#the middle or working class contacts she makes in securing a new home) and of generational divide (her great granddaughter is the only

[mariocki]

All Passion Spent: Episode 1 (1.1, BBC, 1986)

"She's not one of those clever women, thank God. Mother has always allowed others to make decisions for her. And now that Father has gone..."

"I suppose, since I have always lived at home, that I should really bear the brunt."

"Brunt, Edith? I'm sure we shall all regard it as a privilege to look after Mother. Brunt is an entirely unsuitable expression."

"Oh dear, when you say it like that, Carrie, I'm not even sure what it means."

[beanieman]

what are your thoughts on an 'everyone survives au', what they would do after the death game?

(Before I get into separate headcanons, I want to add that I think every single one of these characters would be struggle with paranoia. I mean, they were put in a death game.)

Sara Chidouin - Sara ends up staying at Joe's place a lot considering her Father was taken down with the company. It's easier for her to hang out with him then to stay at home, but she still calls her Mother daily to make sure she's alright. Other than that she continues going to class and her near death experience has only made her more determined to get good grades so she can go to a good school. She also finds a local kendo and joins as a student.

Joe Tazuna - Joe finds a lot of comfort with Sara staying at place. It makes him feel more secure that they're together, and the whole experience has certainly made him value their friendship. But outside of her, he keeps going to school with the intention of getting his diploma. He's not sure of what he wants to do after high school, but his experience has left him more determined then ever to live life in the moment.

More Undercut

Gin Ibushi - Gin goes back home and gives his Mom a big hug. He missed her a lot, and he's very glad to be home safely with Mew-chan. He was walked home by Sara and his Mother ensures that he can still see big sis Sara and all his other new friends. Despite his new connections his Mother is still worried for his safety, so she moves him to a private school that is much smaller. He gets a lot more help here and makes some good friends his own age, but he's still always excited to see Sara and Joe when they come to tutor him after school.

Keiji Shinogi - Keiji is forced to finally get therapy considering his friends around him know that he can't keep ignoring his issues. He gets a lot of encouragement from them, but he knows that the healing process takes awhile. While he works on himself, he gets a job as private investigator and helps people that the police won't. Also he dyes his hair a different color to symbolize a fresh start. (Also because the person writing this post hates his hair color.)

Alice Yabusame - With ASU-NARO's grip loosened, Alice is released from jail within a few months time. He doesn't go back to making music considering Reko already has an established band and he feels like he's intruding, but he still gets what he really wants. He gets to play music with Reko again. This time for fun without the pressure of stardom. As for his career...well it comes to him while he's reapplying hair dye. He decides that he would make a great hair dresser, and Reko supports him whole heartedly.

Reko Yabusame - With a near death experience to change her life, she decides to send Alice a letter in prison and offer a chance at reconciliation. He takes it, of course, and she's glad that she's the first one to great him once he's released. Outside of Alice, she decides to tour with her band. Life is short, and she wants to play as much music as she can in that time!

Nao Egokoro - Nao goes back and finishes her collage education. That's what's most important to her, but after her education is said and done she works out a plan with Mishima to become his official mentee. She wants to teach art to some day, but in the meantime, she's more than happy to attend all the shows Reko invites her to.

Kazumi Mishima - He goes back to teaching as that's his passion. Yet now he tells his story to his students as both a cautionary tale and a tale of persevering despite all odds.

Q-taro Burgerberg - Q-Taro goes back to playing sports. It's what he loves, and he's not going to let a death game slow down his passion. He also keeps in contact with Gin and frequently takes him to watch his games.

Kai Satou - With parts of both his families taken down with ASU-NARO, he is left having to live for himself. He gets a job as a chef and his own apartment in the middle of town. It's all very new to him, as is his friendship with the rest of the group. He talks to Q-Taro and Sara the most, often checking in on them to make sure that they're doing okay. He's even let Sara crash at his place a few times if Joe wasn't around and she needed a break from home. He really feels like she's family, and it fills some of the hole Mr. Chidouin left behind.

Kanna Kizuchi - Kanna is very glad to be home with Kugie and her parents. She's also glad that she has Sara and Shin's number and can call them anytime if she wants hangout. They both frequently come to pick her up to get ice cream, and they pick her up from school so she doesn't have to walk home.

Shin Tsukimi - Shin doesn't handle being put into a death game well. Even though he survived despite all odds (or percentages) he still struggles with shaking the fear. Anyway, let me elaborate on my AU about this exact scenario where Shin ends up traveling and living in hotels so no one can truly track his location. Also very important note that he keeps with Kanna and they eventually find out that they're bio siblings after he meets Kanna's parents and they recognize the name of his parents.

Dolls

Ranmaru Kageyama - Ranmaru gets Sara's, Joe's, and Anzu's number before he leaves the death game. Despite it all, it feels...refreshing to have new friends in his life that are happy to talk with him. He spends a lot of time texting with them, and when he's not doing that he relaxes with the knowledge that he has genuine friends.

Naomichi Kurumada - He's proud of everyone that they were all able to win, and he has a new outlook on teamwork considering they were all able to win together. He continues to box, but now he has new friends coming to watch him from time to time.

Anzu Kinashi - Anzu goes back to business as usual. She likes being a funny clown girl and wants to continue her craft. She would like to see her mentor again to tell him all that's happened, but she'll be happy preforming either way.

Mai Tsurugi - Mai goes back to the bakery and uses her near death experience as a way to make money. Anytime anyone comes in she goes "I just had the roughest time,🥺" so she will get better tips.

Shunsuke Hayasaka - Shunsuke tries to find a different job that doesn't tangle him up with ASU-NARO. He figures he'll try to get some kind of desk job, but in the meantime, he enjoys taking his morning jogs again.

Hinako Mishuku - It depends on how the participants escaped the death game. If ASU-NARO was running then she'd stay with the company and wonder what was next. Maybe it would be another death game, or maybe they'd do something new, but she is loyal since ASU-NARO presumably wouldn't get the chance to betray her in this route. However, if ASU-NARO was destroyed, then she'd have to find an entire new path in life. Where that could take her I couldn't say with as little as we know about her real personality now.

[starlightcleric]

Knight Commander Caroline Gemsledge

After finishing Wrath for the fourth time on my Azata->Legend game, I tried to finally play Lich, the last one I hadn't unlocked, but wound up not enjoying it that much. So I decided to return to my roots, my first and favorite path, Angel, but with the merged spellbooks this time. Out of this was born Caroline, a dwarven Cleric of Torag with the Artifice and Protection domains. Despite my username, Pathfinder 1e Clerics are not my favorite of the divine casters, but I'm having fun so far with her and her warhammer! She's tentatively going to be romancing Ulbrig :) (picrew here)

Caroline Gemsledge A Relic Out of Time

Race | Dwarf Class | Cleric of Torag Alignment | Lawful Good Pronouns | she/her Professions | bartender, smith, priest, crusader Skills | athletics and lore (religion), smithing, hitting things with a warhammer

Appearance | A pale skinned dwarven woman, slightly on the shorter side, with bright green eyes. She wears her pinkish-red hair half-up, half-down, usually with a golden ornamental circlet. When not in armor, she favors practical clothing in grey and gold, the colors of Torag. When making the effort to dress up, she prefers makeup in pink to match her hair, and golden rings and earrings.

Personality | Caroline is outwardly reserved and a follower of tradition, but deep inside she has a streak of free spirit. The homeland of the dwarves was too stifling for her, and so she set off to become an adventurer. She is outwardly kind, if not warm, and it takes a lot of effort to get to know her well. She values justice over mercy, but is not particularly stubborn, and can be talked around on an issue. Her way of showing affection is to make things, usually with her smithing skills, for those she values highly.

History/Hooks | Born to a miner and a homemaker in Gildside, Druma, Caroline grew up close to, but slightly removed from, the legacy of the dwarven homeland. Her mother was a devout follower of Torag and attempted to instill this reverence in her eight children. As a middle child of eight, her upbringing was loving, even if she was slightly overlooked for her more rambunctious siblings. On the cusp of adulthood, her world turned upside-down as her mother walked out on the family in a search for greater meaning in her life.

Her father turned more strongly to drink, and in an attempt to support her younger siblings, Caroline traveled north to try to find work. After some wandering, she secured a bartending job at a pub in Peddlegate, the major point of contact between Druma and the Five Kings Mountains. She worked there for some years, sending money home, but she looked wistfully toward the mountains. When she received news of her father's death, she decided it was time to start living for herself and set off for Highhelm.

Caroline found her calling in the clergy of Torag, learning the prayers and the ways of the forge, but never felt quite at home in the insular Highhelm. Society was highly stratified, and it bothered her that if she had been born in the capital, she never would have been able to become a priest due to the entrenched social immobility. So when her training was complete, she set out to begin a life of an adventurer.

After hearing of the horrors of the Worldwound, she traveled even farther north to join the Crusades. The Second Crusade. The next thing she knows, she finds herself in Kenabres in 4715 AR with muddled memory. But the front line is where her skills as a Cleric are needed most, so she throws herself into repelling the demons, without too much time to wonder at her situation. Torag has not forsaken her, so everything must be fine, right?

[scarletsaphire]

There wasn’t anything Valerie wanted to do less on a warm August day than listen to her dad talk business with the Fenton freaks, but since she didn’t have much of a choice, she might as well make the most of it. She can get some enjoyment out of messing with Danny, and he seems so nervous about the weird hole in the basement wall. It’s just harmless fun, right?

--

My second fic for @phicphight! This one is a prompt fill for @kinglazrus and @heartbeatslows. The prompts it fills will be at the bottom under the fic.

Valerie knew she was an important person. She was smart, and pretty, and more importantly, she was popular. All of those things meant that she had a dozen better things to do during one of her last weeks of summer vacation than follow her dad around. Unfortunately for her, sneaking out to a party at midnight got her grounded, and now he wouldn't let her out of his sight. So while all of her friends were at the mall or the park, she was here. At the Fenton's residence.

She definitely didn't see the point in her being here, but even her fathers goal was a mystery. The Fenton's were famous for being crazy and weird, with their stupid jumpsuits and van and house. Their kids were better, but not by much. She didn't know Jasmine all that well, other than being the name on every spelling bee championship trophy in the middle school, but Valerie did know Danny. They'd been in the same class for years, after all. It didn't mean that she liked him at all. He was weird, just like his parents were. That's why he hung out with the other weirdos, far away from Valerie and her friends.

Her dad didn't seem to understand any of that, because here she was, sitting on their weird, lumpy couch, pointedly not meeting Danny's eyes, while her dad talked technological nonsense with the jumpsuit clad freaks. Exactly what she wanted to do on a Thursday afternoon.

Jack wasn't currently showing off a pile of scrap he was referring to as the Fenton Thermos. "With this bad boy, any spook in sight will be sucked up and locked away, never to be seen or heard from again!" He exclaimed, pointing the cylinder in every direction as if it was some kind of weapon. "It's not functional yet, but when it is they'll be sorry!"

Valerie's dad nodded politely, just as he had done for the past thirty minutes. "That truly is fascinating, Mr. Fenton, but as I said before, I am here on business. You contacted Axion Labs about a new security scanner design?"

"Oh, yes!" Maddie said. "The Fenton Scanner! I had nearly forgotten we'd installed that in the OPs Center!"

"Just like you've forgotten the last six times he's mentioned it," Valerie muttered under her breath.

"Yes, well, I'm here to see it."

"Yes, of course! We are just so scatterbrained today, isn't that right dearest?"

Jack nodded. "It has been a rough few days, what with the portal not working and everything, but-"

"Well, that truly is tragic," Damon interrupted. "Hopefully, Axion can make your day with a new contract. For the Fenton Scanner, which I still need to see."

"Oh of course!" Maddie said, standing from the chair she'd been sitting in. "We can lead the way." She made her way to the stairs, pausing briefly behind the couch. "You two just hang out here while we give Mr. Damon the whole tour, okay?"

"A tour really isn't necessary, Mrs. Fenton," Damon replied hurriedly, but Jack cut him off with an arm around his shoulder.

"Nonsense! You are a guest in our home, and you should be treated to the famous Fenton Hospitality!" Jack said, steering Damon to the stairs.

Valerie looked up from her nails for the first time in ten minutes. "Daddy, please don't leave me here!"

Damon shot her an apologetic look over Jack's shoulder. "I'll be down in a few minutes, sweetheart. I know you can find something to talk about until I'm back." With that, he was led up the stairs, Maddie following close behind.

The silence sat thick and awkward for a few moments before Danny broke it. "So, how about-"

Valerie cut him off instantly with a raised hand mere inches from his face. "Don't talk to me. Freak."

"I am not a-"

"Oh you totally are, don't even try that. I mean, look at this place," Valerie gestured at the entire house. "Only freaks and nutjobs live in places like this. You're just lucky you didn't get the nutjob from your parents too."

"They aren't nutjobs!" Danny protested again, stronger than before.

Valerie leveled her gaze at him. "Really? They spend all that time building a glorified soup carrier that doesn't even work, and they aren't nutjobs?"

"Some of their inventions work..."

"Like what? The 'Fenton Scanner' my dad's contractually obligated to look at? The failure of a portal they mentioned?"

"That's not fair," Danny mumbled. "You haven't even seen the portal."

Valerie stood and put her hands on her hips in one fluid, practiced motion. "Then show me."

"I- But we're really not supposed to-"

"What, not supposed to show off wannabe inventions to people with common sense?"

Valerie could see the way Danny's jaw set as he stood up too. "Fine then."

Valerie smirked to herself as she followed Danny down the basement stairs. Sure, goading someone like this wasn't nice, but it was fun, and it wasn't like hurting Danny's feelings mattered any. It was just something to pass the time.

She did regret it once she reached the bottom of the stairs. Val had seen plenty of villain lairs in movies, and with the metal flooring and walls, piles of gears and gizmos piled haphazardly on desks, and the large, ominous hole in the wall on the opposite side, she felt like she'd walked directly onto a movie set.

Danny had only walked a few steps into the room before stopping and turning around, so Val stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "There, you've seen the portal. Are you happy now?"

Valerie peered over Danny's shoulder back at the hole in the wall. She assumed that's what he was talking about, but while it was definitely creepy as hell, it definitely wasn't a portal. "I mean, unless it's a portal to some dirt and rocks, I stand by what I said."

"It's not-" Danny took a deep breath, trying to stabilize his voice. "It doesn't just go into the ground. It has a back and everything."

"It sure doesn't look it," Valerie replied. "It just looks like a mess." She was right; now that her eyes had adjusted more to the dim light of the basement, she could see wires running along the ground of the portal, panels hanging by loose screws, and different colored scrap metal lining the walls. "I'm surprised your house hasn't burnt down yet."

"It's safe."

"Yeah?" Valerie said, raising her eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"Then prove it. Go inside."

Danny hesitated. "I don't really think I should."

"Yeah, because it's a fire hazard, just like the rest of this place. I'm getting out of this death trap."

Valerie had just enough time to make it one single step up before Danny replied. "Fine. Fine! I'll go in there." Valerie turned back around to meet his eyes. "Only on the condition that if I do, you'll stop badmouthing me and my family." Danny's hand was stretched out in front of him, clearly intended for her to shake on the deal.

Valerie took the hand, making as little contact as she could. "Deal." She didn't actually intend to honor that deal, but he didn't need to know that. Besides, if he tripped or something, it would be fun to tell the rest of the A-Listers about. Provided she was willing to admit she'd taken even one step into Fentonworks.

She'd just decided that she'd only tell them if it was really funny when Danny had pulled a jumpsuit on, matching his parents in all but color. It even had his dad's stupid face stuck on the front, and Valerie couldn't help but laugh at it. Danny pulled it off immediately, but the bright red flush on his cheeks didn't fade.

Valerie followed behind Danny at a distance, stopping a good few feet away from the mouth of the machine. It was larger than she thought it was, and with the wires hanging off the roof, she couldn't shake the image of a gaping mouth out of her head. Danny was clearly just as trepidatious as she was, but with one glance back at her, he crossed the threshold of the portal.

Danny's footsteps echoed off of the metal floor, ringing out far louder than they should have. One after the other, he walked further into the portal, until all at once they ceased and time seemed to slow down. He'd tripped, just like Valerie had been hoping for. He'd tripped, and his hand went back to catch himself, and the click of a button resounded far louder than the footsteps ever had. Time seemed to fall down to a standstill as Danny turned around to look at her, eyes wide with fear, and she felt her own opening to match.

The whirring of electricity grew louder, deafeningly loud, and Valerie opened her mouth to try and say something, even though she didn't know what. Whatever it was never came, because in the next instant, the portal flooded with green swirling energy and light, blinding in the near darkness, and Danny's echoing, piercing scream erased every thought Valerie might have had.

She didn't know how long she stood there. She didn't know how long she stared into the bright green, but it had to have been a while because every time she blinked the imprint of the portal was overlaid on her eyelids. She didn't know how long his screams echoed. She didn't know when the screaming finally stopped, only that it didn't stop bouncing around her brain over and over and over again.

She did know when a silhouette appeared in the green, if only because it was something different. Her heart jumped into her throat as whatever it was shuffled through the green, the outline becoming more defined as it came closer and closer to breaking free from the barrier of the portal. Valerie took one step back, but her feet wouldn't cooperate. She stumbled over her own ankle, falling back to the metal floor. She swallowed the yelp of pain; she didn't want to get the attention of whatever the thing in the portal was.

Valerie reached backwards, pulling herself further backwards. Her back hit metal with a soft thud, the contents of the desk falling to the ground with a crash. She needed to keep backing away, but her legs wouldn't move and the thing was getting closer. She wasn't going to be able to get up and run before the thing made it all the way out.

She grabbed one of the piles of junk that fell off the table, a hunk of something with exposed wires on one side. It didn't look like anything she recognized, but that didn't stop her from holding it back over her shoulder, poised to throw the moment she got a clear shot.

It emerged from the portal with the same shambling pace it had moved through the portal with. Valerie let the pile of junk fly, but the thing ducked, falling to the floor underneath it. She watched it in terror as she fumbled for whatever else she could get her hands on.

The thing was... oddly familiar. She recognized the style of the hair, and the pattern on the jumpsuit, and the shape of its face. If it wasn't for the weird colors if it wasn't for the fact that she had just heard him die she would've thought it was Danny.

He didn't get up.

Valerie grabbed the pile of junk her hand had landed on and climbed back to her feet on shaky legs. With the thing held over her shoulder (she could've sworn this was just a baseball bat, but considering that it was down here, she didn't trust that) she made her way cautiously towards the probably not Danny.

The closer she got, the less sure she was that it wasn't him. The similarities weren't just a trick of the distance; every single thing looked the same, just as if someone had given him a paint job. By the time she was standing directly over him, she was almost certain that it was, in fact, Danny Fenton.

Valerie did the only logical thing she could think of. "Are you alive?" she hissed, nudging his shoulder with the tip of her shoe. At least, she tried to nudge him. Her foot met no resistance, and her foot passed clean through his shoulder and into his neck before she drew it back with a start.

