighed in frustration.

“I do know where he is,” He traced your palms with his finger sensually. “He’s locked in the tank at the station,”

“...Really?” You were suddenly feeling much safer, and arousal quickly came along with it.

“Really,” He nodded, cupping your head in his hands by your jawline so his thumbs ran against the side of your temples. He gently massaged them, making you relax even more.

“...And you’re not just trying to have sex with me so I won’t run off on you?” You did your best to keep your wits about you, but it was growing increasingly difficult with the smell of his cologne wafting from his hands into your nose. It was intoxicating.

“Maybe I am,” He chuckled, “Or maybe, I’m just acting on things I know we’ve both felt since yesterday on that boat,”

“That’s assuming a lot, counselor,” You bit your lip as you tried desperately not to look down at his mouth while he moved his face closer.

“Is it, though?” His smirk grew more devilish as he continued to close the gap between your lips.

“I…” You tried thinking of anything but his tongue inside you, but it was a losing battle. “....Screw it,”

You grabbed his head and thrusted it against your burning lips as your tongues once again began to do a tango in between your mouths. His hands moved upwards quicker this time, and this time you let them. You jumped onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he fell against the desk to support your weight. He picked you up and carried you to the leather couch, laying you down and crawling on top of you while never removing his mouth from yours.

You were both so happy and so enthralled with each other you didn’t notice the door was cracked open, and two dark eyes peering behind it.

[winterscaptain]

faith.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: we start to heal, kids! if there’s interest, i’ll write up the outtakes (wink wink) from this and post it sometime soon. your feedback keeps me going - please tell me what you think! also, if you haven’t already check out the inspo blog for ajf! (here’s the nsfw one, too - but it's definitely 18+ only!)

reality check (part one) | unimaginable (part two)

words: 3.5k warnings: implied sex, language, miscarriage/pregnancy mention

summary: healing is bittersweet.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“Everything looks fine down here. Since it’s been about four days, your preliminary recovery is finished. The key now is to let your body rest and reset.” Brienne removes her gloves and tosses them in the trash. “You can try again in six weeks, if you want, but no penetrative sex for two full weeks.” She washes her hands and points at you, then Aaron, with wet hands. “I mean it.” 

You share a look with Aaron while Brienne turns around for paper towels. His lips quirk into a wry, almost sheepish, smile.

Turning back to her, you ask, “Is there anything I should look out for or do differently or anything?”

Please tell me there’s something I can control. 

She shakes her head. “You’re doing everything perfectly. Keep an eye out for any heavy bleeding or anything that doesn't feel quite right in the next couple of weeks.” A warm hand lands on your shoulder and another reaches across you for Aaron, who stands and meets her in the middle, capturing her fingers in his palm. “I have faith in you both. I know this one was a little unexpected on all fronts, but if you want to do this for real, I will make sure I’m doing everything in my power to give you all the support and resources I can.” 

Aaron’s brown eyes are soft and grateful under his knit brow. “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate it.” 

She snorts and squeezes his hand before letting him go. “Oh, Aaron. I have a feeling you and I will know each other for a long time - Brienne is just fine.”

+++

Aaron slides into bed beside you and wraps you up in his arms. “Hey.” 

“Hi.” You lace your fingers between his where his hand rests across your abdomen. “How’re you doin’?”

“I should ask you the same thing.” 

You turn in his arms, and he gathers you to his chest while you throw one leg over his hip and wiggle the other between his thighs. You just want to be as close as possible to soothe the ache in your chest - it’s working. “I’m okay. My bits have stopped screaming at me, so that’s an improvement.” For now, you ignore the fact that he’s avoided your question. Sometimes it's easier to let Aaron think he’s won - for a while, at least. 

“Indeed, it is,” he says through a laugh. “I more so meant the other thing.” 

“What, like my emotional state?”

He shrugs around you. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“I feel like there should be...something to look forward to. There’s still a part of me that’s really excited, but there’s nothing to be excited about.” You shake your head, burrowing further into his chest. “It’s hard to explain.” 

His hand rubs up and down your spine, firm and slow. “Makes perfect sense. I think I’m right there with you.” 

It’s quiet for a moment. 

“I’m so sorry, Aaron.” 

You can feel him shake his head and he scoots impossibly closer to you. There can’t be a single inch of skin he isn't touching, or at least that’s what it feels like. “There’s nothing you need to apologize for. Nothing to be sorry for. Sometimes, things just happen.” 

Your eyes close, exhausted, and you push back the thoughts that have been swirling around in your head for the last three days. 

Yeah, sometimes things just happen. Getting stabbed nine times in your home by a career serial killer? Just happens. Your wife getting murdered by that same serial killer, perhaps? Yeah, that just happens. Or maybe your best friend ‘dying’ and then coming back to life? Sure. 

Maybe a couple massive losses in a couple horrible years just aren’t enough. 

What’s next? 

I’ll take ‘Losing a Kid for 1600, Alex.’

“Hey.” He taps the middle of your back with his hand to get your attention. “I can hear you thinking.” 

You grumble, “Sorry,” and turn over, your back pressed firmly to his chest. 

“We’re okay, sweetheart. We’re fine. Jack is healthy, you’re healthy, I’m healthy. We’re getting married.” You snort, and he laughs. “Alright. We’re getting married...eventually.” That gets a giggle out of you, and he continues. “We’re looking for a house we can actually afford because of our fulfilling and important jobs. We have one fantastic son already.” He kisses your shoulder. “We’re in good shape.”

Well, when he puts it that way…

He pulls you close, nuzzling into your neck and running fingers up your ticklish sides. You squirm and a little peal of laughter leaves you. “I’ve got you on all of those, don’t I?”

You roll your eyes, and you know he saw it in the mirrored closet doors on the wall across from you. “If you think I’m going to argue with the youngest AUSA in District history, you’re nuts.” 

A satisfied hum leaves him, and he slips his hand under your shirt, tracing over your skin. “That’s probably a good idea.” Kisses find their way across your shoulders as his hands hike your shirt farther up your body. 

“Aaron,” you whine. “Brienne said no sex.” 

You watch him deliberate in the mirror, making play at deep thought. “...No. She said no penetrative sex, if my memory serves.” His hands wander down to the edge of your underwear and you squirm against him despite yourself. He drops his lips to the sensitive skin behind your ear, making you shiver when he whispers, “And my memory always serves.”

“Damn you.” 

He grins and ducks under the covers, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he settles between your thighs.

+++

The following Monday is your first day back at work, and it’s more than a little difficult to be normal. Aaron had only taken the day after to make sure he was available to drive you to and from Brienne’s office for your procedure, but you’d taken the rest of the week. You’re not sure what Aaron told them - maybe a flu or a stomach bug or maybe you “just needed some personal time” - but you imagined everyone would ask you about it anyways. 

Aaron presses a kiss to your cheek before the elevator opens. You make sure you’re watching when he falls into Hotch Mode as the doors part before you. It’s difficult to hold back your fond smile, but you manage. 

You set your things down at your desk, noting the small purple orchid and note sitting by your desktop. JJ turns in her chair to face you. “Hey! How was your visit with Dean?” 

Oh. That works. Good one, Aaron.

Dean had moved to New York to start with a new brokerage house at the beginning of last summer, and you’d been meaning to get up there to see him. It’s a highly plausible lie. It also helps that Aaron could sell water to a fish. 

Well, he is a lawyer. 

“It was great. Nice to take some time, you know?” You smile at her and you’re sure it doesn’t look quite right when her eyes narrow just a touch. Settling at your desk, you pick up the note addressed to you and open it. 

A flower for my flower :) I know. I’m gross. Sue me. 

(Or don’t...I’ll use my J.D. if you do.)

I love you. - AH

p.s. Don’t worry - I’ll water it when you're away. 

“Conference room in five minutes - Garcia’s got something for us.” Emily strides past you all on the bridge and you grab your tablet. 

Derek offers you a hand and you take it, tucking yourself under his arm as you walk. “What’s the orchid for?”

You shrug, covering how touched you really are by the gesture. “I dunno. I guess we just have a very thoughtful section chief.” 

+++

Inspired by Aaron’s cover story, you give Dean a call when you make it back to the hotel that night after an exhausting day scouting crime scenes that have every indication of a serial killer running rampant through the tiny Maine township.

“Hey babes! How are ya?” His chirp comes singing through the phone, and you find yourself smiling. 

“I’m alright.” 

You can almost hear his eyebrows raise. “Nope. Bullshit. What’s wrong with you?”

“Well, if anyone asks, I just got home from visiting with you for the week.” You start to unpack your go bag, hanging up a couple of your nicer work sets and setting up the bathroom the way you like it. 

“What’s Aaron lying about this time?” 

You laugh, but it tapers off quickly. “Well, as it happens, we had a really shit week last week and I had to take some time off.” 

He’s far more solemn when he speaks again, “That sounds like a little more than a ‘I got a flat tire on my way to work and my coffee was cold’ kind of shit week if you actually took time off.” He pauses. “Oh please don’t tell me you broke off the engagement.” 

“Not at all, not at all. Aaron and I are fine, but…” Going back and forth for a moment, you ultimately decide to tell him. Maybe it will get easier if you say it out loud. “I, um. I miscarried last week.” You’re proud of yourself for spitting it out with only a little stumbling, and Dean’s immediate concern brings tears to your eyes. 

“Oh God, honey. I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it at all?”

“I mean -” you take a deep breath. “No? I don’t know. I feel really shitty about it and we talked to Aaron’s mom and I know it isn’t my fault, but -” You huff, getting a little frustrated. “It was a girl, Dean. Aaron was so excited.” 

Something creaks in the background, and you know he’s just settled into the ancient armchair in the corner of his studio. “Don’t forget babe, you were excited, too. This isn’t just disappointing for Aaron, as much as you’d like to make everything about him.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek. He’s right. “I know, but -”

“No! No buts. This is a loss for both of you, and it's huge. Like, I dunno why people don’t talk about it more. Your kid is your kid is your kid if you wanted them and they didn’t make it. It doesn’t matter if you met her or not - you knew her and she was yours.” 

So, maybe the tears weren’t finished. Dean stops talking for a minute, and you know he can hear you sniffling. 

“Are you going to try again?”

And isn’t that the question of the hour?

“Well, we didn’t really try for this one, but I think we’ve caught the bug. I was planning on talking to Aaron about it a little more when I get home -”

“What’s the case?”

“Maine, probably a serial killer,” you answer promptly, getting right back on track. You’re used to Dean’s quick interruptions. Context is important to him and you’re always happy to provide it. “I don’t think we’re going to try, per se, but I don’t think we’ll be too concerned about being careful either. That way it’s a pleasant surprise instead of something stressful or disappointing, you know?”

“Ah,” he says. “A ‘fuck it and forget it’ approach. I dig it. And we all know Aaron can ‘fuck it’ with the best of them - you’ll have to tell me how the ‘forgetting it’ part goes.”

You laugh despite yourself, wiping at your cheeks. “How do you always manage to make me laugh?”

His laugh sounds from the other side of the phone, and it warms you from your fingers to your toes. You can almost forget its nearly five below zero outside. “What can I say? Laughter is the virtue of the gays.”

Your phone beeps at you, and it’s Aaron. “Hey Beanie, I gotta let you go. Aaron’s beeping in on me.” 

“Go get your tub’a humbus, babe. I’ll talk to you later.”

You switch calls, and raise the phone back to your ear. “Hey, love. What’s goin’ on?”

“I just missed you.” You can hear the sink in the background and you check the clock. 

Ah yes, dishes before bed because someone can’t sleep if there are dishes in the sink. 

“Hi!” Jack shouts from across the kitchen, and it makes you smile. “I miss you!”

“I miss you too, my loves! Though, Aaron, I must say -” you stop yourself. “Am I on speaker?” 

There’s a shuffle, and his voice sounds a lot closer when he replies. “Not anymore.” You know he’s smiling. 

You laugh. “I was going to say, it’s a lot easier to abide by our no-contact order when I’m five states away.”

“Don’t remind me.” You can’t see him, but he sounds at least a little pained. “We’ll be almost done with that by the time you get home, which is nice.” 

“Very nice, indeed.” Settling into bed, you pull the covers up to your chin. “I wish you were here with me.” 

You can hear him walk through the house, getting some distance from Jack. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. As nice as your new digs are, Chief Hotchner, sleeping without you when I’m on cases is really rough.” A light laugh leaves you. “I still haven’t gotten used to it.” 

He hums. “Well, I’ll make it worth your while when you get home, how’s that?”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you say with a smile. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“Get some rest. I love you more.” 

+++

Your first hunch was right - serial killer with a preference for blonde women in their forties. Luckily, those factors alone made for a nice, neat, narrow profile, and you were down to a small pool of suspects within days. 

It’s safe to say your heart isn’t in it. You’re almost relieved when JJ calls you out on the way to the medical examiner’s office.

“What’s going on with you and Aaron?” Her bright blue eyes stay on the road as she speaks, but you know she’s completely tuned into you. “You guys seem...off.” 

“We’re fine - the two of us, I mean.” You’re not sure how much to want to tell her. She isn’t Dean. You have to work with her every day, and as much as she’s your friend, it’s hard to talk about this when she already has a son of her own and another on the way. “There’s just, um, some stuff going on at home.”

She reaches across the console and takes your hand. “Whatever it is,” and she sounds like she knows. “You’re not alone.” 

You look over at her and squeeze her hand. There’s something mournful and heartbreaking about the set of her mouth, and something cold and sympathetic washes over you. “Really?”

She nods. “Ours was a girl.” Her confession is quiet and her eyes never once flicker from the road. 

Your voice is just as quiet, almost a secret. “Ours, too.” 

+++

Aaron’s waiting for you in the bullpen when you land in the afternoon two days later. Without shame, you sail through the glass doors and into his arms. It’s a treat - you never feel like you’re truly home until he’s holding you, and you usually have to wait until you get home. 

Derek teases you both on his way back to his desk, and you flip him off. Everyone’s in high spirits and you’re surprised their good moods have rubbed off on you, as well. 

Emily releases you all early with the promise you’ll have your after action reports into her by tomorrow afternoon. On the way home, you tell Aaron about your conversation with JJ, and he’s so moved by it, you’re almost brought to tears again. 

+++

The next morning, Aaron leaves early for a meeting at headquarters in DC. He kisses you goodbye, and in your half-asleep state you grab his tie and make an attempt to keep him right where he is. 

It doesn’t work, but you’re rewarded with a couple extra seconds of adoration, even with your morning breath. He chuckles against your mouth. 

“I gotta go, baby.” 

You whine incoherently at him, but he dodges your reaching hands and  whispers close to your ear as he brings the covers up over your shoulder. “You have another hour before you need to be up. Sleep. I love you.” Another kiss presses into your temple, and you hear the bedroom door close softly behind him. 

When another hour lapses (during which you dozed, quite thankful he told you to get some more sleep), you rise and get ready to head into the office. Jack’s up and getting dressed in his room while you get started in the kitchen. 

But, of course, there’s no need. Aaron has a breakfast spread ready and covered on the counter, with coffee just finished in the percolator. 

A god among men…

You pull your favorites from the pile, and set aside a few things for Jack. This cut your prep time in half at least, so you’ll have a little more time to eat and get settled before you have to be out the door. 

Assembling breakfast is easy, and you and Jack share space in relative silence. He looks up at you over his eggs and grins. Oh, how you love that boy. 

+++

When you get into the office, JJ’s reading a note, a little white envelope tucked behind it. You’re the first two in the office - a shocker, considering the two children between you, both under the age of ten. 

“What have you got there?”

She looks up and you can tell her eyes are a little misty. “Just a really sweet note someone left on my desk.” Waving it in the air, she asks, “Want to read it?”

You smile, setting your things down. “Only if you want me to.” 

She hands it over, and you take it, immediately recognizing Aaron’s handwriting. 

JJ- 

I wish we didn’t know the same loss, but I’m selfishly glad it’s you. Thank you for taking care of us so well. 

As always, anything for you. Just say the word. 

  AH

 “You know,” JJ says as you hand the note back to her. “He wasn’t like this before you.” 

You snort. “Don’t I know it.” 

“No, I’m serious. Even before you guys got together, you made him better. This -” she holds the note up and flicks it, “never would have happened eight years ago.” 

+++

By the time the next case is solved and everyone comes home, Brienne’s orders have expired. Jack is long asleep and you find Aaron in his office. His head is propped up on his hand, elbow on his desk, as he reads over some esoteric legal decision he’s decided to research as a hobby. 

Like he’s not busy enough. 

In fairness, he did defend his newest activity over dinner a few weeks ago. 

“What else am I supposed to do after Jack’s asleep and you’re out on a case? Watch TV? Go to bed early? No, I’m going to review legal decisions and take notes so I don’t bore you to death when you get home.”

“Aaron, you could never bore me to death.” 

“I wouldn’t take that bet.” 

He looks over his reading glasses, and his eyes light up. “Welcome home.” 

You offer him a warm smile as you cross his office and round his desk. “Hi.” 

Aaron drops his pen and pulls you close by your hips, and you lean on the side of his chair. “How was the case?”

“I would hate to spoil Emily’s report that will inevitably be about three hours late getting to your desk on Tuesday.” 

He raises his eyebrows. “I see.” His hand drops down to the outside of your thigh, and you swing a leg over his chair to straddle him, getting situated on his lap. “You know, I still have work to do.” 

“What? Is this Supreme Court decision more interesting than me?”

He shrugs, leaning forward again and picking up his file. His chin hooks over your shoulder, and you settle against his chest as he continues to read. With a sigh, he says, “You’re wearing an awful lot of clothes for someone who wants something specific.” 

You huff. “Oh, c’mon. It’s not like I’m getting any in here.” 

“You don’t know that.” His voice is even, almost distracted, but when you shift over him you can tell he’s affected. “Something might surprise you.” 

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

He takes another breath and, just like he’s done so many times before, says, “Sweetheart, I’m not suggesting anything.” 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @bauslut @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt @emmasjulixn @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @simsiddy @slickdickwitchbitch @jeor @synonymforlame @roses-and-grasses @bwbatta @capricorngf  @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @garcia-reid-lovechild @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas @joanofarkansass @infinity1321 @katiejuliana @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @spencerelds

[xsugarysweetsx]

Hey there love!! I saw that your box is open!!! I would love to request a one shot or headcanon (whatever you see it fits better) for Levi x reader. Maybe about the reader joining the survey corps a bit later than Levi and they don't like each other at first and they go from bickering to friends to lovers. Reader is cold and a badass but sweet. I know it's a bit weird so feel free to ignore it. Love you!!!!!

Please enjoy~🍰

*******************************************************

“Levi I’ll be making you squad leader for an elite group of soldiers and new recruits” Erwin explained as Levi stood before him

“Why exactly would you put me in charge eyebrow?” He said in his usual monotone as he leans against the wall of the office

“You’re one of the best people I’ve seen on the battlefield. Both your combat and ODM skills are impeccable. These new recruits,” a stack of 5 folders were set in front of Erwin “show potential and are higher than average”

Levi walks to the desk and takes a quick peek at all the files. With a sigh, he looks at Erwin looking for a reason to turn it down until he says

“I’ll trust your judgment. They’re in the training grounds if you’d like to meet them”

Levi gives him a silent nod and turns to leave his office. He lets out a heavy side and settles for meeting the new recruits. After all, that’s happened, he wouldn’t really think Erwin would make him Captain. Walking into the training grounds he spots the small group.

Only 4 people made the elite? Guess not everyone is cut out for this

As he walks over they take notice and line up for a salute. He was taken back by the gesture, not even he saluted the higher-ups. They were all males except one who stayed sitting. They had long hair so he could only assume they were female

“Y/N..Get up!“ one of them quietly scolded you. You sigh and stand giving the short man a solute “I-I’m sorry about my sister sir, she’s been a bit off lately“ 

So he had siblings for his first squad, interesting.

“State your names” are can one stated their names and place of birth

“Mathew Y/L/N, Shiganshina district, sir!” His silver eyes dart to you and you give him the same cold stare

“Y/F/N, shiganshina district,” you said monotone. If anything you reminded him of himself when he was forced into this. His first thought was to see just how promising you all were

“Grab your gear. I want to test your abilities” you all did as you were told and follow Levi to the Titan training area. As Levi walked he hears you and your brother speaking

“ please try and show some type of respect. I’ve heard what this guy is done he’s incredible”

“ I don’t care who he is, do you know why we're here that’s all I’m here for. Besides I’m the elder sibling you should be listening to me”

Whatever reason it was, you tick Levi off. You’re starting to give them a minor headache and he couldn’t exactly know why. Maybe because you reminded him so much himself. 

”Y/N, why don’t you go first and show us what you’re here for” he said sarcastically. Oh, so this is how it’s going to be? Fine. It was on!

“Yes sir, captain sir“ you said as you casually walk forward launching your gear. As the dummy titans raise you cut threw the sacks with ease. Your face unchanged and your skills do not go unnoticed.

Quick, agile, and focused. After taking care of 15 dummies in 2 minutes you land back and walk to your spot. From that day on you both had gone against each other

So your bitter rivalry began. Whatever was done by Levi, you didn’t next and tried to better him. Sometimes you would succeed at other times you would fail. Whatever the task was you both were at each others neck. The fire in your eyes and the annoyance in his.

Despite your differences, you could clearly see his skills.

For as much as we both argued, you both had so much in common. You’re both extremely skilled, fast, and quick witted. Erwin had you both team up for missions. You both begin to tolerate each other and it wasn’t so bad. Your insults to each other became inside jokes.

Soon enough you actually became good friends. That was something big for Levi, he only had two close friends so he didn’t take the title lightly. He saw you were loyal, trustworthy and overall very kind. There were times you found children during missions and he had no idea what to do.

You instantly had them in your arms and on their way to safety. The smile that graced your lips as you comfort the child was something he was never used to. You were always the badass chick every guy fell for but showed no emotion to anyone.

Aside from Erwin you had proved to him to be someone he also trusts. A bitter rivalry turned into friendship, no one saw it coming and yet it did. Now there was one occasions in which your relationship would change forever. The first being when your brother sacrificed himself to save you

You and never cried so hard in one day. You refused to see anyone, to eat or sleep. Levi came knocking on your door and asked to speak with you. He had food prepared for you and gave you two days off so your could rest.

“Don’t let his death be in vain. He wants to see you go far and that’s what you’re going to do.” He said it more as a command than as advice. That night he held you as you cried, soothing your pain as best he could. From that day forth your only became stronger and more willing to survive. 

-------

Over time your relationship grew. You both spent more time with each other, shared more with each other. He felt like home....safe, secure, someone you could trust with anything. You actually found yourself growing a crush for him. You knew him better than anyone and he knew you. He was selfless, caring and fearless. You not only admired it but you were attracted to it as well.

One night you sat outside under the night sky, watching the glittering, twinkles dance in the sky. Matthew always loved star gazing, and now you made a habit of doing it yourself. 

“Hey, it’s cold out here,“ you look back and see Levi as he approached you with some tea and a blanket “here.“ you take the tea 

“Thank you“ he wraps the blanket around you and takes a seat next to you “what are you doing out here?”

“I always made choices without regrets” he looks to you “you’re one choice I will never regret” he said seriously.

“Um, what do you mena you won’t regret-“ he stopped you in your tracks and kissed you. He held you close to him as he kissed you deeply. Every once of emotion poured into one motion he pulled back and rests his forehead on yours.