She dropped back down to her knees. Maybe this was just a hallucination of some kind. It made some sort of sense, probably, but when she reached out with her hand to check again, she met flesh. Cold, clammy flesh.

"Oh my god he's dead," she muttered.

As if to prove her wrong, Danny moved, curling further into himself. Valerie jumped back again, watching as he rubbed at his own eyes before opening them. Their glow matched the portal behind him.

"What happened?" he croaked out as soon as he looked at Valerie. 

"Damn if I know," she replied. She was surprised by how steady her voice came out. "But hopefully it never happens again."

"Are you okay?" Valerie didn't see him climb to his feet. One moment he was on the ground, and the next he was standing upright.

"You are definitely not the one who should be asking that," Valerie replied. "Have you seen yourself?"

Danny looked at her blankly for a moment, before going to some device on the side of the room. Valerie could tell the exact moment he saw his own reflection, as his hand went up to his face and hair. "What the fuck."

"Yeah," Valerie agreed. "What the fuck."

There was a flash of white light, and when Valerie could open her eyes again, Danny was still standing at the machine, this time with his normal black hair and blue eyes and the same white jumpsuit he'd walked into the portal with.

"Um." Danny turned back around to look at her. "I think we should keep this a secret."

Valerie nodded. "Yeah. I think we should." This time she fully intended to keep her promise.

--

Prompts:

kinglazarus - Roleswap. A significant character in the show is replaced with someone else. How does this change things? (ex., someone else is the Red Huntress instead of Valerie, or Tucker's dad is the English teacher instead of Lancer)

heartbeatslow - Valerie Gray finds herself.

[heidipfeiffer]

was that [JOSEPHINE LANGFORD ] spotted in the lobby of the infamous arconia hotel? must just be, [HEIDI PFEIFFER] the [ TWENTY THREE ] year old [ HOUSEKEEPER]. whenever i hear [ ITS BEEN A LONG DAY BY SPACEY JANE it reminds me of them. [SHE/HER] is known for being [ NAIVE] and [ DISTANT] but they make up for that by being [ RESILIENT] and [ HARDWORKING ]. they have been working at the arconia for [ ONE WEEK ].

NAME: Heidi Pfeiffer AGE: 23 OCCUPATION: Housekeeper HOMETOWN: Bonney Lake, Washington CURRENTLY: New York, New York

POSITIVE TRAITS: Resilient, determined, humble NEUTRAL TRAITS: Distant, aloof, NEGATIVE TRAITS: Naive, cold, distrusting

BACKGROUND

Heidi dropped out of school during her senior year to follow her much older boyfriend across the country, supporting his latest business endeavour.

The pair were married and living in Utah before Heidi was old enough to legally drink.

A few years down the track, Heidi was living on an isolated ranch in the middle of nowhere in Kentucky with just a few of her husband's friends, followers and associates to keep her company. The 'dude-ranch' business he'd alleged had turned out to be a hotbed of criminal activity and Heidi was caught in the middle of it.

Having cut almost all ties back home and failing to keep in regular contact with her family, she didn't have much of an option but to stay, despite her growing concerns.

The decision to leave the ranch was made for her when she was escorted off the premises in handcuffs following a raid that exposed the farm's illegal gun assembling and trafficking operation that stretched all the way to Bridgewater, NJ.

Despite her minimal involvement, she was dragged down with the rest of the ranch without entirely realizing she was an accomplice to some pretty hefty crimes. Heidi ended up serving a minimum term of one year in prison for the class 4 felony of unlawful selling/delivery of firearms.

Heidi served nearly two years in State Prison and is currently serving part of her eighteen months of supervised release. Thanks to a very generous parole officer (and agreeing to increased reporting to the parole board) she was authorised to leave Kentucky and secure employment at Arconia through JobLink.

FACTS

During high school she was a horrible person and regrets every moment she spent torturing other kids for her own gain.

Her sentence humbled her a lot and now as a convicted felon without formal education and a dubious marriage status, she is experiencing life at the bottom of the food chain. She hopes to make up for her past transgressions by being less of an asshole.

[selistealproductions]

Name: Tessaray “Tess” Selisteal

Age: 28

Occupation: Mega PizzaPlex STAFF, lead maintenance technician

Afton Robotics Animatronic Specialist

My Security Breach OC, Tess. Her story is below the cut, and warning, it's long.

Art by: Ozaya

From a very young age, Tessuray has had a fascination with all things robotic and mechanical. As a little girl she loved going to museums or county fairs to see the old machinery and watching how stuff went together and worked. From the moment she was old enough to hold a tool, no VCR or electronic housing case was safe from her curiosity. She was being raised by her paternal aunt, Becca, for some family drama reasons that Tess never really felt the need to ask about, but her aunt still felt like Tess deserved more than what their family could give her wandering mind. Becca never wanted to take the place of Tess’s birth mom, so she acted more like an older sister than a parent.

When Tess was 11, her school gave her and her class an aptitude test. This was a normal thing for the school to issue to the students as they left elementary school to show the kids how much they still had to learn and just how hard middle school was going to be, preparing them for more serious studies. When they got her results back they were abnormally high, so much so the school made a meeting and offered for Tess to skip 6th and 7th grade, and even do some dual enrolment classes in the highschool for the subjects she majorly excelled at. 

She thrived in the accelerated program, but tragedy struck when she had a bike accident over one weekend, landing her in the hospital. After a few tests, it was found she had some form of genetic weakness in her bones, primarily focused in her knees and hips. The doctors warned the small family Tess would very likely lose her ability to walk, and the chances of the condition affecting her other bones and joints as she got older was very high. This crushed them, and seeing how they didn’t live too far above the poverty line as it was, there was no way they could afford any of the experimental treatments a couple doctors offered them. As Tess stayed home a few weeks to heal and get used to using her new leg brace and wheelchair, she found a contest for young inventors. The child had to build something or write their own original code to be judged by a counsel, and the top prizes were scholarships to Afton Robotics technical schools. Needing no further encouragement then the gaudy advert, she immediately got to work.

Fearing her future mobility issues, she set out to make a robotic companion that would help her not only with daily living tasks, but also serve as a companion and emotional support. Aunt Becca helped come up with the early design, the two deciding a nonhuman/chimera of animals would be more fun, and they sculpted the proof of concept design out of air dry clay together. Tess created her own code, basing it’s build off not only some leaked early Fazbear animatronic code, but also some theoretic concepts that were believed to be the building blocks to sentient AI. She didn’t care how groundbreaking all that could be if it worked, she just wanted to make a cool robot friend that could actually keep up with her in conversation. When it came time to input personality settings and the base for the robot’s being, she copied down her own 13 year old self to the best of her ability, basically making a coded clone.

Due to her health, Tess couldn’t go to the physical location of the judging for the contest. Aunt Becca was able to get in contact with the company posting the ads and tried to set up permissions to have Tess video record her presentation and mail it in. What happened instead was they got a personal visit from Mr William Afton, inspired by her story and drive to create, he took a detour on his business trip to see her presentation. In an effort to seem grown up, Tess set the living room up to look like a meeting room from TV the best she could, using a large white sheet in place for a fancy white board, and did her best to stand during her presentation. At first Mr Afton was amused by the girl’s fire, but as her explanation went on and she showed her work, his smile changed. No longer was she just a cute cripple girl wanting to impress the important CEO, he now saw a tiny genius in the making, a little broken version of himself. 

Tess was heart broken when she tried to run her program, but her too simple computer set up just wasn’t powerful enough to run the code properly. When she turned to the man, with tears in her eyes, to apologize for wasting his time, she instead saw nothing but pride on his face. Mr Afton stood and shook her hand, nearly knocking her off her still shaky feet, and gleefully congratulated her on her work. He guaranteed she not only had a place at his schools, but he’d personally see to helping her get set up and tend to everything she needed to succeed. And he was true to this word. He moved Tess and Aunt Becca closer to the primary campus, the main technical college William saw to when not busy with the Fazbear brand. Tess flew through her remaining general studies, able to start her robotic classes along with people almost twice her age. She worked not only on her academics, but her body too. She didn’t want to be looked down on for her disability, or be held back in her potential because her bones hated her. She beat the odd the doctors laid out for her, and Mr Afton's financial contributions to her medical needs didn't hurt either. She made a personal rule to only use her knee brace on her worst leg (the right), and only use canes or wheelchairs in truly desperate times, days her bones just refused to let her pretend to be normal.

Her personal assistance robot, named Cekena, became her life's project. Over the years she improved the programming, and made hundreds of upgrades to her design and body. By the time Tess graduated, Cekena was fully self-sustaining and all but sentient, growing from the base programming of "code clone 13 year old Tess" into her own person totally separate from Tess herself. William Afton never stopped being involved with Tess’s growth, becoming a father figure to her she never knew she was severely lacking. William himself even came to see her as a sort of daughter he never had, and teasingly called Cekena his grandchild a time or two. Tess became one of William’s trusted animatronic specialists, a person he’d send to Fazbear franchise locations suspected to have AI forming sentience in order to check the validity of the claims, and help said bots adjust to their new personhood if need be.

Notes

She can speak a number of languages, but is only truly fluent in English. If asked, her list of languages would be (in descending order of fluency): English, Japanese, German, Spanish/French (she mixes them), Chinese and Korean. She's interested in Scots, Russian and some conlangs, but none stick beyond song lyrics.

She has ADHD, and a couple quirks stemming from that. She often taps her pointer finger rapidly on a hard surface when she's over stimulated or thinking. When sitting, she can't have both feet on the ground and will often pull one or both feet onto her chair. She bounces her knee when thinking while siting, and paces if thinking while standing. It's not that she can't be still, she just thinks with a clearer head if something is moving.

While she has no siblings of her own, due to William being like a father to her, she came to see William's son Michael as an older brother. Michael also works as an animatronic specialist for his father, doing much the same thing as Tess, however he is primarily stationed at Fazbear's flagship amusement park "Fazbear's Fun Park". 

Tess actually sees her robot Cekena as a sort of little sister rather than a daughter, very likely stemming from the fact she and her aunt have more of a sisterly relationship then a parent and child one.

Tess still has the air dry clay figure of Cekena's original design she made as a kid, and it now sits on a shelf in her home as if it were a baby picture of the robot herself. She is incredibly protective of this little figure.

The kids of the daycare have collectively, on their own, taken to calling Tess “the scary lady”. Seeing how Tess really doesn’t like kids, she rarely interacts with them and is mostly just seen by the kids hanging out on the balcony of her office or talking to Sun. At first Sun was against the nickname, insisting the kids call her “Miss Tess” or something, but after Tess herself acknowledged the nickname and that she was fine with it, Sun gave up. Now if a kid is being difficult, it’s not uncommon to hear Sun threaten to “get the scary lady down”, usually prompting better behavior and a giggle from the kids.

Tess doesn't like kids so much and is so uncomfortable around them, once she is permanently stationed at the mega pizza Plex it is officially written into her contract that she is never to be placed in charge of any child in any way at any time. There has been a couple of times that customers have attempted to leave their kid in her care, or have requested she watch over the daycare as an assistant was too busy to help them, but every time she vehemently refuses and will point them to that particular clause in her contract.

[ofmartyrss]

I’M A WASTE OF A WOMAN, BUT I TASTE LIKE SUCCESS.

ISABELLA DE LEON is a thirty-two year old, resident of hemlock springs who currently resides in downtown and works as a co-owner of devil’s den bar. isabella’s gender is cis woman, her sexuality is bisexual and she uses she/her pronouns. she’s single, owner of a golden lab named pancho, and lives with her roommate indy. she’ll most likely take care of you if you end up too drunk at her bar but won’t take shit from anyone. 

FULL NAME: isabella de leon. PETS: golden labrador named pancho. AGE: thirty-two. DATE OF BIRTH: october 27th. ZODIAC: scorpio. GENDER & SEXUAL ORIENTATION: cis woman, bisexual. OCCUPATION: co-owner of devil’s den bar.

about isabella.

isabella is the only daughter of high school sweethearts, xavier and marisol de leon. the young couple moved to hemlock springs when she was only a baby, still learning her first words. a friend of a friend had found xavier a job in town and they decided to make the bold move to relocate from mexico. though it was a shot in the dark, it ended up being the best decision they could’ve made for their family at the time. 

during the first years of isabella’s life, they thrived. xavier’s job alone provided enough income for them to enjoy a high quality of life, which allowed marisol to be a stay at home mother. but it only lasted them until isabella’s 8th birthday, and the news of a massive employee cutback at her father’s company arrived. 

xavier struggled in finding another job after that and they ended up having to spend all of their life savings, including the money saved for isabella’s college tuition. eventually, marisol had to get back to work. she was able to secure a spot as a teacher in the town’s kindergarten but the income wasn’t as good as previously. the family had to move neighborhoods and do some major changes in how they lived their life. isabella watched as they went from middle class to lower class, and as much as she knew that her parents were doing everything that they could to make sure she had a good life, she promised herself that she’d be the one to get them out of that situation.

the years passed and xavier was able to get himself a new job, but they still continued to struggle. it got to the point where they were getting their clothes from thrift stores and donations alone, things that were being passed down to them. isabella decided that she’d get part-time jobs after school. she did it all — from babysitting to waiting tables to even giving out spanish classes to students who needed a little boost in the subject. she gave all that she achieved to her parents and saved the pennies that weren’t needed for the bills. her parents were proud, though they were saddened to have put their teenage daughter through such situation.

isabella’s routine got too busy — school, work, home and so on. it was so bad that she started to lose contact with her friends and that eventually led her to an emotional breakdown. only fifteen years old and already living like an adult. she then decided to make time for herself, take those pennies that she had saved and started to enjoy her teenage years before it was too late. she started getting in so much trouble that her parents felt like they didn’t recognize her anymore. almost like she had turned into a completely different person. she never stopped working, never stopped helping them, but her grades started to go down and she started skipping school. isabella started to argue back whenever her parents would question her and fights would go on for hours and days in their household. 

her rebellious phase lasted until she was in her early twenties. that’s when something inside of her clicked. she wasn’t enjoying her life anymore, she was wasting it. still working as a waitress at some low end restaurant while her friends were having kids and graduating college. leaving town, travelling the world — and she was stuck to the same spot she had been since she was fifteen. she decided things needed to change. so isabella enrolled in the community college and got her graduation in business.

it had been a dream of hers to own something that was only hers. enough of having to be bossed around by others, she needed the freedom and the independence. with the little money she had saved, a risky loan from the bank and the help of a friend, she bought a little place who’s now known as the devil’s den bar. things worked out in the way she wanted, thankfully, and the bustling bar gave her the income she needed to finally help her parents’ situation. she got herself a little place of her own and bought a house for them, so that they never had to give up on anything.

the bar has become a popular spot in town, managed by isabella and her friend over the years. it’s dingy and aesthetic-pleasing in it’s own unique way, and though it doesn’t escape the usual town drunks and their shenanigans, isabella has been known to not take shit from anyone — she will kick your ass out if you bring trouble to her bar and she’ll do it alone. 

[thorns-fixations]

THE RENDEZVOUS | Angeal Hewley/ Reader

PART ONE | 18+ reader insert | Eventual Smut

The Rendezvous is a nighttime-only establishment that opens at 7:00pm, and operates as a standard lounge style club until 1:00am, after which it changes tone to a lower to middle-class or “affordable” sex club. The bar staff, like yourself are not expected to work in any other capacity other than making and serving drinks and your new boss assured you that the club has a strict consent policy policed by the security team. At your interview he handed you some contact paperwork, as well as some general “uniform” inspiration imagery, your access card and keys, he had explained to you that as a member of staff you have unlimited access to all establishment spaces (other than his own office of course) to use as you wish. Today your shift was 7:00 to 11:00, giving you plenty of time to get home before the other activities began.

You flicked your hand up, silencing your alarm, 4:45pm, 2 hours before you had to leave for your shift, you had been working at the club for a few weeks now, at 4 shifts per week, and so far you thankfully had not bumped into anyone from Shinra, anyone except your classmate Lex who worked alongside you at the bar, it was fun to relax with her and gossip about the goings on at the company.

You breezed through your before-shift routine, making sure to eat a filling dinner, packing your lunch and changes of clothes (you had learnt pretty quickly that an extra set of clothes or two is a pretty good idea when you are servicing drunken customers who are prone to spill their drinks on you occasionally. You zip up your favourite dress, it fits so perfectly, hugging you in all the right places, you style your hair and put on your makeup. You feel and look amazing.

You walk into the staff room of the club and put your bags away in your locker before walking out to the bar, Lex was already there.

“Hey Y/N!, you look smokin’”, you smiled at her whilst jumping over the bar to join her “you expecting someone tonight or something? What’s got you looking so flash?” She jested, knowing full well you weren’t perusing anyone at that time.

“Very funny, Lex, unlike some people around here, I wouldn’t have a hook-up at work” gesturing to some of the other workers with your head “not to shame them or anything, just not my thing, you know?”.

“Yeah I hear you” Lex replied, leaning on the bar next to you “surely you have someone that you would break your personal morals for though?” she asked, a smile crossing her face and raising an eyebrow at you. “Personally I have always been fond of the head of Urban Development”

“Oh you mean Mr Tuesti?, I can’t say I blame you, he’s not my type personally but he’s not bad on the eyes” you replied, eyes scanning over the first customers entering the club.

You and Lex had a pretty fool-proof system of filling drink trays for the other workers to hand out on the floor and in the seats. You sped through about 10 more trays before Lex continued the conversation.

“Well?” She looked at you inquisitively,

“well.....what?” You looked back confused.

Laughing and shaking her head Lex responded “who would make you drop your morals! If you had one night with anyone...no, if you were to have anyone wanna walk through that door and ask for your ‘personal services’ who would you say yes to?”.

You stopped to think for a second, your mind scanning through all the people you have found attractive over the years; your 10th grade crush, that one coworker you had back in the slums, the lead of last years Loveless performance, the 1st class SOLDIER operatives. You felt yourself blush madly as your mind scanned over the idea of him, you’d always found him attractive, but since starting at Shinra and seeing him around the main building, you had to admit that your innocent little crush had developed into something a lot more x-rated, reflecting on the sex toy you recently purchased to help relieve your frustrations. You are snapped out of your imagination by the sound of your friend laughing

“Ha! So there IS someone that you’d take to one of our ‘special’ back rooms” she suggested, winking at you, “I bet I know who it is~” she teased.

You laughed back at her, a bit embarrassed, the truth is, she probably knows EXACTLY who entered your brain, after all, she was with you the other day when you got lost in the main building.

You had both been sent to deliver some paperwork to the different department heads, the Turks, SOLDIER, urban development and research. You both had decided to leave the SOLDIER director, Lazard, for last, he was almost always in the same place and often kept you both for a chat when you found yourself in his offices. As much as you both enjoy your classes, it’s a little bit more enjoyable to hang around the barracks for a little while, you don’t often get to explore that area in your study and hey, watching the Shinra army train isn’t exactly a bad view either. This visitation was FAR from an exception to the norm when two of the friendly 3rd classes, Kunsel and Cloud informed you that you could find Lazard in the bases gym.