“I.... i’m not the best person you had in mind, you deserve someone who could give you the world. For are as hard as I made it for you in the beginning you changed me as well.” he said in a voice only you both could hear “ you’re so much more than a pretty face, you’re strong, intelligent, and kind hearted. If you let me I’ll give you my best I promise I’ll make it worth your while”

“Oh Levi...” you said on the verge of tears, you leap to him embracing him “ you’re more than you give yourself credit for. Sometimes it feels like I don’t have anyone here but you”

You both lean into another passionate kiss. The action making you feel warmer than before

*******************************************************

I hope this was okay❤️

[thebookreader12345]

Back Home for Christmas

Pairing: Will and Jay Halstead x Sibling! reader

Summary: Y/N Halstead, the youngest of the three siblings, surprises her brothers when she comes home from duty early

Requested: No

Warnings: mentions of being in the army

Word Count: 1,283 Words

“Um, excuse me? I’m looking for Dr. Halstead,” I tell a nurse, whose scrubs read Maggie Lockwood. 

“He’s upstairs in cardiology right now. Can I deliver a message for you?” Maggie asked.

“It’s actually kind of important.” I say and take off my hat, stuffing it in my coat pocket. “Could you just get him down here, please?”

Maggie sighed. “All right. Take a seat in the waiting room. I’ll page him down here in a minute.”

“Great. Thank you,” I state and turn around, heading back into the waiting room. I took a seat in one of the chairs, and my fingers tapped away at the arm rest. My feet also couldn’t sit still, drumming up and down on the floor. It was a habit I had picked up overseas. Never sit still. My eyes darted around the room, glancing at the people sitting in the chairs. To my right, there was a mother and her daughter. To my left, an older man with a cane resting against his leg. And right in front of me, two young men who looked very similar. Brothers, perhaps. That made me smile, seeing as it was the reason I was here in the first place.

“Y/N? Is that you?” someone asked. I looked up from my lap and saw that the person who spoke was the man I had come looking for. It was the oldest of my 2 older brothers, Will.

“Will,” I greet and stand up. Will smiled and rushed over, bring me in for a hug. The feeling of being in his arms brought back memories from the past few years, giving me comfort. For a few seconds, we just stood there, enjoying each other’s embrace. It had been too long since I’d seen or even hugged Will. The last time I saw him was 2 years ago, when I had re-deployed to Iraq.

“I thought you weren’t getting back until next month?” Will questioned when we finally pulled away from each other.

“Yeah, well, my boss decided to let everyone go home early this year,” I reply. “Besides, I didn’t want to miss spending Christmas with you and Jay again.”

“Speaking of Jay, have you seen him yet?” Will asked.

“No. Not yet. That’s why I’m here. I was hoping you could help me surprise him,” I say to Will. Out of my 2 brothers, I was closer to Jay. Growing up, Jay and I were always found together. When people saw us, they assumed we were twins because of how we acted around each other. But we’re really 2 years apart. He was the one who inspired me to join the U.S. Army. I wanted to be a hero just like him. And while he had decided to come back and become a police officer, I chose to stay and serve.

“Uh, sure,” Will spoke. “What were you thinking?”

“Something small, maybe with Adam and Hailey and everyone else he works with at the district,” I respond. I was very familiar with the people Jay worked with. I had met them countless times, and had even befriended them. Will’s co-workers, however, were new to me since Will was relatively new to the job, but I was certain I would get to know them soon. “Do you think Molly’s would be a good place?”

“Yeah. Definitely. I’ll contact the district and make sure everyone is there,” Will said.

“Great. Look, I promised dad I would go have lunch with him, so I’ll see you later,” I announce.

Will grinned. “All right. Oh, and Y/N? Welcome back.” 

.................................

Will had planned out everything just like he said he would. He invited the Intelligence Unit to Molly’s, and currently, all of us were here except for Jay and Will. I had just gotten a beer from Herrmann, and now I was heading over to Adam and Hailey.

“Y/N!” Adam shouted and side hugged me. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. Thanks for coming,” I say.

“We wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Hailey noted and took a swig of her beer. “When’s Jay supposed to be here?”

“Uh, Will is getting him now. They should be here in a few minutes,” I reply.

“So, how’s the job been?” Adam asked.

“Good. I enjoy it. I’ve earned myself a nickname,” I confess.

“Yeah? A good one, I hope,” Adam said.

I laughed. “Well, that depends on how you view it. According to my unit, I’m Bullseye. I guess I’ve got near perfect aim.”

“Maybe it runs in the Halstead genes. Jay’s our resident sniper,” Hailey disclosed.

“I believe it,” I murmur and take a gulp of beer, the bitter liquid burning the back of my throat. Just then, the door to Molly’s opened, and in walked my 2 older brothers, who were arguing playfully, probably about something stupid. As soon as Jay looked up, and his eyes met mine, a huge grin spread across his face. I set my beer down on the table and ran over to him, throwing myself into his arms. Jay held onto me tightly and spun me around, keeping his grip on me firm.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Jay mumbled into my hair as he set my feet back down onto the ground.

“I wanted to be back home for Christmas this year,” I exclaim. “And I didn’t want to go another second without seeing my brothers. Get in here Will.” Will didn’t hesitate and joined the hug, wrapping his arms around Jay and I. When I was younger, I didn’t really like being the youngest Halstead, and it didn’t help that I was the only girl. It always felt like my brothers were trying to control my life. But now, as I’ve grown up, I’ve realized that they were just trying to look out for me.

“Where are you staying while you’re home?” Jay asked me.

“I was thinking dad’s,” I answer.

“How about you stay with me?” Jay suggested. “Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

I smiled. “I’d love to. Now, go get yourself a beer. We’re celebrating tonight.”

................................

It had been a few days since I got home, and I was having a great time with my brothers. We had a tradition for Christmas where every year, we set up a Christmas tree at one of our apartments. Since I had been gone for 2 years and hadn’t had the chance to get a new place yet, and because I was staying at Jay’s, we decided to put the tree up at his place. Christmas music was playing throughout the apartment with Will and I singing loudly, much to Jay’s dismay, and Will and I were currently placing ornaments on the tree’s branches.

“All right. I’ve got the eggnog out,” Jay called from the kitchen. Both Will and I stopped what we were doing almost immediately and rushed into the next room. Jay had 3 mugs set on the counter, and each of us grabbed one.

“Here’s to Y/N being home for Christmas this year,” Jay chimed and held up his mug.

I smiled. “Here’s to a successful Halstead Christmas.” We all cheered and clinked glasses before taking a big gulp of our drinks. “So, who’s picking the Christmas movie we watch tonight?”

“I’m sorry, but if I have to watch Rudolph one more time,” Jay said.

“Hey! It’s a classic, and we’re going to watch it,” Will argued.

“Not if I get to the remote first,” Jay challenged and took off into the living room with Will following closely behind him. Right here, in this moment, something hit me. I had the best brothers ever, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

___________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @king-crockett​ @dreamingmanip @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @nevertoofarfromivar @anotherfan07 @giagma @mrspeacem1nusone @i-like-sparkly-things

[bbnibini]

Oh, Brother! (Lucifer ft. Baby Beel)

Summary:  Brotherly love comes with sacrifice, even if the said sacrifice greatly outweighs its benefits. (based on a headcanon request on our old AO3 request box)

Accompanying HC for this fic can be read here. This was originally a request. The old version is poorly formatted so I decided to repost this now that I am sliiiightly better at using tumblr. Anyway, enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I consider myself to be a rather self-sufficient person. It was a fruit of years of conditioning brought upon by my unique, personal circumstances. You may also say that it is my inclination to exhibit such behaviour because of my personality. But while I make long-winded introductions that segues even further from the point I was making, let me, as my brothers say, "cut to the chase":

I have no idea what in Devildom is going on. Sets of eyes looked at me expectantly, and I did as I usually do when I am dragooned into unforeseen…problems. 

"I see." I don't. But a white lie is what is required to quell the squall of chaos right now: debris of what looked like Leviathan's furnishings were strewn on the wet floor. Looking up from the living room where remnants of the ceiling were barely keeping itself intact, Henry freefell into my arms, a timely catch away from his imminent death. I turned to my pale brother, asking "Lotan?" in the calmest tone I can muster, and was only answered in more silence. I offered him Henry, which he took still looking down, and turned to problem #2. 

"MC, may I have him?" 

"I…" 

I stopped and talked over them. "I'm not angry. Let me hold Beel."

"It's all my fault!" 

Sigh. Why do they always do this? A surge of pain was felt on my temples, but I pretended not to feel it. "Why don't you help Levi clean up his room? Do you even know how to take care of a non-human child?" 

"No, but!" they argued again. I listened. "You're not going to punish Mammon, aren't you?" 

Punish is such a heavy word. I noticed how protective they were of my brother, almost to an extent where I feel like they perceive me in an unfavourable light. They were more carefree with them, but all yes and no's with me in comparison. I wouldn't say I'm envious. Rather, I'm baffled. Occasional pranks became the highlight (read: tragedy) of my day, often while I was poring over documents and settling political disputes on behalf of Diavolo. Partnered with Mammon and Satan, they were a force to be reckoned with; one I remembered being visibly annoyed by for interfering with my work. No one shall ever know that I might…have looked forward to those times. It was a puzzle to be pieced, an idle form of entertainment to guess which kind of tomfoolery they would attempt at me that they were foolish enough to think they would succeed in. Unfortunately, any victory they may have celebrated in the past were my fabrications that only the likes of someone as observant as Satan would notice. 

"Procure a change of clothing and go while I'm still being merciful." I saw them share the same pallour as Leviathan, dragging him along while mouthing complaints under their breath. A curse perhaps, not bound by magic but of something else, directed at me, their usual villain. Such childishness that I let slide, as I was accustomed to being an enemy, especially when I know I was right. 

Beel is finally in my arms, a docile child as cherubic as the little Beel in my memories. The pieces of the puzzle are finally coming together as I look around. 

"Belphegor, wake up this instant! You're sleeping on a wet floor." You'll catch a cold, I almost felt myself saying but was able to hold myself back. "Unless you would rather be carried like the old days? I don't mind." 

"Fine, fine. I'm up." They stretched out their arms to retrieve their twin and I shook my head. "I wouldn't leave such a delicate child to someone who couldn't even coordinate themselves properly. Go to sleep, Belphegor.

.

.

.

...and Satan, if you have the time for hexes, you would also have the time to clean up this mess."

"Tsk."

"I would see all of you in my office once this is all fixed.

. 

.

.

.

Not a spot should be left unattended. Understood?" 

"Yes, Lucifer."

I don't have time for this. So many documents are left unsigned on my desk. A meeting with the Chancellor, a hearing from the House of Commons, a response to Michael's ridiculous letter…

"Wuchy, angy?"

Beelzebub's upturned eyes looked at me adorably.

"Wuchy…" I looked around and breathed a sigh of relief as I saw most of them are either absent or pre-occupied. Clearing my throat, I noticed my voice was shriller than usual. "Wuchy…" I repeated and sat Beel on the plush sofa. "Wuchy is NOT angy…"

"Bee hangu" he pulled at my sleeve, turning my attention to his rumbling stomach. "Wuchy…Bee hangu."

I nodded. "I see. Does Bee want to eat?" 

"Peas!" 

"You want to eat peas?" 

"No! Bee Hangu! Peas!" 

"Ah, " I nodded again as I finally understood. "I apologise, Bee. You're trying to say please?" 

I couldn't help but smile back when he did so in reply. 

To my disappointment however, even the kitchen was destroyed, to the point that MC didn't want me to enter. It was admirable, I suppose that they were able to explain the situation to me while everything was still in a state of chaos. 

It all started with a hexes assignment that failed miserably, turning Beel into an inconsolable toddler that caused Levi's room to be absolutely destroyed. Since nobody was capable of understanding Beel's speech, his childish tantrums got worse and caused the House of Lamentation to be in its current state. The only reason the situation subsided a bit was because of Belphie's interference. Where was Belphie in the first place? Was my question, and MC's shrug affirmed that he ignored my warning about sleeping in on the weekend. Again. I sighed. 

"Sorry, Lucifer. Why don't you eat out with Beel for a while?" 

"Bee hangu! Now!" 

"....Bee, that's my glove."

"Bee?" (MC) 

!!!!

"Beelzebub." I cleared my throat. "I shall heed your advice before Beel throws a bigger tantrum."

"Wuchy, hangu!" 

"Yes, yes. Wuchy…heard you. MC, take care of the house while we're gone."

There was a ghost of a smile on their face, one they must have tried to hide from me earlier. "Yes," They snorted, and I silently warned them to open their mouth again.  "Wuchy."

Ah. They still have the audacity to mock me. Me. Who was trying to turn a blind eye? Giving them a chance to fix their mess before anyone else finds out? I smirked back. 

"If the house falls down…or if it gets destroyed any further…prepare to face your punishment . Alone."

Their silence was enough of a penitence…for now. Beel's stomach growled louder and louder each passing second, and my gloves are currently soiled with bite marks everywhere. 

I bent down to meet Beel at eye level and pried my hands away from his nibbling. "What do you want to eat?" 

His eyes sparkled at the question, and he started chanting something in gibberish that I pretended to understand. "Wook wook! Bee fawwit!" 

Wook? 

He...never said that before. Or did he? I decided to carry him in my arms once I noticed he was having difficulty keeping up with my strides. He shook his head several times as we passed every food stall and kiosk in the shopping district, contenting himself with chewing on the gloves I thought I had confiscated already. 

It had been so long that I almost forgot that Beel was once a picky eater when he was little. Michael marveled on his "refined palate", telling me I should cherish my brother's talent (and consider giving Beel to him once he got older to train under his tutelage) but I vehemently refused. I was busy enough as a high-ranking angel and barely had the time to see my siblings, and the last thing I ever wanted was to part from them. I understood the difficulties of having an absent parent all too well, and I did not wish for my brothers to experience the same longing I had when I was the same age as them. 

Beel was as docile and as sweet as I remembered him long ago, smiling and laughing in my arms, calling me Wuchy over and over, and seeking for his twin in adorable babbles of "Bewphie" and "Bwanky", which I responded in my usual way:

"Bewphie, sleep." 

"Seepu?" 

"Yes." I answered, prying away my damaged gloves from his mouth. "Bewphie told me you should eat so you won't wake him up." I pointed at his rumbling stomach, and little Beel automatically held it and felt the rumbling coming from it. 

"Bee…wouwd (loud)?"

"Mhm. Bewphie can't sleep unless you eat something."

He must not have been able to distinguish his twin because of his current form, seeking perhaps a smaller counterpart of his brother just like the old days. After some more meandering around stalls, feeling full over the meals that Beel refused to eat, I racked my brain to figuring out the meaning behind his childish babble:

What on earth does wook mean? 

I have never heard him say it before even in the Celestial Realm, nor did I ever recall teaching him the words. 

"Wook! Wook!" Beel said excitedly again, grabbing my hair in his elation to turn to a man flipping Bat Wing pancakes in a stall. The line was atrocious, barely moving, arid and noisy. 

"Does Bee want to eat that?" 

I sighed in relief when he shook his head. "Wuchy, Wook! Wook Bee fawwit!" 

Wait a moment. Does wook mean…

"Do you want me to look?" But look at what? At the elderly demon flipping pancakes? Beel shook his head again, seemingly lost at how to translate his thoughts and feelings into his limited toddler vocabulary. 

"Wook...wook fuu fo Bee…" he squinted his googly eyes at me and made exaggerated hand gestures. "Wuchy….wook fuu fo Bee! Bee fawwit!" 

The proverbial cogs in my brain started to turn as I came across an epiphany. Before I knew it, I was already holding my DDD. 

It pains me to do this, but I cannot let Diavolo know. 

"Hello, Simeon?" 

Brotherly love comes with sacrifice, even if the said sacrifice greatly outweighs its benefits. It was evident with Simeon's jovial expressions as he opened the door. 

"It really is a baby! Can I hold him?" 

Simeon's smile never disappeared, rather, his eyes narrowed as he turned to me to speak. "Luke is good with kids. He volunteers taking care of cherubs in Heaven."

"Mhm! I have Raphael's seal of approval!" 

Sighing, I surrendered my brother to Luke, my traitorous brother who did not even cry or protest when a complete…stranger is now holding him in his arms. 

"Meemwon!" 

"Oh! I haven't heard that in ages! This sure brings back memories!~" Simeon planted a kiss on Beel's cheek and I couldn't help but frown. "Hello, Bee! It's big bro Meemwon!" Beel giggled in reply as Simeon planted smaller kisses at him, clearly enjoying the attention. 

"You're getting into this, way too much don't you think so?"

"He's adorable!" Simeon reasoned. "But, isn't his stomach growling?" 

"That's why we're here." I tried to maintain an aura of composure. "I need to borrow your kitchen. Is Solomon around?" 

Simeon's eyes widened for a bit in understanding…then I heard manic laughter. Is this really how he should conduct himself in front of the children? I kept that opinion to myself and didn't say a word. "No, he isn't. Don't worry." He looked at me again and smiled reassuringly. "Feel free to use the kitchen. We'll take care of Beel~" 

"Solomon--"

"...won't feed Beel anything even if he does come back. Just go before he throws another tantrum!" Simeon shooed me away from the living room, pushing my back to Purgatory Hall's fully furnished kitchen. It certainly had better equipment compared to Lamentation, which I can only attribute to Michael's influence. 

Cooking was one thing, but feeding Beel another. He continued rejecting meal after meal after meal of my best dishes. His stomach only growled louder, and his mood became irritable even with Simeon's and Luke's aid. The ingredients I have purchased were almost gone, left only with a half-used bag of flour, milk and eggs. 

"The best I can do with these are pancakes…

. 

. 

. 

. 

Pancakes?" 

A memory flashed in my mind, taking me back to the Celestial Realm and our former residence there. Assuring the house help that I wanted to try cooking for my brothers for a change, I begrudgingly followed the recipe book Michael had given me and started with its easiest dish. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

. 

I attributed my failed attempts to Michael's unique, archaic wordings in his cook book and tried again. And again. And again. Numerous ruined frying pans and ingredients later, I was left with a shabby excuse of a pancake---charred at the sides, eggshells at the other. I waved my white flag in surrender and called for a food delivery instead, deflated. Some Morning Star I was. It was an hour before dinner and my siblings were peeking at the kitchen with their blinking, doe eyes.

"Wuchy...huwt?" Lilith looked up to me, looking like she was about to cry and I took her in my arms to comfort her. 

"Lucy…" I corrected myself. "Wuchy isn't hurt. Just tired."

"Seepu?" Belphegor offered me his cow pillow and I shook my head. "Later after we eat."

"Fuu?!" I managed to catch Beelzebub with my free hand before he faceplanted on the floor as he rushed to me in excitement. 

"I'm sorry, Bee. As you can see, Wuchy doesn't have anything edible he can feed you." I carried him in my free arm and showed him my culinary failures. 

"Wuchy…fuu." Beel pouted at me. "Wuchy, whie. Fuu deww! (Lucy lied. There's food over there!)" He tugged my hair and glared. "Bee, eat!" 

"Eat!" Lilith mimicked. 

"Bewphie, eat?" Belphegor followed. 

"No, children. As you can see-- Mammon, wash your hands first!--" 

I couldn't believe my eyes. 

Everyone was gathered at the table, eating my failures with smiles on their faces. Beel, who had been sitting next to me this whole time tugged me on the sleeve to ask for seconds. "Dis...Bee fawitt! Cwunch!"

"It must be the eggshells."

"Mhm! Wuv it! Wuchy?" 

I felt him wrap his arms around my side. With a wide grin, he said. "I wuv you!" 

Only to be followed by a barrage of hugs from the others, talking over each other as they gathered around me with their syrup-stained faces.

"Asmo wuvs Wuchy disssss much!" 

"Bewphie...wuv!"

"Wiwi, wuv Wuchy moww! (Lilith loves Lucy more!)" 

"I guess you're okay…but the Great Me is better!" 

"...Levi l-loves Lucy too…"

I couldn't remember much of what happened afterwards, but I do recall telling the delivery man that he can have my order for himself. After that, I strived to become better at cooking so I can serve my siblings better meals.

.

.

. 

Anyone would strive to try harder if they are ever subjected to that much smothering, I suppose. Still, I do think that after that, Beel began to eat everything happily, much to Michael's dismay.

"This looks horrifying." The plating of the pancake itself was one or two burns shy of Solomon's best attempts at cooking…I could not believe that out of every dish there is in this world, this horrible disaster is my brother's favourite food. I never really asked him about it. Perhaps I have forgotten and he happily ate everything I cooked because he had no choice. Still, it was no time to mull over such nonsense, especially if Beel's stomach is now resembling Cerberus' growls. 

"Wook!" Beel's eyes sparkled as I placed the cooled pancakes down at the table, munching on the sweet treat happily despite the…eggshells. I tried my best to emulate my failed attempts from before, and judging from the elated look on Beel's face, I must have gotten his approval. 

"Is that--" (Simeon) 

"Don't ask." I shut him up before he could even speak a word. "And please don't ever say this to Michael. I wouldn't hear the end of it."

Simeon smiled impishly in reply. "Would you cook here again--" 

"No.

.

.

.

.

.

But I suppose I owe you some hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies for letting me use your kitchen."

"Anytime~" 

"I was talking to the chihuahua, not you."

"I'm not a chihuahua!" 

Beel was sleeping peacefully in my arms on the way home. While still baffled at a startling discovery about Beelzebub, I hadn't much time to think about it as I was covered in confetti the moment I opened the door. 

"Happy birthday, Lucifer!" (MC) 

"Simeon took too much time! The ice cream's meltin'!" 

"Lolololol I told you he forgot his own birthday! Beel was the perfect distraction!" 

What. On. Earth. Is going on? 

"Sorry, Lucifer!" MC bowed her head and looked up to me, looking apologetic. "We were trying to throw you a surprise party but…things got…well...wrong. But, everything's okay now!" They pulled me inside and showed me the feast they have prepared for me. 

It was a smorgasbord of my favourites. From the appetisers to the desserts and wines, I recalled some of these dishes as my specialties. Satan's familiar handwriting was drawn over a buttercream cake with my name on it, along with a small drawing of me in a party hat along with everyone else. Everyone else was seated at the dining table including Diavolo and Barbatos, both of which I was trying to avoid the entire day. 

Were they involved in this ridiculous plan as well? 

MC seemed to read my mind and nodded at me shyly. "I did mess up with my homework, that much is true, but Solomon helped in undoing the spell! He was the one who suggested to turn Beel back into a toddler so we have enough time to prepare for everything!" 

Solomon waved a hand at me and smiled. "They still didn't let me cook anything though☆"

"So all of the chaos…"

"...is us cleaning up our first attempts of party preparations." Satan begrudgingly replied. "Until of course, you came back earlier than expected."

"Now, now~" Asmo interjected. "What's important is that he's here and Beel's spell is about to wear off!♡ Now, Lucifer dear, why don't you join us and blow your candles?" 

I have completely forgotten about my birthday.

I didn't see the point of celebrating it anymore, I suppose. Thousands of years of repetitions can bring ennui upon you. However, things have changed. 

The House of Lamentation had a warmer atmosphere thanks to MC, and everyone was closer than ever before. The loss of a family and an inclusion of a new one opened up our hearts enough to heal and perhaps forgive ourselves a little for the years we have ignored its value. 

Who knew such a fleeting human could be the catalyst of such unimaginable developments? 

"Oh! Beel's back!" 

"Yay~! Your seat's over there, Beel!" 

I consider myself to be a rather self-sufficient person. It was a fruit of years of conditioning brought upon by my unique, personal circumstances.

However…nothing can ever prepare me for this moment. 

"Lucifer?" 

I turned to Beelzebub, now back to his normal form and he offered me a smile. "The pancake you cooked was really good. Can you make it again for me next time?" 

I smiled back. 

"With or without the eggshells?" 

[much-obliged-timothy]

So I was reading a fanfic for a different fandom where a character ends up the single father of an oops baby and...

Anyway, here’s a totally self-indulgent “what if Tim accidentally had a child” fic ft. Rhys accidentally befriending the kid and being very panicked about it (and yes I will be more than happy to write more of this weird AU if anyone wants to read it)

Rhys paced his office nervously. “Zer0, did I make a mistake? Oh my god. I can’t believe I agreed to employ a doppelganger of Handsome Jack.”