“I wonder what Lazard is actually doing in the gym” you wondered out loud

“he doesn’t exactly come across as the work-out type, does he?” Lex responded, laughing at the thought.

You eventually found Lazard standing in the gym reviewing some paperwork whilst in deep discussion with a very familiar face,

“ holy shit “ Lex whispered to you under her breath “that’s Genesis Rhapsodos, right?”

You nodded back to her as your eyes met his, a sly smile spreading across his face,

“Well hello there, ladies” he greeted you with a voice, smooth like butter.

Lazard looked up from his paperwork and smiled warmly at you both

“Ah! Y/N, Alexis, I was hoping they would send you both with the mission reports, I’m just about finished here with the 1sts, I’d ask for your momentary patience.”

You smiled at him

“Of course director! We are more than happy to wait” you both sat on an nearby bench to wait.

You frowned at Lex, noticing that she was looking around the room as if she was looking for something, or someone. You caught her scanning eyes with your own confused look

“Didn’t Lazard say 1sts ,as in, multiple? I can only see 2nd classes other than Gen-

Your attention was drawn away by the opening of the shower doors behind her, looking up at the the shirtless form in-front of you drying his raven hair with a towel. Your eyes slowly scan up the mans large muscular form, water droplets still trickling down his tight abs, a fresh gleam over his chest as the smell of fresh soap hit you. Angeal Hewley. Steam still sneaking off his skin, your eyes finally land on his face... a face that is looking down at you, his sharp mako-blue eyes staring into your soul, you felt yourself stiffen up as the heat rushed to your face. He raised an eyebrow and smirked, looking your frozen body up and down before walking off to join Lazard and Genesis. You’d be lying if you denied using that memory to get off recently.

“I wanna hear you say it, Y/N, you’d be under Angeal in a heart beat wouldn’t you?”

She laughed. You composed yourself, placing your hands on you hips, looking at your friend

“Honestly Lex...... I would break so many laws to have that man throw me against a wall, respectfully of course”

“Of course, respectfully” she laughed.

11:00pm came around pretty quickly, you and Lex decided that with two hours to spare, it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to stick around and dance for a while, leaving before the x-rated activities began of course.

That smile.

The damned smile had you weak at the knees, you almost hated that a smile alone would make you say yes to anything... almost.

You had already decided that you were not drinking anymore tonight, you had already had 5 glasses of your standard drink, more than enough to have you tipsy and confident. You had decided, in your infinite wisdom that regardless of the SOLDIER's presence you and Lex were going to dance like they weren't.

Okay

Maybe you were going to dance like it was only Angeal and you in the whole club, your hands feeling your body, swaying provocatively to the rhythm of the night. And honestly, you couldn't have a better hype girl by your side, she supported this sexy performance, even if it was only just that, an act. She was a pretty good teacher too, instructing you to take some quick shy glances in Angeal's direction when she caught him watching you, your performance became so familiar that you were soon dancing and giving him looks as if he'd paid for a private performance. More than a few times you had seen him shift in his seat at the lounge whilst watching your movements, it was about 12:15, you thought when you looked over and saw he was gone from his seat, having left Sephiroth and Zack there, actually on further inspection, Genesis was gone too. You frowned and continued dancing, turning back to face your friend. As you did, almost in the same split second your eyes landed on Genesis' who had appeared behind her, you were taken back by the feeling of two large arms wrapping around your waist from behind, hot breath falling into the nape of your neck.

"Lost something, sweetheart?" the rough deep voice echoed through your ears. Perhaps your performance had worked a little too well. You turned around slowly, looking up at him, his arms not moving from your body, his hands now resting on your ass.

"It would seem our little friend here isn't so confident in her performance with the audience up close and personal" Genesis cooed from behind you.

"That's disappointing, it looked so tempting from a distance that I thought I might come and join in the fun" Angeal smirked down at you, tightening his grip on your ass and pulling your body tight against his own. The smell of his cologne attacks your senses. No, you weren't going to let yourself fall into being shy right now, if he wants to play, dammit you can play right back. You reached your arms up and linked your hands behind his neck, smiling innocently up at him, you leaned up a tiny bit and stepped toward him with one foot. You feel him move one of his hands to your upper back a begin to move his face towards yours, just what you were after. With his guard dropped and expecting to feel your soft lips touch his own he closed his eyes, in response, you swiftly moved your leg against him, putting pressure on his clothed cock before moving your leg upwards slowly causing him to gasp, just the reaction you were seeking. What you didn't expect though was to feel his obvious arousal so clearly though his pants, so clear and so shockingly large, your shock must have been written all over your face. His expression quickly changed to a seductive smile, “What’s wrong baby? Bite off more than you think you can handle?”

[artxyra]

Damian Acting Like A Teenager? Impossible.

When Damian entered the halls of Gotham Academy, the first thing he notices was the change in the dark atmosphere. It felt oddly kinder and more lighthearted. Everywhere he turns, there are whispers focus around the new girl. At first, he didn’t care about the gossip, well, that was until he met her.

It was an unusual encounter, something that he would look down on.

It was the passing period, and she was running down the halls in a hurry as he was walking to his next class, one that he didn’t particularly care for; they bump into each other, causing a standstill in the halls. Everyone wondered how the dark prince would react to their newly dubbed princess of sunshine. They expected a yelling match, which, of course, occurred, but what they didn’t expect was an eventual best of the worst of alliance ever made.

Several months passed since the two had met and several weeks since the blooming of Damian and Marinette’s friendship, and not a single student could say that there weren’t surprised.

The moment Marinette had broken down any (and all) walls that the boy had placed, she was able to make the stoic teen become his age. It started small with a joke here and there; then it progressed into card games followed by video games. To this day, Damian swears that he’ll beat her at a shooting game at one point, to which Marinette would respond with a laugh and an over-the-shoulder wink. The young Wayne swears that he has never blush a day in his life, but the photographic proof on Marinette’s phone says otherwise.

The school soon became accustomed to being Daminette’s playground. At first, the teachers were opposed to the idea, but after seeing how slightly more open Damian has become, they slowly agreed to the concept of allowing the duo to have less strict rules. That and they didn't want to be sued by the Wayne family.

Which now brings us to this moment: Marinette swings on a swing set while Damian practices his form with a katana; don’t ask how he managed to get it past security-- cause there is no answer.

“You know, maybe we should do something wild?” Marinette thinks aloud, looking up to the sky with a mischief smirk on her lips.

Damian doesn’t turn to her; he only sets the blade down to his side. “What mayhem do you have in mind?”

Marinette giggles uncontrollably.

Let’s assume that whatever Marinette had in mind would rule the yearbooks for years to come.

~☾★☽~

Since his partnership with Marinette, Damian has been hiding his characteristic change at home. Surprisingly, it was simple. A few death threats here and there, maybe sneaking out moments every so often. No one at the Wayne cared enough to pay any attention to it. It only then became a shock when Damian left for school along the lines of being late. Alfred had offered to take him to school to which Damian declined and got onto his “normal” motorcycle and speeds off.

“Does anyone else seem to think that Damian is acting strange?” Dick asks, pipping his head down from the ceiling. He’s on the chandelier again. Poor Alfred, maybe Dick should dust the chandelier for him as an apology.

Tim walks in with a large, filled to the brim, coffee mug in hand, “Which one?” He absently wonders, taking a long sip. The dark circles and bags around his eyes explain it all.

“I do concur with Master Richard; the young master has been acting somewhat strange for quite some time now.” Alfred appears out of nowhere, thus starting an array of concerns.

It wasn’t long before Jason came in shouting demands with the head of the household trailing behind him. Alfred reprimands Jason for the yelling as he hands Bruce a cup of coffee.

Not caring enough about the conversation and looking like a madman, Jason shouts, “Look, I can’t explain it, but we’re going to need Demon Spawn for something huge.”

“Uh, why would we need Baby Bird?” Dick asks, dropping onto the floor and twisting his body. “Not that I don’t mind getting Damian involved.”

“Look, there’s no time to explain,” Jason facepalms and begins to push everyone towards the door despite the lack of proper wear they have on.

After several protests and one change of clothes, the Wayne household now stands in front of the gates of Gotham Academy.

“Is it me, or does this place look less you know Gotham-y and full of life?” Tim ponders, narrowing his eyes, as he takes a long sip from a to-go coffee cup with Red Robin’s emblem.

“No, no, Timmy, I see it too.” Dick whispers as Jason struts past the gates and onto the school’s property like a man on a mission.

Bruce sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Come on, let’s go get your brother so Jason can stop being Jason.”

Tim shrugs before passing the gates himself, with Dick following him.

Upon entering the school, they could immediately see that it was either a passing period or free time from the number of students in the halls. Some student dared to pull out their phones while other whispers amongst themselves.

Bruce makes his way to the attendance office, where the attendance assistant, Joyce, resides sitting at the desk.

“Hello Joyce, I’m here to pick up Damian. He has a, uh, dentist appointment this evening.” Bruce speaks, hoping that she wouldn’t catch the lie.

“Well Mr. Wayne, Damian is, uh…” After lingering in her thoughts, Joyce turns to someone besides her. “Do you know where Damian Wayne would be at today?”

“Try the art room.” A feminine voice answers, followed by a series of typing noises.

Joyce turns back to the Wayne family and smiles, “He should be in the art room; it’s down the hall to your right, you should not miss it, as it’s in the only hallway that has a series of artwork posted on the walls. Before you go, please sign here."

Joyce hands Bruce a sign-out sheet, to which the man signs and ushers his wards to search for his youngest.

“They’re so screwed.” The same feminine voice speaks, causing Joyce to break out laughing.

It took a total of four different locations for the men to find the youngest Wayne.

First, they went to the art room like Joyce’s co-worker told them to do.

When they got there, Damian wasn't there, but the teacher did show Bruce a couple of Damian's artworks. Bruce couldn't help but feel proud.

While looking around the room, one of the art students told them they last saw Damian playing Pokémon Go near the gym; he was trying to catch a legendary Pokémon that spawned there.

So, of course, after an awkward eye contact with one another, they walk to the gym. Once again, Damian wasn’t there but a different student in his stead. He tells them that Damian was making ice sculptures out of ice cream at the cafeteria. The student then goes on to explain that Damian had some wicked skills with a knife.

Jason, with wide eyes, practically shouted at the student that he was crazy and that Damian would never, and he means NEVER would do something that stupid. The student shrugs it off like it was an everyday occurrence. It was Dick that had to hold Jason back from thrashing the teen. Bruce then apologizes to the instructor for their disturbance, as Tim walks casually behind Dick carrying Jason.

By the time they got to the cafeteria, it was damn near empty aside from a few students still eating. There were no signs of ice cream or the tools that would go into making an ice sculpture. Tim had to ask a few students to see if Damian was in here at some point in time. One of the workers overheard the question and answered him. Evidently, Damian was there earlier making sculptures out of ice cream before handing it out to students.

When they asked the question that has been slowly driving the four insane, the worker replies with: “Upstairs racing on these old colorful scooter board down the halls."

After three locations and no Damian, Tim wanted nothing more but to have a mental breakdown, and he would have if it wasn’t for Bruce holding him up and taking his coffee away.

So, they quickly found themselves on the second level of the school. There was no sight of Damian Wayne, though there were wheel tracks smudged into the flooring.

“Are you kidding me?” Jason shouts out into the ceiling. Thankfully, there were no students in the halls to hear it. Well, that might have been the case if it wasn’t for a teacher to open their door and shh the male. It took every bone in Jason's body not to show the teacher his middle finger.

After a beat of silence and walking down the hall, they overhear a familiar voice.

“Angel, you are desperately in the wrong here. The bear only wears one color, so it has to the color red.” Jason stops dead in his tracks and turns to railings.

The voice was too good to be true.

Looking over the staircase, they find an alcove, and sitting in it is none other than Damian Wayne himself, but he’s not alone.

“I’m telling you, Wayne. Pooh’s favorite color is yellow.” The female answers before taping her fingers as she makes her points, “He loves honey, which is by default a yellow color. He's never seen with a yellow background, and if yellow didn't clash with his fur, he would definitely be wearing it.”

“I disagree. Winnie the Pooh has been drawn on numerous of occasions with red items, not yellow. Case in point, the red balloon, his shirt." He counters. The conversation continues with banters and statements; whether it was true or false is up to debate.

This was not happening.

Tim.exe has stopped working.

Jason.exe has stopped working.

Jaws dropped, a low groaning sound.

They cannot be witnessing this. The most deadliest of the Wayne’s is currently arguing about Winnie, the motherfucking, Pooh’s favorite color.

Bruce has no words. He's practically in the same stance as his middle children. Dick, on the other hand, pulls out his phone and begins to record what remains of the conversation.

No one dares to move or utter out words. This version of Damian is the apocalypse. Nothing in the world is okay.

Slowly, the four Waynes exit the school; no one saw them leave.

Legend has it that Damian never went home that day despite being excused from his classes. When he had returned home, his family didn't utter a word to him. He was meet with either a profusely blinking, unwanted hug or laughter, as they were still in shock at what they just encountered. It wasn’t until a couple of months later that all hell breaks loose. Damian had introduced the family to Marinette.

----

A retouch version of Request #2

[poisonedapples]

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter Three

New School and Friendships

Chapter Summary: Roman has his first day in a new district while some bonds are strengthened.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Warnings: Past abuse mentions, mentions of hidden cameras, anxiety, some bullying, crying, and food mentions

Chapter Word Count: 5,860

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?” Roman’s dad turned to face him. Roman felt his whole body start to shake.

“You know how you said that…I could ask for anything from you? Since, uh- since you didn’t know what present to get me last time?”

His dad smiled in a way so normal it was disturbing. “Got an idea?”

“Yeah, uh…I want a canopy bed.”

His dad’s face dropped, and Roman could feel the anxiety and regret bloom through his chest. “You know why I can’t do that, Roman.”

“Please? I know it’s probably a bit much to replace my whole bed frame, but I could make my own canopy for cheaper! I’ve already looked at a bunch of ways online how, I just need you to buy the materials-”

“It’s a no.” Roman’s dad looked angry, and Roman would’ve done anything to run the other direction at that moment. To burst out the door and never come back. “Nice try, Roman, but I’m not stupid. Come back when you have a better idea.”

Roman blinked to fight back the tears. “…I’m sorry.”

“Go back to your room.”

Roman ran up the stairs as fast as he could, wishing more than anything that there was a lock on his door. Instead, Roman took his desk chair and propped it against the knob for some kind of security, curling into the corner of his room as he shook and tugged at his hair.

He tried to block out the knowledge of the security camera on his shelf, hidden well but not well enough, pointed right at his bed.

***

Several fast knocks came onto Roman’s bedroom door, waking him up with a jerk. He groggily pushed open the curtain in front of his head to grab his phone and look at the time. Six o’clock on the dot, it read. Ugh.

The knocking on the door didn’t stop, and Roman whined. “What?” He called out.

“Get dressed, we need to leave the house by 6:30.” He heard Logan call back.

“Fine, fine.” Roman pushed the curtains out of the way and practically rolled out of bed, grabbing the clothes he’d organized for himself the night before. He put on a pair of jeans with a white and red t-shirt, nothing fancy but fancy enough for a first day surrounded by strangers. He grabbed his backpack and put his phone and some earbuds in his pocket before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“Morning, kiddo!” Patton chirped as he made breakfast, “Didja sleep well?”

“Yes, I did.” That was a lie. He had some strange dream where his dad was also there, and he only managed to calm down and fall back asleep an hour ago. He still couldn’t stop thinking about it, even if the dream was hazy now.

“Good to hear! Be ready by 6:30 so I can drive all of you to the school. Then once you get there, you can ask about your schedule at the office.” Patton laid down a plate of bagels with cream cheese and strawberries in front of Roman, so Roman began to eat.

Once he finished his breakfast, Roman rushed back upstairs to style his hair and brush his teeth before they had to leave. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at the shower to the left of him and sighed. He touched his hair, feeling the grease slick onto his fingers.

He really needed to shower. He hadn’t showered since he got here, and with how thick his hair was it was really starting to gross him out. He hated feeling greasy and grimy, but Roman hadn’t checked the bathroom for cameras yet and he refused to shower until he did. Though, he knew that was also just an excuse. Roman also felt too tired to take care of himself.

Just brush your teeth, he thought, they told you that if you can’t shower, at least brush your teeth. Greasy hair can be fixed, cavities are expensive.

He spit out the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed out his mouth. He grabbed some face wash and decided to use it as quickly as he could to hold back the gross feeling he felt. It would help him feel a little cleaner, at least. A little more presentable for the first day.

A loud bang came onto the door. “Roman, hurry up!” Virgil called out, “Some of us need to piss!”

“Just a second!” Roman vigorously splashed water on his face and quickly dried it with a towel, rushing out of the bathroom so that Virgil could run in. He sighed again, walking downstairs to wait on the couch until it was time to go.

“Alrighty, everyone got everything?” Patton eventually asked, making Roman crack open the eyes he didn’t even realize he closed. Patton smiled and clapped his hands together when his response was tired hums of agreement. “Perfect! To the car!”

All three kids bunched themselves together in the back of Patton’s car, Roman and Virgil at the window seats while poor Logan was squished in the middle. Roman squeezed his legs together so he could fit his backpack between Logan and himself, acting as a barrier so Logan couldn’t touch him. It was uncomfortable, but it was what Roman had to do.

“So, Roman, are you excited?” Patton asked, making Roman open his eyes again to look at Patton through the rearview mirror. Roman leaned his head against the window.

“More nervous. I’ve never been to a new school before.”

“Well, hopefully you can make lots of friends here! The school is pretty big, so there are certainly lots of options!” Patton laughed at himself and Roman closed his eyes again.

We’ll see about that.

Eventually, after a failed attempt of getting in some extra minutes of sleep before school, Roman felt the car come to a stop. He opened his eyes and looked out the window to see the front of the large school building, kids with smiling faces talking to each other as they walked inside while others looked tired yet excited. Roman wasn’t feeling it.

“Alright, kiddos, have fun!” Patton exclaimed, “Remember to check in with the office for your schedule, Roman!”

All the kids started to pile out of the car, grabbing their bags off the floor to rush inside. Once they were all out, Patton’s car drove away to head for work.

Roman looked at the building as Logan and Virgil walked inside. It seemed huge compared to his old school, where the county was much more rural than here. They still had twenty minutes until school started and kids were already swarming in from multiple entrances, both from the main entrance and other doors connected around the building. Roman walked inside and held his arms close to himself, desperate not to be shoved around by the other students. 

The office was fairly easy to find, considering there was a giant sign over the door in bold, white letters reading Office. Roman opened the door and stepped inside to get in line, feeling a little bit better that he wasn’t the only student having first day issues. The line shrank very quickly until it was Roman’s turn to ask questions, being faced with an old lady who could either be very sweet or the rudest person in the building. Roman could never tell.

“Uh, I’m a new kid at this school, and my guardian told me to come here to get my schedule?” Roman asked.

“Name.” Okay, well, rude it was, then.

“Roman Goldsberry.”

The desk worker didn’t respond, only typed something on her computer and didn’t make eye contact. “Next door to your left of that entrance is the counselor’s office. Your counselor is Mrs. Walters and she’ll call for you shortly.”

“Okay, thank you.” Roman had never scurried out of an office so quickly in his life. So much for a great first impression.

In the other office, Roman sat on a waiting chair and awkwardly glanced at all the college items they had hung up on the walls, waiting until his name would be called. The school day hasn’t even started yet, what’s taking them so long?

Roman drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair and waited. There was a lot of college stuff in this room. Granted, high school’s whole thing was trying to take you to college, his old school was the exact same. And he should really start thinking about that stuff since he’s a sophomore now. He only had two more years left after this, but it’s not like he could go anyway. He wasn’t even supposed to graduate high school, let alone college.

Besides, his dream was stupid anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“Roman Goldsberry?” A voice called out, taking Roman out of his thoughts. Roman stood up to follow the counselor into her office.

“I’m Mrs. Walters, and it’s nice to meet you Roman!” She said cheerily as she sat at her desk with Roman sitting right in front of her. “Your schedule was a bit last minute to pull together, but I tried my hardest based on your last school’s transcript and your test scores from last standardized testing. All I need is to schedule some extra electives for you. You have advanced English 12, advanced geometry, advanced biology, and world history. You can also choose Spanish 3 here if you wish to continue that. You also still need your gym credit, so you can take regular PE or strength training. I also have a list of other electives here if you want to look at that.”

“Yeah, I can look.” The counselor handed Roman a paper of all the electives organized by their subject. Well, Roman definitely wanted to continue Spanish, so that choice was easy. Strength training sounded like a fun way to do gym class with less dodgeballs to the face, but it was only a semester long, so he’d need to pick another semester class for the second half of the year. And he could join another painting or drawing class as his last elective, but he’d already taken those at his old school…

Roman gazed at the arts section of the packet, trying to find something he might like. His eyes lit up as he noticed the names of two classes: set design, which was a semester long and sounded magical, and something called sculpture. “What does the sculpture class teach?” Roman asked.

“It’s an art class that teaches you how to sculpt with different things. Like clay, wood, things like that. It’s a very hands-on class if you’re interested.”

Roman smiled. “I want that one then.”

The counselor typed something into her computer. “Have you chosen your other classes?”

“Yes, Spanish 3, set design, and strength training.”

“I’ll put you in strength training for this semester, but next semester you can join the set design class. I’ll email your elective teachers to inform them you’ll be joining their classes, but for now…” The counselor printed off a piece of paper and handed it to Roman. “This is your new schedule. Your first class is English with Ms. Fritz, and her class should be up on the third floor at room 316. Do you think you can make it there?”

“I can, thank you.”

The counselor smiled. “Have a nice first day.”

Roman walked off to head toward his first class, going up two flights of stairs and wandering across half the floor before he finally found his classroom. Thankfully, the halls were full of students desperately trying to locate their classrooms, so Roman didn’t feel as weird. He eventually stumbled upon the correct room number after checking multiple hallways and trying to follow their scattered number system. He looked at the door with a paper rabbit and a book with a phrase reading hop into a good book, and could guess immediately what type of teacher this would be.

Roman pushed open the half-cracked door and stepped inside.

The dozen kids who were already sitting stared at him when he walked in, but quickly resumed their conversations shortly after. Roman glanced at an empty seat off in the middle row near the other end of the class and moved to sit down in it. He looked around at the other kids off in their own worlds, with no one to get excited to see him and strike up a conversation. He was sitting alone in a class where it seemed like no one else was.

Roman got bored quickly with no one to talk to, drumming his fingers on the table and starting to daydream instead.

The long lost princess with the power to see into the future is forced to hide in protected wilderness, Roman thought, picking up from an old story idea he’s had for a while. Can’t have a teen novel without an orphan, so she lives with a guardian healer instead. Then, she needs a trusty companion to not only start her adventures, but to assist her alongside them. Perhaps he could be a peasant boy born with more magic power than the normal peasant has? It sure would be interesting. Or maybe, he’s not a trustworthy companion at all! What if he’s using the princess to promote his own selfish ideals? But as the story goes on, they actually become close friends and he has an intense internal conflict as he turns into the antagonist! Then maybe-

“Alright class, I think it’s been late enough for us to start!” Roman tried not to be aggravated at the teacher for interrupting him. The teacher stood at the front of the class with a wide smile. “I’m Ms. Fritz, but of course I’m sure a lot of you already know that since you had me last year. I teach all grade levels for advanced English, so if you keep down this path you might stick with me until graduation! Now normally, teachers will start their first day with class expectations, maybe a rubric or a supplies list, but I have a better idea! How about we travel across the class and try to get to know each other better? I can pass around a ball, and if you catch the ball, you have to share three fun facts about you!”

A sense of dread filled into Roman after hearing that. He usually didn’t mind games like this since it was a mindless way to pass the time, but he didn’t have any friends to pass him the ball anymore. Was he just going to sit there until the end? Sounded awkward, no thank you.

“I think,” Ms. Fritz said with her hand gripping her chin in thought, “I’m going to start with the new kid.”

Roman perked his head up as all the other kids turned to him. Well, that was unexpected.

Ms. Fritz tossed Roman the ball, and thankfully he caught it without making a fool of himself. The teacher smiled at him encouragingly as he stood up, looking around at all the kids waiting for him to talk. What should I even say?

“Can you say your name first?” Ms. Fritz asked.

“Well…I’m Roman. Uh, I like to paint, I’m half french, and…” Roman tried to think. What else was interesting about him? Something that shared a lot about him as a person?

Quickly, it dawned on him. One idea that I could possibly share, he thought. Well, it’s a bit invasive, but they’re all looking at me. So whatever.

He took a deep breath in. “…I’m a foster kid.”

When Roman admitted that, all the kids seemed to be more interested in him, leaning closer as their eyes widened. It was the first time Roman ever said it aloud, and it was so strange to hear coming from his mouth. He was a foster kid. That was an important part of his identity now.

He didn’t know how he felt about it.

“You’re half french?” Ms. Fritz pulled Roman out of his thoughts with that question. “Do you know any french?”

“I’m fluent.”

“That’s so cool! Can you say something in French for us?”

Roman seemed to think about it. “Quelque chose.”

Ms. Fritz blinked. “Well, I hope it was appropriate to say in a classroom. When did you move here, Roman?”

“Like…four days ago. Very recently.”

“You only got added to my roster last night, so I believe you! How about you pass the ball to another kid now?”

Roman looked around the room awkwardly before making eye contact with a random girl and tossing her the ball. He sat back down and only paid half his attention to what the other kids were saying. Well, at least he didn’t have to wait awkwardly anymore.

The rest of the class went like that. It seemed like a lot of these kids were students that Ms. Fritz had in the past, as well as being students that were also close friends with each other. They talked a lot and made lots of jokes with the teacher, and they seemed really close, which Roman understood since he was the same with his old group of advanced kids. The extra conversation dragged the game out longer than it probably should have been, but Roman didn’t mind. He didn’t want to actually work or anything anyway.

Eventually, the game ended, and the last kid tossed the ball to Ms. Fritz. “Alright,” she said, “That game dragged out longer than I thought it would, but that’s fine! The bells are shorter the first few days anyway. We only have a couple minutes left, so talk amongst yourself if you want, I don’t care. The assembly should be after your fourth bell for the sophomores, so don’t let your teachers forget!”

All the students turned around to talk to the kids around them. Roman simply watched their conversations with no one to talk to himself, realizing how all the new kids at his old school must have felt. It was like looking in from the outside, where no one else could see you. Roman was just…there.

“Hey,” the kid in front of him turned around to face Roman. Roman almost jumped at the sudden attention. “What’s your name again?”

“Oh, Roman. Roman Goldsberry.” Roman turned to sit properly in his seat and leaned in closer. This was a good start! He seems nice, maybe I can make a friend!

“Roman Goldsberry!” He mocked, turning to his other friends to laugh. “That’s such a pretentious name. And very American sounding, by the way. I thought you were French?”

Roman’s shoulders sagged. Nevermind. Eight in the morning on my first day, and apparently I’ve made an enemy before a friend. “I’m half french, not fully french.”

The kid turned to his friends and made a face at them before they all laughed. Roman felt his blood boil.

“So your dad is the American?” The kid asked.

“Yes.” Roman hoped his sharp tone would help them realize not to mess with him.

“Are you close with your dad?”

Roman froze, and the group of kids turned to each other to make faces at each other again. He really didn’t see what was so funny. Who asks a complete stranger a question like that out of the blue?

Before Roman could snap and tell the kid to mind his own damn business, another kid from the other side of the room scoffed. “Mitchell.”

“What? I’m just asking!”

The other kid opened their mouth to retaliate, but a loud and obnoxious bell went off before they could. Kids started to get up to rush to their next class, and Roman joined them. The sooner he got away from Mitchell (who had no right to bully Roman for his name when he was called Mitchell), the better.

Roman rushed out into the hall and hyper focused on the schedule in his hands. World history, room 203. The next floor down.

Roman was so occupied in trying to find a flight of stairs, he didn’t notice the kid trying to catch up to him.

***

The rest of Roman’s day wasn’t half as eventful as his first bell. History class had a chill teacher, which was nice, then next was his strength training class. His teacher was a little confused when he showed up but was happy to have Roman on board. He seemed very strict with his class rules though, and Roman hated that considering one of his rules was they had to change into gym clothes. Which meant Roman had to wear gym shorts.

…Well, guess he’d have to get used to wearing multiple pairs of boxers again.

Besides that, he also got lost on his way to sculpture, so he showed up ten minutes late telling this random teacher he was her student now. At least she didn’t seem bothered. After that, they all went to the sophomore assembly where they were told the school rules and updates, which Roman’s pretty sure he was the only kid who actually listened. Then, after the assembly, Roman went to the cafeteria to eat a lunch that Patton packed him. He hadn’t actually brought a packed lunch to school in years, so the sentiment was…strange.

Not that Roman would complain about an edible lunch, though.

Roman looked around the cafeteria for a place to sit. The place was starting to become crowded as more students got out of line for buying lunch, so Roman needed to find a spot fast. It’d be easier if he made a friend to sit with, but after the morning Mitchell incident, Roman hadn’t cared to try again in his other classes.

That’s when Roman spotted him. A kid with thick glasses eating a fruit cup as he worked on some papers next to him, completely ignoring the world to finish some homework. Roman wasn’t exactly close with his foster brothers, but hey, maybe Logan could prove himself a little useful. He had to be lonely too, right?

Roman took his chance and sat across from Logan. Logan didn’t look up from his papers. “Hey there, nerd!”

Logan glanced an eye toward Roman. He focused back on his work. “Hello.”

“How’s your first day of high school going?”

It took Logan a solid minute before he responded. “It’s going alright. I got unlucky with a teacher of mine, who already gave us a homework packet for the week, so I’m trying to get a head start on it.”

“Really? What teacher?”

“Mr. Owens, he’s the more strict teacher of the two that teach medical technology.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Medical technology? That’s a class here?”

“Yes. I had to do a lot of things last year to get into it, however. It’s part of the intensive medical learning path. However, the extra work is necessary.”

“…Right. What other classes are you in?”

“Advanced biology, advanced geometry, advanced English, medical tech as I just mentioned, German 2, health, and painting.”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Wait, I thought most of those were sophomore classes?”

“And I took freshman classes my eighth grade year. Your point?”

Roman blinked. “…Fair enough.”

Roman brought out his own sandwich and ate it in awkward silence. Logan seemed so focused on his paper that he wasn’t saying a word, and trying to spark conversation with him when he was like this was next to impossible. He felt like he was intruding by sitting next to Logan, the air feeling thick for a reason Roman couldn’t quite place. Once he finished his sandwich, Roman had enough.

“I think…” Roman said, “I’m going to sit…somewhere else.”

Logan didn’t react. “Alright.”

Roman stood up and awkwardly shuffled to an empty spot at a table on the other side of the cafeteria, placing down his lunch box and trying again. Well, he thought as he opened up a cheese stick wrapper, better get used to being alone, then.

“Hey, excuse me?”

Roman looked up at the voice while he was mid-bite. It was the same kid who scolded Mitchell back in his English class, tired circles under their eyes and a gray sweater on despite it being August. Though, Roman had been freezing in most of his classes today, so maybe this person had the right idea.

“Oh- I’m sorry, were you sitting here?” Roman asked.

“No, you’re fine, I just…” The kid looked side to side anxiously. “…Mind if I sit with you?”

“…Oh! No, I don’t mind at all.”

The kid smiled and set their lunchtray across from Roman. “Thanks. I’m Elliott by the way, they/them pronouns.”

Roman’s brain took a minute to process what they meant. “Uh, hello! I’m Roman…he/him?”

Elliott seemed to get happier when he said that. “Nice to meet you. How’s your first day been so far? Besides for you-know-who this morning.”

Roman laughed. “Well, aside from that uncalled for mess, it’s been quite normal. I got lost a few times, but that’s not new for me. My teachers seem quite alright so far.”

“That’s good to hear. We have a lot of good teachers, I think, unless they teach calculus, then they have some serious issues. But so long as you don’t act like an idiot it’s easy to get past those teachers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind! Hopefully I stay on this hot streak, though.” Roman took out a water bottle from his lunch and started to drink it. “But it’s the students I’m more worried about. They all seem so off on their own. Or just outright rude like that guy this morning.”

Elliott groaned, leaning his head on his hand and slouching. “I’m really sorry about him. He can be a huge jerk for no reason. I think he’s just itching for a fight.”

“You seem to know him quite well. Old friend or something?” Roman asked.

Elliott groaned again. “…He’s my ex.”

“…No offense to your type or anything, but…ew.”

“Oh no, yeah, dating him was definitely an ew,” Elliot sighed. “We broke up like, four times in the span of a year and a half. It was a mess. Eventually, over the summer I broke up with him for good. I think he’s still upset about that and taking it out on the first easy target he finds. That, and he’s a jerk.”

“Well, he’ll soon learn I’m not one to be described as an easy target.” Roman gave a cocky smile and posed.

The bell sounded off again, and all the students stood up from their tables and started to swarm the trash cans and cafeteria exits. Roman and Elliott gave each other a look as they also stood up.

“So…what class do you have next?” Elliott asked nervously.

“Let’s see…” Roman pulled out the schedule from his pocket and looked at it. “Advanced biology with Mr. Weber.”

Elliott’s eyes lit up. “Me too! Uh…wanna walk together then? I can show you where it is.”

Roman smiled. “Of course!”

The two kids headed down the stairs, talking more and laughing long after they sat down in the class and the bell rang. Roman continued to whisper to Elliott during class until the teacher gave them both a warning glance, shutting their mouths but smiling at each other.

Even as Roman tried to pay attention, he felt a weight lift from his chest.

He’d obtained a friend after all!

***

The entire bus drive home, Roman spent it texting Elliott’s number that they’d given him right after biology ended. He talked about his last two classes and listened to Elliott ramble about his bad luck with classmates this year, grinning to himself with his eyes glued to his screen until his stop came. Virgil banged his fist on Roman’s seat to get his attention, making him jump and stand up to get off with Virgil and Logan.

During the walk home, no one said anything. Roman was off in his own world and Virgil just looked tired, with Logan staring intently at his own shoes as he walked. Virgil unlocked the door for them all to come inside, and they all branched off into their different directions. Virgil got a snack from the kitchen while Roman and Logan ran up to their rooms.

Roman spent a lot of his time in his room now that he’d gotten the curtains around his bed. Lying there was a lot softer than hiding on the bathroom floor with his legs propped up, and Roman was still confused as to how he managed to get away with installing this. He’d have to make sure Patton never entered his room again in case he planned to rip the curtains off their hooks.

He’d have to make a plan to effectively keep him out.

But for now, Roman actually needed to talk to Patton as soon as possible. He needed to ask for gym clothes, since that was the only thing Roman still needed to get for class, and he wanted to get it over with so Roman wouldn’t need to keep worrying about it. He was almost certain Patton had come home half an hour ago, but Roman just ignored him and stayed in his room. But he had to take advantage of the fact that he was remembering to ask for the clothes, so there was no time like the present to go find him.

Roman hopped out of bed and exited his room, making his way downstairs to the living room. He figured Patton would be either watching TV or doing something in the kitchen, but when Roman looked around, he didn’t see him anywhere. Virgil was sprawled across the couch on his phone, but no one else was around. Roman put his hands on his hips.

“Where’s Patton?” He asked Virgil.

Virgil didn’t look up. “Upstairs. In his room I think.”

Roman groaned and stomped back upstairs. He hated going into an adult’s room, so he instead opened the door and poked his head in so he wouldn’t have to step inside. But before he could get a word out to Patton, Roman stopped himself.

Patton was sitting on his bed with the lights dimmed, his back resting in the headboard, but what shocked Roman was that Logan was there also. He had his face hidden in Patton’s neck as Patton rubbed his back and played with his hair, holding him tight to his chest while Logan sniffled. Roman had never seen Logan emote before, so watching him cry was…disturbing. Roman wanted to run over and rip Logan from Patton to protect him.

Patton looked at Roman in the doorway and smiled. “You gotta remember to knock before entering, kiddo. What do you need?”

Roman forgot the main reason he came here. “Is Logan okay?”

Patton looked down at Logan and whispered something in his ear. Whatever Patton said, Logan agreed with a quiet nod of his head. Patton rubbed at Logan’s neck in a way that made Roman’s skin crawl as Patton began to speak. “He’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s just a little overwhelmed from school today. Do you need anything?”

Roman took a step inside Patton’s bedroom. It made his whole body shift into fight or flight, but he couldn’t leave Logan alone with him in good conscience. “I just wanted to say I need to buy gym clothes by next Wednesday. I’m in a strength training class this semester.”

Patton smiled. “That’s fine, we can go shopping this weekend.”

Roman looked down at the floor. “Well…I was more thinking, like…I go into the store while you wait in the car.”

Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “I need to buy the clothes, kiddo.”

“You can just give me the money. I’ll stay within the budget and give you any left over, so…please?”

Patton’s face dropped a little, but he didn’t get angry, so Roman considered that a win. “Sure, kiddo. We’ll do that Sunday.”

Even after the conversation seemed to end, Roman still stood near the door, shifting on his feet awkwardly. Patton shifted his eyes between Logan and Roman as if he was analyzing both of their mental states, but Roman’s throat felt stuck as he tried to bring out the words he wanted to say. He was so scared, but he couldn’t force himself to ask the question he knew he needed to ask now. Yet his feet refused to make a run for it out the door despite his fear.

“Do you need something else, kiddo?” Patton lightly prompted. Roman attempted to swallow the rock he felt in his throat.

“Can I…Can I stay with you and Logan?” He hated it, but he had to do it. He didn’t know what Patton would try when Logan was vulnerable.