The vault hunters had contacted him with an absolutely bizarre story. While invading Handsome Jack’s casino, they’d found his sole surviving doppelganger, a man named Timothy Lawrence. Timothy had been all too eager to get out of the casino once they’d claimed it for themselves, but had nowhere to go and, they’d warned, was lacking a bit in his social skills after seven years of being locked in a casino where almost everyone wanted him dead. 

Still, the man had apparently proved highly adept at business when they needed help getting issues for the casino sorted. Moxxi thought he’d be an asset to Rhys, appearances aside.

Rhys had them send over a resume and some examples of Timothy’s work, and was surprised to find that Tim was actually highly skilled at business negotiations and research. He had experience helping Hyperion develop new weapons and other various tech, and had worked as a vault hunter for Jack at one point, giving him valuable combat experience.

So Rhys had agreed to take him on, at least on a trial period to see how things went. Today was the day Tim would arrive, and Rhys couldn’t stop fretting that Tim would be too similar to Jack to bear. 

“He helped Jack rise to power, they said,” Rhys babbled, his anxiety growing. “What if he’s just like Jack? I don’t think I can take that ego again. This is such a mistake!”

Zer0 watched him pace, but offered no comfort. He didn’t seem to have any concerns over the situation. 

There was a knock on the door and Rhys froze, shooting a look at Zer0. Zer0 touched his gun then gestured to the door, a silent assurance that he would handle it if things got out of hand.

Rhys didn’t enjoy the thought of anyone being shot in his office, but he enjoyed the thought of being protected from Handsome Jack 2.0. “Come in.”

The door swung open and in came Handsome Jack. Rhys stared at his face for a long moment before shaking himself. Tim’s hair was longer than Jack’s, the mask on his face cracked. He had a cybernetic hand that was fidgeting with the visitor badge pinned to his jacket. He certainly had Jack’s sense of how to dress for the job; he wore jeans and a hoodie with a jacket over it instead of anything dressy.

Tim noticed Rhys eyeing his clothes and shifted awkwardly. “Uh, sorry. No money to buy anything nicer right now. I’m Timothy Lawrence. I know the mask has to go, too, but I’m arranging to have these stupid clips removed with it.”

Rhys processed his words, but only distantly. When Tim had shifted, he’d revealed that he wasn’t alone.

Tim again noticed where Rhys’s gaze went, and fidgeted more with his pass. “So, the job? Moxxi got me set up with a place to live nearby for now. I just moved in yesterday, so I’m ready to start whenever you need me to.”

Rhys continued staring. He had not been informed that Tim wouldn’t be coming alone.

Tim sighed quietly and nudged the little boy out from behind his legs. The boy stared distrustfully at Rhys, clutching a tattered teddy bear with the Hyperion logo on its stomach to himself. 

“This is my son, Phoenix,” Tim explained. “I, uh, don’t exactly have a sitter. Hard to have contacts when you’ve been locked in a casino for seven years.”

Obviously Tim had found a way to pass the time. The boy couldn’t be any older than five or six, with skin a few shades darker than Tim’s, messy, ruddy hair, a splattering of freckles over his cheeks and nose, and hazel eyes. His left eye had a familiar strip of blue amongst the hazel.

“You said I get my own office? Can I see it?” Tim said, shooting Rhys a pleading look.

“Oh, um, right, yes,” Rhys said, fixing his already straight tie. 

“Hey, stay here. We’ll be right back,” Tim said.

The boy’s eyes widened in terror, but Tim smiled and ruffled his hair. Phoenix clutched at Tim’s jacket.

“I’ll be right back,” Tim repeated. “That guy there? He was a vault hunter, just like I was. He’ll keep an eye on you for a few minutes.”

Phoenix looked over his shoulder at Zer0. His curiosity seemed to win out over his distrust as he eyed Zer0.

Tim took the opportunity to slip out of the room, Rhys following. They walked in awkward silence until they reached the office Rhys had secured for Tim.

“Okay,” Tim said, shutting the door as soon as they were inside. “Look, I kinda had a, uh, thing with a friend named Ember. We’d been stuck in that casino for a while at that point and everyone was trying to kill me and we just- got careless a few times. Phoenix was born in that damned place. He lived his whole life in there, hidden between me, Ember, and a friend of Ember’s from the vice district. Ember told me to take him with me to Promethea so he could experience life in the real world. Not that this shithole planet is fancy living, but-” He stopped and groaned. “Sorry, injected with Jack’s DNA. Anyways, please, he’s scared to be alone.”

No one had warned Rhys that in addition to getting a traumatized employee, he’d be getting the man’s traumatized son as well. But what was he going to do? Turn him out onto the streets?

Rhys sighed quietly. He hated kids, mostly because he had no idea how to talk to them and they frightened him.

“He can’t go into meetings with you,” he said at last.

Tim looked so relieved that Rhys didn’t even regret the decision. “Thank you. Really, thank you. Oh, finally, a CEO who isn’t an absolute dick. He’s no trouble, really. He’ll stay in my office with me, and he thinks everyone wants to kill him so it’s not like he’ll go bothering anyone.”

At Rhys’s startled look, Tim grimaced. He touched his mask and shrugged.

“Look, I’m not going to lie. My kid is…” He cursed softly. “I didn’t want that for him. But I had no choice. I started teaching him about guns when he was three. We taught him how to hide, and not to trust anyone. It was the only way we could keep him safe. It’s going to take time to break him of all that. B-But I’m a good worker! I won’t make you regret this! Well, I mean, the occasional Jack moments probably will, but other than that, no regrets. I hope.”

This was too much to handle right now. “You need to go get fingerprinted downstairs. Then we’ll get you settled and go over your schedule and duties.”

Business. He could do business. He couldn’t do a traumatized Handsome Jack doppelganger with a paranoid son.

“Right, let me just go let Phoenix know,” Tim said, opening the office door.

“That’s a cool name,” Rhys said as they started along the hallway.

Tim shrugged again. “Ember wanted something with fire. I guess we thought it was fitting, since he was born in the wake of Jack’s death and my, uh, sort of freedom. I mean, I still had a bomb in my face and was trapped in a casino. But no more Jack ordering me about.”

He at least didn’t sound bothered by Jack’s death, so Rhys took some comfort in the fact that Tim appeared not to hold any loyalty to his former boss. Moxxi had claimed Timothy hated Jack, but Rhys was still worried after everything he’d been through with the AI Jack. 

They stepped back into Rhys’s office, and Phoenix was immediately back at his father’s side, clutching Tim’s jacket in one hand and his bear in the other. Tim squeezed his shoulder and gently pried his hand off.

“I need to go get fingerprinted, Phoenix,” he said. “I’m just going to be right downstairs.”

The kid looked torn. Rhys felt a flash of pity.

“It should only be fifteen minutes if they’re not busy,” he said. Maybe knowing how long Tim would be gone would calm the kid.

“Fifteen minutes,” Tim said, smiling. “That’s nothin’, pal. I take longer in the shower.”

“You take forever in the shower,” Phoenix said, but grabbed Tim’s jacket again. 

Once again, Tim gently pried his hand away. “Fifteen minutes, pal. Then I’ll be back.”

Phoenix watched his father leave the room and began to pace silently, keeping Rhys, Zer0, and the door in view as he did so. He was rubbing the band of a watch strapped to his wrist, far too big for him. Rhys realized it was a digistruct watch, and sat down in the hopes he wouldn’t spook the kid into summoning whatever was stored in there. 

Phoenix kept shooting a look to Rhys’s cybernetic arm, looking like he wanted to say something. He kept snapping his eyes back to the door, but his gaze would drift back to the arm.

Rhys finally held it up. “It’s, uh, it’s an Atlas cybernetic. State of the art.”

“Dad has one,” he said, holding up his hand. “He lost his hand in the casino.”

“That’s because Handsome Jack is a controlling asshole,” Rhys said, then snapped his mouth shut. Shit, could he swear in front of kids? Was that legal?

But Phoenix stared at him, slowing his pacing. “You knew him?”

“Sort of,” Rhys said, rubbing the back of his neck. “We...worked together? Sort of? He tried to kill me. Not a good time.”

The distrust on his face evaporated a little. “He locked my mom and dad in the casino. Dad said he’s a freaking asshole. But I’m not s’posed to call anyone else that word.” He pointed to his eye with the sliver of blue in it. “Dad said that was Jack’s last ‘screw you’.” 

Rhys stared at Zer0 for help. He hadn’t expected to shit talk Jack with a little kid today, and wasn’t sure what to do now that it had started.

“Much more lively now/He must like you a lot Rhys/You have made a friend,” Zer0 said.

“You talk funny,” Phoenix said.

“He speaks in haikus,” Rhys explained. “Well, mostly.”

Phoenix frowned. “I dunno that language. My mom speaks French.”

Rhys laughed in surprise. “Oh, no, it’s not a language. It’s a type of poetry.”

“Oh,” Phoenix said, then shrugged in a movement that perfectly mimicked Tim’s. 

Rhys couldn’t help but stare a little as the boy resumed his pacing. He wondered if any of his features had been inherited from Tim’s original appearance. He wondered if it was hard for Tim to look at his kid and see both himself and Jack in him. 

Rhys busied himself with paperwork to keep from staring any longer. However, as fifteen minutes passed, and then another five, and then even more, Phoenix’s pacing grew faster.

He rubbed at the band of his watch more, eyes locked on the door. He looked terrified, checking the time yet again and hugging his bear tighter.

“They were probably just busy,” Rhys said, because as much as he didn’t like kids, he felt bad seeing one break down right in front of him. “He’s okay.”

“What if he’s dead?” His voice cracked a little and he paced even faster, clutching the bear so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Rhys got up and slowly approached. “Hey. Hey, Phoenix. It’s safe here, okay? No one here will hurt him. I promise.”

“But he looks like that freaking asshole!” Phoenix said, pointing at his eye again.

“I know, but I warned my people he’d be coming today. They all know he isn’t really Jack. No one is going to hurt your dad,” Rhys assured. Phoenix still looked scared and frantic, so Rhys tried a different approach. He held his cybernetic hand out and let an image come up in his palm. “Have you ever seen a skag before?”

Phoenix nodded his head, looking torn between watching the door and looking at the holographic image. “Uh-huh. But just one.”

Rhys let the holograph play out. “Look how they run! I got stuck on Pandora years ago, and these things were scary.”

“Pandora?” He tugged at the ear of his bear. “Dad said it’s a shithole. I’m not s’posed to say that, though. Mom gets mad and says dad has a dirty mouth.”

“It kind of is a shithole,” Rhys agreed. “Promethea is much better. I think you’ll like it here. You and your dad can explore this weekend when he’s not working.”

His eyes shot to the door again. “But he’s not back!”

“He’ll come back,” Rhys said. “I won’t let anyone hurt him while he’s here. I promise.”

His eyes widened and he looked at Rhys. He seemed torn between distrust and hope.

The matter was settled as Tim reappeared in the room, looking out of breath. “Sorry. Some freaking idiot down there couldn’t find her ID and held up the whole line. I- Umph!”

Phoenix launched himself at Tim, wrapping his little arms around Tim’s waist tightly. There were tears silently rolling down his cheeks.

“Hey, hey.” Tim knelt down and hugged him, kissing his head. “I’m okay. I’m right here, pal. I’m okay. I’m sorry I took so long.”

He stood up with Phoenix in his arms, running gentle fingers through his messy hair. Phoenix nuzzled his head against Tim’s neck, wiping at his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said, kissing him again. “I have shitty time management skills. Oops, don’t tell your mom I swore again.”

Phoenix put an arm around Tim’s neck to hold onto him. “Dad, this guy showed me a skag. On his hand!”

“‘This guy’ is my boss,” Tim said. “A skag, huh? Can’t say I missed Pandora’s brand of cannon fodder creatures.”

“You and me both,” Rhys said, standing up.

“Can you show dad?” Phoenix said, pointing to Rhys’s hand. “They look so stupid.”

Rhys brought up the image again. With his dad safely back with him, Phoenix was much more interested, peering at it with curious eyes.

Tim wiggled the fingers of his cybernetic hand. “Yea, mine doesn’t do that. Cool, though.”

“One of the vault hunters who saved us had a skag,” Phoenix said. “And a...a...something else.”

“Jabber. You saw their jabber,” Tim said. “Shit-flinging, obnoxious beasts.”

Phoenix tightened his hold on Tim. “You’re not s’posed to swear, dad.” He gave Tim the hint of a grin. “Gotta shut me up.”

“Ice cream it is,” Tim said with a long sigh. “After work, though. I’ve got to earn money to afford to bribe you, pal. So, let’s get on with it, Rhys.”

Rhys took Tim and showed him around a bit before bringing him back to his office. As Tim had assured, Phoenix was quiet the whole time, just clinging to Tim. When they reached the office, he sat in a chair in the corner, playing with his tattered bear and not bothering either man as they went over Tim’s schedule and duties.

“Well, I’ll leave you to get settled in and do the basic paperwork,” Rhys said, shaking Tim’s hand. “If you have any questions, you know where my office is. You’ll be primarily reporting to me.”

“Hey,” Phoenix said as Rhys headed for the door. He was clutching his bear tightly again, glancing from his dad to Rhys before blurting out, “Can you tell me about Pandora sometime?”

“Oh,” Rhys said in surprise. “Yea, sure. I mean, a lot of my experience involves me being in fear for my life. But, sure.”

“Hey, been there done that on Elpis, kiddo,” Tim said. “Phoenix, let him get back to work. You can help me get some papers organized, if you want.”

Phoenix hopped off the chair. “M’kay, dad. See ya, boss guy.”

Rhys left the office and stared at the door once he’d closed it. Today had not gone as he’d expected, not at all. And he had a sinking feeling he’d accidentally made the kid like him.

Great. He’d been so worried about dealing with a Handsome Jack doppelganger, and now his bigger problem was a small, curious child. Rhys wondered if life would ever let him catch a break.

Part 2

[infiniteoddball]

A/n: Chapter One . I know I don’t usually switch POV’s in stories, but for this story, it feels quite relevant and needed. This story is going to be heavily based in Angst & some happiness and smartassery here and there. (In exciting news! this marks my 1,000 post!)  Tags: Angst; Hints at Sex: Talks of possible sexual abuse  Tagging: @storiesofsvu​ @svushots @barsonaddict @wall1418 @vivis-ghost-wife @teyamarra 

Olivia sat across from Barba, pushing her food around her plate. She didn’t know what to say about her earlier conversation, or if she should even bring it up. Rita’s words sat heavily in her conscious. She didn’t know what to make of it. She knew she could possibly be going down a rabbit hole, or she might be right. She took a sip of her wine, but still stayed silent.

“Okay, spill. What is going on?” He quipped.

“Nothing...I mean...” Olivia sighed, “It’s just, this conversation that I had with Rita is not sitting well with me. It feels like she confessed something but didn’t at the same time.”

“Olivia,” He evenly said, “What are you talking about? I am completely lost here.” 

“You know Rita better than me. Why did she leave the district attorney’s office?” Olivia looked up at him, wondering why she was thinking so heavily into this.

“Why are you asking? What conversation?”

“She said something to me today that makes me think she left because of abuse,” She bit her lip, pushing her semi-full plate away, “I mean-What she said was concerning to me. I have never seen her so small. She has never been that sloppy in court...” Olivia’s words drifted off as she slipped into her thoughts.

“Liv,” Rafael snapped his fingers to pull her attention back, “Rita? Sloppy? What are you talking about? Hello?” He took her hand into his, running his thumb over her knuckles, “Talk to me.”

Olivia blushed, turning her hand upwards as she grazed her fingers over his wrist, “Okay. I have never seen Rita, in all these years, threatened to be held in contempt of court. Have you ever seen that happen with her? I mean, not only that, but Carisi told me that she was semi-combative with the judge. I am pretty sure that didn’t help Chip Gallagher. Also, I mean, I have seen her be hostile with witness, but only ever when she has asked to treat them like a hostile witness. However, something just...I honestly don’t know if I am overthinking this. ”

Rafael shook his head, “Never. But why are you asking about her leaving the district attorney? Does this have to do with the conversation you had with her?” 

“Today, I was in the elevator with her. I asked her why she was still defending men like Chip Gallagher. She said if I didn’t get on the proper side that my career would become marginalized. Normally, that isn’t something that bothers me, but it was the way that Rita said it. She said it as if it was a warning that she shouldn’t be giving. More so, it was the last thing she said to me that got me. She said, verbatim, ‘my advice...lie back and pretend you’re enjoying it.’ I got a chill down my spine. It was almost like she shrunk by two inches after she said that.” Liv looked up at Rafael, “What do you think? Maybe this might not be anything, but she also wasn’t wearing her normal tailored suits. What she was wearing was kind of baggy on her.”

“Rita left the District Attorney after losing a case that would have been hard on anyone. She fought harder than I ever saw her fight. She wanted justice for her victim that she was defending, but she lost. She seemed very disconnected, disillusioned and quite frankly? Emotional. Especially since she was very close with the victim. It was the first and last time I saw her connect past a professional relationship with a victim, or currently known as a client.” Rafael sighed heavily, “She never disclosed to me if that is what you are getting at. As far as I know, there were no disclosures or firings for abuse of power the year that she left, but I can always check for you.” Rafael stated.

Olivia leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand, “Am I overthinking this?”

Rafael leaned forward, pausing as he kissed her briefly, “With what you have right now, I would call it circumstantial, but in all my years I have known you, you have never been wrong about these kinds of things. Why are you second guessing yourself now?”

“Because it’s Rita Calhoun. For as long as I have known Rita Calhoun, this is completely out of her realm of behavior. Wait, you said she was connected with the victim? What was the case?”

“I don’t know Liv. That was years ago. Look, all I can remember is she was almost charged with contempt. Then that night, she told me over a glass of bourbon that she put her notice in effective immediately. A few weeks later, I was facing her in court.” Rafael shrugged.

“Contempt? Rafi, I know I am grasping for straws, but this has got to be connected. Was she close to anyone else?”

“Liv,” Rafael cupped her cheeks, tilting her head upwards, “Rabbit hole. You are grasping for straws. Why don’t you talk to her? She disclosed something to you. Or she was warning you. Either way, you need to talk to her before you go jumping to conclusions, because clearly, whatever it is that she is trying to tell you is important and it will effect you one way or another.”

“Rafael I am not-“

Her words were cut short as Rafael pulled her in for a long, languid kiss. He slowly pulled away, “Let’s go to bed before you get too far in.” He grinned.

—————————————

Olivia threw the covers back, getting up nearly an hour before her alarm would be going off. She stood, pulling her shirt and panties on before she made her way to the bathroom. She managed to sleep a few hours since Rafael had worn her out, but this...it just wasn’t sitting well with her. Everything that Rafael had told her was making her mind race. 

She flicked the handle upwards on the sink, getting herself a glass of water before making herself comfortable on Rafael’s couch. She sipped her drink slowly, thinking about Rita. She sighed deeply, massaging her temple. She felt her stomach clench. She knew, deep down, Rita wasn’t a person that got sloppy. She knew that she wasn’t crazy. Something happened to Rita. 

She glanced at the clock, sighing with the fact that it was only six am. She dropped head against the back of the couch as she sank further into the comfortable fabric. She finished her drink before standing. She grabbed one of his legal pads before sitting at his desk, “She was admitting something to me,” She mumbled.

By the time Olivia had to get ready for work, she had a basic timeline sketched out. She also had written down any names of judges, current or present, that were known for their abuse. Olivia was so lost in thought that she nearly screamed as Rafael grazed his lips along her neck. 

“When did you get up?” 

“A couple of hours ago,” She said honestly, flipping the notepad over, “I need to get going, I will call you when I can come over again,” She gave him a hurried kiss before leaving him in the dining room to get dressed. 

*** “Rita!” Olivia called as she ran down the courthouse steps, “Hey! Got a minute?” 

Rita glanced over her shoulder, feeling her stomach clench, “Benson, not really. I am headed to meet a client.” 

Olivia drank in the fact that she was wearing a tailored pants suit, “I can walk and talk,” She stated as she caught up with Rita, “I just wanted to ask you a question!” Olivia gently touched Rita’s arm to catch her attention, “Why did you leave the district attorney?” 

Rita felt her stomach drop as she turned to face Olivia, “Why are you asking me about this?” 

“Because you are hiding something,” Olivia bluntly stated, “You admitted something to me in that elevator. What I can’t figure out if it was intentional or to protect me.” 

Rita looked over her face, knowing she was screwed. The past was finally coming to haunt her, “I regularly go up against you in court defending rapists, and criminals. Now, you are questioning why I am doing this?” 

“Yes.” 

Rita rubbed her temple, turning away from her, “I have to go. I don’t have time for this.” 

Olivia grabbed her elbow, standing in front of her, “Clearly you do if you were acting so out of character to the point you basically insinuated that I should turn a blind eye to corruption. What happened?” She questioned. 

Rita felt her nostrils flare as she took a deep breath, “I grew close to a victim named Natalie Burse and I promised her that I would win her case. A case that broke the both of us. Are you done with your witch hunt now?!” She snapped. 

Olivia dropped her arm, “I have more questions. Call me when you can,” She stated as she stepped out of her way. Olivia waited until she was around the corner before she called Fin, “Hey, I need you to dig up everything that you can with a victim by the name of Natalie Burse.”  

[toomuchtv95]

Struggling Chapter 4

Characters: Jay Halstead, Hank Voight, Antonio Dawson

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader 

Word Count: 2.7k+

Chapter Warnings: Fluff, Swearing

Series Masterlist

“Sgt. Voight, do you know where you are?” As you blink away the sleep away from your eyes, a man in his late 40s stood at the end of the bed in a pair of scrubs which meant one thing. 

“Hospital.” Your voice came out rough from dehydration. You glanced around the room to see that there were no decorations at all except for the TV that hung from the ceiling and a window that out looked the courtyard. The room as an undertone of bleach and the floor is simply grey. 

“You’re at Landstuhl Reginal Medical Center in Germany.” Germany? How long have been out for? The last thing you remember was being found by your team and being taken back to base and the rest was a blur. “You’ve been out for about a day. You lost a lot of blood. They were able to stable you in the field long enough until you got here.” 

“What happened?” Pain radiates through your body as you slightly moved which was a mistake. It feels like someone had ripped your insides into pieces. You remember the kidnappers ambushing your unit and taking you to get answers about military weapons. They started off using you as a punching bag and when they couldn’t get answers out of you, they started bargaining your life for information.

“You suffered some internal bleeding, a collapsed lung, a broken wrist, two gunshot wounds, and 3 broken ribs.” You looked down at your left wrist to see it wrapped in a cast and hanging in a sling for support. “It’s going to be a long recovery. At least 4 weeks here at the hospital, before you can even get on a plane to finish your recovery in the states.” Tears welled in your eyes as you stared out the nearby window having flashbacks of what happened to you. Once the doctor slipped out of the room, you closed your eyes as you let out a sob.

“Earth to Y/N.” You snapped out of your daydream when Antonio spoke up from the driver’s seat. As you looked at Antonio, you could see the concerned look at his face. 

“Sorry. What were you saying?” 

“Everything okay?” Antonio pulled up to a red light before looking at you again.

“Yeah, I’m good. I just didn’t get that much sleep last night.” You stared back out the window as the light turn green and Antonio drove back to the district. The two of you talk about how Ava and Diego were doing then when on to talk about the recent case you the team was working on.  Once the two of you returned to the district, you climbed out of the car and started walked back in when Antonio lightly grabbed your elbow and spun you around.

“Okay, I pulled the concerned partner card and that didn’t work but now pulling the best friend card. What’s going on?” You took a deep breath before looking up at Antonio and you knew he wasn’t going to stop asking.

“Being kidnapped just brought up some memories of stuff that happened to me overseas. It’s just something I don’t like talking or thinking about because then it triggers my PTSD and I’ve worked this hard and I don’t want to relapse.” Antonio knew that you had suffered from PTSD in the past, but as you said, you don’t talk about it, so he doesn’t know the details. 