Patton looked down at Logan, and Logan nodded. Patton turned to smile again. “You can if you want, Logan doesn’t mind.”

Roman carefully walked to the other side of the bed, sitting as far as possible from Patton but keeping his eyes glued to Logan. He knew he wasn’t helping much, not saying a word and not even being close, but it was something Roman had to do. Just because him and Logan weren’t close didn’t mean he’d leave him in danger. Even if Roman felt stuck in his head and couldn’t find the power to move his arms.

Roman sat there for a while, watching Logan’s chest rise as Patton rubbed his back. It felt like ages before Logan’s chest slowed and he fell asleep on top of Patton, somehow not caring at all about being asleep in Patton’s presence. Roman’s heart ached for him. He was too trusting and innocent for his own good.

“I gotta do some chores,” Patton whispered, “So I’m gonna tuck him in and let him nap. Do you still wanna stay with him?”

Roman nodded, not being able to get the words out himself. He felt stuck as Patton lifted Logan up gently, petting his hair to soothe him when he stirred. Roman helped by tugging the covers back from his end of the bed so that Patton could tuck him in and let go of him sooner, his hand on the back of Logan’s leg making Roman anxious. Patton tucked Logan under the covers and watched his reaction. After a few seconds, Patton grabbed a squishy stuffed frog from his bedside table, handing it to Logan who curled around it in his sleep. It’d be cute if Roman wasn’t so worried.

“Tell me if anything happens, okay kiddo?” Patton said right as he was halfway out the bedroom door. Roman nodded, only finally relaxing after Patton left and slowly closed the door. 

Roman immediately ran over to lock it. He didn’t have his security bar, but this would be good enough. Hopefully Patton wouldn’t test anything when he knew Roman would be by Logan’s side.

Despite all of Roman’s worries, Logan slept peacefully on the bed. He didn’t shift or seem distressed at all, just snuggling closer to Patton’s stuffed frog and resting. Logan was calm.

Roman sat on the floor to block the door and watched to make sure no one took that away from him.

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 8

Request: Yes or No

Sam and y/n had more development than y/n and Wanda lmao

~

You crossed your arms as you entered the room, glancing at the older man. You shared a look with Sam and Wanda, taking a seat in between Sam and Vision. You licked your lips, leaning towards Sam.

"What's this about?" You asked quietly, gaze flickering to Tony who sat in a corner.

"If I had to guess.. Probably about what happened in Lagos." Sam replied, glancing at Steve and Natasha. You frowned, looking at the Secretary of State.

"The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt." He began, gaze sweeping over everyone in the room.

"You have.. Fought for us, protected us, risked your lives but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the term 'vigilantes.'"

"And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?" Natasha asked, studying the older man. You looked back at Tony Stark, making brief eye contact with him. It felt like an intervention. Or a teacher scolding their class after they made the sub cry.

"How about dangerous?" You frowned, looking forward when you heard his words.

"What would you call a group of US based enhanced individuals who routinely ignore borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, quite frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?" Mr. Secretary asked, looking over the small group in disappointed. You'd hate to admit it, but he had a point. The citizens of Sokovia were left to find new homes and the people of Lagos had to fix what had been destroyed. Mr. Secretary stepped to the side, looking at the screen. Videos began playing of all the times the Avengers caused destruction and most likely death. Wanda looked away, growing uncomfortable as the aftermath of the Lagos incident played. She already felt guilty enough about it. She had told you many times how she wished it would've gone differently. Steve noticed, frown deepening.

"That's enough." He called, watching the screen turn off.

"For the last few years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's a decision the governments of the world can no longer tolerate." Mr. Secretary told them, hands clasped behind his back. You frowned, brows furrowing slightly.

"But we have a solution." Mr. Secretary took a book from his bodyguard, stepping forward and handing it to Wanda. Wanda picked it up, looking it over.

"The Sokovia Accords.. Approved by a hundred and seventeen countries." Wanda slid the book over to Rhodes so he could take a proper look at it. You looked at Mr. Secretary as he walked around the table.

"It states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of The United Nations Panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary."

"That's such bullshit." You whispered. Mr. Secretary turned towards you, cocking a brow. Natasha let an amused smile slip while Sam covered up his snicker with a cough.

"The Avengers were created to make the world a safer place." Steve spoke up before he could address you.

"This is the middle ground." Mr. Secretary said, walking to the front again and facing everyone.

"The Accords will be ratified in a couple days." Steve turned towards Tony, earning a silent response.

"I'll leave you to discuss."

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" Leave it to Natasha to say what was on everyones' minds. Mr. Secretary paused as he approached the door.

"Then you retire." He answered plainly. You watched him leave, picking up the cup of water infront of You You went to take a sip but it turned to ice before you could drink from it. With a small huff, you placed it down.

"That's new." Natasha called with a small smile, hoping to ease the tension in the room. You stood up, leaving the meeting room and heading to the lounge. The others followed, taking more comfortable seats on the couch. A debate quickly started between Rhodes and Sam while Steve looked through the Accords.

"Have you two thought about starting a debate club?" You asked, tapping the frozen water a few times before it finally turned back to normal water. Natasha let out a small snort, chuckling as she shook her head.

"I have an equation." Vision announced, stopping Rhodes and Sam. They turned towards him.

"In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of enhanced people has grown and during the same period, the number of world ending events has risen."

"So, it's Starks' fault?" You asked, leaning back in your seat with a tilted head. Tony scoffed from his spot on the couch, rolling his eyes.

"I'm saying, there might be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge, challenge insights conflict, and conflict... Breeds catastrophe. Oversight is not an idea that should be dismissed."

"I wish I understood half of what you said." You muttered softly, running your finger the leaf of a plant beside the seat. Natasha turned towards Tony, watching him.

"You're being uncharacteristic non-hyper verbal." Natasha pointed out softly as he looked at her with a deep sigh. Steve looked up from the Accords.

"It's cause he already made up his mind." Steve said, earning a small eye roll. Tony slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

"Actually, I'm nursing a headache." He muttered as he stood up, walking towards the coffee machine. He poured himself some coffee and grabbed a bottle of pills before sighing and placing down a device. He showed an image of a young man.

"Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. A great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor level gig for the fall. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the people in Sokovia." Tony said, obviously agitated as he looked over everyone. You wondered why he now cared for the people who were injured during attacks.

"He wanted to make a difference although we'll never know cause we dropped a building on him while kicking ass." Everyone stayed silent as he spoke. You watched him take a pill, drinking it with the coffee.

"There's no decision making here. We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, we're no better than the bad guys."

"Tony, when someone dies on your watch, you don't give up." Steve closed the Accords, looking at Tony with a frown.

"Who says we're giving up?"

"We are by not taking responsibilities for our actions. This document shifts the blame." Steve voiced his opinion, shrugging lightly.

"Steve, that is dangerously arrogant." Rhodes spoke up, shaking his head. Steve turned towards him.

"This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the world security counsel, it's not S.H.I.E.L.D, it's not HYDRA-"

"But it's run by people with agendas and agendas change." Steve pointed out as you rubbed your forehead, sighing softly. Both sides had good points but you sided with Steve. The team was obviously divided.

"What do you think, (Y/N)?" Vision asked, looking at you curiously. You licked your lips, gaze focusing on Tony.

"I'm curious as to why you care so much about this Charles guy. You've had, what was it? Eight years as Iron Man to care about the people who get hurt? Why now? Cause you realized one of those people could become the new you? Would you care this much about Charles if he had been a typical guy? No degree, no plans for the future, just a normal guy working a normal 9 to 5 job and just trying to make it through the week. I agree with Steve. What if something happens and they don't send us to help because it doesn't go with their agenda? People get hurt cause you've never set up a system to help after these things happen. You're a fucking billionaire, Tony. Make a company that's designed to help people get back on their feet after the Avengers bulldoze through cities." You said, legs crossing as you looked over everyone else. Steve gave a small nod, glad you were seeing his side. He checked his phone, abruptly standing and announcing he had to leave. You and the others watched him go in confusion.

"To answer your questions, I do care about normal people." Tony said, arms crossing. You let out a soft groan, leaning back in the couch.

"I'm sorry, what are you? Twelve? Didn't you turn twenty this year?" Tony cocked a brow, watching as you rolled your eyes and stood.

"Yeah, I did turn twenty. Surprised you knew considering you've never particularly liked me."

"Well, first impressions are everything and you did try impaling me with a branch."

"Maybe I should've."

"Alright, boys, let's calm down." Natasha called, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned and walked towards the steps, heading down to your room at the facility. You entered and plopped down on the bed, running a hand through your hair. You tapped your foot on the ground, fingers going to the root bracelets in an attempt to relax. Wanda opened the door, closing it behind her and sitting beside you.

"What's wrong?" She asked softly, staring at you in concern. You weren't one to snap at others so quickly.

"There's so much going on. The Accords, my fucking powers, the sudden change in Nat and Tony, you possibly getting into trouble cause of the Lagos incident.. That could've been me." You breathed out. Wanda frowned, brows furrowing.

"No, it wouldn't have."

"I shot fire out of my hands and turned water to ice without meaning to. They're getting unpredictable." You looked at her, grip on the roots tightening. Wanda's gaze flickered to the window, making you turn. Part of the window was covered in a thin layer of ice.

"And that just proved my point."

"You're an incredible person, (N/N). Have faith in yourself. You'll gain control of them sooner or later. You have beautiful powers that could change and heal the world." Wanda pointed out gently, having you rest your head on her shoulder. She softly began to hum a lullaby. You didn't understand the words but her soft voice proved to be soothing.

"Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Why'd you call me again?" You asked, toying with the strings of your hoodie as you looked around the cafe. You had planned on taking a nap and watching a new show on Netflix but it seemed like Steve had other plans for you.

"Because I trust you and need your help." Steve replied, fixing his baseball cap as he tried avoiding eye contact with civilians.

"Really?" You asked softly. Steve nodded, offering a smile. He licked his lips, nodding to the tv. You turned, looking at the news. You really didn't have to considering what they were showing was right down the street.

"Your friend?" You looked back at Steve with a tilted head.

"We gotta find him before anyone else does." Steve said. You nodded, watching him. Steve had been desperately trying to find his friend, Bucky, since the attempt on Furys' life.

"I'll go in alone. We don't want to seem threatening or set him off by going in as a trio."

"(Y/N)? Being threatening? He can't even scare a baby!" Sam said in amusement, shooting you a playful grin.

"Right back at you, bird boy."

"I'm sorry, who here is named after the top bird of prey?" Sam asked, leaning forward slightly as Steve let out an amused sigh.

"Oh, I didn't know you were named after eagles." You responded, smiling in triumph when Sam huffed lightly.

"Come on, you two." Steve chuckled, leaving the cafe and heading down the sidewalk.

"I don't trust Stark." You told them, arms crossing. Sam glanced at you as Steve turned into an alleyway.

"Not surprised considering the little fight you two had."

"I think he had Vis keep an eye on me and Wanda. I snuck out while he was with Wanda in the kitchen." You told him, frowning.

"Firstly, I'm an adult-"

"That's questionable."

"-And secondly, he's not my dad." You took off the hoodie as Steve unlocked a car parked in the alleyway, giving Sam the duffle bag with his outfit. You looked at your phone when it buzzed, seeing texts from Clint.

Clint

Heard you had a fight with Stark

Clint

You're officially an Avenger now

You smiled softly, chuckling softly at the texts. You waited for the guys to finish changing before taking the earpiece from Steve. The apartment building had been nearby so you and Sam headed onto the roof while Steve entered.

"How well do you think this will go?" You asked Sam, looking for any sign of law enforcement.

"Wanna bet?"

"How much?" You looked at him, giving a small grin. Sam looked up at the sky for a moment, thinking it over.

"30 bucks. I bet this will go to shit and this dude will escape."

"I bet we'll get into serious shit but this dude will either come with us or get caught." You replied. Sam stuck out his hand, nodding. You shook it, chuckling softly. You turned your head, noticing movement.

"We've got company, Cap."

"They're approaching from the south." Sam added, attention focused on them. You heard Steve begin to talk to someone, watching the cars pull in and get ready. You turned your head, hearing the door to the roof open.

"Shit." You whispered, letting Sam pick you up and lift you into the air. You could hear the fight going on inside through the earpiece.

"Should we help?" You asked, glancing up at Sam.

"No clue." Sam replied, watching Bucky jump from the apartment onto the roof of another building. You noticed someone running at a high speed, jumping up onto the roof and knocking Bucky down.

"They have cat ears." You mumbled, pushing Sam's arms away.

"Deal with them." You motioned to the German police force on the roof, hoping down onto the roof. You raised your hand, a root shooting out and grabbing the strangers arm, refraining them from clawing at Bucky. Bucky turned his head, making eye contact with you. Your eyes widened when the man grabbed the root, using what felt like super strength to toss you off the roof. You quickly used a root to grab onto the side, breathing out a sigh of relief. Sam took care of a helicopter before flying by to grab you.

"Thanks." You breathed out, holding onto him as he followed the chase. Steve, Bucky, and the cat guy went into one of the tunnels. Sam flew in once there was an opening, trying to help Steve with the cat guy. You huffed when the cat guy grabbed Sam's ankle, pointing your hand at him and shooting a strong gust of air. The cat guy lost his grip monetarily but quickly grabbed on again. Bucky threw up an explosive so Sam quickly stopped, flinging the guy off him. Sam landed, walking past the rubble. You sighed, raising your hands as you and Sam were quickly surrounded by cops.

"Mom's gonna kill me." You whispered.

"That's what you're concerned about?" Sam asked, glancing at you in disbelief.

"We're getting arrested, (Y/N)!"

[softyoongiionly]

Fear and Dumplings: Chapter Seventeen

Confronting your fears for a final grade sounds unappealing but, with Yoongi as your partner, things might not be so bad.

Summary: You’re in your final semester at University when your Abnormal Psychology professor assigns you a partnered project surrounding your greatest fears. Lucky for you, your partner just so happens to be a cute boy named Min Yoongi.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Underground Rapper! Yoongi, Soft!!! Yoongi, Fluff!!!, College! Yoongi, Sub! Yoongi

Word Count: 9.1k

A/N: Hi friends! Here is a new chapter for you. I know it’s been a super duper long time since I’ve updated this series but, I plan on wrapping up the current timeline (wink wink) within the first half of the year! Special shoutout to my amazing friend @bulletproofbirdy​ who I love so so much. Without her big genius brain, I would literally not be able to get through any of my wip. Another huge shoutout to @gldnrecs​ @kithtaehyung​ @yoonia​ and @randombtsprincessa​ for being my lil hype team. I love you! Also, thank you to everyone over at @bangtansorciere​. I am so grateful to have met so many lovely new friends this year! okiii bye. I hope you like it!

NOTE: all bolded words indicate when characters are speaking Korean

Warnings for this Chapter: ok here we go…(TRIGGER WARNING)

moderate angst, drug use (marijuana), mentions of anxiety, brief allusions to physical abuse, very brief allusions to drug addiction, alcohol 

Chapter Seventeen: Daegu and Dirty Laundry

No thoughts, head empty (and in Yoongi’s lap)

The two of you are in his living room, bags packed by the front door, awaiting the cab to take you to the airport.  

In a few short hours, you were leaving on a plane to Daegu to visit Yoongi’s older brother and, you can tell by the way he’s shuffled around all morning that he’s anxious.  

Thankfully, Hoseok and Namjoon woke up with him, knowing that emotions would be high and well- offered to get him high.

“This is a really good indica strain hyung,” Hoseok assures him as he hands over a zip-lock bag, “I rolled a joint with this last night and passed out in like 30 minutes.”

Yoongi, dressed in an all-black sweat outfit, accepts the bag into the palm of his hand, before grabbing the pipe that’s resting on the couch cushion beside him.

“Did you get it from that same guy?” Yoongi asks, his voice heavy beneath the obvious tension he’s feeling.

Despite his attempts to remain casual, you know him well enough to feel how nervous he is. He’s practically vibrating beneath you but, you know that pointing this out will only make it worse so instead, you merely rub the outside of his thigh whilst he packs his pipe. 

“Yeah, Jin’s friend-” Hoseok responds before nodding to Namjoon, “He’s honestly killing it right now. Jin told me he’s made like 5 grand already.”

Namjoon raises his brows, “Really? Damn, that’s impressive, I’ve never heard of anyone taking off that fast.”

“Jin has a lot of contacts-” Yoongi offers, adjusting the bud once more before grabbing his lighter, “it probably helped him get started. Plus, I think a lot of people around here have been looking for a good plug. Whatever he’s doing is working though, the high from last night was pretty good.”

At Yoongi’s comment, Hoseok’s lip melt into a salacious smirk as he raises his brows and jerks his chin towards you, “Are you sure it had nothing to do with that one over there?” He teases, “Yah, what are you so quiet for? You haven’t given me shit all morning...”

His comment makes you giggle but Yoongi cuts in before you’re able to respond.

“She’s tired, leave her alone.” He scolds but his lips twitch at the sound of your laughter.

Hoseok snickers as you finally decide to sit up. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you even as he lifts the pipe to his mouth. Tucking yourself into the side of the couch, you finally decide to add to the conversation.

“Is the guy you pick up named Yugyeom by chance?” The sleepiness in your tone is more obvious than you were expecting and, it makes Yoongi smile to himself whilst he lights his pipe.

Namjoon nods, “Yeah, it is. Do you know him?”

Yoongi’s attention is on you even as he inhales his first hit, the nerves in his body standing at attention, waiting to be soothed.  

“He was in my human sexuality class.” You remember, with a grin on your lips, “That’s actually where I met Jin too. I just had a feeling that it was him because, he literally always came to class high. Plus, him and Jin were like inseparable.”

Namjoon winces, “Of all the people to get stuck learning about sex with. I’m sorry...”

This makes you laugh, as your mind journey’s back to all the days you spent trying not to make a scene as Jin made sexual puns in the middle of a serious lecture.  

“It definitely kept things interesting...” You offer, “I’m glad to hear that Yugyeom is thriving on his own. He mentioned his dad wanted him to join the family business but, I could never picture that man in a suit.”

Hoseok chuckles before his face tightens with intrigue, “Oof that makes one of us. He would look fine as hell in a suit.”

Namjoon grins, nudging Hoseok with his foot, “You got a thing for him?”

For the first time, you see a hint of shyness overcoming Hoseok’s demeanor but he shrugs it off, trying to appear casual, “I mean- I don’t know about all that. I’m just saying that he would look good in a suit.”

“You’d both look good in suits- together...” You offer, grinning at him, “Maybe in a private venue somewhere...”

Hoseok rolls his eyes but the smile creeping onto his lips is unmistakable, “Shut up- you guys are fucking wild. All I said is that he was hot...”

Giggling, you shrug your shoulders before nodding over to Yoongi, “Yeah well that’s how it starts-” You warn, “Then the next thing you know, you’re sitting on the subway, simping over a selfie he sends you.”

Yoongi’s soft lips immediately turn up in a small smile, the shy boy in him peeking out. At first, he says nothing as he merely passes the pipe to Namjoon, who mirrors a similar expression.

Hoseok is back to his normal mischief, feeling relieved that the heat is off him for the time being.  

“Are you saying you’d marry Yoongi then?”

He expects you to be flustered by this question but, the answer is simple.  

“This man?” You raise your brows as you point to Yoongi, “You’re asking me if I would marry this man right here? Hoseok- I would wife this man up so quickly, it would give you whiplash.”

Your comment causes the three of them to laugh and, to add to the shifting vibe of the room, you feel Yoongi wrap his arm around you in an effort to pull you into his side.

“You can’t say shit like that right in front of them, they don’t need to see me soft...” He mumbles shyly in your ear before kissing your cheek, his heart singing with validation.

“Hyung, you act like we don’t already know who whipped you are for this girl.” Hoseok laughs, eagerly accepting the pipe from a coughing Namjoon.

Yoongi ignores him with his arm still around you, checking his phone with the other hand, “The cab should be here soon, do you need anything before we go?”

“Hyung, you’re gonna leave your piece here right? Cause we kinda need it-”  

Namjoon eyes him suspiciously, “What happened to your bong?”

Hoseok cringes, “I may have accidentally dropped it off the rooftop...”

Namjoon’s eyes blow wide open, “What the fuck were you doing on the rooftop to begin with?”

“I wanted to vibe! The bud was good and, I wanted to listen to the J. Cole album and get in my feelings hyung, get off my dick-” He laughs, playfully defensive.

“Hey that’s J Cole song-” You point out giggling at the double meaning, the exhaustion from earlier finding you once again.

“Exactly, I’m glad you caught that-” Hoseok winks at you before Yoongi finally responds.

“I’m not going to take my pipe through international security. Pot isn’t legal in Korea so, I wouldn’t be smoking while we were there anyway.”  

“Oh shit that’s right-” Namjoon remembers, “I really need to keep up with what’s been going on back home, I heard they were opening the discussion about it recently but, I haven’t kept up with it.”

Hoseok interjects, “What about your brother? He probably has connections.”

Yoongi shrugs, “He might but, I'm not going to worry about it.” He glances at his phone again before turning it towards you, “Our car is here, you ready to go?”

You offer him a small smile as you nod, your cheek tingling still as he places another kiss to it.

He stands up first before holding his hand out to you. Eagerly, you lace your fingers with his and, hoist yourself off the couch.

“Alright you two-” Namjoon stands too, brushing his hands over the front of his hoodie, “Try and send us updates when you can yeah?” He shoots a look towards Yoongi that is filled with an emotion that breaches casual concern.  

Yoongi understands perfectly, offering Namjoon a solemn nod in return as he pats his shoulder, “Yeah I will. I’ll text you when we land...”

Moments later, the two of you are in the back of the cab. Yoongi takes the middle seat so he can be close to you, his fingers are interlaced tightly with your own despite the fact that his hand is already sweating.  

He’s anxious.  

You can feel it and, you’re faced with two options.

Address it

Distract him  

It’s not an easy choice but, you figure this weekend will already be filled with heightened emotions so, you’re not sure if you should breach this topic so early. At the same time though, you don’t want to act like nothing’s wrong and dismiss what he’s clearly feeling.  

So, you land somewhere in the middle.  

Yoongi’s jaw is loaded with tension as you reach over and turn his face towards yours. He doesn’t register what you’re doing at first but he is in tune with your touch as always so, he doesn’t question it.    

Leaning in, you tuck your lips between his own, whilst your free hand comes up to encase the side of his face. You feel him relax beneath your kiss, a sigh leaving his nose as he kisses you back slowly.  

You pull away, pecking at his lips a few times, your thumb rubbing over his cheek.

“It’s going to be ok.” You murmur softly for the sake of his privacy, “We’re going to get through this.”

Yoongi’s eyes open just enough to show you the sheer amount of trust present in them.  

He believes everything that comes out of your mouth and, despite the anxiety that’s raging inside of him, he knows you’re right.  

Pressing his cheek against your hand, a soft smirk graces his lips as he resists the urge to pour his heart out to you for the millionth time.

“I wish it was socially acceptable for you to kiss me like that every time I feel like this...”

You giggle, pecking his lips again for good measure, “It would make our psych presentation really interesting that’s for sure.”

He chuckles, his face adorably smushed against your hand, “I keep forgetting that we have to do that. I don’t even remember the last time we worked on it...”

“Me neither.” You say at first before your eyes light up with realization, “Oh my god wait- the last time was when we watched that horrible spider movie at my apartment! Ugh no wonder I couldn’t remember, I’m pretty sure I've blocked those images from my mind as a coping mechanism.”

Yoongi’s face lights up along with you, “Oh shit, that’s right-” He laughs, “Did we even finish our lists?”

The two of you share another round of laughter, caught up in the ridiculous realization that you had lowkey abandoned your final project.  

You lean over to pull your phone out of your purse, “Here let me check-” Scrolling through your notes app, you find the project tab before allowing your eyes to wander over it, “It looks like I still have deep water and you technically still have night clubs and horror movies. But I mean- you did perform in a night club recently so I feel like that should count.”  

He nods thoughtfully before his face lights up with realization once more, “Oh yeah, I already wrote about that in the research journal, I forget to tell you. That was definitely more of a direct confrontation than I was planning.” He chuckles, “We did sit on the beach and read terrifying facts about the depth of the ocean for mine, would that be enough for you to write about?”  

The two of you have maneuvered so that you’re tucked into Yoongi’s side again, his arm draping comfortably around your shoulders.

“You still have horror movies left though so, I feel like I should maybe confront one more directly too. Besides, I have a feeling that I’ll be able to distract myself in the water if you’re there-” You mumble suggestively, which causes him to smirk as he leans his head back against the seat.

“Oh yeah?” He jerks his head towards you “How so?”

Resting your face on his chest, you smile to yourself and think of a response that’s appropriate for a perfect stranger aka your cab driver, to hear.

“Cause if something touches my feet in the water, I could simply latch myself to your back for safety purposes.” You explain matter of factly.

“If something touched your foot while we were in the water, I’d swim away so fucking fast- I don’t think you’d have time to latch on.” He explains through his laughter

Scoffing, you smack your hand against his chest as you sit up fully, wiggling out of his grip, “So you’d just leave me to die???” You accuse, “Also, last time I checked- you weren’t an Olympic swimmer, what makes you think you’d just zoom out of there???”

Yoongi’s cackling at this point, his hand on his stomach, his previously tense features now smoothed out beneath his amusement, “I’m not saying I would leave you necessarily-”

“Necessarily!” You point out, laughter erupting from your lips as you pinch his side, “After everything we’ve been through, you’re really just gonna let a sea monster eat me!?”

His eyes widen, as his laughter increases, “A sea monster?! Who said anything about a sea monster? Where did they come in????”

“I said something touched my foot???? Obviously that means there is a sea monster, lurking in the depths, trying to eat me and you-” You poke his sternum, “You just said you would leave me to die!”

Yoongi’s face is reddened with the force of his own laughter, his hand subconsciously coming up to cover your own. With his eyes tearing up and his mouth parted to make way for his giggling, you can’t help but admire how beautiful he is.  

Especially when he’s laughing...

He wipes his eyes with his free hand, still chuckling lightly to himself even as he brings your hand to his mouth, “Alright, alright- let's be clear- I would never leave you to die.” He promises, still smirking as he kisses the back of your hand, “Realistically, I’d probably panic and jump on YOUR back.”

With narrowed eyes, you wiggle the fingers he has pressed to his lips, “Well I don’t know how that would work out because, I’d probably you know- swim away so fucking fast that I don’t know if you’d have time to latch on...”

Yoongi snickers as you imitate his voice but, rather than retaliate he simply tugs you by the hand his currently holding and, kisses you.  

It’s soft and sweet- lasting only for a few seconds until he’s pulling away.

“Thank you for coming with me.” He says suddenly, the volume of his voice decreasing significantly.

And as usual, you know that he wants to say way more than he does. But you’re perfectly fine with that.

Yoongi’s subtly is a specific brand and, you’ve grown to love how the little things he does allows him to pack so much emotion into a simple phrase.  

You feel lucky to love such a special person.  

“Of course.” You return his simplicity, pecking his lips once more before settling back in your original position.  

The airport was a blur.  

You’re thankful it passes quickly because, the process of getting through security makes you anxious.  

Yoongi ushers you into your seat before taking both of your bags and, storing them in the overhead compartment. You can’t help but smile as he turns to help an older woman with her luggage as well.

He smiles ( :] ) at her, bowing his head slightly as she thanks him. Yoongi offers her a tiny wave and takes his seat beside you, not noticing the way you smile fondly at him.  

When he takes his seat beside you, the two of you settle into a comfortable silence. Once the flight crew permits it, Yoongi takes his laptop out and begins toying around with one of his songs. You pull your headphones out as well and find one of your favorite playlists. Leaning back against the seat, your eyes eventually begin to droop until you can no longer keep them open.  

The next thing you know, you’re being woken up by someone gently patting your thigh.  

“Sleepy girl...” Yoongi croons in Korean, the sound of his voice alone making you smile, “We’re landing soon.”

Slightly disoriented, you blink your eyes a few times before you’re finally able to focus on your boyfriend’s face.  

You slump against him, rubbing your cheek against the material of his hoodie. He chuckles softly, his arm sliding out from underneath you in order to drape across your shoulders.  

“I’m sorry I fell asleep.” You mumble

He chuckles again, nodding with a false sense of consideration, “Ah yes, you missed so much. Two hours ago, the flight attendant came by and asked if we wanted anything to drink. It was a wild ride...”

Giggling sleepily, you shake your head at his sarcasm before pointing at his laptop.  

“Were you working on your composition project?”

He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head, a bashful expression on his face “No, it was just a song I’ve been working on for a while now.”  

He leaves it at that and, due to the signal from the flight crew, Yoongi begins putting his stuff away as the rest of the cabin prepares for landing.  

“Are we taking the train?” You mumble, still fighting off the remnants of your nap.

Yoongi purses his lips, his eyes narrowed in concentration whilst he scrolls through his phone.

“No, I have a cab waiting for us.” He responds, “It says it’s already here. So, when you get out of customs, just meet me right outside. It should just be a straight shot from immigration.”

You nod and rest your head back against his shoulder, “Okay.”

He puts his phone away, allowing his hand to find yours. Intertwining your fingers, he takes a deep breath- his mind clearly elsewhere. You squeeze his hand to acknowledge this but, the two of you don’t comment on it.  

There is no need.  

With the tightening of your grip, so much has already been said.  

Less than a half hour later, the two of you are once again seated in the back of the cab.  

“It’s probably going to rain a lot while we’re here.” Yoongi explains, his voice low and slow, “This is Daegu’s rainy season. I’ve been checking the weather periodically and it looks like there might be a storm coming but, it doesn’t look too severe.”

You look at the window after his comment, noticing that the sky is overflowing with heavy clouds, swollen and gray with the promise of rain.  

“We’re approaching monsoon season, we call it uh- jangma.” He tells you and his explanation makes you smile.  

Despite the circumstances, you’re very honored and excited to be in Yoongi’s hometown. You know the memories he associates with this place are complex but, there is a shift in his tone now and, he sounds eager to teach you about this place: the place he called home for so long.  

And you’d gladly listen for hours.

“Jangma-” You repeat, trying to get the pronunciation right, causing him to refocus his attention back on you. He smiles softly and nods,

“Good job.”  

Your heart skips a beat at his approval as you return his smile, “Is there gonna be thunder?”  

Yoongi chuckles, “Do you want there to be thunder?”

You nod eagerly, “I love storms. When I was little, I would just sit at the window and watch them go by. I’m pretty sure our neighbors thought I was crazy. But I don’t know- I've always had a thing for bad weather...”

He smirks, glancing out the window and then back at you, “That explains a lot.”

Giggling, you cock your head, “What do you mean?”

Yoongi gestures to himself, his now playful gaze looking at you expectantly. You laugh at his insinuation,

“I see the resemblance.” You concede, gently patting his cheek, “You’re not nearly as gloomy as you think you are though.”

“To you-” He retorts, “You always forget that...”

“Pleaaaase.” You disagree, “You’re soft for other people too, don’t lie. I’ve seen the way you deal with Namjoon and Hobi...”

He shakes his head, “Yeah but things are still different with you, I don’t think you realize that.”

You nudge yourself underneath his arm once more, cuddling up with him as best as you can in the back of a cab.

“I know you’re especially-” You emphasize the word, “soft for me. I’m just saying that you come across more approachable than you think you do.”

Yoongi smirks to himself, seemingly understanding something that you don’t.  

“Soft is an understatement.” He retorts, turning to kiss the top of your head.

“Whateverrrr.” You tease him, your eyes trailing down to focus on his hands, “I’m still right.”

He chuckles, his figure shaking lightly beneath you, “You usually are.”

The cab pulls off of the highway, and it’s then that you begin to notice the way the scenery around you shifts from a middle class/ metropolitan vibe to something much much...fancier.  

Through the winding streets, the cab begins taking the two of you up a pretty steep hill before turning onto a street full of ridiculously nice houses.  

White marble, giant glass windows, and driveways filled to the brim with luxury vehicles zip by as the car turns down another street. Similar in theme but greater in size, the new street had much larger houses on more sizeable plots of land- likely designed to give the owners privacy amongst their neighbors.  

You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you then and, you know very well that he’s observing your reaction.

He knows that even though he told you his brother was wealthy that, that phrase alone wouldn’t be enough to properly convey what that entailed.  

“This neighborhood is really beautiful,” You observe softly, eyes still glued to the window, “The architecture is so different than anything I’ve ever seen.”

And of course, this makes Yoongi smile.  

Because of course, you aren’t making a fuss about the degree of luxury before you. You’re finding the beauty in what otherwise is a very stressful situation.  

Finally, the cab pulls into a driveway right behind a black Tesla before putting the car in park.  

He and Yoongi exchange a few words in Korean as Yoongi hands him a small wad of money.  

“Thank you.” You murmur to the cab driver with a slight bow of your head to which he responds with a tight smile and a similar bow.  

You and Yoongi unload your bags from the trunk and as he is reaching for your hand, the front door of the house swings open.  

A man a few inches taller than Yoongi steps out. His black hair is neatly arranged in a middle part and he’s dressed in a beige turtleneck and white slacks. As he comes closer, the resemblance between the two of them is staggering.  

“Hello!” He calls with a warm smile, his voice bright, “Welcome! Come on in, the rain is supposed to pick back up soon.”

His expression only glows as he spots his younger brother. He looks excited to see him but, his movements are apprehensive.  

The unspoken tension is already present and, you can feel Yoongi almost freeze up as he draws near. Subtly, you coax him along offering his brother a warm smile as the two of you approach the landing just in front of his door.  

Normally, you don’t get nervous when meeting new people but, this situation is laced with so much complexity- you aren’t sure how to act.

Thankfully Yoongi finally speaks, “Good to see you hyung. Thank you for having us on such short notice.” His tone is almost unrecognizable as he gestures to you, “This is my girlfriend Y/N. Y/N-” He gestures back to his brother, “This is my older brother Geum-jae hyung.”

Bowing your head slightly, you smile once more, “It’s very nice to meet you, thank you for having me.”

Geum-jae nods, eyeing you softly as his lips press into a tight line, “It’s so nice to meet you Y/N. I promise you, the pleasure is all mine.”

Yoongi motions for you to step in front of him so, you follow his lead and trail behind his brother through the doorway.  

Geum-jae's home resembles a marble statue. It’s clean, beautiful and, elegant- but lifeless. Geum-jae has artwork of various styles all over his walls, crisp white couches, sleek granite countertops and, stainless-steel appliances however, there is not one bit of evidence that anyone even lives here. The house feels empty despite the amount of effort put into its appearance.  

It makes you sad.  

“You have a beautiful home.”  

Your voice echoes off the dead weight of the walls, the paintings themselves seeming to arch a brow at your comment. Geum-jae however, smiles and nods graciously,

“Thank you. I just moved in not too long ago so, there is a lot I want to do. I definitely could have used this one’s expertise-” He nods to Yoongi, “He was always really good at that kind of stuff...”

Your boyfriend smirks, his eyes taking in his surroundings but failing to really focus on anything; he was too wound up, “You could have. I would have charged you though...”

Geum-jae chuckles and you see him glance at Yoongi fondly for a split second before he quickly reverts to his casual demeanor.  

“I put you guys on the second floor facing the skyline-” He gestures to the ivory staircase, “I’m sure you want some time to freshen up and relax so, please take all the time you need. I’m having BBQ brought over tonight but, if you’re hungry- feel free to help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen.”

Yoongi allows you to step in front of him whilst taking the suitcase from your hands. The two men follow behind you as Geum-jae continues laying out the plans for the evening,  

“I have a few virtual meetings to attend that I wasn’t able to move around but, I will be free as of 7 this evening. Until then, please make yourselves at home. I am really-” He seems to take a deep breath for emphasis, “really happy to have you here.”

“Thank you hyung.” Yoongi smiles slightly once the three of you reach the outside of the guest room, “Good luck with your meetings. Let me know if you need help with dinner.”

Geum-jae responds with a tight nod, “Will do. I’ll be in my office so, feel free to explore.” As he pushes open the door for you, he allows his own pained expression to meet yours, “I’m honored to meet you Y/N. Thank you for coming all this way with my brother.”

“Well-” You squeeze Yoongi’s hand gently, “He’s lucky I like him so much...”

Cheeks flushed, Yoongi rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but his lips are practically puckered against the smile he’s trying to stifle.  

“That’s fair.” Geum-jae chuckles, “Let me know if you two need anything. I’ll just be downstairs...”

With that, Yoongi pushes open the door and allows you to step inside before following behind you.

“Wow.” You whisper to yourself as you take in the scene before you.

The walls are painted a soft gray and surrounding only three sides of the bedroom. The fourth wall is made entirely of glass and given that the house rests upon a hill, you’re able to make out the skyline of the inner city. A giant four poster bed sits in the middle of the room, covered completely in a white duvet and three rows of pillows. Dark gray curtains sit on either side of the massive window as various muted colors accent the room in the form of a dresser, two nightstands and, a set of couches at the end of the bed.  

Yoongi is silent behind you as he sets the bags down at the entrance of the room. He pushes the door shut and allows his eyes to move over the space for a moment.  

It's nice, he thinks, but he can’t find himself to be very impressed.  

He knows where this money comes from and, even though his brother is out of the crime sector now, it still feels strange to acknowledge his wealth.  

Noticing his silence, you turn towards him, eyes tracing over the features of his face to assess his mood.

With a slight and subconscious pout, he looks at you, his body seemingly full of a breath he wants to take.  

“Do you want to lay down for a bit? I know you didn’t sleep on the plane.”  

At your offer, he seems to deflate slightly, lips turning up at the corners, “I think I want to shower first...”

Immediately, you nod with an encouraging smile, “Yeah go shower babe, I’ll just-”

He interrupts you, sticking his hand out and flexing his fingers in a grabbing motion, “Come with me.”