“I know that you went through some stuff overseas and you don’t like talking about it and that’s fine. I respect that, but if you ever change your mind, you know I’m here.” You may never be ready to talk about with someone other than your therapist, but your thankful that you have Antonio in case you ever changed your mind. Without hesitation, you gave him a quick hug and before you could pull away Antonio kissed the top of your head.

As you walked over to your desk, you glanced over at Jay’s desk to see that it looked untouched which meant Jay hasn’t returned from his undercover gig. Jay was sent undercover two weeks ago and the only contact you had from him was when he checked in with Hank. This time it was different because the two of you left things up in the air and never got the chance to talk about things between the two of you. Sitting at your desk, Hank walked out of his office with a frustrated look on his face which means that he wasn’t too happy about the progress of the case.

“Did we find this guy yet?” Hank pointed to a photo of a man in his middle 30s with a rap sheet that ran a mile long that included armed robbery, possession of narcotics, and assault and battery. 

“No, I and Antonio went to his place it looked like no one been there for weeks.” You sipped on your coffee as Antonio describe the state of Matthew Miller’s apartment.

“We did find empty bottles of narcotics but nothing that links him to the robbery.” Antonio sat on the edge of your desk with his arms across his chest. 

“Guys I just got a hit on Millers' former cellmate and he was just released from prison 6 months ago and guess what he was in for?” Adam stood up from his desk to grab the papers he printed off.

“Let me guess, armed robbery?” You spoke up as Adam walked over to the board and taped up a photo of a male in his early 40s. 

“Meet Samuel Conner. He was severing a 10yr sentence for armed robbery and was just released 6months ago.”

“We got an address for this guy?” Hank looked over at Adam who was standing slightly off to the side next to the board. Just as Adam was about to speak up, a call came in over the radio alerting the team that there was another robbery in progress. They gathered their stuff and headed out to the scene.

You were sitting at the bar top at Molly’s drinking a beer checking your phone every few minutes. “I didn’t think you would be here.” You looked up to see your father taking a seat next to you.

“And where would I be?” You sipped your beer as he ordered himself a drink.

“You know since you were born, you were always the quiet one. Kept to yourself and when you came back from the states and went through what you went through. I was worried about and sometimes I am still am.” Your father took a sip of his drink before turning slightly to face you.

“Where is this going dad?”

“I just want you to be happy again and if that means I have to break my own rules to make my daughter happy then I will do it.” You looked at him with a confused look because you had no idea where this was going. “Jay’s undercover gig is over. He returned to the district after you left. I told him his paperwork could wait till Monday.” 

“He’s back?” You picked up your phone to see if you had gotten anything from Jay, but disappointment washed over you when you saw nothing. 

“Go.” Your dad reached over and squeezed your hand. You hesitated for a moment, but then again you wanted to see Jay and talk about things. Standing up from your stool, you tossed some money on the counter before giving him a quick hug and disappeared out of the bar.

As you climbed into your car, you threw the car in park and headed in the direction of Jay’s apartment. As you drove, your heart was beating a hundred miles an hour and it felt like it was going to jump out of your chest. Once you came to a stop at a red light, a million thoughts ran through your head like; why didn’t he call? Did he not want to see you? Did he regret what was everything that happens between you two? Taking a deep breath, you pushed back all those thoughts away and continued to drive in the direction of Jay’s apartment. As you pulled to the complex, you closed your eyes and gathered yourself before climbing out of your car. Walking through the door to the complex, you headed up the stairs to the second and as you walked to the end of the hall you came to a stop outside of Jay’s door and softly knocked.

No more than 30seconds later the door swung open to see Jay. “Y/N what are you doing here?”

“Hank told me that your undercover gig was over and to be honest I wanted to see you.” A smile formed on his face as stood their leaning slight against the door. “You didn’t call so I just got in my car and drove not thinking and now that I think about it you probably didn’t call me because you didn’t-”

“I wanted to call you, but when I got back to the district Voight said that you were gone for the night, so I assume you had called it a night. I was going to call you first thing in the morning.” Jay pushed himself off the door and stepped aside for you to come in.

“Oh.” You stepped through the threshold to Jay’s apartment. “Jay I hm-” you stopped mid-sentence when you suddenly were lost for words. 

You turned around and instantly locked eye with Jay and every fiber in your body was telling you to make a move, but something was holding you back. “Y/N, I missed you. You don’t know how hard it was for me not to call you every chance I could and-” without even realizing it, you grabbed hold of his face and you collide your lips with his.

The kiss was soft yet tender. As the kiss grew more intense, you realized that you missed his lips against yours, and for the first time in a long time you felt something for someone. Just as Jay wrapped his arms around your lower back pulling you closer to him, he let out a small wince causing you to pull away. “What’s wrong?” You looked at him with concern.

“It’s nothing. I just got a couple of bruised ribs.” As you removed your hands from his face, you took a step back giving you room to lift his shirt. Once you lifted his shirt, it revealed the right side of his abdomen was covered in purple with yellow blotches and you lightly ran the tips of your finger over the purple skin.

“You should have said something before I attacked you.” You examined the bruise as if you were a doctor that was diagnosing the problem.

“It’s worth the pain.” Jay placed two fingers underneath your chin forcing you to look up at him. You opened your mouth to say something but was cut off by Jay’s soft lips against yours. Jay licked the seem of your lips wanted to access and without hesitation, you opened for him. You wrapped your one arm around his shoulders while the other one rested on his upper bicep pulling him closer to you. Jay didn’t care that he was in some pain all he cared about was how much he missed you and wanted to be with you, but he didn’t want to push things too fast with you.

After a few minutes, you slightly pulled away to catch your breath and locked eyes with Jay. “You own me a dinner.” You whispered against his lips.

“How does tomorrow night work for you?” Jay tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’ll have to check my schedule.” You smirked earning another kiss from Jay. “Oh, look at that. I’m free.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Okay, that is the last time you pick the movie.” You walked through the threshold of your apartment with Jay close behind you.

“Hey, it’s not my fault. The trailer looked good and it had great reviews.” Jay took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack before following you into the kitchen where you were grabbing to beers from the fridge.

“This is the second movie that you picked that turned out horrible.” You opened the beer before handing it to Jay, who was standing next to you. “I think we should agree that I should pick the movies from now on.”

“Okay, I’ll make a deal with you.” You sipped your beer as you leaned against the countertop. 

“Oh, this should be interesting.” Pushing yourself away from the counter, you hopped on top of the counter as Jay made his way around the counter coming to a stop in front of you.

“Just hear me out.” Jay set his beer on the counter before placing his hands on your thighs and slightly spreading them open. Standing between your legs, his hands traveled up your legs and landed on your waist.

“Okay, I’m listening,” you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I’ll let you pick the movies if you let me take you out of town this weekend.” You were stunned that Jay was asking you to spend the weekend with him out of town. “A buddy of mine from the Army is getting married in Ohio and he invited me and a plus one.”

You and Jay have been dating for a little over 4months and things have been going great. You never thought that you would be where you are today. You never thought that you would be able to find someone after Ryan died, but you did, and you think you were fallen in love again. “I haven’t been on a road trip in years and I’ve never been to Ohio.”

“So, I take that as a yes?” Jay looked at you with hope in his eyes.

You removed your arms from his neck so that you could reach up and frame his face with your hands. “That’s a definite yes.”

The slow music spread around both you and Jay as you rested your head on his chest. As Jay swayed the two of you on the dance floor, you started to reflect on your relationship with Jay. Falling in love with Jay was not planned. You were supposed to be just coworkers but of course, the universe had other plans for you. Being here with Jay at this wedding just made you realize that you were completely and utterly in love with Jay Halstead and you never thought you would find love again after Ryan. Slightly pulling away, you looked up at Jay and the next thing you knew, you slammed your lips to his and it nearly knocked all the wind from his lungs.

After a moment, Jay pulled away to catch his breath. “What was that for?”

“The last 4months with you have been amazing and for the first time in two years I’m happy and it’s because of you. I never thought that I would be able to find someone else after Ryan.” The two of you moved off the dance floor and stood off to the side. “For so long I was struggling to put myself together and who knew that you were the one to help me put myself back together.”

“I am completely in love with you, Jay.” As those words slipped your mouth, you feared that Jay wouldn’t feel the same way or that it was too soon for you to share those words with each other but you needed Jay you know what you were feeling.

“Y/N,” Jay reached over and moved a piece of hair behind your ear. “You mean the worlds to me and these last few months have been incredible. You are amazing, smart, beautiful, and a million other things which are all the reasons why I fell in love with you.” Jay cupped your face with both hands before pulling you in for a kiss. No matter how many times he kisses you, it always felt like the first time. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you deepened the kiss. The moment the two of you pulled away, you leaned your forehead against his, “let’s go back to the hotel.” 

You nodded your head while biting your bottom lip. “Okay.”

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[yeehawetc]

Title: Bachelor’s Grove

Pairing: none

Summary: It’s Christmas 1885. Dutch is talking to anarchists, Hosea’s trying to scam an old man out of his house, and Arthur’s trying to figure out the very weird kid they just picked up. Nobody knows if they’re going to keep him, and John doesn’t want to go back. 

Warnings: some gory imagery; almost-kind-of-you-decide-whether-it’s-magical-realism? 

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368408

@wolfmeat​, I was your secret santa! (I bet you never guessed. Love you) 

i.

The sun glancing off the frosted windows of the station house blinds Arthur temporarily as he slips off Boadicea. He tugs off his heavy mittens to tie her to the hitching post, then stuffs his chapped hands quickly back into his coat pockets. There was an inch of ice on the water bucket this morning in camp. Arthur wishes Dutch had chosen a warmer morning to get caught with a known anarchist distributing anti-government literature.  

He steps inside, and again can’t fucking see for a minute. The station’s dark even in daylight, old wood lit by dusty kerosene lamps that stink louder than the general musk of a constant cycle of drunks’ piss and tobacco spit. Arthur stops for a minute inside the door to let his eyes adjust, and the officer at the desk barks at him. 

“What you want, son?”

“Payin’ a social call,” Arthur says, and takes the wad of bills Hosea counted out for him and tosses it onto the desk. The fella’s eyebrows hop nearly off his face, and Arthur scans the cells while he counts the money. It doesn’t take him long to pick him out. There’s not many people in the 18th district jailhouse wearing black silk and sitting on the cot like it’s a goddamn throne. 

Dutch stands to meet him when Arthur approaches the cell, straightening his vest and checking the time on his pocket watch. As if Arthur were here picking him up from a social function, as if he didn’t have a huge purple bruise over one cheekbone. 

“Good morning, Arthur,” he says, spreading his arms wide. 

“Hosea’s gonna have your hide,” Arthur tells him. Dutch waves that away blithely, picking up his coat. He limps elegantly to the door of the cell and extends a broad hand to the jailkeeper, who doesn’t take it. 

“A merry Christmas to you and your family,” Dutch says, beaming. Arthur can tell he’d like to knock the man’s teeth out. “Very sorry to insult your hospitality this way, but I’m afraid I ain’t inclined to spend another night in the company of the state.” 

The guard isn’t impressed. “Go on,” he says, “before I change my mind.” 

Dutch, Arthur notes with some dismay, is clearly in a good mood. For the first fifteen minutes of the ride back to camp, Dutch expounds on the uselessness of the state and the pathetic bankruptcy of soul that must lead a man like that wretch back at the jailhouse to feed his family off the profits of a government that’s nothing more than a tradition, and a cruel and foolish one at that, and Arthur picks at the loose wool on his mittens and watches his breath steam in the air. 

“The true place for a just man, Arthur, is a prison,” Dutch shouts to him through the blistering chill as they wind south towards Bachelor’s Grove. 

“True place for a man who can’t run on a sprained ankle, more like,” Arthur says, and Dutch throws his head back and laughs so loud a crow gets startled off the fence they’re passing by, and Arthur can’t help himself, he’s grinning. 

“We’re onto something good here, Arthur,” Dutch says as they pass into the woods. “Silas tells me that Leslie Ashville—that haggard old maggot who owns the steel works where Silas’s poor cousin lost his hand last month—is losing his mind.”

“This the same Silas who got you arrested last night?” Arthur asks. 

Dutch ignores him. “Old Ashville’s cracking, Arthur. Talking to folks as ain’t there and forgetting his own name. They say he ain’t gonna see the year of our Lord 1886, and it don’t seem right to me to let that fine gentleman die alone, with no one but his vampire of a nephew to carry on his legacy.” 

“So,” Arthur says, starting to see where this is going, “you’re goin’ to apologize to Hosea for getting yourself arrested by inviting him to con a dyin’ man out of his money?”

“A dyin’ industrialist,” Dutch confirms brightly. 

The camp’s a cluster of tents and wagons in a stand of oaks just south of the quarry pond, a respectful distance from the scattered headstones of Bachelor’s Grove cemetery. As they ride in, Arthur can see Hosea and Miss Grimshaw hurrying between the tents, ducking to look under the wagons and talking hotly. He catches Miss Grimshaw’s last sentence on the wind as he and Dutch ride closer: “...can’t have gone far in this cold.”

“What’s happening?” Dutch inquires as he slips down from the Count, favoring his hurt ankle just a little.

“The boy’s disappeared,” Hosea says, and Arthur doesn’t miss the relief that settles over Dutch’s features when he realizes this latest catastrophe is going to postpone a conversation with Hosea about his own sins. 

“Go on, Arthur,” he says, “you look up thataways, and pray he ain’t fallen down that quarry. I’ll look off to the west, and Hosea, you and Miss Grimshaw stay here in case he comes back on his own.” 

Arthur sets out grudgingly on foot. This ain’t the first time the kid’s given them trouble. In fact, Arthur reflects, he’s been more trouble than anything else since the moment Dutch caught sight of that rabble of homesteaders tying a noose to a walnut tree and decided to investigate. When they got closer and it turned out the fearful criminal due for a lynching that day was a twelve-year-old kid with an armful of onions and a crazy look in his eye, Arthur was the one who picked the kid up and carried him to safety while Dutch and Hosea argued with the would-be executioners. And then, Arthur was the one who got onion juice spit in his eye for his troubles and a nice set of bite marks on his neck. 

The kid’s calmed down in the weeks since, or at least been effectively convinced Arthur isn’t trying to kidnap him, but he still bites. And apparently that ain’t all. Once they got him back to camp and a bowl of stew in front of him, he told Dutch his name’s John, his folks are dead, and he knows how to kill a man. Those facts, in that order, and if they didn’t light Dutch’s face up. Dutch likes the odd ones. Arthur tries not to think too deeply about how that reflects on him. 

John’s odd, all right. He talks to himself all day; talks to animals too, and rocks and trees. And, strange enough, he’s a hell of a shot—hit every one of the cans Dutch lined up for him a week after he joined the camp, “just to see what he can do.” But he’s young, younger even than Arthur was when Dutch found him, and that’s a problem. Dutch said he’s safer here than on his own, Miss Grimshaw said a child his age got no business running with outlaws, Hosea said he ought to go to an orphanage, and John started hollering so loud nobody could finish the argument, and in the month since the question of what’s to be done with John has stood open. For now, it seems, he’s with them, but one of these days somebody’s gonna have to make a decision. 

But maybe John’s made a decision of his own, now. This isn’t the first time he’s run off—he seems to have a special talent for that—but the longer Arthur trudges through the snow, the more it seems John might have made a real shot at it this time. 

Arthur skirts the mouth of the quarry pond, looking reluctantly for any sign of a little body floating in the glassy dark water ringed all around with ice, and ascertains to his satisfaction and relief that John hasn’t drowned. He’d be sure to, if he had fallen, based on the almighty fuss he put up the first time Miss Grimshaw tried to get him to wash himself, shrieking that she was trying to drown him. Dutch finally intervened, grabbing John by his collar and belt and tossing him bodily into the creek, where it immediately became clear John’s never been in water deeper than his big toe. Arthur grins to himself as he picks around the clumps of buckthorn skirting the edge of the pond, remembering the look of dumb outrage on the kid’s spluttering face when he resurfaced and realized he was only knee-deep. 

Arthur turns away from the quarry and up the snowy path towards the cemetery gates, squinting at the beaten stones that line the ground on either side. He can’t make out the names, but Hosea told him it’s mainly railway workers and homesteaders buried here, Russians and Germans and Irish. Folks who came from worlds away to get run over by wagons, or catch the grippe, or just to blow their own brains out when the crops failed and the government turned a blind eye. Ma’s buried in a place that looks like this. Pa too, maybe, only Arthur didn’t stay to see. 

He watches a red-bellied woodpecker hammer busily at someone’s gravestone, and wonders if he should start to worry. 

Then he turns onto the path leading up to the cemetery gate, a rickety wrought-iron arch planted between two spreading white cedars, and sees the kid. He’s sitting in the snow next to a tall granite monument, arms clasped around his legs and his head ducked down onto his knees, drowning in Hosea’s spare coat and Miss Grimshaw’s old scarf. His hair, as usual, hangs down over his pinched face like he’s trying to hide it. 

“Hey,” Arthur calls out, and watches as John’s head snaps up like a spooked deer. But he stays where he is, body held tense and unmoving, as Arthur jogs forward through the icy cover of snow. 

Up close, Arthur can see the kid’s been crying: his eyes are red, his cheeks are wet and chapped, and there’s a goddamn river of snot traveling down his chin. Still, when Arthur asks if he’s all right, he snaps, “A-course” and glares as if Arthur accused him of some grave offense. 

“You scared folks, runnin’ off like that,” Arthur tells him, nudging John’s leg with the toe of his boot. 

John shakes his head. “I ain’t scary.” 

“Never said you was.” Arthur holds out a hand to pull the kid up. John doesn’t take it. “Come on now.” 

John shakes his head, straggly hair flying side to side with the vehemence of his refusal. Stubborn as a horse’s ass is one thing they’ve already learned about John, and it ain’t Arthur’s favorite quality. 

“What happened this time?” he sighs, settling himself against a gravestone opposite John. “Hosea said you just up and disappeared.” 

John shrugs. “I ain’t talkin’ to you.” He’s picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of the coat, frowning furiously at it. 

“What, did Grimshaw try to make you wash again? Because you know you stink.” 

“Don’t neither.” 

“You do,” Arthur assures him. 

John sniffs, pulling his sleeve over his face and smearing snot even further across his cheek. “I ain’t goin’ back,” he says. 

“Suit yourself,” Arthur says, shrugging broadly. “You wanna run off on your own, get yourself strung up by another pack of tetchy farmers, I guess that ain’t no business of mine.” 

“No it ain’t,” John snaps, nodding in satisfaction. 

“Awfully cold, though,” Arthur remarks, pulling his coat a little closer and squinting up at the sky. “I do believe that’s a storm comin’ in off to the east there.” John pokes his head up from the depths of Hosea’s coat to swivel his skinny neck around. “Still,” Arthur goes on, “you’ve obviously made up your mind, so I ain’t gonna try to talk you out of it.” He stands up, brushing snow off his coat. “Shame about them pies, though.”

John squints at him. “What pies?” 

“Pies?” Arthur says. “Oh, the pies—oh, that ain’t nothin’. Only, I know Miss Grimshaw was plannin’ a heap of pie for Christmas. Mince pie, she said. Maybe apple. And Hosea, he’s made friends with a fella down at the slaughterhouse, figures he’ll get us a pig to roast.” 

John stares. “I never seen a pig roast.” 

“Well,” Arthur says, “I guess you ain’t gonna see one this year. Seein’ as you’re goin’ it alone now.” John squirms irritably in his snowy seat, frowning at Arthur. Arthur waits, listening to crows scream in the cedars. 

“They was fixin’ to take me back to the nuns,” John says finally, in an unusually soft little voice. Not looking at Arthur. 

“What,” Arthur says, startled, “Hosea and Grimshaw?” 

John nods. “I heard ‘em. I was diggin’ in the dirt by that big ol’ stump an’ I was eatin’ some cheese an’ then I heard the lady say ‘this ain’t no place for a child, I heard him cough’ only I wasn’t coughin’, I just had some crumbs in my throat, an’ then Hosea said ‘he ain’t settlin’ in so good an’ I think we oughta see if them nuns’ll take him,’ an’ Dutch weren’t there and now he’s gone they’re gonna take me back there an’ so I got my coat an’ I snuck off ‘fore they could catch me an’ I ain’t goin’ back, if you take me back they’re just gonna make me go back to the nuns an’ they’ll cook me an’ eat me an’ then I ran an’ I ran an’ I heard someone comin’ so I hid behind the graves only then I thought maybe it was dead folks so I waited an’ then I heard someone else comin’ but it was you an’ I ain’t goin’ back, I ain’t gonna let ‘em do it.” He breaks off, breathing hard. His cheeks are red. 

Arthur, a little dizzy trying to parse out that garbled spew of words, thinks he can see tears gathering in the corners of the kid’s eyes. Passing over, for the moment, the idea of cannibal nuns, he sighs and says, “Look, kid, ain’t nobody gonna send you anywhere without Dutch’s say-so, and Dutch ain’t decided yet.” 

John frowns. “But he went to jail.” 

“Yeah, dumbass, and I went and got him out,” Arthur says. “He’s out lookin’ for you right now.” 

The kid’s eyes get wide at that. Arthur sees him take a shaky little breath and whisper something to himself that Arthur can’t catch. 

“Come on,” he says, “I’m freezin’ my nuts off, and you ain’t gettin’ cooked alive by nobody this Christmas. Come on back, and I’ll tell Grimshaw an’ Hosea to lay off talkin’ about nuns.” He holds out his hand again. 

This time, after a little consideration, John takes it, tugging hard as he struggles up to his feet. Arthur’s astonished at how light he is; the kid weighs nearly nothing. He sets himself on his feet, pulls Grimshaw’s scarf over his grimy face, and looks up to Arthur. 

“An’ we’ll have pie?” he asks, hopefully. 

“Sure,” Arthur nods. “Pie and pig.” 

“I ain’t never had a Christmas dinner,” John tells him as they head back towards camp. 

“What, never?” 

John shrugs. He’s playing with the loose ends of his scarf, tossing them back and forth on his palms. “I heard about it, but I never had one. Me an’ pa, one time we stole a whole duck an’ he said that’s Christmas dinner, but it gave me the trots an’ I shit till I yelled.” 

“Thank you for that,” Arthur says. 

John nods, clambers over a wooden fence, and drops down the other side in a little flurry of snow. “What’s it like?” he asks, and the question’s so dumb and so oddly sweet that Arthur feels a little twinge in his chest. 

“I dunno,” he says. “Like a party, I guess. Folks make good food and talk and sing, and go to church I suppose, only I ain’t been since I was a little, little kid, littler than you.”

“I ain’t little,” John interjects, scrambling over a rock.

“Well, I was,” Arthur says. “But my ma used to make supper, and we’d have turkey and fish and ham and potatoes and beans, and after she’d play on her organ.” 

“What’s a organ,” John asks. 

“A kinda musical instrument,” Arthur tells him. He hasn’t thought about this in years, can only vaguely picture the boxy little organ in the corner, Mama’s pale hands on the keys. The melody’s long gone. “Sorta like a piano, I figure, only it’s got pipes and pedals. My ma had one from a catalogue, and she said it kept her company out there in the country.” He remembers that: the way she’d sit at the organ in the evenings, not even playing some nights, just sitting. The way she cried when they came back from town and the organ was gone, sold to a man Pa found looking to pay good money for a secondhand Beckwith for his wife. Arthur remembers that, all right. 

“So,” John says, “ya play music and ya eat?” 

“More or less,” Arthur says. “S’posed to be some kinda holy day, but mostly folks just like to eat.” 

They’re nearing camp, now, and Arthur can see the defensive curl in John’s shoulders. When he sees Dutch sitting at the camp table, though, he breaks away from Arthur’s side and dashes over, planting himself next to Dutch, arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. 

“So you found him, Arthur,” Dutch greets him as Arthur approaches the table. 

“Out hidin’ in the graveyard,” Arthur says. “I guess he prefers the company of dead folks to ours.” Dutch laughs, and John scowls. 

“I weren’t hidin’,” he says. “And I didn’t see no dead folks.” 

Arthur leaves him with Dutch, leaning intently over Evelyn Miller’s America and shooting Dutch shy reverential looks, and goes to find Hosea. He’s by the fire, poking at the dull coals, and he raises a hand as Arthur approaches. 

“Found him all right?” 

Arthur hums his yes, settling himself on the log Dutch dragged out of the woods as a seat. “Told ‘im we’d have pie for Christmas,” he tells Hosea. “He liked that.” 

Hosea laughs. “Our little associate seems mightily driven by food,” he remarks drily. 

“Like a damn pig,” Arthur agrees. Hosea chuckles, stretching his legs out and lighting a cigarette. 

“I take it Dutch filled you in on his latest scheme,” he remarks, and Arthur can tell from the crinkle at the corner of his eye that excitement’s overtaken his annoyance at Dutch. 

“The Ashville thing? He mentioned it,” Arthur says. “Somethin’ about stealin’ the fella’s legacy, or something.” 

“Legacy, Arthur, is another word for a fat bank account,” Hosea says. “Besides, if we can play this thing right, there’s a roof over our heads in January. That boy’s already got a cough, and I for one would prefer not to spend the winter thawing out my backside every time I need to shit. I’ll need your help with the paperwork for this one, though.” 

Arthur nods, rubbing his hands together in the growing warmth from the fire, and feels odd. Doesn’t know why he feels, suddenly, choked. He feels the way he did when Hosea and Dutch first picked him up, as though any wrong word would have him out on his ear or worse. Like all his words were caught in his throat, because he couldn’t pick the ones that were right. 

Hosea, naturally, doesn’t miss a thing. “What’s on your mind?” 

Arthur hesitates, chewing his lip, thinking about John’s blank, tearful face; about Mama crying the night the Beckwith disappeared; about old Leslie Ashville alone in his house on Cherry Street, talking to people who aren’t there. About the look on John’s face, hope and wonderment, when Arthur said Dutch was looking. For him.

“He’s scared of us,” he says finally. “Scared of you. And Grimshaw, but that’s—I mean, she scares everyone.” 

Hosea snorts gently, but all he says is, “Give him time.” 

“How much time?” Arthur says. “Dutch ain’t said if he’s staying with us.” 

“Dutch’ll decide when the time’s right,” Hosea says, as if that settles it. As if Arthur hasn’t heard John whimpering in his sleep every damn night since they picked him up. Arthur turns to look at him and Dutch—two dark heads matched at the table—and hopes the right time’s soon. 

ii.

The house on Cherry Street is three dusty stories of Italianate brick, lit from within by a dozen candles. From the street, it looks warm, even festive—someone’s hung a grand ring of pine and holly on the heavy oak door—but as soon as Hosea steps inside, he feels the chill. It’s different from the brisk winter evening outside: a dry, sickly cold that seeps through Hosea’s coat and settles along the joints of his bones. 

Someone’s dying in this house. Hosea’s felt that cold before. 

He follows the maid down the hallway to the parlor, past the cavernous recesses of unlit rooms.  Behind the false front of lamps, this house is dark and silent, save the single corridor of light that traces a line down its center. Hosea watches a chandelier of thick, ugly crystals sway mutely above his head as he passes beneath, and fixes his mind on his story. 

It’s his second visit to the Ashville mansion. On the first, he introduced himself as William Ashville, the long-lost offspring of the affair a group of Ashville Steel workers told Hosea about over bad whiskey at the Red Hen. It seems the story’s well known among Ashville’s discontented employees: the lady’s name was Eleanor, and Ashville promised her marriage, then left her at the altar and came west instead to make his fortune off the work of honest men. Nobody’s been able to give Hosea an exact date, but one fellow, with a rough white beard and teeth so sparse and loose Hosea suspects he lost one in his beer over the course of the conversation, remembered the year Ashville turned up in Chicago as 1856, so Hosea’s dated the affair to about thirty years ago. He considered, briefly, having Dutch step in as the prodigal bastard, but this part requires a delicacy that Dutch, for all his charms, lacks. Besides, Hosea flatters himself that he can still play thirty. He borrowed a bit of Dutch’s pomade for the occasion, and a little of Susan’s face powder—and besides, old Ashville’s eyesight isn’t that good. 

All in all, Ashville took the news of his unwitting fatherhood surprisingly well. Hosea, who after thirty-odd years of disregard for the fairer sex unexpectedly became surrogate parent to an unwashed teenage criminal, can attest to the shock that comes with that sort of arrival. True, there was a moment of initial skepticism from Ashville, but the family bible Hosea produced (purchased from a bookseller in the Levee, embellished by Arthur with the names of a whole fictitious lineage for poor forgotten William Ashville) seemed to turn the tide of his disbelief, and the love letter Hosea wrote after making a study of Ashville’s handwriting clinched the story. Today, Hosea’s back, in character as young William, with two missions: to lend cheer to his aging father’s lonely indisposition, and to lift a copy of the old man’s will. 

He hears Ashville’s voice before they reach the parlor: halting, guttural, like water through a clogged pipe. He’s murmuring about the newspaper, about catching a train. The maid leads Hosea into the room, where an unfed fire lights a frail circle around Ashville’s chair and casts long shadows across the rich Turkish carpet, and Hosea can see that it’s empty; that Ashville’s talking to no one. 

“Sir?” the maid says, leaning down to the high upholstered chair by the hearth. “Young Mr. William here to see you.” 

Mr. Leslie Ashville, sole owner and proprietor of the Ashville Steel Works, looks molded of lean clay. He’s wrapped in a brocade robe that looks like it hasn’t been washed since the early ‘70s, his head bare save the airy thatch of white hair shrouding the glare of his scalp. Hosea finds him fascinatingly grotesque. 

“Good evening, father,” he says, settling in the chair across from Ashville, who acknowledges his presence with a faint hum that turns into a cough. 

“Is that you, William?” he croaks, finally, and Hosea leans closer to take his hand. 

“I’m here.” 

“Thought I saw your mother last night,” Ashville rasps. “Thought I heard her, in the walls.” 

“Perhaps it was her spirit,” Hosea offers. “I do believe she’s glad to see us reunited.” There’s a bulk of shadow off behind Ashville’s right shoulder in the general shape of a writing desk. Hosea makes a note, and refocuses his attention on Ashville. 

“She was beautiful, your mother,” the old man says, and then he’s off chasing the thread of that long-forgotten memory, a thread that seems to unravel every time he reaches another knot. Hosea plays the dream-weaver, dropping a hint or a suggestion every time he hears the man’s voice falter. It’s fragments he offers the old man, things that could have belonged in any lifetime, things easily forgotten and more easily misremembered: the color of a dress, the fate of an old school friend, the name of a parson or a shopkeeper; always just enough to get Ashville’s feet back under him and send him off along another strand of reminiscence. Together, between Ashville’s dying memory and Hosea’s healthy imagination, the two of them write Leslie and Eleanor’s love story by the light of the fading fire as the evening deepens into night. 

The bells of St. Clement’s are chiming ten when it finally happens: Ashville stammers, trails off, and doesn’t look to Hosea for the next line of his memory-fantasy. Instead, his ancient head droops and lolls magnificently, and after a moment’s pause Hosea hears a loud, guttering snore. Ashville’s asleep. 

Finally. 

Easing himself off the slick horsehair of his seat, Hosea crosses to the shadowy desk he noticed earlier in the evening. It’s a heavy thing, made of rich cherrywood and full of drawers and cracks and pigeonholes. Hosea returns to the center of the parlor for a candle, and sets to work searching the desk, an ear out for the maid’s footstep or a shift in Ashville’s steady, ugly breath. 

An hour later, he’s slipping out the front door into the midnight chill, bidding the maid a happy Christmas, with the thin pages of Leslie Ashville’s will flat against his side under his heavy coat. He found the lockbox easily enough, stowed in a deep drawer under a sheaf of old bills and past due correspondence, and five minutes was all it took to break the lock while Ashville snored in his seat ten paces away. The will itself is simple: all Ashville’s wealth and property deeded to his nephew Fred Ashville, the current junior proprietor of Ashville Steel and the devil himself as far as most of the working population of the west side’s concerned. Hosea thinks, as he makes his way down Cherry Street under a soft flurry of snow, that they’ll be doing mankind two services this December: keeping Leslie Ashville company on his trip towards the undiscovered country, and seeing to it that Fred Ashville never prospers again. 

The campfire’s burning unusually bright when Hosea makes his way through the last bent hickories of Bachelor’s Grove. At first, Hosea thinks it must be Dutch who’s up, caught in one of those odd brain fevers where he can’t sleep till he’s filled fifty pages with words about God and death and man’s perverse indifference to nature—but when he gets closer he sees that it isn’t Dutch at all. It’s John, hunched gracelessly on one of the logs like a disgruntled little bullfrog, tossing little twigs and dead leaves into the flames to watch them sizzle and smoke. His lips are moving, but from his distance Hosea can’t tell what he’s saying. It occurs to Hosea that he’s spent quite a lot of his time lately in the company of people who talk to the air around them. 

That’s the thing that worries Hosea. It’s not the taking him in—they’ve done as much before, and not only with Arthur. Hosea knows what it’s like to be ten and cold and empty as a tomb on Judgment Day, and he’s not about to turn away hungry mouths when there’s room at the fire and enough in the pot to go round. Besides, he’s never regretted letting Arthur stay. But Arthur was fourteen, not twelve, and Arthur didn’t talk to people who aren’t there. Arthur was just a kid whose father hit him too much, and a damn good thief. John’s something else, and after weeks Hosea still isn’t sure exactly what. 

Hosea approaches the fire, and John starts, shoving his hands under his armpits as though Hosea just caught him doing something bad. 

“It’s late,” Hosea observes. 

John shrugs. “I’m not tired.” His eyes are huge in the firelight, and Hosea has the feeling he often gets when John looks at him—that the kid is sizing him up, calculating where to strike if trouble starts. 

“I can see that,” Hosea says. 

“Is he dead?” John asks. Arthur’s been telling him about the scheme, then. Hosea makes no pretense of sensitivity when it comes to death, but having spent a full evening playing the loving son to Ashville, Sr., he feels a mite put off by the ghoulishness of the question. 

“Old Ashville? Not yet,” he says. “Go to bed.” 

John doesn’t go to bed. He leans back, firelight catching the ragged ends of his hair, and says, “I seen a fella die once.” 

“So have I,” Hosea tells him. 

“He was coughin’,” John goes on, undeterred. “Blood was comin’ out of his mouth, an’ out of his nose, an’ all down his shirt an’ then—” he pauses dramatically, gathering a handful of rotting leaves into his grubby hand, “—then he shit in his pants, an’ a whole lot of blood came out his mouth, an’ the lady said he’s really dead now.” He tosses the bundle of leaves into the fire, which sends up a small gasp of muddy smoke. Hosea wonders who the lady was. Wonders where this child’s been, to tell that kind of story. 

He doesn’t ask. “You’ve been dreaming,” he says, and it’s less a guess than most of what he spun for Ashville earlier tonight. He’s seen that spooked look before—seen it in Arthur’s eyes when he was barely older than John and still fighting his father off in his sleep; seen it in his cousin’s eyes when he came back from Sharpsburg a leg light and ten times heavier for it; seen it in Dutch, sometimes, too. Hosea knows too well what nightmares look like. 

John scrubs at the snot trailing from his nose and shrugs. “I seen it,” is all he says. But he shudders, and his skinny shoulders hunch smaller against the night. 

He’s clearly not going to go back to bed, and in a way, Hosea can’t see why he should have to. It’s well past midnight now, but Hosea isn’t tired either. The moon’s high, the air’s quiet, and he’s got a job to do. He might as well have some company while he does it.

“Come on,” he says, waving towards the table. John follows him over, and Hosea draws Leslie Ashville’s will from under his coat and spreads the pages across the pocked wood. John, who can’t read and tried to bite Dutch when he offered a lesson, peers at the frail sheets with the curiosity of a spider inspecting a particularly fearsome fly. 

“Now,” Hosea begins, “what we’ve got to do is this.” 

iii.

On Christmas Eve, something happens. 

John isn’t sure at first what’s happened, only that folks are talking real loud and nobody’s telling him anything, but that’s not new. He goes into the trees and finds a big old stick and hits a stump till it falls into soft, stinking rubble, and stamps in the snow till there’s a flat circle all around. There’s a fat squirrel running around the base of a tree a ways off, and it stops for a minute and sniffs in John’s direction. 

“I ain’t smelly,” he tells the squirrel. “An’ I ain’t stupid.” 

The squirrel twitches and scoots away, tiny claws on the snow. 

“John!” Arthur calls, and John kicks bits of rotten wood across the ground until Arthur comes through the trees. “Get your coat on,” he says, nodding back towards camp; “we’re goin’ into town.” 

“Why,” John asks. He thinks about a wagon full of kids, rolling through the iron gates of the orphanage. He thinks he could kill Arthur, if he tried to put him in there. Kick his nuts, put his thumbs in his eyes and squeeze the jelly out, like that fella did to Pa in the bar, get his gun off him and point it to his heart. 

If he had to do it, he thinks he could. He’d be sad about it after, though. He likes Arthur. 

“Ashville’s dead,” Arthur’s saying. His face is split with a grin; John’s never seen him smile much. “We’re gonna be rich. We’re gettin’ the house.” 

“Oh,” John says. He can see the old man in his head, wrinkled and tiny in a house like a tomb, the way Hosea told him the night he came back with that secret pack of papers. Worms in his nose. Gobs of blood pouring, pouring out of his slack, black mouth. “Really?” 

“Really.” 

It’s a cold ride into town, perched on the back of Arthur’s horse with his arms tight around Arthur’s middle. John can hear Dutch talking up ahead, but the wind’s too quick to hear the words. John probably wouldn’t understand it anyway. He can’t understand half what Dutch says. He’s never met anyone as smart as that. He wonders when Dutch is going to find out that John’s dumb as a rock. Dumb as a rock and the devil in him, that’s what people say. Dutch don’t seem to mind the devil so much, though. John doesn’t know what to think about that. 

How exactly they got this house, John still doesn’t understand. Hosea took that dead man’s sheaf of papers, and said we’ll write these out again, and he and Arthur sat at the table for hours inking and scratching till Hosea said it was all perfect, and then there was some meetings with lawyers and magistrates and aldermen, and then it was all done, only the old man weren’t dead. John asked if Dutch was going to kill him, but Dutch just laughed and said I ain’t a murderer, I’m a philanthropist, and Hosea said that’s my old dad you’re talking about, and now John isn’t sure. But Arthur said it’s like a game, don’t you worry, and when the old man dies we’ll take his house, and now he’s dead. John squeezes a little tighter around Arthur’s middle, and tugs himself closer in the saddle. 

They’re riding through the grand part of town now, the part where every house has three floors and curly carvings on the windowsills and a pretty little tree out front all its own. John remembers sleeping here one night last summer, after Pa died, in a little stand of apple trees behind one of the mansions. He ate the hard little apples off the ground till his stomach hurt, and fell asleep in a shed, and in the morning an old African man came along and told him to run or he’d be in a pile of trouble, so John ran. He’s scanning the houses as they pass, trying to remember which one it was with the apples and the old man who said to run. 

The house where Ashville died is cold, and it smells like dust. John watches Arthur and Dutch and Hosea and Miss Grimshaw striding through the halls, crowing and laughing and saying Shakespeare, and looks to see if he can spot the place where the old man died. But there’s no blood on the floors or the furniture, just warm leather and shiny velvet and wood that gleams like gold when Dutch pulls back the heavy curtains and lets the winter sun spill over the room. 

“Merry Christmas,” Dutch booms, and Hosea says “hear, hear,” and John wonders if the ghosts can hear them too. 

Arthur takes him upstairs. Upstairs is a row of rooms, each the size of a house, each full of cobwebs and dead beetles and beds with heavy ceilings. Arthur tugs the curtains aside in each room while John sneezes in the bright dust and pokes at the silky wallpaper. 

Then Miss Grimshaw comes up the winding staircase and sets them to work, hauling carpetbags up the stairs and beating dust out of the duvets with an old broom from the kitchen. She snaps orders like a policeman and drags John by her iron knuckles to a room at the end of the musty hall and tells him it’s his. John suspects a trap, but Arthur laughs and says I ain’t bunkin’ with you no more, and John understands. After supper that night, when Dutch and Hosea pop open a bottle of wine they found in the cellar and Arthur starts singing and Hosea says John can’t have any wine and Dutch says it’s all right and Grimshaw says it ain’t, John sneaks upstairs to the Room That’s His, and wonders when they’ll drop him at the orphanage. 

He’s lying in the dust, watching moonlight crawl over the tall windows, when he hears the voice. It doesn’t sound like Dutch or Hosea or Arthur, but it’s a man, and it’s saying his name. 

John. 

John. 

John stands up. The door to the hallway opens, opens without him touching it, and on the other side’s a man who looks familiar. He’s not tall and he’s not short, with a little mustache and a fancy suit, and his hat reaches towards the ceiling and his eyes are fixed on John’s heart and not his face. 

“John,” he says, “I’ve missed you.” 

Then his face swells and melts. His eyes are hot black hollows, crawling with white worms, blood pouring out his mouth. John watches the river of black gore, swimming down his front, running over the rich, dusty carpet, the smell of shit rising thick and hot around him, and the man twitches and moans and heaves. Blood pouring out his mouth. John tries to scream and he can’t scream, he can’t breathe, and the smell of blood and shit makes him gag and retch, and the blood keeps coming, a black waterfall streaming from the strange man’s face as he sways and leers and shimmers in the dark. 

“John!” 

Someone’s holding his shoulders, shaking him. There’s carpet under his feet, warm and soft, and he gags, and hears Arthur say shit.  

He opens his eyes. He’s in the dark, in the hallway, and Arthur’s here in a big white shirt with his hair mussed up from sleep. He’s got John by the shoulders, and he’s got an odd look on his face, like something bad is happening, and John wonders if it’s happening to him. 

He looks worried, John realizes with a muffled shock. 

“You okay?” he’s asking, and John shakes his head before he can think about it. His heart’s beating like an army drum. He thinks he can feel it shaking his whole body. He steps from foot to foot on the swampy carpet, and realizes his pants are wet. “What happened,” Arthur asks. 

John’s stomach jerks and twists inside of him. If he tells Arthur the truth, he’ll be gone by morning. 

Arthur’s hand’s at the back of his head, in his hair, steady and warm. 

“Come on, kid.” 

John sucks in air. 

“It was him,” he whispers. “It was the devil.” 

Blood pouring out his mouth.

Arthur sighs, a little sound that’s almost a laugh, and says, “There ain’t no devil here. You had a dream.” He leans in, smelling like wine and horse, and pats John on the back, one arm around him pressing close, his scratchy chin brushing against John’s forehead. John thinks it’s a hug. He doesn’t know what that means. 

“I ain’t good,” John starts to tell him—heart in his stomach, stomach in his throat. “I’m crazy an’ I’m bad an’ I got the devil in me an’ he follows me an’ last year he made me shoot a man till his brains came out through his nose an’ the nuns’ll give me back to him,” but Arthur stops him, hand on his cheek, shaking his head and saying no, no, forget all that, you’re dreamin’, there ain’t no devil and there ain’t no nuns here. You’re home now, John. Forget that.

In the end, Arthur picks John up like he’s a kid, and John’s too tired to complain. He wraps his arms around Arthur’s neck and lets him carry him down the hall, away from the room with the devil’s blood soaking into the floor and into Arthur’s room, where there’s a heap of orange coals in the hearth and a wooly blanket that Arthur wraps him in once his sodden pants are gone. They sit by the fire, John a mute cocoon and Arthur more than half asleep, and Arthur pulls out his notebook and shows John a funny drawing of a man with an apple for a head. 

John thinks about home. 

“You’re a good kid,” Arthur says, his voice soft and silly. He’s drunk. “Dutch ain’t gonna send you back, y’know.” 

John’s throat aches like there’s someone punching it. His cheeks are hot, lit up by the fire and the tears spilling up and over his eyelids. He can’t answer back. He thinks about a flat plain, gray grass wrinkled by the wind, and a heap of rocks at the edge of a hill. He can’t get the picture out of his head. Can’t get the devil’s voice out of his throat. 

“You’re home,” Arthur says, and the warmth of the fire swallows him up, and he sobs into Arthur’s side for a long time. 

Down the hallway, in the darkness, the door swings silently open and shut.

[sweetwritertanya]

Trick-or-Treating (Original)

A/N: Guys! It’s my first attempt at an horror trope! I can’t honestly tell if it’s any good or not, so you all will have to tell me... Because of this, I kept it as a short story. It’s a quick read to try and spook you a bit for the season ^.^

Summary: You take your nephew out on Halloween night for trick or treating. But the night takes a horrifying turn just as you were about to go back home.

Warnings: this is a HORROR fic and this will include children getting hurt/injured (although no death) as well as some mentions of blood. I don’t get too descriptive, so I wouldn’t call it gore, but you are warned. If you don’t feel comfortable, feel free to skip this one! 

Word Count: 1368

“Auntie, auntie, can I go to the next doorway on my own? Can I?” the adorable ten-year-old boy asks with bright round eyes, a big smile across his thin lips bellow his button nose.

Sighing but unable to keep a mimicking smile from your own lips, you ruffle the boy’s ashy blond hair, now out of his spider-man mask he only put on when it was time to knock on people’s doors.

“You know your mom asked me to keep you nearby. Some kids went missing last year and she’s being extra careful, quite rightfully so” you explain to the disappointed boy.

“Not fair” he pouts, head hanging low.

“Don’t be like that, Dan. Think of all the candy you’ll get today! Your parents never took you this far out of your neighborhood before for trick-or-treating, did they?” You try and cheer up the child, but he continues pointing.

“I guess…” As your nephew looks ahead with small interest in his light eyes, his whole expression suddenly lifts up as he recognizes someone. “Charlie! That’s my friend, auntie!”

The boy tugs at your hand and practically jumps in place as he points towards a duo of kids coming on the opposite direction down the street with two adults following closely behind. Coincidentally, the boy he recognized was also dressed as spider-man, while the other was dressed as a police-officer.

“Oh? You wanna go and say hi?”

“Please, please, please! Can I go trick-or-treating with them? Pleeaaaseee?” Dan begs in his best puppy eyes, to which you seem to never be able to say no.

“Gosh darnit… Fine, we’ll go and see if the people supervising them allow you to join in. But no promises, and don’t sulk if they say no, deal?” You warn, knowing how he got when he didn’t get what he wanted.

“Yay!” It’s like he never heard your warnings and automatically thinks he gets to play with his friends for the rest of the night.

Rolling your eyes at his reaction, you hold his hand and cross the street to meet the group of friends he had pointed to. You introduce yourself and your nephew to the two adults present, an older woman who was the mother of one of the kids and a younger guy who was an older brother. They saw absolutely no harm in letting your nephew join in on the fun and so the night continued with the group going house to house around the block.

As the night started to settle and fewer kids hang around the sidewalks with their parents, you warned Dan that is was almost time to go back home, to which he showed a lot of aversion, clinging to the friend dressed equally to him.

“How about this?” The woman suggests to the group of friends. “There are only three houses left and then we all have to go home. Us, grownups, will watch by the sidewalk and we’ll let you boys go to the front door on your own and ask for candy yourselves on these ones. What do you say?”

She wasn’t even finished talking and the children were already running ahead towards the next house, with excited squeals and chuckles. You shake your head and smile at how little could make them happy.