His offer makes you giggle, “You want me to shower with you?”

Yoongi closes the distance between you, using his grabby hands to lock onto your hips, “No, I meant like come with me as in come watch me...yes I want you to shower with me.”

Your laughter heightens as you pinch his side, causing him to recoil before chuckling.

“You’re such a punk today...” You scold.

Yoongi simply chuckles warmly as he kisses the side of your head, the tone of his voice lowering significantly, “That usually means something to you doesn’t it?”

It does.  

It usually means he’s having trouble vocalizing his needs and, he’s in need of attention. And the type of attention is usually a specific brand.  

And it usually comes with a little bit of pain.  

However, you don’t think it’s a good idea to indulge that side of Yoongi’s desires at the moment because, his emotions aren’t fully organized. You know the talk with his brother is causing him a lot of stress and, as much as you liked to wreck his body right now- you know it’s best to wait until later.  

That doesn’t mean you can’t take care of him though...

“Come on-” You urge him, grabbing his hand and practically running towards the bathroom, “Let's get you clean, king.”

He laughs, stumbling into the bathroom which is just as nice and similarly colored as the room.

“I’m a king now?”

His question goes over your head as you notice the ridiculously oversized bathtub in the center of the room. Biting your lip, you turn towards him and point at it.

“Do you want to take a bath instead? The shower looks amazing and all but- this thing literally looks like a jacuzzi.”

Yoongi eyes it curiously, his teeth finding his bottom lip, looking a little apprehensive, “How would you want to sit in it though? I kinda uh- I kinda thought maybe we could stand under the water for a bit together, like last time...”

He wants you to hold him.

He’s not going to say it but, he needs it.  

Like really bad.

You can see his nerves creeping into his posture so, you decide to act quickly before he somehow convinces himself that he’s being too needy.  

Looking around the room, you spot a few things that could aid in his relaxation: candles, bubble bath, a neatly folded pile of fluffy gray towels...

“I’ll show you.” You assure him, “Close your eyes really quick- no peeking. I have a plan...”

Yoongi looks at you, suspicious all over his face, “I’m scared.”

Giggling, you raise your brows for emphasize, “Oh you should be-”

He can’t help but smirk at your tone despite the anticipation swimming in his gut. He trusts you though so, instead of arguing- he shuts his eyes.  

Shuffling around the bathroom, you set things up in record time, turning the water on, pouring the rose scented bubble bath beneath the stream, and lighting a few candles along the ivory counter. Yoongi maintains his smirk the entire time, folding his arms across his chest, stifling his desire to make a snarky comment.  

“Alright,” You sigh, dusting your hands off, “Ta daaaaa.”

Yoongi opens his eyes, blinking a few times before taking in the scene in front of him. It changes his smirk into a grin really quickly as his cat-like eyes flit over to you.

“Are you planning on sacrificing me?” He quips, nodding to the candles.

Snorting, you roll your eyes, “If you keep talking shit, I just might-” You threaten, laughter forming on the tail end of your sentence, “Get naked...”

Yoongi snickers, his face full of satisfaction as his finger tuck beneath his hoodie to tug it over his head. The two of you undress in a small bout of silence and attempt to sneak glances at one another’s naked form.  

“I’m going to get in first and then you’re going to sit in front of me, between my legs...” You explain, trying not to shiver as the cool air of the bathroom begins to grow uncomfortable.

His brows raise, “Between your legs?” He confirms, “Say no more...”

Once again, your eyes are rolling but this time, there is a smile on your lips as you move to take your spot beneath the warmth of the water. Yoongi has to take a deep breath as he watches you, his emotions brewing dangerously beneath the surface at the sight of the woman he loves.  

He still doesn’t fully understand it.  

He is still meet with endless confusion when he starts to think about why you’ve chosen to be with him but, he knows better now than to question it.  

You have your reasons, he thinks, and he has a million of his own.  

Looking up from beneath the mountain of bubbles, you pat the top of them, looking at him expectantly, “Come here.”

He grabs the hand that you extend towards him, balancing himself on it whilst he steps into the tub. Modestly, he turns his body away from you for a second so he’s able to bend down before pivoting beneath the water and settling against your chest. The bathtub is big enough for the water to go past his shoulders and, he feels his entire body relax once he feels your body against his.  

“Comfy?” You check, draping your arms across his chest.  

Yoongi nods, his head leaning back and resting against your left shoulder. Once it lands there, you turn and kiss his temple which then prompts one of his hands to reach up rest on yours. Silently, you place a few more kisses against his hairline, allowing him to decompress however he wants to, not wanting to pressure him into talking about anything.  

And he doesn’t, at least not for a while.  

The only sounds between the two of you are the dribbling of water from the faucet and the low whisper of breathing. Every so often, you kiss his temple, just so he knows that he isn’t alone.

“Seeing my brother is really difficult.” He mumbles, eyes still closed, hand still on top of yours, “Even just seeing his face- it brings back a lot of memories.”

You nod, “I can imagine- especially since it’s been so long.”

Yoongi sighs, his eyes fluttering open and honing in on the ceiling, “I haven’t seen him since I was 18. He came to Sejin’s place just before I moved in with Namjoon. He tried to talk to me to let me know that he was leaving the business but, I barely said anything. I was too angry at him.”

Using your free hand, you rub softly at his chest under the water, silently encouraging him to continue.  

“He never helped me when my father would-” He takes a deep breath through his nose, his throat bobbing as he swallows on the exhale, “the time I told you about, when my father hit me...that wasn’t the only time. It happened often towards the end.”

Your eyes shut momentarily, the pain of Yoongi being harmed stinging your heart like a shot.  

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper, kissing his temple again.

Yoongi’s face turns slightly into your lips, his hand squeezing over yours, “Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I held onto my disappointment in him for a while until I realized something: the only reason my father every laid his hands on me and not Geum-jae hyung was because, I stood up to him.”

“Geum-jae hyung never did and, I think he still carries that regret to this day. I can see it all over his face...” His voice is so low now that it barely makes it above a whisper, his eyes seemingly elsewhere. “Is it wrong that I feel like- like I didn’t just come here to save Sejin’s studio?”

You shake your head, “Not at all...”

He swallows again and takes another deep breath through his nose, “It’s hard you know- during winter break especially; everyone would leave campus and go home for the holidays...and I never knew where to go. For the first two years at school, I spent Christmas alone until Namjoon’s mom finally called me and told me that if I didn’t come back with him, that she was going to make him sleep outside.” He chuckles, smirking slightly at the memory.

Your heart fills with despair then. You didn’t piece it together that Yoongi would have stayed behind during the holiday season. There was so much to unpack from the tragedy that he’s endured; it didn’t even cross your mind.  

“Namjoon’s mom was right to threaten you-” You affirm but then you shake your head, “I don’t think there could be a wrong reason to come here. You deserve to have whatever kind of closure or healing that you need.”  

“I wish I knew what I needed...” He admits, licking his lips before turning towards you, his brown eyes holding all the emotions he can’t vocalize, “I wish everything was as easy as this.”

Following suit, you turn your head so that you’re facing him, “So do I. But I’ll always be here through all the not-so-easy stuff.”

Yoongi smiles then, soft and sweet, delivering a kiss to match. He relaxes into you, brushing his tongue along the inside of your lip just for a moment before pulling away.

“I love you Y/N.”  

“I love you too Yoongi.”  

Eventually, you both got out of the bathtub and into the shower so, that you were able to get clean properly. After a few hours of catching up on missed calls/texts and relaxing, Yoongi gets a text from his brother saying that dinner would be ready in 15 minutes.  

Geum-jae had the finest BBQ in the city delivered and prepared right in his dining room. Banchan lined the center of the table, slabs of meat were grilled one right after the other until the three of you tapped out.  

It passed easier than you thought it would. Yoongi and Geum-jae relaxed in the face of a meal, the conversation flowing effortlessly between them as if no time had passed. It was a touching sight to see and, you hoped that it meant their discussion would come out easier.  

You take your leave after you help clean up, thanking Geum-jae for the incredible food and, letting Yoongi know that you’d be up in the room checking on something for school if he needed anything.  

Which was a total lie but, you needed an excuse to leave them alone for a bit.  

Yoongi feels his heartbeat pick up a bit as he watches you leave the room, the realization of what was coming finally hitting him.  

“Hyung-” He wants to rip the band aid off. “Is it alright if we talk for a moment?”

Geum-jae raises his brows at the switch in languages and nods immediately, gesturing to the table, “Of course. Can we sit here? Or would you rather talk in the living room?”

Yoongi shakes his head, “Here is fine.” He sits back down in his original seat and, rubs his palms against his jeans.

Geum-jae takes a seat across from him, gazing expectantly at his younger brother, “What did you want to talk about?”

Despite Yoongi’s anxiety, he understands that being to the point would be the most effective way to communicate. He wasn’t sure if any past issues would come up but, right now his concern was on Sejin.  

“I know that I told you I needed your help with something but-” Yoongi begins, “It isn’t me who needs your help exactly...it’s Sejin.”

Geum-jae purses his lips, his hands coming out to clasp rest on the table, “Is he alright?”

“The landlord for the studio he runs is increasing his rent again and, he doesn’t have the money to keep it open...” Yoongi’s explanation gets a little rushed as he gets more and more nervous, “I have some money in savings to help out with rent for the next few months but, it’s not enough to keep it open long term and-”

Geum-jae cuts him off, “Tell Sejin to call me. I will send a team to his location to sort everything out. It wouldn’t be a bad building to purchase but if Sejin is willing- then maybe he can look at other properties and I’ll have the money wired over to him.”

Yoongi can’t hide the shock on his face, “Wait- are you serious?”

“Of course. Sejin is one of my dearest friends. I owe him a lot for what he’s done over the years.”

In this moment, regret washes over Geum-jae's face, his eyes reaching out to Yoongi’s in hopes that he understands what he’s alluding to.  

And obviously, he does.  

“Why didn’t you just call me?” Geum-jae continues, tilting his head to get a better look at Yoongi’s expression, trying to read him, “I’ve always told you that if you ever needed anything-”

“I haven’t talked to you in 8 years hyung, I wasn’t just going to call and ask you for a favor.”  

Geum-jae nods, his face tightening with solemnity, “I understand.” A brief moment of silence passes between the two of them before a sigh comes from Geum-jae, “There is so much I want to say to you Yoongi, I don’t even know where to begin...”

Yoongi stays quiet.  

He doesn’t know either.  

He just knows that the only way to get rid of the heaviness in his chest is to talk about it.  

“I suppose I could start with an apology.” Geum-jae concludes, shaking his head as a light scoff leaves his lips, “I could never find the words to express how much regret and shame I feel inside. I could never explain how sorry I am for not protecting you, for not being a better example, for not having a backbone, for being selfish...I was blinded by greed. I couldn’t see what was in front of me.”

Yoongi swallows back his emotion, dreading the way his eyes begin to sting.  

Geum-jae continues, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I just want to apologize and tell you that, even though I played no part in the man you’ve become, I am incredibly honored to call you my brother.”

It isn’t easy but, Yoongi manages to contain the tears that desperately want to fall from his eyes. His chest tightens as he hears his brother’s words. He wades through all the bitterness he feels towards him, allowing himself to feel the full force of his approval.  

“I forgave you a long time ago.” Yoongi swallows, avoiding direct eye contact with him, “I just wish I understood your actions. You were my hyung, I thought you would have protected me and-” Yoongi blinks away the tears as quickly as he can, “and I still haven’t been able to accept the fact that you didn’t...”

Geum-jae shakes his head, “I wanted to protect you. I just didn’t know how- I was scared of him too. You had more courage than I did. It doesn’t excuse my actions but, it’s the truth.”

Suddenly, he reaches out and places his hand overtop of Yoongi’s, a pleading expression on his face, “That’s why you got out. That’s why you have a life. You have friends, you’re about to graduate university and, you have Y/N...” Geum-jae's voice breaks at the end, “Because of your strength, you finally found happiness.”

Yoongi looks at his hand, observing the evidence of his life present on his skin. Scars, burns, callouses, needle marks...

“Are you saying that you haven’t?” He asks, still not meeting his brother’s eyes.

“I’m not even close.”

Finally, the two meet each other's gaze. For a moment, they just stare, glistening eyes to glistening eyes. Overcome with years of repressed emotions, fueled by the desperate need to try and break the cycle, they wordlessly convey an unspoken emptiness.  

They have missed each other so much.  

“I am here now.” Geum-jae promises, the first tear dangerously close to falling, “Hyung is here if you’ll have him. I want to be in your life but, I understand if you want nothing to do with me.”

Yoongi blinks now, and the tears land upon his cheeks, “You’re my hyung...” And it really is a desperate proclamation, “...you’ll always be my hyung...”

The chair screeches against the tile, causing Yoongi to jump in his seat until he realizes what his brother is doing. Rounding the table, stands to the side of Yoongi with open arms and his own tears atop his cheeks.

He eyes him for only a few seconds before standing up suddenly and accepting Geum-jae into his arms. The two of them seem to collapse against one another. Yoongi breaks down and sobs in the arms of his older brother.  

Just as he would have when they were young.

When times were hard and he could take shelter behind the one person who made him feel safe, the first person who ever showed him love.  

“I’m so sorry Yoongi-ah.”  

His words cause Yoongi to squeeze his eyes shut as he nods against the expensive fabric of his brother’s dress shirt, “I know.” He sniffles and pats his back, “I know you are.”

Meanwhile...

You’ve been upstairs, straightening up the bedroom and trying to pass the time without worrying excessively about your boyfriend’s well-being.  

Which turns out to be impossible...

Cleaning around the room/bathroom only takes you about 20 minutes before your flopping onto the massive bed and, pulling out your phone. Scrolling through Tik Tok, you hope for a substantial distraction and, lucky for you- one arrives.  

But, it isn’t on Tik Tok...

Jungkook: So you know Jimin right...  

The text from Jungkook confuses you as you’re pretty sure it's like the middle of the night back home and, it’s not like him to text you outside of the group chat.

You: I have heard of him yes

You: Isn’t he like your boyfriend or something?

Jungkook: ha ha

Jungkook: about that

Jungkook: what if he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore?

Your eyes widen and, you immediately sit up in bed and hover anxiously over your phone.

You: !!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN

Jungkook: shhhhhh don’t yell

Jungkook: my future fiance is sleeping...

You’re about ready to get on a flight back home to kick his ass before your vision focuses on the word he’s just sent.

You: excuse me  

You: YOU’RE WHAT ???????????

Jungkook: …

Jungkook: What did I just tell you smh

You: *whispers* WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT JUNGKOOK

Jungkook: -____-

Jungkook: can I call  

You: ?????? Obviously!!!!

Seconds later, Jungkook’s name illuminates your screen.

“Good evening,” He begins calmly, “I’m having a panic attack...”

You giggle, “What’s going on????”

“Well you see- I am in love with Park Jimin and I fear it may be terminal.”

“Terminal huh? Is that how you describe a lifelong partnership with your one true love?”

“...yes.”

“Jungkook,” You urge him through your laughter, “What is going on?”

You hear him sigh, “I think I’m going to ask Jimin to marry me.”

Squealing, you jump up on your knees, “Wait seriously?! Jungkook!”

“Yah! Don’t yell at me! This is all your fault!”  

“My fault??? How is this my fault?”

“Well technically I guess- it's Yoongi’s fault because, he’s the one that convinced me to get in touch with my feelings or whatever- either way, I am STILL the victim. And now I want to be with him forever and it’s disgusting...”

You flop back against the pillows and laugh again, “If Jimin knew this was how you were telling people you were proposing, he would kill you.”

He doesn’t hesitate, “He’s going to kill me either way Y/N...it’s bad- the other day, he sent me a selfie and, I had heart palpitations for like 15 minutes.”

“If your man doesn’t give you heart palpitations then, that isn’t your man.” You conclude.

“Y/N...” Jungkook whines now, sounding very much like the boy you met back in middle school.

“Jungkook...” You whine back causing him to finally chuckle on the other end of the line.

“I’m scared...”

“I know but, you and Jimin are so perfect for each other, there is no way that this wouldn’t work out.”

“More perfect than you and Yoongi?” He teases, reverting back to being a little shit.

And his question makes you scoff, “Oh sweetheart- obviously not. But second place isn’t bad!”

He laughs now and it’s the full bellied sound that you love hearing.  

“You really think we’re perfect together?”

Despite his inability to see you, you smile at his need for validation,

“Duh. You two are literally soulmates.”

Jungkook is quiet on the other line but when he speaks again, you can hear the giddiness in his voice, “Ok so...will you help me then???”

Back downstairs, Yoongi and Geum-jae are sat at the bar in front of the window that faces his backyard. As he predicted, the rain came back in full force and is now propelling itself against the clean glass. After their emotional encounter in the dining room, Geum-jae suggested that they have a drink together and relax for a moment.  

He had poured each of them a glass of wine, ensuring not to fill his glass up too much.  

“Your girlfriend is a wonderful woman; you made a good choice.”

At the mention of you, Yoongi’s lips twitch, his eyes watching the droplets of water chaotically race down the window, “Thank you. But, it was her who chose me, I’m still working out exactly why.”  

Geum-jae chuckles, “I see you’re still selling yourself short ah? Did you two meet at school?”

Yoongi smirks, “Yeah, we met 6 months ago in my psychology class. She was my partner on our final project.”

“Ah.” He nods, “Things blossomed that way then?”

Yoongi’s heart throbs a bit as his brain begins its recollection of his time with you.  

So much has happened during your relationship, he forgets that he hasn’t known you all his life.

It certainly feels like he has.  

“Yeah.”

Geum-jae chuckles, “You’re so reserved about her.”

Yoongi knows what he means. In the Min family, you always say things as they are. You don’t sugarcoat your sentiments and you definitely don’t play coy.  

“I can’t help it-” He admits, and he can feel the heat on his cheeks now, “I find it difficult to talk about her...”

His brother bites his bottom lip, unable to help how endeared he is, “Can I ask why?”

Yoongi leans his cheek against the palm of his hand, still focusing on the rain, “It’s overwhelming.”

Geum-jae seems to understand but he chuckles anyway, “Do you plan on marrying her?”

His question hangs in the air for a moment. Yoongi’s brain once again travels elsewhere, and he is bombarded with images of you walking down the aisle. He has to take a deep breath as he forces the thoughts out of his head; he’s cried enough this evening.

“I would marry her tomorrow.”  

Geum-jae's laughter increases now but now it bubbles over his lips in an excited fashion.

“Yahhhh! Look at that eh?” He congratulates him, “It’s safe to say you’re off the market for good then? Because I have a few of my friends who have been asking about you.”

This finally makes Yoongi laugh as he turns towards him, “That’s flattering.” He means it too but, he speaks the next set of words with all of the conviction he can muster, “There is no one else for me though.”  

Geum-jae grins proudly and with a raise to his brows, he lifts his glass, “Well, let’s drink to that then.”