The first two houses go by well enough, one kid complaining about getting the worst candy out of the three but nothing more. By the third house, you watch with the rest of the adults as they ring the doorbell and no one seems to answer. They ring again, but nothing.

“C’mon boys, no one is home” you call out for them.

“But aunt Y/N, it’s called trick-or-treating! Now is when we trick, right?” your nephew asks from the front door.

“I have toilet paper” the kid dressed as a police officer says, taking out a roll from his bag.

“I have party streamers!” the other claims, taking it out of the bag too.

You and the other two supervisors exchange looks, wondering if you should let them do this. The older brother shrugs his shoulders and shouts out his response to the boys.

“You have two minutes! Then, we are going home. And careful not to break anything!”

Not needing any more convincing, the kids start running around the front yard with excited screams and jumping as they throw the toilet paper and streamers around the grass. You bite your lip, unsure if this was really the best idea and the older woman seemed to share your concerns.

“Do you even know who lives here? What if they don’t find this funny and get mad?”

“I’ll come by tomorrow early and talk to the owners. I’ll even offer to clean it all up, it shouldn’t be a problem” he assures you both, lifting a weight from your heart.

“That’s good. I know my sister doesn’t want any problem with anyone in the neighborhood, especially after last year.”

“Oh, those poor children!” the woman recalls the disappearance.

“Yeah, they were from my sister’s school district, went to the same school as her son and she’s been very protective ever since” you explain.

“Of course, we can’t be too car-”

It starts then. The most chilling and gut wrenching screams you have ever heard in your life.

You recognize your nephew’s horrifying screams and as your head snaps to the house, you realize the kids were no longer on the front yard. Your memory blurs for the next few minutes, but you recall jumping the small fence, even with your plump body not making it easy but the adrenaline helped, alongside the child’s older brother, screaming Dan’s name in a panic. The older woman, too fragile to jump like you, has to go around the gate and soon you are all going around the house to the backyard, where the trail of toilet paper and party streamers led.

The scene you come across still to this day makes you sick. Your nephew is standing there, screaming bloody murder, with the kid dressed as a police-officer laying on the floor, face down with a nasty cut on the back of his head, covering his head with blood. In front of them is Charlie, Dan’s friend, with a knife by his feet and the spider-man mask bloodied on his hand.

It all happens so quickly, you truly have a hard time remembering as you tell your side of the events to the cops.  Somehow, in the midst of your perplexing shock, you manage to run and grab your screaming nephew away from the murderous kid at the same time the older brother kneels by the injured kid and tries to stop the bleeding. The woman, the mother of the other boy, cries her eyes out as she reaches for her son, who was completely numb until he found himself in the arms of his mother and then begins to sob and shake.

The police and an ambulance show up before you know it, and you are still absent-mindedly holding Dan in a crushing hug when the police officer asks you for a testimony. Your nephew’s story corroborates what the police already suspected and the boy who got hurt is taken away in an ambulance still alive.

You take your sister’s son back to her home still in somewhat of a shock state. She gets incredibly mad at you for letting him out of your sight and it takes months before you two make up and you are allowed to see your nephew again. By the time that happens he has returned to his normal self, that happy bright kid you were used to see, like nothing ever happened.

No one questions the injured kid, who thankfully survived, any further after he says that spider-man attacked him. No one really questions how Dan even befriended Charlie, since their parents knew nothing of any friendship between them. No one wonders why Dan chose to dress up as spider-man for Halloween, when he never showed any interest in hero movies before.

And no one ever notices how the spider-man mask Dan took out that Halloween nigh was not the same that he brought back home.

[optimistic-dinosaur-nacho]

Imprisoned - Chapter IV

Chapter IV

Story Rating: 14+ Warnings: Violence, Murder, Mentions of Murder, Language [Confirmed Story of Spoilers For Defending Jacob From Now On] Summary: Y/N is Andy and Laurie Barber’s 14-year-old daughter who is a high-grade student in Arch Middle School. Her best friend, Alice Miller had been gone for a while. They search for the lost student and find out that Alice Miller’s body has the print’s of Andy and Laurie’s daughter, Y/N.

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII

Author’s Note: I had finished the show and I know some may have not seen it but for your experience, I suggest you don’t read this story if you have not seen Defending Jacob.

Characters I have spotted where different names from my story. Paula Duffy is actually Pam Duffy, so that will change. Including the school name and your grade.(Soon I will change the names in the other chapters) Thank you! Sorry for mistakes that I’ve made!

Love you!

I have warned you about spoilers, right?

~~~

The students were returning to the school. After a small break after the day Alice was reported, they called off school for a day. Laurie offers to drive Y/N to school, not allowing her to go to that park.

She slowly drove up to the front as Y/N stared out the window nonchalantly. Laurie stops the car when the officer nods them over, she turns to Y/N, “Okay. You got everything?”

“Yep,” Y/N says, grabbing her bag and hopping out. “Am I walking home?” She asked. Laurie sighs, “I don’t know. I’ll call you if any of us are gonna pick you up. I don’t know about dad.” Y/N nods. “Bye, mom. Love you.”

“Love you too, honey.” The door closes and Y/N began to walk up to the school.

She spotted Henry on her way to the doors, “Hey, Henry.” Her friend turns around and gives her a scared expression. Her smile slowly dropped when he looks at her like he didn’t know her. Henry turned around and completely ignored her.

Her hand grips her backpack strap as she passes him.

Andy began to walk through the offices to meet up with his boss, Lynn. The one who kind of called him up on the case of Alice Miller. The chatter began to fade as he enters her office.

“Have a seat, Andy,” She says. He takes the seat in front of her desk and lets out a sigh. “I thought that press conference went well enough,” He says. Lynn folded her hands together, leaning back.

“They want answers, Andy. So do the girl’s parents,” Lynn states. Andy situates himself into the chair more, furrowing his brows. “Yeah, so do I. You know as well as I--” The clicking sound of the door behind them opens and Andy turns around.

“I asked Neal to join us,” Lynn says, the tall man without his jacket shows his suspenders started walking in. “Andy,” Neal greets. The man turns back to Lynn like a crazy person. “This isn’t an ambush. I think you handling this case is not the best idea. You’re friendly with the parents, your daughter goes to the same school--”

Andy scoffs, “We barely know the parents. Yes, we’ve spoken to them but we haven’t really had connections. I barely knew the girl but she’s best friends with Y/N. Let me guess, Rasputin here offered to take over?” Neal smiles at that.

Lynn seemed defensive, “Neal has legitimate concerns about the appearance of conflict. And frankly, so do I,” She unfolds her hands for a second, “Appearances matter.”

Andy shakes his head, “Yeah, to voters.” Lynn scoffs at that, “Oh, come on, Andy.”

“Sorry,” He mutters.

“It’s a question of objectivity,” Neal finally says. Andy glances over, “Shut up, Neal,” He brings his attention back to Lynn, “Are you taking me off the case? Yes or no.”

Lynn leans forward, “Right now I’m merely asking what you think.”

“I think I should keep this case. If I were concerned about my reputation, maybe I’d feel differently. But unlike Mr. Logiudice here,” Andy glanced at the man beside him, “I’m not gunning for your job.”

Neal shakes his head, “Fuck off, Andy. Okay?” Andy lifts up his hands, “Hey, I get it. High-profile case, big splashy win. Be a game changer.”

“You’re a real piece of work you know that?” He said.

“Gentlemen,” Lynn says sternly. “You’re dragging your feet on this case,” Neal continues as Andy removes his eyes from the man. “The case is going slow ‘cause that’s how the case is going. I’m not going to indict someone just to make it look good,” Andy said.

“You always told me to push every case as hard as I could.”

“I am pushing as hard as I can,” Andy snaps. “Then why haven’t you interviewed any of the kids?” Neal asks. Andy turns, “Because it isn’t Dorchester High, Neal. It’s Newton. Every single detail has to be negotiated. Half the parents there are lawyers.” Neal doesn’t respond to that and turns away from Andy.

Neal was somewhat new but not. Andy was more experienced as he was, maybe even taught him a few things about being a DA. But, boy do they argue.

“Look, we got interviews lined up all day. You wanna send Neal? Be my guest,” Andy said. Lynn inhales softly, “I have concerns, I voiced them. If you say there’s no conflict--”

“There isn’t,” Andy cuts her off. 

“I don’t know how you can be the one to make that call,” Neal cuts in. “Because that’s the way it works, Neal,” Andy faces him, “I make the calls.” Neal shuts up once again so Andy turns back to Lynn. “And if I’m wrong, I’ll be the one to stand in front of the jury and take the hit.”

There was no other choice. Sure, Lynn could say no, but Andy just seem to not refuse to get rid of the case he wanted. “Okay,” She says. Neal leans in his chair and lets out a sigh without the sign of irritation. Andy glances at him, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Andy.” The man stands up from his seat, “I’ll keep you updated,” He said. “Please do.”

.

Pam and Andy were beginning to head to the Archer Middle School. They needed more details on the day of the party. “We’ve gotten consent to fingerprint most of the kids.”

“I think we start with high-priority witnesses. Alice’s close friends, kids known to walk to school through the Cold Spring Park and who attended to Emily Walker’s party.”

The two entered the building and the office woman led them to an empty classroom to do their interviews with most of the students. The first one comes in and it’s a girl who shyly walks over to the table. “I’m Lieutenant Duffy. I’m with the state police. And this is Mr. Barber. He’s the assistant district attorney in charge of the case,” Pam states towards the girl, the girl watched Andy carefully.

“You’re Y/N’s dad, aren’t you?” She asked. He nods, “That’s right. So how well did you know Alice? Was she a friend?” He asks. The girl nods unsure, “Yeah, I guess.”

Andy plays with the pen in his hand, knowing these kids are gonna be difficult to talk to. “Tell us about her.”

“She was okay.”

Duffy shuffles, “Can you be a little more specific?”

They had another kid the next 15 minutes. The boy shrugs. “She was nice.” Andy looks over at Duffy. “Anything else?”

“I don’t know. Not really.”

The adults moved on to the next child. “Can you think of anyone that would’ve had a reason to wanna hurt Alice?” The girl in front of them shakes her head, thinking. “I don’t think so. No.”  

.

Andy writes down things on his notepad. “What about people Alice didn’t like?” The two look up to the curly hair boy, “I don’t know. I mean, nobody likes everybody, right?” Andy and Duffy look at each other.

.

“Wait, are you Y/N Barber’s dad?” The next girl asks, all Andy could do was smile. These kids don’t really focus on the topic here other than him being the best father to his daughter, Y/N. “Can you think of anyone who might have a reason to wanna hurt Alice?”

The kids replied with the same answer.

“No.”

This wanted to make Andy rip the notepad. Duffy rubs her forehead, “Did Alice say anything to you that made you think she might be in trouble?” She asks. The girl tilts her head. “In trouble?”

Their next witness says the same thing. “In trouble? How?”

Andy began to write in his note book to the next kid in front of him. He knew it was around an hour at this point. “Did Alice ever say anything to you to make you think she might be in trouble?”

The same answers through all the kids.

“No.”

.

Andy presses the end of the pen on his notepad a couple of times. “Was Alice acting differently at all the week that this happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Never said anything about anyone following her, anyone bothering her?” Duffy asks. The kids all shook their heads at that question.

“Wait,” The girl says, “Are you Y/N Barber’s dad?” Andy drops his head and sighs. “Is there anything else you think we should know?”

Andy hated to hear the same one syllable and two letter word. 

“No.”

“About Alice?” One kid had asked. Duffy shrugged, “About anything.”

After almost an hour and a half of talking with the kids, they handed them cards. “Well, thanks for talking to us,” Andy pulls out a card, “This is my card. It has all my information if you need to get in touch.” They all nod.

“If anything else occurs to you, even if you think it’s nothing,” Duffy pulls out her card. The girl takes it, “Like if I heard something?” She asked.

“Exactly,” Andy said, he tilts his head, “Wait, did you hear something?”

“No,” She shook her head, “Just... you know.”

“No, we don’t,” Duffy said. Those kids were bad talkers. Y/N could be like that sometimes but these kids were worse. 

They all wanted to leave with the words:

“Can I go now?”

.

Andy began to write some notes down as a phone buzzes beside him and Duffy pulls out her phone. She sits up, “Let me know what I miss,” Pam stands up and walks away.

He brought his attention to the last kid in front of him. “So is there anything else you want to tell me about Alice?” He asked. The girl shakes her head. Andy gives her a softly okay. 

“Well, you have both our cards. If you think of anything else, please feel free to call anytime,” He said. The girl nods, “The cop who came to our class said there was a tip line. Just in case we wanted to say something anonymously or whatever,” She says.

Andy nods this time, “That’s right.” He folded his arms in front of him. “Is there something you want to tell us?”

“No, I was just wondering.” There was a small silence before she reaches for her backpack and puts it over her shoulder. “I know your daughter, Y/N.”

Andy smiles, “Oh, yeah? You guys friends?”

“I guess so. Well, not exactly. But, I mean, we know each other. Saw her at Emily’s party.” Andy nods at her as she stood up in silence to head for the door. All this sudden she stops, turning to face him again.

“Have you talked to Y/N about this?” She asks.

“About Alice?” He leans on the table, seeing her nod, “Why do you ask?” He says. The girl shakes her head and turns to walk away. “Sarah,” He calls.

She turns back. “Must have been some reason you asked that.”

Sarah shook her head again with the monotone voice, “I was just asking. Really.” Andy watches her inch closer to the door, “Well, if you think of anything else,” He adds. Sarah gives him a thumbs up and walks out the doors, just like the others.

With a sigh, Andy reaches for the button to his neck and unbuttons it, the feeling of it tightening around his throat made it hard for him to breath.

.

After another few minutes and a couple look over the notes he had gotten, it was nothing. Duffy comes in, “We’re not better off than we were yesterday. These kids are like mafiosos,” He says. He sees her hand him her phone and he takes it into his own hand.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“Just came in,” She responds. He reads the top words. “Leonard Patz. Indecent A&B on a minor, lewd and lascivious indecent A&B on a minor pending,” Andy reads.

“He’s 36 years old, lives near the park in that condo, the Windsor, or whatever they call it.”

“Why didn’t we know about him before?” Andy looks over the information and the photos of him. “He moved to Newton last year. Guess it was never registered. One of the ADAs in the child abuse unit flagged him. That’s the pending.”

“What did this guy do?”

Pam inhales, “Grabbed a girl’s chest at the public library.” Andy looks up to Pam if she was serious. The look never faltered. “Kid was 15. Only a year older than Alice Miller.”

“He groped a girl and got out on a personal?” Andy sits back down in disbelief. “Apparently there was some question about the kid’s testimony,” She said.

Leonard seem to be around 5′6 of height. This could be a suspect, “We should bring him in.”

“Keep in mind, the Miller girl had no sign of sexual assault. If we bring this guy in without something tying him to the case--” She cuts herself off. “Right,” He says, “He’ll lawyer up.”

Pam pierces her lips at him, “I know you’re under a lot of pressure, but if you play this wrong, you could lose your one chance to talk to him.” He thought about for a moment. But these kid’s and their answers over the past 2 hours, they got nothing from them. He needed to break it off for a moment.

“Let me sleep on it.” It was close to being maybe another 30 minutes before school ended so he texted Laurie that he’ll be picking up Y/N today. 

.

It rained not too long ago. The cement ground was wet, including the fields as the students came out of the school. Andy spotted Y/N and he rolls the window down catching her eye.

She runs over and hops into the passenger side. “Hey, dad.”

“Hey, sweetheart. How was school?”

“Good. You were here?” She asked. Andy nods, he didn’t want to answer what they were looking for. It was kind of obvious why they were there. Y/N nods, “Did you get anything?”

“Not really. No,” He says. He sounded just like those kids. He glances at her and grins, “Did you eat?”

“Kind of.”

“Mom didn’t pack you anything?” He asked, Y/N shook her head, “I didn’t want anything. Wasn’t feeling good at the time.” Andy pulls out of the school driveway and heads down the road. “Do you want me to pick you up something?”

Y/N took a while to answer. “I’m okay. I’m sure there’s leftovers at home.”

Andy looks over at her for a second. Her eyes staring out the window to the kids hopping on the buses or kid’s walking home. He turns away and continued to drive back home.

.

Y/N was already in bed around nine after dinner. Andy and Laurie were in the living room and dining room. Andy worked late along with his wife who works at the children’s cottage. He was looking over the cases. Laurie lets out a sigh and closes her laptop to head over to Andy at the dining table, flipping through pages.

“I’m exhausted. I’m going up,” She mumbles. He gives her a soft whisper of an Okay. She rubs his back, “You?”

He doesn’t look at her, “Yeah, a couple minutes.” Laurie looks over to the photo’s of Alice’s body by the pond. She quickly looks away and leans down to kiss his forehead, “Goodnight, honey.”

“Night,” He says.

After Laurie goes up as Andy drops the pages and stares at the screen of his laptop. He takes out his phone and holds it up to his ear, “Hey, did I wake you?” He asks. They respond back. “Yeah, pretty much.” Duffy was on the phone with him. “Yeah. Yeah, I wanna bring him in... I am. Okay. Thanks, Duff.”

He hangs up and puts his phone down, looking over the file once again. Leonard Patz had to at least be involved in this. He was sure, but they needed to ask him first.

Andy glanced over to the photos and began to call it a night. He collected the photos and his computer dings. 

He reads the message in the corner.

pbjhwohbgbwi29y859@gmail.com Re: ALICE MILLER >>> README Look here.

Andy reached over and clicks on the link Look Here. The link takes him to an instagram post with the hashtag #RIPALICE

Andy dug in deeper and began to scroll through the comments down below. One caught his eye and the air caught in his throat.

Y/N STFU. Bitch.

WTF? YB go fuck off and die.

So not cool Y/N

Andy continues to scrolls and finds his daughter’s profile. 

Alice is dead. Why are you writing her messages? Acting like her best friends.

Andy sighs softly, spotting the four replies underneath her response to others. He clicks on them. The one made chills ride up his spine and the horror rose.

Y/N, everybody knows you did it. you have a knife. I’ve seen it.

Those words repeated in his head. He leans into his chair and his breathing began to rise. Was this true? Or does this Derek think this is funny to say that on social media?

Without even saying anything. Andy walks up the stairs and enters her room. The room was dark, he heard the faint music as he looks down to see her with earbuds in.

Her photos hung up on the wall with those firefly lights that shined, it still didn’t light up her whole room. He turns away from her and looks around. Carefully, he pulls a drawer out and gently moves things around for something hard and heavy. Silver and sharp.

He hoped he would not find some knife in her room. He looks over to make sure she didn’t wake up. He goes to her bookshelf, moving books around to the sides, looking behind, under, over or whatever.

He pulls out his phone and uses his flash, searching through her closet, checking every sweater pocket hanging in her closet. Hoping she wasn’t hiding skeletons in there.

No find as he closes the door slowly and looks around one more time. Not missing anything he hadn’t checked, before he looks at Y/N. She was sleeping so soundly. Peaceful. Alongside with Milo who luckily just relaxed and didn’t dramatically jump up to him.

He knew his daughter wouldn’t do this. He felt guilty just to assume she had one. That she did it. Before he headed out, he walked over to her nightstand. Pulling out the drawer to search it one last time.

He reached in, finding pencils, game cards, till his fingers touch something soft but it felt heavy. He reaches in and pulls out socks. He unravels the cloth off from whatever was hiding under it. He felt his heart beat against his chest, hoping his daughter couldn’t hear it like thunder.

He saw the dark handle, a grip and cold metal. He looks down at her in pure horror and disbelief. Using his two fingers to pull the large sharp blade out of it’s hiding. 

The moonlight hitting all it’s sharp edges giving Andy that eerie feeling. His fingers shook under the blade, it had smaller blades down itself. The knife that was more critical, one strike and the pulling could rip out the flesh and tear it. There were no blood tracings, no knife was found on that scene. 

Could this be it?

~~~

I hate to use the same dialogue. It makes me feel like a bad person. 

TAGS:

@jtargaryen18​ @joannaliceevans-fanficblog​ @chrisevans-imagines​ @princess-evans-addict​ @elliee1497​ @ifuseekfatamy​ @ssebstann​ @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ @avengerswon​ @wandascarlett​

[pokefarm-q]

firewolf1117 refuckingceipts (it's all been removed now but people archived it)

this bitch:

When you say “All Cops are”, here’s what you’re really saying:

All Blacks are Criminals All Mexicans are Illegal All Americans are stupid, fat, and lazy All Rape Victims are liars All Suicide Posters are Attention Seekers All Muslims are Terrorists All LGBT deserve to die

Are you outraged yet? GOOD.It means I touched a nerve.

You would never, ever, EVER say those things about those groups of people because you KNOW that it’s not true, even in the slightest. There are so very very FEW Cops who are actually corrupt and using their power and position inappropriately.

So what gives you the right to say the same about cops? COPS! Who are practically SOLDIERS! EVERY DAY their family lives with the fear that they won’t return. EVERY DAY they put their lives in danger to PROTECT you! They, as a whole, deserve your RESPECT!!! MOST ALL “Brutality” cases are from the CRIMINAL fighting, disrespecting, grabbing a weapon, etc. If you’d just COOPERATE AND BE RESPECTFUL you’d be treated FAIRLY!! Cops don’t have the time to sort things out. Their snap second decisions PROTECT them AND nearby Civilians. You can’t possibly understand the FEAR AND TERROR they hold EVERY SECOND of EVERY DAY! So don’t you DARE judge them for mistakes.

and here’s the response of one brave user, this legend, this badass mofo, who replied to their bullshittery and got banned for a day for posting in the whiny crybaby bitch’s journal without permission:

Replying to this, because FireWolf1117 is intentionally spreading misinformation and hate. I don’t care if the staff is going to tell me off for this — for once, I care a little more about setting this right than following the Journal rule.

First of all, United States cops are legally not required to save civilians. It’s not considered unconstitutional, according to the case Warren v. District of Columbia (444 A.2d. 1, D.C. Ct. of Ap. 1981). To keep it short, cops can literally see crimes being committed and decide not to intervene if they feel like it. This has been quite common among police departments if you (objectively) compare the police’s actions during BLM protests and anti-lockdown protests.

Anyways, let’s get to your generalizing logic. I have to agree with you on one thing: generalizing is bad. No group should be generalized because of some rotten apples. However, this doesn’t count for cops. Here’s why not:

The police force isn’t a marginalized group. A police officer is a profession. A job. Cops are public servants. They work for the state, for the civilians. And that’s why they need to be held accountable for any misconduct they commit. Which is, unfortunately, is objectively not the case. According to statistics from https://mappingpoliceviolence.org, 99% of United States cops who have killed citizens have not been criminally charged, because police departments literally protect officers from getting tried. Of the 750+ shootings done by police this year, only four cops are getting tried. So much for “there are only a few corrupt ones”. Black people are also way less likely to carry a weapon compared to White people, while Black people get shot by cops thrice as likely.

What’s more, because the police force is a profession, people can quit being a police officer. This doesn’t count for most of the groups you mentioned: Black people can’t stop being Black, Mexican people can’t stop being Mexican, Americans can’t stop being American (also you including Americans kinda makes you look embarrassing lol no offense), rape victims can’t be ‘unraped’, Muslims (or even just Arabs in general) can’t stop being perceived as Muslims (even Sikhs get seen as Muslims nowadays…) and LGBTI+ people can’t stop being LGBTI+ (unless they discover they’re not). Police officers can literally take their uniform off and be perceived as normal human beings. As soon as they are on duty and take on their uniform, a huge responsibility awaits them. A responsibility that has been abused by them to the point that marginalized people will hesitate before calling the police, fearing that the police will either come too late or escalate the situation. Cops aren’t endangering their own lives. They’re endangering the lives of those they’re supposed to protect. No good person would shoot a man in his back SEVEN times for being 'aggressive’. No good person who claims to protect and serve would kneel on someone’s neck for eight minutes while that person was cooperating with them. No good person would shoot a completely innocent woman in her sleep because they raided the wrong house. (BTW, Breonna Taylor’s murderers are still walking free as if nothing happened.) No good person would shoot a 12-year-old kid for having a toy gun. No good person would kill a man in his car for… picking up his ID to show it to the cop. Just because you cooperate, doesn’t mean that you’re safe.

Your logic is clearly flawed, because you judge cops on their personality, and not on the bigger picture. All cops are “bastards” not because we see all of them are evil killing machines that shoot people on sight — it’s because they contribute to an oppressive system, whether it’s directly or indirectly. It’s more than 'just a few cops’: the government wants bad laws to be enforced, the prison system is getting used as a business model, minorities are forced to live in poor socioeconomic areas on purpose BY the government, gentrification exists, multi billionnaires are exploiting low-class working people even more, there’s a damn pandemic that’s not being taken seriously… And guess who’s at the front of keeping the fragile capitalist system intact? Right. The police. The face of the government, that’s laughing at Black people, people of color, disabled people, LGBTI+ people… No good cop exists, even if they’re nice to everyone. Good cops who speak out against the abuse of other cops get fired, because the police departments don’t want the truth to be exposed. If you truly want to be someone who saves people’s lives, then stop being a cop and get a better job, like a firefighter, an EMT, a psychologist… Anything that isn’t completely corrupted.

Even during the recent BLM protests, cops are showing off their power. They escalate situations without provocation more times than BLM protesters start shit. Also cops are committing literal war crimes by using tear gas and other chemicals against civilians (IT GOES AGAINST THE GENEVA CONVENTION FOR FUCK’S SAKE). Not so protective now, aren’t they? The only thing BLM protesters have hurt are cops’ ego. Trust me, protesters being a little mean to cops won’t ever be as bad as all the innocent lives cops have taken and covered up.

I want to go on forever, because I have a lot more to say (such as why “All Lives Matter” is reactionary and racist, how the police force was formed in the first place, how the effects of slavery and colonialism are still being felt by Black people to this day, how and why 'riots’ can be 'justified’), but I’ll leave it at this. At least I got to give counterarguments to your points. Take care and educate yourself! (Tip: stop watching FOX News and Infowars if you do that, you’re going to develop brainrot! ;__;)

ladies and gentleman of the jury, as you can see, this user not only came into this argument prepared, but they were civil and had links (that aren’t links now oop soz). they gave this bitch plenty of opportunity to learn and grow from this without attacking her.

but your bet your ASS the poor little white girl went crying to her daddy about people ATTACKING HER and BULLYING HER FOR HER OPINIONS!!!! she uses her anxiety as a get out of jail free card CONSTANTLY, bitching and moaning about how, and these are directly quoting from HER own journal:

MAY 29, 2020

I log in to this game to have fun and escape the stresses and problems of real life. I do NOT want to be going about my business, and see “BLM” in someone’s Trainer Card, and have to deal with a surge of overwhelming emotions (whether positive or negative). I simply cannot handle the Anxiety that results.

This is a GAME site. NOT a place to share your political, racial or other stances. PLEASE keep ALL such topics OFF this site. I understand you want to talk about them, and that’s fine. But out of respect for people like me, can you please do so in private with the people you know WANT to see and discuss it?

just admit you’re racist dude.

She uses CSS. SHE CAN FUCKING HIDE OTHER PEOPLE’S FUCKING CARDS. PEOPLE CAN TALK ABOUT WHATEVER THEY DAMN WELL PLEASE ON THEIR OWN DAMN PAGES. THE WORLD DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND YOU.

Also! You know she only put “whether positive or negative” to quell any hate she might’ve gotten because ANXIETY is usually not a positive emotion. There’s not even a positive CONNOTATION. and she hopes to be published by the end of the year lmfao yeah right.

and then, on JUNE 16, 2020:

I WAS going to make a post in response to the most recent announcement, but now I’m just too frazzled and upset about it. Still making a post. I’ll just be posting it off site so I can say things how I want to say them, and so I don’t have any in game repercussions.

Honestly, though. I log onto this site to ESCAPE reality. I do NOT want to see ANY stance on ANY “cause” ANYWHERE. NONE OF IT BELONGS HERE. NONE!!!! Because of this “decision”, I’m going to make one of my own. I am gone from this site until current affairs are resolved. Heck. Perhaps even after. I will NOT be a part of a site that allows…Ugh. NOT going to get into this here.

but like… she came back a month later lmao

OH AND!! Earlier this month on AUGUST 6, 2020 she posted this!

It really breaks my heart seeing derogatory remarks against Cops in people’s Trainer Cards. It’s upsetting that you feel that way, and even more so that you make your hatred so vehemently known.

Personally, I don’t know why any of those Cop comments are allowed. If someone had something in their Trainer Card against Religion, LGBT, or POC, I guarantee that statement would be removed. So why is it alright for people to make hateful, vile, disgusting remarks against Cops? Despite it being someone’s personal opinion, it’s still Hate Speech, and shouldn’t be allowed.

this bitch is part of the lgbt+ community. she’s part of a marginalized group.

The “"derogatory remarks”“ she’s talking about? #AllCopsAreComplicit #CopsStinky #AllCopsSuck

which brings us back to Exhibit A, ladies and gentlemen! Her equating #AllCopsAreComplicit and #CopsSTINKY to "All LGBT deserve to die” and a Shitton of other stereotypes. Well fucking done.

Despite bitching and moaning about I DONT WANNA SEE ANYTHING, despite there being ways she can fucking hide it HER DAMN SELF she chooses instead to bitch piss moan bitch piss moan bitch piss and fucking moan and then when someone calls her out on her genuinely harmful bullshit, pulls the wounded gazelle gambit, claims she’s being attacked, and puts in her Card that “anxiety attack! again! waaaah!” like anyone has a shred of sympathy left for her ugly ass. She can’t handle looking like the bad guy so she plays the anxiety card. She bitches about never having any friends, only depression and anxiety, and it’s like bitch no fucking wonder.

Both the top posts have been taken down, but the user who responded to her has gotten nothing but love for her mad courage in saying something when no one else dared.

Firefurrywolf made a halfassed apology (August 30, 2020) which I won’t go into but there is one line that sticks out to me because it’s such a goddamn lie:

When I state my opinion, I usually do so with grace and eloquence. I did not think about my actions this time.

… do you?

This is a GAME site. NOT a place to share your political, racial or other stances. PLEASE keep ALL such topics OFF this site.

Do you… really?

I log onto this site to ESCAPE reality. I do NOT want to see ANY stance on ANY “cause” ANYWHERE. NONE OF IT BELONGS HERE. NONE!!!!

I don’t think so. You vile, disgusting, manipulative, obnoxious, PRETENTIOUS, racist, terfy bitch.

Oh, before I forget, yeah. Terf. She looks like one too. All over her insta. Gross.

NOVEMBER 19, 2019

My response to a LGBT post in one of my writing groups.

I don’t know most of these terms within the community. Don’t really care to know either, cause your preferences won’t change my feelings about who you are. I probably should, though, cause the Its and Xes really confuse me.

I knew I was a Demi-Ace for a few years. I’ve also known that I was Poly since I was early teens. But I’m also attracted to beauty and care more about who you are as a person than your preferences, so apparently I’m Panaesthetic as well?

Also firm believer of “True Love Knows NO Bounds”

Her journal got moved to 18+ because there was a post talking about sex. Might’ve even been alluding to rape. On a CHILDREN’S SITE. In her CHILD-FRIENDLY journal. It sat there for at least two months. TWO MONTHS. But I will not be posting that here, but it’s still there if anyone wants to snoop. All of this is public. Well, it was. But at least minors won’t be exposed to this histrionic little whiny whitey who is absolutely drowning in her white privilege.

Just because she changed her pfp from her face to a shitty drawing she did doesn’t hide the fact that she’s white, and the worst kind of person with little to no actual coping skills.

She claims to be an artist, a writer, all this, blah blah, but then why doesn’t she channel any of it into her work so she can get fucking better at them? She says she’s working on losing weight, so do that. Instead of shrieking and stomping your fucking feet like a toddler at the peak of their terrible two’s, throwing tantrum after fucking tantrum on a CHILDREN’S SITE about your shitty stances, go for a fucking walk. Punch a fucking punching bag. Literally anything else. You’ll feel better, you’ll lose weight faster, you’d be keeping your vitriol to your damn self and no one will “attack” you.

“Are you ourtraged yet? GOOD. It means I touched a nerve!”

She fucking wanted a reaction. But couldn’t handle it when she actually got one. I’m so embarrassed. Grow some fucking thicker skin, you’re older than I am. Grow a pair and shut the goddamn FUCK up.

For now, the evil is defeated, and I rest my fucking case.

[alitaimagines]

character: furuya satoru, hongou masamune - daiya no ace 

song recommendation: one last time - ariana grande  

note: someone wanted an imagine like my previous one with Harada and Ryo so here’s that! I’ve switched them to being third years. 

everyone watched as you cussed Furuya out clean. everyone knew this argument was going to happen but they had no idea you were going to do it in front of the team. 

Sawamura and Haruichi stood in silence, making an uncomfortable face as Seto and Okumura watched with their mouths wide open. They all felt like it was like watching a car wreck, they knew they should’ve turned away but couldn’t. 

“and you know what Satoru? I frankly wasted two years of my life with you thinking that you would love me!” you exclaimed, “only to find out that you dated me because you felt bad for me?” 

Furuya didn’t mutter a word as he knew that it was best to just remain quiet and listen to you until you finished. “God, I don’t know if I want to scream in anger or frankly risk a suspicion to kick your ass,” Sawamura gave you a look, “don’t do that. just leave,” he whispered in your ear. 

you tried to bite your tongue back, “I’m glad we graduate in two months because I don’t know how much I can last looking at you without wanting to much you square in the throat,” Haruichi grabbed your shoulder to pull you away. 

you grabbed Furuya’s sweater off and chucked it at his face, “and the next time you want to play with another girls heart, MAYBE SHE’LL BE THE ONE TO KICK YOUR ASS,” you stomped away but not without wanting to turn around and give him one final yell. you ultimately decided against it and made a bee line to your bedroom.  

once you got into your bedroom, you grabbed a box from underneath your bed and went into the drawer that you had solely for Furuya’s things. it was a bunch of clothes he had left or you had stolen from him. 

you heard a knock on your door not a few minutes later, “hey, ( your name ), they want to meet with you in the principals office,” you immediately whipped your head up, “me? for what?” you asked your roommate, “I guess for the scholarship and summer internship in Hokkaido.”

you immediately got up from the floor as your roommate followed you, “did you finally do it?” she asked implying Furuya. you nodded as you rolled your eyes, “the entire team heard it so hopefully he learns his lesson,” you muttered before entering the office. 

she gave you small smile as she told you that she would wait outside until you were done. you were immediately ushered into the principal’s office and noticed several people around the table. 

“good afternoon!” you greeted as excited as possible, “I’m sorry I look like this. I was just finishing up with my manager duties and got caught up with decluttering my room,” you knew it wasn’t right to lie but you couldn’t exactly tell your principal and faculty about the real reason. 

the principal waved you off as she smiled, “well, as you know, you were in the running to get the full scholarship to Hokkaido-University as well as the summer and fall internship with Nippon-Ham and we’re excited to announce to you that you’ve been selected as their only final entrant,” you gave your principal a look as she slid over the papers that held all the papers. 

“you’re pranking me! this can’t be real!” you squealed as looked at the acceptance letters, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I’M GOING TO HOKKAIDO?” you yelled making them all laugh, “I’M INTERNING FOR NIPPON-HAM, OH MY GOD!” you screamed.

“we are sending you over to Hokkaido University this weekend to get a familiar feeling with the area,” one of the Nippon-Ham faculty explain, “and while you’re there, you’ll be getting a tour with the rest of the interns to get recognized with our arena.” 

you nodded excitedly as they all shook your hand, “we are happy to welcome you to Sapporo,” they stated as they watched you squeal again. 

once they excused you and you met up with your roommate again, you gave you one quick look before showing her the papers, “I’M GOING TO HOKKAIDO!” you yelled before she tackled you into a hug, “I told you that you would get the internship! holy hell! you’re going to work for Nippon-Ham!”

“oh my God, this day turned out so shitty but with the news that I’m going to Hokkaido, this completely turned the day around!” you exclaimed making your roommate laugh, “what if I fall in love with a Nippon-Ham player, that would be fucking amazing!” 

she put a hand on your shoulder, “as long as you find a boyfriend for me,” she stated. 

-

what your internship team failed to tell you was that they were sending you to Hokkaido on Thursday instead of Friday so once you got the call that your car was waiting for you at the front of the Seidou, you immediately packed everything into your small bag and ran to the front.

“hey, you’re going to be late for practice!” you heard Sawamura say. you stopped for a brief moment, “Rei is going to tell you why! just make sure you’re not late!” you yelled at him before continuing to run.

Sawamura and Haruichi gave each other a look of confusion before walking to the field. as soon as they made it to the rest of the group, Rei gathered everyone together. 

“( your name ) will not be attending practice starting today and ending on Sunday. she was nominated and chosen for the summer-fall internship with Nippon-Ham and will be attending Hokkaido-University for her four years,” Rei told them, “so make sure you congratulate her when she returns.”

everyone gave Furuya a discreet look. it wasn’t exactly news that Hongou had accepted the offer from Nippon-Ham as their starting pitcher and if his gut feeling served him right, Furuya had a feeling that the two of you were going to run into each other this weekend. 

you on the other hand shared the car ride with an intern from Ugumori. as soon as you got in the car, she gave you smile, “hi, I’m Amy, you’re ( your name ), right?” she asked. you nodded, “how exciting is this, right?” you exclaimed. 

the entire car ride was spent with the two of you getting to know each other and figuring out that you both were roommates in the hotel room you were staying at. 

the ride to Hokkaido felt like an eternity but as soon as you entered the district of Sapporo, the two of you whipped out your phones to take pictures of the city. 

“we were instructed to drop you off at the Nippon-Ham stadium so you can take your internship photos,” the driver said as he made a sudden stop in the front of the stadium. 

both you and Amy got off the car as the driver told you that he would be waiting for the both of you to take you to the hotel room after your day of activities were finished. 

after all of the interns arrived to the stadium, you realized how rigorous the competition for the internship and scholarship was. besides you and Amy, there were only two others accepted. there was a boy from Ichidaisan and another boy from Yakushi. they introduced themselves as Rendai and Haru. 

“welcome to Nippon-Ham!” the lead coordinator said as she ushered all four of you inside, “we want to welcome you to the summer and fall internship with us. our internship will give you an open door too many opportunities that our team has.” 

you gave Amy a smile, “we tend to hire our interns after their internships are over as our full time managers. with many of our previous managers graduating in the fall and in the summer, we welcome our interns warmly,” your eyes widened at the thought of actually getting the opportunity to work full time with Nippon-Ham, “we work with Hokkaido-University to make room for your classes while interning and working for us.” 

the rest of the day was spent with getting to know the Nippon-Ham stadium and learning the manager duties that came with working with them. the last activity was taking the internship photos for their social media pages. 

they had given you the manager uniform to put on and you felt excited jitters as you put on the uniform. it was Nippon-Ham jersey with a matching athletic shorts for the bottoms 

all of you lined up against the mat as they took several photos. after the group photos, they took individual photos for each intern. 

“I’m going to run to the bathroom, I’ll be right back!” you told Amy as she nodded before telling you that she would text you the location when you were done. 

you made your way to the bathrooms and used it before quickly freshening yourself up and walking out. as you walked to the entrance, you couldn’t help but run into someone.

“I am so sorry!” you exclaimed, “I had no idea where I was walking and I apologize!” you rambled as you realized who was the person you had run into. 

you had met Hongou Masamune a few times because of your duties for Seidou. you knew of the attitude he carried and how easily upset he got with people. the only person who was able to calm him down with Renji. 

“Hongou, I am so so sorry!” you said again as he remained silent for a moment, “you’re fine,” he muttered. 

the two of you remained looking at each other and before you knew it, you felt a warm feeling creeping up your face as a small blush appeared on Hongou’s. 

“well, I should get going before my internship team starts worrying,” you whispered, “it was nice to see you again, Hongou.” 

he nodded, “my name is Masamune,” you gave him a look before giving him your first name and leaving. you without realizing it were swooning at the fact that he allowed you to call him by his first name. 

once you got back to Amy, she could tell that your attitude had completely changed, “what’s wrong with you?” she inquired, “oh nothing! just ran into a very old friend.”

throughout the weekend, the interns swapped between Hokkaido-University and the Nippon-Ham stadium. they were driving into all of your heads about how quick the internship was going to come. 

all of you had two months before graduation and they only gave the interns two weeks of vacation before they moved you into the Hokkaido University dorms for the rest of the year. 

time skip: 

you and Amy walked around the Nippon-Ham stadium, grabbing a few stray water bottles that some players left on the bench. both of you had offered to stay back and clean up the small messes everyone left. 

“hey, I’ll meet you back in the dorms! I’m getting a headache and I want to catch a nap before I wake up tomorrow with a migraine,” Amy told you, “make sure you text me when you get to Hokkaido so I can let you in!” 

you waved her off as you grabbed your bag and made your way up the stairs. you heard noises coming from the workout room and without a second thought, you made your way towards them. 

“oh, hey Masamune!” you said in a whisper-yell, “I didn’t know you were still here. I just want to remind you that all faculty is supposed to be out of the building by ten.”

he nodded as he got down from the treadmill and you without hesitation grabbed one of the water bottles you had hanging on your waist and wave it to him. 

“so, what are you doing here so late? I thought all Hokkaido players left hours ago,” you asked him. he shrugged, “wanted to work out,” he stated. you remained quiet as you silently cursed yourself out for your awkwardness. 

“well I’m calling an Uber to drive me to the Hokkaido dorms in twenty minutes, do you want to come with? I know the Hokkaido player apartments aren’t too far from the dorms,” you waited for his answer, “sure. meet me here in twenty and we can walk out together,” Hongou said. 

you nodded as you quickly left the room and ran to the locker room to get dressed. once you got to the locker room, you realized you were stuck wearing your uniform because you had forgotten to bring your post work clothes. 

“I’m sorry but I forgot to bring my other set of clothes,” you told Masamune as you walked out of the locker room, “I left my bag on my bed and forgot to grab it on my way out.” 

he shrugged, “your fine, let’s go,” he stated as you pulled out your phone, “we should call an Uber now so we’re not just waiting outside in the heat,” you told Hongou as he shook his head before grabbing something from his athletic bag. 

“I have a car,” you gave him a look before nodding, “uh, right! of course you do! I’m sure you Hokkaido players get played very well so why wouldn’t you!” you rationalized. 

Hongou for the first time gave out a genuine laugh, “are you hungry?” he asked. you thought for a moment, “just a little bit but I’m sure my roommate made us dinner!” you nervously replied. 

Hongou didn’t respond but he immediately turned the corner and made his way to the restaurant he always ate at after practice. you soon realized that Hongou didn’t listen to you but if you were being honest, you got butterflies thinking that he could’ve thought of this as a date. 

the two of you entered the restaurant and immediately got sat in a booth in the corner. the dinner for the most part went silent but it wasn’t until people started doing karaoke did the conversation spark up. 

“oh God, I haven’t gone out like this in months,” you admitted to Hongou, “what do you mean?” he asked. you hesitated on telling him but you ultimately decided to tell him considering you no longer had any attachments to Seidou.

“I’m sure you know Furuya,” you explained as his eye twitched at the sound of your ex’s name, “we dated for two years before I found out that he was only dating me because he felt bad for me when I first asked him out.” 

Hongou’s face went to complete anger as he started cursing Furuya out. you couldn’t help but grab him hand gently, “but we’ve been broken up for months now. I’ve moved on from that idiot and I’m glad I did,” you admitted. 

you bent over the table to give Hongou a kiss on the cheek and when you retracted, you were able to see the blush on his tan skin. 

-

Nippon-Ham was hosting a practice for all the first year players in the league. although it was a practice, it went by rather quickly before they ushered the players for the practice dinner. 

you were happy that the interns weren’t expected to help for the dinner portion of the practice and you sat with Hongou as Renji and Amy sat across from you. 

after the night at the restaurant, the two of you slowly progressed towards a relationship. you knew Hongou needed all the help he could get when it came to getting to know you and how a relationship works but you were more than willing to guide him through it. 

Renji and Amy were relatively shocked that Hongou was the one who asked you out in the first place but once they came to terms that Hongou genuinely liked you, they could see the love in his eyes for you. 

“hey, there’s a few reporters who want to talk to you,” you told Hongou as he sighed, “it’s only for a few moments and I’ll be right behind them if you want me to be.” 

he nodded as the both of you excused yourself from the table and made your way to the press pool. for the most part, the interview were going great until one of the reporters asked Hongou a question you knew wouldn’t fly with him. 

“so, you’re young and an amazing player. the only thing is you having a girlfriend,” your eyes widened at the question, “I have one,” he stated befor walking away. 

you gave him a look as he dragged you away from the press pool. what you didn’t realize was that you had someone following you discreetly. Furuya wanted to know if you were actually dating the Hokkaido player and he got his answer when he seen you go in for a kiss. 

“relax, remember what I told you?” you whispered, “you get nothing out of getting angry with the reporters,” he pouted as he went in for another kiss to distract you from the conversation. 

“you’re not going to distract me from this,” you told Hongou, “no matter how many times you kiss me, you need to learn how to manage your anger.” 

he shrugged before grabbing your hand, “I will, just for you,” he replied before giving you one more quick kiss before going back to the ball room where the dinner was being help. 

ALITA 

[http-jeetjisungjult-skz]

District 9: Chapter 1

Jisung let out a tortuous scream as the acidic chemical dragged down the skin of his ankle. He didn’t bother to beg for mercy, knowing already that his only purpose was to serve as a testing subject. This was what he was born to do. 

The Doctor sent Jisung a disapproving scowl before applying a few more drops of the eroding substance, and Jisung tightly gripped his restraints, tears forming in his eyes. The Doctor harshly scraped at the chemical coated skin with a tool, Jisung’s skin readily peeling off. Jisung let out a distressed whimper from the pain, and the man shook his head in disapproval before writing something down on his clipboard. 

After the doctor finished writing, he picking the dropper tool up again, distributing more acid to Jisung’s other ankle. Jisung tried to mute his helpless cries as he felt more of his skin beginning to melt away at the harsh liquid, internally begging for all of this to stop. The doctor let out another sigh of disapproval as he scraped more skin off. 

“Useless,” the man muttered, as he wrote down more notes. Jisung wasn’t sure if the word was directed to him or not, but he didn’t care just hoping that he would be done for the day. 

“Please…” Jisung whispered powerlessly. 

Just as the man was about to pour more acid up his leg, the door slammed open, revealing a towering man who wore a uniform different from the rest. Jisung was unfamiliar with him, but he looked dangerous, the doctor cowering away from him as the man moved closer. He glared at Jisung in pure revolt.  

“Has it improved?” he suddenly asks, and the doctor flinched at his words. 

“No sir...no improvements with the Acid. The-” 

“Then fix it!” the larger man said, cutting the doctor off. 

“Y-yes, sir!” The officer watched as the doctor scurried like a rodent, frantically trying to find what he was looking for. More silent cries left Jisung’s mouth as his fear began to increase. Jisung pulled on his foot restraints as the doctor neared him, a large needle in hand. The foot restains began to dig into his skin violently as Jisung desperately tried to do anything to get away from the doctor. 

The doctor got a good grip of his leg, his fingers digging deeply into Jisung’s skin, the needle edging through his flesh. Jisung let out an agonizing scream as the serum from the needle made its way into his bloodstream, the caustic dose blazing through his body, devouring the lining of his veins.  

The towering man watched closely as the doctor continued to pump the serum into Jisung’s leg. Jisung’s throat felt raw, his lips not being able to stop the screams from leaving his mouth. Jisung got one last look at the doctor finishing the dreadful serum through his blurry eyes before his vision completely failed him. 

“Damn...They really fried you…” was the first thing Jisung heard when he began to grip consciousness again. It was a voice he had never heard before and he opened his eyes as fast as his body would let him so that he could see the new face. 

At the end of his bed sat a tall lanky boy wearing the same white uniform as every other boy. His eyes were thin and sultry as he looked over Jisung, and scars decorated his face and neck to accompany the scabs that looked like they were fresh. 

“W-who...who are you?” Jisung asked fearful, pulling his knees into his chest. The boy chuckled. 

“Rumors around here are true...you are more flighty than the rest…” he smiled. “I’m Hyunjin, your new roommate, quarters partner...whatever you want to call it.” 

Jisung didn’t say a word, only pulling the scratchy white sheet over more of his face. Hyunjin let out a sigh, and placed his hands on the mattress, pushing himself to stand up from Jisung’s bed. 

“Get some more sleep then I guess,” he said, walking over to his own bed, and picking up his mattress to reveal a book that he then opened. He plopped on his bed, his back resting against the metal headboard as he began to read. 

“Where did you get that!” Jisung suddenly bursts. Hyunjin cautiously glanced at the door before glaring at Jisung. 

“I got it from the archives,” he shrugged. “Barely any security.” 

“Those books are off limits! They’ll realize it’s gone!” 

“Hardly,” Hyunjin scoffed. “This book hasn’t been touched in decades, I bet you.” Jisung still glared at him horrified. “They won’t,” Hyunjin assured rolling his eyes. “So your name is Jisung.” 

“It is....” 

“You’re obviously a Physical Regeneration subject as well…” Jisung nodded, confirming. 

Though he had never been told by anyone or heard directly he knew what he was. He had read it enough times on glances of clipboards, or signs around doorways. He knew Woojin always spoke about Mental Cognitive Advancement, whatever that was and Jeongin, his missing roommate, always explained how the doctors often mentioned that he was being cloned. 

“Well get some sleep then…” Hyunjin dismissed. “Wouldn’t want to scar…” 

Jisung pouted at his comment. It was obviously supposed to be a joke, but Jisung didn’t find it amusing. He never did find humor a thing he could enjoy with such a painful life. 

“You look like you have something to say.” 

“I don’t like you,” Jisung stated bluntly, and Hyunjin let out a loud uncontrollable howl of a laugh. 

“You- you don’t like me?” he asked before bursting into another fit of laughter. “Aw kid, you must think that really hurts, huh?” 

Jisung’s pout only grew. 

“Now stop sitting there like you have a stick up your ass before I lose my mind.” 

Jisung huffed but pulled the blanket from the foot of the bed up over his head, trying his best to ignore the boy. He hated this. He didn’t want some gross rebellious scum of a boy for a roommate. He wanted Jeongin back. Jisung took a breath, knowing that he never got what he wanted, and he wished that Hyunjin wouldn’t last nearly as long as Jeongin. 

Jisung woke to the harsh ringing of the alarm as it rang. The same damn alarm that rang every morning to get each of them up. 

Jisung sat up, and climbed out of his bed, shivering when his feet made contact with the cold floor. He was barely up but his muscle memory and desire not to be punished drove him towards the hallway. As he glanced over he wasn’t surprised to see Hyunjin fast asleep, a thin string of dribble hanging from his mouth. He has obviously fallen asleep while reading, his arm stretched out, the book spread open on the floor, exposing its pages. 

Jisung sighed looking at the boy. He really didn’t want the stress of someone being punished this earlier in the morning so Jisung quickly lifted up his leg and kicked, sending Hyunjin’s body falling to the floor. 

“Shit!” Hyunjin cussed lazily as he rubbed the back of his head, slowly sitting up. “I’m going to kill you,” he groaned, glaring at Jisung. The younger boy rolled his eyes, grabbing the handle of the door and opening it. 

“If you don’t get up right now, someone else is going to kill us,” he scolded before walking out into the cold hallway. He pressed his back against the wall of the hallways, his body covering the plaque with the room number. 

Jisung looked down the hallway and watched as a Ward walked down the hall, scanning each boy’s code tattooed on their wrist. As he walked down the corridor, the same familiar boy with dark hair and hateful eyes pushed a cart behind him, like every other morning. The same bright stretch marks never seemed to fade from his large arm muscles. 

As Jisung watched the boy beside him hold out his wrist to be scanned, Hyunjin finally slipped out of the room, standing straight against the wall on the opposite side of the door then Jisung. Hyunjin rolled his eyes at Jisung’s glare before Jisung was suddenly wiping his face of emotions and looking straight ahead. 

Jisung tried his best to keep his expression blank as he held out his wrist for the Ward. The man harshly grabbed his wrist scanning the barcode before moving on to scan Hyunjin’s. As the boy with the cart reached out to hand Jisung his pill, Hyunjin didn’t hold his wrist out for the Ward. Angrily, the man reached for Hyunjin’s wrist, but he resisted earning him a harsh smack across the cheek. 

Jisung slightly jumped, looking over startled to see Hyunjin’s face turned, a large red mark on his cheek. Jisung decided that he must have done something stupid. Why else would the Ward have done something so harsh? Maybe he would get rid of his new roommate sooner than he initially thought. 

“Here,” the boy with the pill said harshly, handing him the pill and a set of clean clothes. 

“O-oh…” Jisung said, quickly taking the pill and popping it into his mouth. The cart boy continued to wheel the card behind the Ward, handing another stack of clean clothes and a pill to Hyunjin. He didn’t immediately pop it into his mouth like everyone else did, instead shoving it into his uniform pocket. 

Jisung watched the Ward make it all the way down the hall, scanning the last person’s wrist. He nodded as the Ward turned the corner, and he turned to enter back into his room to set into the new fresh clothes. 

“You should really take that pill,” Jisung nodded, as Hyunjin made his way back to the room to change as well. Hyunjin let out a mocking scoff as he made his way over to their bathroom, dropping the pill in the toilet, and flushing it down. 

“H-hey!” Jisung yelped, struggling to wiggle out of his shirt. “You can’t do that!” 

“Says who?” Hyunjin asked, walking over to his bed and starting to undress to change out of his night uniform and into his day one. 

“Says...says the ward!” 

“I didn’t hear anyone tell me to take it,” Hyunjin shrugged, pulling the shirt on over his head. 

“But-”

“Do you ever shut up?” Hyunjin asked pulling up his pants, and Jisung began to grow angry, his fist tightening. 

“I don’t like you!” 

“Yeah, you’ve told me,” Hyunjin said. “See if I care.” Hyunjin smugly walked out of the room, and towards the cantine. Jisung frantically finished dressing before running out of the room to follow Hyunjin. 

“You can’t just break all the rules!” Jisung hissed in a hushed tone, following Hyunjin. The older boy simply ignored the younger, eager to get his breakfast. “Hyunjin!” 

“Do you ever shut up!” Hyunjin snapped. “Don’t like me? Don’t follow me...go get lost or something/” 

“The rules exist to keep us safe!” Jisung mindlessly stated. “Don’t you get that?” 

Hyunjin growled and grabbed the collar of Jisung’s shirt, slamming him against the wall of the hallway. “Those rules are bullshit! Meant to keep us brainwashed!”

Jisung’s eyes grew wide as the boy grabbed him. He turned to see the red blinking light at the end of the hallways were a camera was placed. 

“Please! They’re watching! We’ll get in trouble!” Jisung begged cowardly. He turned his head away from Hyunjin, trying to curl into a ball, away from Hyunjin’s angry fists. Hyunjin rolled his eyes at Jisung, releasing the grip on Jisung’s collar. ‘He’s a coward,’ Hyunjin thought. ‘Nothing more than a brainwashed rat. Unredeemable.’

As Hyunjin dropped him, Jisung quickly scurried away from his grip, nearly running to the catine and away from Hyunjin. The older boy sighed, watching him run down the hall terrified. Hyunjin figured all he ever felt was fear. After all, that’s how the facility tried to control everyone. Unlucky for them, it couldn’t control Hyunjin. 

Slowly, Hyunjin headed the same way, letting the walk drag on. He didn’t want the day to start, He never did. 

Woojin’s head shot up as Jisung sprinted into the cantine, breathing heavily. He stood catching his breath before quickly walking towards the food line and grabbing a tray with the same colored cubes and a cup of water. 

Woojin stared up at him in confusion as he sat down at the table. 

“Care to explain why you look like you’re running from death himself?” 

“My roommate tried to kill me,” Jisung whimpered. 

“Jeongin?” Woojin asked, concerned for his friend’s mental sanity. 

“No! My new roommate! He’s completely crazy!” Jisung whimpered. Woojin looked at him skeptically, popping a blue cube into his mouth. “He flushed his pill down the toilet and I-I think he steals things….!” Jisung roughly whispered. 

“Your best bet is to not get involved,” Woojin nodded, not even seeming fazed by the story. “They can’t punish you if you’ve done nothing wrong.” 

“Maybe I should report him,” Jisung said, still trying to catch his breath. Woojin shook his head. 

“I’m sure they know everything he’s doing. Just don’t get involved, Jisung.” The younger boy nodded, knowing that Woojin had to be the smartest out of all the Mental Cognitive Advancement subjects. “Just ignore him.” 

Hyunjin scowled at Jisung as he walked into the cantina. Somehow he knew that the boys distressed appearance had to do with himself. He grimaced as he grabbed a tray with the cubes and sat down at his own empty table.

He grabbed a red cube, protein, and hesitantly chewed it, the retched sodium taste making him wish he didn’t have taste buds. He thought about the day in front of him. Yesterday he was breakfast testing so he knew he had until a little after lunch before facing the painful night. As these thoughts ran through his head a familiar figure walked up in front of him. 

“What do you want Chan?” Hyunjin asked, annoyed. The bulky boy sat down, setting his tray on the table. 

“It’s like you want to get punished.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “Resisting the morning Ward? Great start to the day.” 

“I didn’t like how he was glaring at me.” 

“Maybe if you didn’t cause so much trouble, he’d treat you as if you were nothing like the rest of the boys in that hall.” 

Hyunjin sighed. “If all you are going to do is yell at me, you can go sit with Changbin,” Hyunjin warned, nodding over towards a boy with similar stretch marks, an angry-looking expression to match. 

“This is serious, Hyunjin. What if they decide that they aren’t going to put up with your shit anymore?” 

“Then I guess I die,” Hyunjin shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything to live for anymore anyway.” 

“This isn’t funny!” 

“I’m not laughing!” 

Chan took a deep breath. “Please, promise me you won’t do anything stupid for the rest of the day. At least that please.”

Hyunjin studied Chan’s tired face before sighing annoyed. “Fine,” Hyunjin scoffed. “I’ll try to be on my best behavior.” 

Just as he spoke those words, the metal doors on the opposite side of the cantine that led to the testing labs, slid open. Everyone watched nervously as a Ward and two guards walked through the room, moments away from choosing who the first victim would be. Hyunjin ignored them knowing that you never have the same shift two days in a row. 

Jisung’s eyes followed anxiously. He knew that he most likely had night shift, but even when you study the patterns in this place, he knew that not anything is certain here. 

Hyunjin carelessly popped a blue cube into his mouth, before the guards made their way towards him. As they walked up to his seat looking directly at him, his eyes widened in horror. 

“N-no…” Hyunjin denied. The Ward shook his head, looking down at the boy in annoyance.

“Don’t make this difficult for yourself, Hyunjin…” 

[chickennoodlesoupfortae]

Angles deserve to die

A/N- ahahhahaha its gone for a month author rats. I missed my page so im back and with an update on that piece i said i was going to post last august.

Summary- People would like to think of the higher beings as ethical and moral in all their actions but sometimes even they get bored. Yoongi is assigned a task by the overlord to see how far love could push a mortal. Jimin is tasked the same by the “good” side to see if love can save the souls of those vulnerable. What happens when you’re caught in the crossfires of a cosmic bet.

Word count- 2.8k 

Warnings- Since it is based on a higher being religion is under defamation and question.

Namjoon sat babysitting a drink next to the lord of the underworld. “I don’t get what you’re getting at Jungkook. Why should we care about the mortals and their thoughts. Our job is to get them to believe what they have and then let them wander around till they disappear.” 

“That’s so boring though.” the god groaned chugging the rest of his drink. “All I’m saying is that we’ve been doing this for them for the past hundred thousand years and I’m bored out of my mind.”  

“You’re bored out of your mind. You get the interesting souls. I have to talk to the “good” people. Do you know how many different types of gods I have to pose as so they don’t freak out.” he swirled the liquid inside the cup.

“You choose to do them. When we were choosing what we’d do your words were,” Jungkook began to laugh. The small room was dark and gloomy only filled by the two of them and a maiden who came and occasionally refilled their glasses. It was warm and dry inside making it uncomfortable but the two had gotten use to it as the year melted together.

“Don’t say it” the god warned

“ ‘I believe that these savages can be good and therefore I want to lead their souls into a better place’” he imitated his partner in the afterlife scam “Well look how that turned out. You still get shitty people but they pretend to be better than the ones you send “down under”.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes “What’s with that right? I mean who thought of one, the word hell and two, that it would be down. You literally work ten miles away from me.”

“Stupid humans I guess.” his hand shoot up beckoning for the maiden who appeared next to him within seconds. “Yes dear can I get another one of these please with an extra shot of vodka” his head turned away from the servant  “So back to what I was saying oh heavenly one. As I was “punishing” my run of the mill serial killers, as one does. I thought. ‘Now why do these humans love to hurt each other?’ Me being a god and all, determined quickly that it was emotion.” 

“And?” he rolled his eyes listening to the devil himself.

“What if we sent one of your angels and one of my demons to try and see what would happen.” 

“How would that work the human would have two people pressuring it and we wouldn’t be able to see the results clearly.”

“What if we sent them in disguise as one of them and see who the human chooses emotionally and how far it would go.”

Namjoon finished his drink thinking the proposal through. It had been years since he visited the mortal world and seeing clones of the same personality pass through his office was getting boring. “We need to set goals and a prize.” The devil's eyes lit up with excitement Joon had only seen when he realised his first plague.

“My goal is for the human to kill itself.” he responded

Namjoon choked on air as he heard Jungkook’s suggestion. “That seems awfully cruel.”

“I am satan no?” he joked “It doesn’t matter if your sides gonna win right?” 

Again “the savior” of humanity looked for the answers in the room eyes blanking on a wall. “Fine but my goal is the same. The human must end it’s own life in a selfless way.”

“Oh that’s interesting Namjoon.” his head raised at the use of his real name.

“Yes Jungkook it is, but this is an interesting game we’re playing.” he replied with the use of his  real name. There names were used mostly by their own angels and demons but rarely between the two “If I win we get to switch positions for the next millenia.”

“And if I win you have to do both jobs for the next century and I live a life amongst the people showing them what bad really is.” he extended his hand. Namjoon grabbed it feeling a slight burn on impact. 

“Deal.”

Yoongi’s eyes opened and he groaned. “So we’re doing this again.” he asked himself at the realization he was still alive or better phrased not alive but still working. He stood up in the overly large dimly lit room walking over to the closet to start his daily routine. Everyday he followed the same actions. Closet, clothes, brushing his teeth, and going to the court to hear whatever sob stories his clients had. One would assume that a demon in charge of the highest cases in the land of the heartless would have an exciting life but after  tens of thousands of years it became a bit tedious. He put on a white tee shirt and a pair of black skinny jeans. To call it business casual he threw on a plane black blazer. Looking in the mirror he checked his figure giving himself a smile. He walked closer to the mirror examining his black hair patting down a couple fly aways. His eyes were cold and dead. Perfect for his profession. He stepped back looking at himself one last time before opening the door and saying goodbye to his penthouse apartment in the nicest district of the bad side. 

The elevator as always remained pack for all seventy levels stopping at every other floor. It was quite fitting to what was called hell in the mortal world. Finally at the lobby he walked out of the building into the cloudy atmosphere. His car was parked in a no parking zone and ten tickets stuck out of his window wipers that he had never bothered to take out. He smiled at the sight of a boot on his black luxury vehicle. His favorite hobby was seeing how angry the meter maid would get watching him zap off the boot and burn the tickets. He was waiting for there to be fifteen tickets so he could beat his record. He stepped into the small sleek car and like every morning rode in silence to the office.

Jimin’s eyes fluttered open a small smile already present on his soft face. He stood up slightly yawning slipping his feet into the slippers that found a home beside his king size bed. He walked through his large bedroom to the closet. The room was bright due to thee light coming in from the open window. Everyday Jimin did the same thing enjoying the routine it gave him. “Hey baby can you get me a cup of coffee?” he asked his “girlfriend” grabbing a button up white shirt out of the full closet. 

“Sure thing.” she responded from another part of the house. He walked into the bathroom examining his face. For an angel he fit the description, a clear skin smile reflecting back. His hair was a platinum blonde almost gray shade which matched his outfit. Although loving the style of white he wore a dark metal watch on his wrist and a black necklace. He checked his figure smiling and leaving his all white bathroom. 

“Here’s your coffee dear.” A tall woman stood in front of him handing him a to go cup. In the “next world” as the highest liked to call it,  there was no such thing as love. “Girlfriend” was a term coined by the demons which slowly traveled to the good side for a companion. Although there were no genders in the next world the beings could choose what they presented as and most of the time it was a mortal form some resembling women and other men and some just balls of light. A “girlfriend” here just meant a companion to give support. 

“Thank you.” he gave her a small peck and left the townhouse he owned in the best district of the good side. What Jimin did was different than most angels. Most were tasked to help the souls fade and give them hope while his was to defend the good side from the souls trying to get in. It was a stressful job but it kept him busy. He walked to his white car. The vehicle shined brightly in the sun parked neatly in front of his house. He drove to the office with the windows open letting the air flow through.

“Min Yoongi?” his office telephone paged. He groaned looking at the old fashioned piece of technology, now only used in his profession. His hand slowly raised pressing the intercom button. 

“Yes?” he asked annoyed.

“Sir, the CEO seeks your presence upstairs.” he threw his head back at the static sound that now filled his office.

“Tell him I’ll be up.” 

It wasn’t a bad day but he hated meeting with his boss. His position was the highest next to the CEO meaning he didn’t interact with anyone except his clients, secretary, and occasionally his doorman and he loved it that way. He let out a loud groan walking outside his office and to the elevator. He got inside the cabin pressing level one hundred. As he passed each floor he pressed the numbers making it so by the time he got to his floor the elevator would stop at every level. 

The doors opened to the dry and hot office of the CEO. He strolled out of the elevator clearly unamused by being called here.

“Yoongi what a pleasure to see you again.” Jungkook smiled sitting behind his desk in the almost dark office. All the blinds were down and the room was empty except for the servant he always had on hand for drinks. 

“What do you want?” he asked tired already of the interaction. 

“Do want anything to drink?” the god asked

“No.” he responded 

“I don’t know why I love my alcohol so much. To us highers it has no effect but I guess I’ve always loved the burn.” he let out a dry laugh. 

“So why did you call me up here satan.” he stated blandly

“I hate that name. Where do they come up with these names?” he took a long sip from his glass before placing it down and changing his demeanor. “I have a job for you.”

Jimin smiled at his client giving her a box of tissues. “Yes, I know this must be a lot for you honey. You made it! You’re on the goodside. Why don’t you go with Jan and she’ll explain this all to you.” 

The soul nodded her head and walked out with the assistant selected for her case. Jimin let out a sigh of relief as his first case of the day walked out. 

“Park Jimin?” he heard is telecom go off. He pressed the button to speak.

“Yes?” he responded

“The CEO needs you.” 

“Thank you for telling me.” he stood up and walked to the elevator pressing the up button. He looked over at his secretary.

“Did he mention what he needs me for?” he asked her kindly

“No sir. He just said he needed to see you.” she smiled at him.

“Oh that’s unfortunate. The weathers been quite nice lately hasn’t it.” he politely conversed with her. 

“Yes, the light has been shining lately. I heard it’s cloudy on the other side though.” she added

“What a shame. I hope it gets brighter.” the elevator opened “Well I’ll be back soon hopefully.” he waved while pressing the hundredth floor.

The doors opened into the bright room surrounded by windows and chairs. The god stood looking out of one of the farther one. The windows gave a perfect view onto the bustling city of the good side. Cars drove through the streets and angels walked on the sidewalks. The god wasn’t looking at the city though. He looked beyond it to the fields of grasing souls waiting to fade away. 

“Hi Namjoon what can I do for you?” he asked walking to stand beside him 

“I have a job for you.” he sighed still looking forward.

 “I’m sorry what do you want me to do JK?” he asked now more interested than he had been before. Jungkook slide the file across his desk to the side of the chair yoongi was sitting in. 

“Here’s her case buddy. (y/n) she was especially chosen by me and mr. sunshine.” 

Yoongi sat up to grab the manilla folder. He looked at the picture of the mortal girl and began to read her file. “What about her though? She seems pretty average to me.” he continued to scan the transcript.

“You see I knew you were the man for the job. Ms. (y/l/n) is a perfect example of a decent human being, she isn't good but she isn’t bad. She would get into the other side but she wouldn’t become an angel. She’s the perfect example of a vulnerable soul.” 

“I still don’t get why you want me to seduce her into being bad.” he asked closing the file and sliding it back.

“I don’t want you to make her bad. I just want you to make her lose herself. Drive her insane make her you know?” he elaborated overcome with joy.

“No Jungkook I don’t know.” the demon responded the red in his eyes flaring up for the first time in months.

“To end it all. I want you to make an example of her. If you can get her to go insane then I’ll win my bet.” he stated smiling and leaning back into his chair.

“You’re doing this as a bet. That seems especially cruel even for you.” Yoongi cracked a smile starting to get convinced.

“I mean I’m sure it’ll be fun for you too. You’ll get a break from routine and free reign on a mortal. All I need you to do is to take her life and what she knows and flip it upside down, make her emotions overcome her and lead her to dumb descisions. If you think seducing her will do it than go ahead.” 

“Fine. I’ll do it.” he sighed standing up.

“This seems like a bad idea.” Jimin pleaded to his superior.

“I know but if I don’t win then they will and that’s worse.” 

“Why would you make a wager like this.” the angel pleaded feeling defeated knowing he would have to go through with it. He was looking through the file. “She’s so average. She doesn’t deserve this. She would be a normal soul on this side. What if I can’t convince her and the other side wins?” he was rambling but surprisingly at a loose for words in his mind 

“I don’t know Jimin but I trust that you’ll be able to sway her in the right direction.”

“I still don’t understand what I need to do.” he ruffled through the papers in the file.

“You need to find this girl and get her to change and,” he paused disappointed in his part of the deal. “ give the ultimate sacrifice for another.”

Jimin’s head shot up “The what?” he was in denial “You want me to get her to kill herself for someone else how is that...I don’t.” he couldn’t bring the words in his mind to come out.

“I know but in a selfless way. Like a mother dying for her child or a firefighter saving a person from a fire.” the god walked away from the windows and sat down at his desk.

“I can’t do this.” Jimin threw the file up in the air, letting the papers fall around him.

“You have too.” Namjoon stated giving him the watch. Every angel knew of the watch but very few ever saw it. The small timepiece allowed for highers such as angels, demons, and gods to visit the mortal world. He took the time piece and left the office.

Yoongi stood in his empty apartment packing a suitcase filling it with his most casual clothes. He looked back into the home and twisted the watch's dial transporting him to the mortal world. 

Jimin went home and packed a bag filled with his clothes. He forgot about his “girlfriend” until she stopped him at the door. At almost all times angels were expected to be kind beings above drama and emotions but this was a rare occasion. “Get out of my home. I won’t be back for awhile and I thought the new trend of companionship would be for me but it wasn’t so I expect you to be gone.” he moved her aside and left his home. On his porch he turned the dial on the watch transporting him to the mortal realm.