The clinking of crystal signifies so much. For now though, Yoongi allows it to represent the future and, all of the possibilities it may bring.  

[rubykgrant]

(For the fun of it, I’m writing a bunch of RVB “Everything is the same, BUT-” stories, basically AUs that only change a few details, but not the entire plot. Here is the beginning of “Everything is the same, But Grif and Simmons met earlier”)

Dick Simmons is determined to make this WORK.

His parents are giving him this ONE chance, and he can’t let them down. Not again. Not this time. It is just too important…

All those bad test scores finally added up. Sure, he had passed all his classes thanks to extra-credit work, and he had graduated successfully, but… not a single teacher had been impressed with him. He stammered through every single presentation and oral report, he never worked well in a group, and when it came to additional activities, he never stood out (he still felt a twinge of resentment… all the things he was actually interested in, he hadn’t been allowed to join. His father had insisted he be part of some sports team, and he was TERRIBLE at sports. His mother encouraged him to try something else, but as usual, she dropped all her little hints that he wouldn’t be good enough for the gifted programs… and ultimately, she was right).

None of the colleges he applied to had accepted him. He didn’t have enough of his own money saved to afford anything on his own (and a future of loans followed by never-ending debt terrified him). Just barely into adulthood, Dick Simmons was suddenly faced with a very bleak future… he has nothing to do. No job. No school. No friends. His family refuses to allow him to simply sit at home and watch TV all day (because then he’ll just develop a bad habit of being lazy and aimless, his mother tells him… and in a way, he believes her). They give him one suggestion; join up. Enlist, and be shipped out to fight the good fight.

That means learning how to use weapons. That means OTHER people will be aiming weapons at HIM.

He isn’t especially motivated to get shot somewhere in outer space, so after getting the silent-treatment for several days, he begs his parents for something ELSE as an option. Eventually, they show mercy and speak to him… they’ll give him ONE CHANCE. Just one, to prove himself. They will pay for one year of classes at a university (not one of his personal choice, it will have to be somewhere that his father has some connections, but beggars can’t be choosers, and that is LITERALLY what is going on. He’s begging, and he has no choice). He’ll have to use his own savings to find a place to live and buy food. After one year is up, if he has managed to get decent grades and impress the professors, MAYBE his family will provide the money for additional classes.

Maybe.

He can’t mess this up. It has to WORK.

Dick Simmons winds up in New York. He arrives two weeks before his classes start, attends several interviews to meet the faculty and get a tour of the campus. The school isn’t very big; actually, it was somewhat cozy and casual… but he still feels intimidated. He has never worked well under pressure, and right now, ALL OF THE PRESSURE is on him. He hasn’t even started any of the classes, but he already feels like he’s behind on his homework.

He hasn’t found a decent place to live, either. Everywhere is so EXPENSIVE. He doesn’t qualify as a full-time student (his parents aren’t paying for all those classes), so he can’t live in the student housing. Even the tiniest, cheapest apartments will drain him of all his savings in just a couple of months… unless he found some roommates. Which is basically impossible. He didn’t even have any friends back home, how is he going to find some now?

First impressions are very important, and somehow, he always did the wrong thing when he tried to meet new people… for now, he’s been staying in cheap motels. They’re dirty and gross, but he can afford to stay here and eat at the same time (he’s not getting in these grody beds, though… instead, he sprayed disinfectant all over the floor, rolled out a blanket, and has been in a sleeping bag. It’s rough on his back, but at least he doesn’t literally feel his skin crawl. He’s not eating any food inside his room, either. This way, he won’t attract any BUGS).

One evening, while walking the route between his motel and the university (so he won’t get lost when classes begin), he passes by the student housing community… and sees some fliers; that weekend, there are going to be several parties to welcome back returning students, and help new students get to know everybody. This could be his big chance! He can meet some people here, people who will be his fellow classmates, people who might also be looking for roommates!

OK, he just has to get ready… he fusses over himself, trying to figure out something to wear that will make him look like a responsible potential roommate, but also doesn’t give out painful dork-vibes (everybody figures out he’s a dork eventually, but hopefully, he can ease them into that). He finally settles on a dark red button-up short-sleeved shirt and jeans. Not quite job-interview-clothes, because he’ll never look like a party-animal, but chill enough that he won’t be mistaken for somebody’s dad. Instead, he just looks like… a very tall and nervous red-head. He tries to part his hair one way, and then the other, unsure of which will look better. In the end, he realizes it doesn’t matter, he looks like somebody who dressed up as the archetype of “Junior CEO” for Halloween. The glasses only add to this, but he knows better than to try the contacts (his eyes will just water and run all night). He tries to slightly ruffle his own hair, so his bangs are a little more loose… that’s better.

When he walks over to the student housing area, he goes a little earlier in the evening than the time specified for the party. His nerves won’t allow him to be late, but he also knows better than to be the first one there (especially when he’s alone). He waits for a while across the street, then starts to see groups of people walking up to the entry gate that leads to the student apartment complex. NOW it was safe to join in. He has his student ID badge with him, and the security guard gives him a little nod when he shows it to enter.

As he looks around at all the different apartment buildings, he sees they have banners on them for different kinds of parties (friends who are reuniting, people who will be seniors this years, different academic and sports groups, ect). He sees one that proclaims this is a party for new students to meet and mingle with their returning classmates, so he decides that’s the one for him.

The door is propped open, and inside people are already in the middle of a party; lots of drinks and snacks everywhere, music blasting, laughing and talking… he’s totally out of his element, but nobody here knows that. He can fake it, he can mingle in a non-lame way. He can make this work. The main party is taking place in the large living room and kitchen on the first floor, but a few people are wandering upstairs. As he glances around, he sees a bathroom down a hallway (maybe bedrooms farther along and around the corner). There are sliding-glass doors on the far side of the living room that leads to some kind of patio, a couple of coffee tables that are cluttered with left-behind paper plates and plastic cups in the middle of the room.

He tries to locate the host, or at least somebody who actually lives in this specific apartment, but it is impossible. People are rushing all around him, he can’t seem to get a conversation going… jeez, he’s ALREADY a reject. This must be some kind of record. He takes a deep breath, and tries to relax. Forcing himself to act like he’s actually open and confident, he waves at somebody, says hello, they smile and hand him a cup of soda. For a minute, he almost thinks this will be alright, but then the other person sees somebody they know, and they’re gone, and he’s alone, and this is just his entire life, isn’t it? He doesn’t know what to do or where to go, nobody wants him around, and he just… he doesn’t even know why he’s here.

---

Dexter Grif is trying to stay positive.

He’s been stuck in a rut for a long time, arguably most of his life, but now he has a chance to change it.

His childhood had been a mess; no structure, no schedule, no reliability… some of it had been fun, though. He got to run around backstage and behind the booths at the circus, something most little kids DREAMED of doing, and when the circus was doing well, he had free treats whenever he was hungry. Sometimes the circus wasn’t doing very well. Sometimes, his parents weren’t doing very well. Being a small child with no control over anything in his life, he was at the mercy of those around him. Unfortunately, this meant he wasn’t doing very well.

He started school late, about 5 months after the other kids began kindergarten. That unfortunately became a pattern… in the years that followed, he would miss class, usually because his mom didn’t get him to school on time, and occasionally because he just didn’t want to be there. By the time he was in 3rd Grade, he was considered a “problem child”.

Early on, it was just him, his mom, and his dad. Then his dad was gone. Then his dad came back. Then his dad left again, but now he had a baby sister. Kaikaina was the reason he started paying attention to what day of the week it was, even if his mom still acted like every day was the weekend. Dexter Grif was a big brother now. He always made sure she was clean, had toys to play with, and food to eat. When she got big enough to crawl and then walk, he kept a close eye on her so she didn’t get lost or hurt (well, she got a few bumps and bruises, a couple of scrapes and skinned-knees… because she was also a circus kid who ran around everywhere. Her brother was a very good at fixing up boo-boos, though).

As they both got older, they were left alone more and more. Their mom didn’t always remember to go shopping for them. He still made sure Kai definitely had food, even if it meant giving her all his cereal and the last can of soup. He gets her to kindergarten every day, which is in the opposite direction of his big-kid school, so he’s always late… sometimes he just skips. When he starts getting desperate, he goes into grocery stores and steals packages of cookies right off the shelf, and runs out as fast as he can. When he is at school, he starts sneaking into the cafeteria to raid the fridge, or gets into the back-pack closet so he can go through the other kids’ lunchboxes. He’s considered a problem child, a delinquent, a lazy good-for-nothing…

He’s just hungry. He never wants his sister to feel like this, so he gives her all the food at home, and they keep running out of money, and they need other stuff like soap and clothes, so he takes that too, and he doesn’t trust any of the adults he knows to ask for help, so he’s just… stuck. He’s been stuck in the same rut since he was 5 years old… he wants out.

He wants to try and do something better, BE something better. High school had been torture, some of the teachers seemingly determined to make him give up on ever doing anything, but he still has hope. A few more years go by, Kai is doing alright, maybe now is the right time. She still depends on him, but he also knows she’s sick of her big bro always being up in her business. She’ll never actually start taking care of herself if he keeps stepping in.

He has to try and change. He needs to actually make an EFFORT.

He gets into college. It is mostly because of what he calls a “pity-scholarship”, meaning he’s a disadvantaged youth that college recruiters think would make an interesting success story… but he has to maintain high grades the whole time. If he starts to slip, they’ll cut him loose. He’s hardly a genius, but he’s not nearly as stupid as people think he is. He can do better. He can learn. He can TRY.

It is a bitter-sweet farewell from his sister when he leaves… they both try to keep it light and jokey, her telling him she’s gonna throw a party and trash his room once he’s gone, and him telling her not to do anything that will embarrass the family. Part of him doesn’t want to leave her… because in some ways, she still needs him, even if she doesn’t always want him around, and as stressful as it was, taking care of her has been the one constant thing in his life.

If he stays, he’ll never change. Kai will keep growing as a person, and one way or another, she’ll leave him behind eventually. He needs to grow, too.

He goes to New York, and he starts trying to figure out what to do with his life. It HAS to be different. At least he gets the housing problem solved; going to classes full-time means he gets to live in the student apartments. He hasn’t met everybody yet, but he’ll have a total of 3 roommates (two guys to each room, plus each room has it’s own bathroom, with a shared kitchen and living room… not too bad at all). He’s told by the first roommate he met, an older dude named Cole, that the other guys will show up at the mix-and-mingle party.

Before heading out, he takes the time to put on his brand-new hoodie (literally the first not-used thing he’s ever worn). It’s yellow, but not like neon-sunshine, more like a soft macaroni color (thinking about colors makes him miss his sister... she just didn’t see colors like other people did, and when he described them to her as a kid, he always related them to things she could understand; texture/scent/taste/emotions). He would have liked orange more, but this works for him. He’s got his faded-black cargo pants on, and it looks kinda cool with the yellow. Since he’s already thinking about her, he decides to do what Kai would if she were here, and pulls his hair up in a loose bun (they both had long dark-brown curls, but somehow, his was less prone to tangles, and she liked to play with his hair).

Dexter Grif is looking forward to this; it should be fun, meeting lots of other new students, being introduced to people that are coming back and know how the school works. This was college, the place you were supposed to find yourself, or reinvent yourself… he wasn’t going to be absent kid who always cut class, or the lazy kid who fell asleep at his desk. He wasn’t going to steal food or anything else to get by, he’d find a job somewhere, he’d take care of himself for once. He was going to get good grades, and graduate, and… and who knows what else. On the night of the party, surrounded by so many excited people laughing and taking, he feels like the whole world is brand new. He doesn’t know what will happen, but maybe that’s a good thing; just one of life’s great mysteries.

Somebody ordered pizza, 5 larges, and evidently they’re for EVERYBODY. He slowly makes his way over to a coffee table, reaching out to grab a slice of pepperoni… and it is just about the best pizza he’s ever had. Felling good and satisfied with food in his belly, he looks around, trying to decide if he wants to try and chat with another person...

Then he sees somebody; LITERALLY a wall-flower, back pressed flat against the wall near the kitchen, a cup of soda in hand, looking ready to cry out of frustration.

Oh no, he’s CUTE.

[myhauntedsalem]

10 Cops Share Their Scariest Paranormal Encounters

1. THE PHONE CALL

My uncle works for dispatch in my town and he recently told my family of the weirdest call he’s ever gotten. He says that he had received a call from a landline one night and when he answered it there was only static on the other end. This happened two more times. Finally, he calls a squad to go check out the address from the caller ID. When the cops got there and walked into the house they immediately saw that there was a dead body. The person had been dead for 5 months.

The craziest part about it was that there was no electricity or any other utility working. So there is no way they should have been able to get those calls into dispatch. But if they hadn’t, who knows how long that person’s body would have stayed there.

2. THE HANGING SOLDIER

I had a call to a residence for a mental evaluation or a “5150.” Anyways, I get there and speak to a 50-something-year-old woman, who states her 20-something-year-od son is under the influence of an unknown drug, and kept repeating that he can’t go in his bedroom because there was an old man hanging in his room. She stated she was too scared to go in his room and investigate it for herself, because he constantly brings over friends that are drug addicts, and is unsure if his claims were true or not.

I then go speak to the son, who is clearly under the influence of a stimulate. He goes on to tell me that he was told by a “spirit” to not enter the bedroom, because her father, dressed in his military “Class A” uniform was hanging in his bedroom.

I check the room out and of course there was no body hanging in the room. As I’m in the middle of explaining to the mother that there was no body in the bedroom, a veteran officer arrives on scene to assist me.

He pulls me aside and stated earlier in his career he responded to this residence, and that same bedroom, he had to investigate a suicide by hanging of an older male subject. He didn’t remember all the details, so I looked it up in our report management system in my patrol car and sure enough the officer was correct. The subject who died was a WWII veteran and had dressed in his military uniform and hung himself.

3. “SHE’S INSIDE THE HOUSE”

I’ve never been a believer in the paranormal, but that day I made an exception. I responded to a call made by an elderly lady. She reported that she kept seeing a young girl running through her yard and she was afraid of vandalism or maybe worse.

On my way over, it started to pour like there’s no tomorrow, lightning and thunder too. When I arrived at the residence, she pointed to where the yard was and I made my way over there. I tried to shine my flashlight along and asked, “Is anyone out here? C’mon out.” But nothing, all I heard was the sound of loud thunder in the back.

I made my way back inside the house and the lady (now trembling in a corner) told me, “She’s inside the house.”

I hear a thump in the background and I see a young girl (about 13) running from one side of the house to the other. I quickly moved towards her and asked her to stop, but then she disappears right in front of me. I thought it was my eyes playing a trick on me but then the lady yells out, “There, there she is, right outside.”

I turned towards a big window leading to the backyard and there she was running around, but how did she get passed me to exit to the back door?? I immediately went outside and she had vanished, again. After I wasn’t able to find anything and with no logical explanation, I told the lady the girl had run away and I wasn’t able to catch her due to the weather. I asked her to calm her down. Some months later passed and I found out the elderly woman had passed away and some new people had moved into her old home. Not long after that, dispatch picked up a call from the same house. Now the new tenants reported a young girl running around in their backyard and suddenly appearing inside their house. I let someone else pick the call.

4. THE ABANDONED HOUSE

I worked as a police officer in a small town in rural Nebraska. Back in the 90’s, I was patrolling through town in winter. We had several abandoned houses in town, but one seemed to have the attraction of copper thieves, so we were told to keep an eye on it. Drove by it around 7:00pm, since it sat on a corner lot, I had a clear view of all four sides of the house. As I drove around the corner. Nothing looks out of the ordinary. About two hours later I drive by again and the back door is wide open.

I know that the back door was not open when I drove by it earlier. Looking at the snow on the ground around the house, there were no footprints. So I think “What the hell?”. Call dispatch, tell them I’m investigating an open door at that address and ask for a county sheriff to start my way. I walk to the open door, pull out my flashlight and shine it inside. The house has obviously been gutted for the most part. The plaster walls have been torn down, debris piles everywhere. Since there were no footprints in the snow around the door other than mine, and with all the dust on the floor not showing any footprints, I chalk it up to the wind or maybe the door just opened on its own. I was about to secure the door when I heard a loud thump come from upstairs and what sounded like kids laughing. So I enter the house and yell out “Police department, come downstairs!” More of what sounds like kids playing. I tell dispatch that it sounds like there are kids in the house and start making my way through the kitchen into the living room where the stairs are. All the while cautiously checking the main floor.

Two more times I hear something upstairs, but since I’ve had no response, I start thinking maybe it’s an animal. Still, I hear what I’d swear was kids laughing. I head upstairs and it all gets quiet. The upstairs is relatively small with a hallway at the top of the stairs that has one bedroom on the right, one straight ahead at the end of the hall, and a bedroom on the left. As I get to the top of the stairs, I hear a thump in the bedroom to the left. I carefully peek around the door and it’s an empty room with a small pile of plaster and wood debris in the middle. No kidding, sitting on top of the pile of debris was a page torn out of a child’s book with a picture of a police officer on it. The hair stood up on the back of my neck, I got out of that room, quickly cleared the other rooms upstairs and got the fuck out of there.

Told dispatch nobody was in the house, locked the back door and never went back in there again.

5. THE DISAPPEARING PASSENGER

As a controller about 15 years ago, I took a call from a hysterical man who had picked up a motorcyclist on the slip road to the M6 who had been standing in pouring rain at the side of the road with a petrol can next to an old Norton style motorbike. He drove on the short distance down the motorway to the next service station and as he pulled off the carriageway he turned to talk to his passenger and he had disappeared.

Besides himself he contacted the police, it later transpired that at the very point the passenger disappeared there had been a fatal accident involving a motorcyclist about 20yrs previously.

It still sends shivers up my spine and I still have a copy of the incident print. I spoke with the officers who attended and they were confident the man was a genuine everyday fella!

6. THE FOOTPRINT

Back when I was working as a cop on a military base, I loved working night shift. Didn’t deal with 99% of the bullshit that day shift dealt with and what little stuff we did deal with was usually really interesting.

Well most every building on a base is alarmed and the alarms are tied right into the desk so we know the instant they go off. When we get an alarm activation, we close the base, and go check the building, pull on all the doors, see if we can get in. If we can, we go into the building and secure it, check all the doors and corners to see if someone set the alarm off.

Well, one night I was on patrol with my alpha (partner) and we get called to respond to an alarm activation at the elementary school. So we go, secure the building, and call in that the building is all secure. No problem, keep patrolling. So about 15-20 minutes go by and we get another alarm activation. We get back out there and check and now there is a maintenance door open that leads into a boiler roomish thing. Nothing in it, we close it, lock it and get out.

Another 20 minutes. and another alarm. We respond, all the doors are still locked and we can’t get in, maintenance door is locked. Call in the all clear. This time my buddy and I sit on opposite sides of the school and watch to see if someone is coming and yanking the doors real hard to set the alarm off. We sit there and watch, nothing happens and right as we’re about to leave, another alarm activation as we’re sitting there. We inform the desk that we’d like the building manager on site to help us secure the interior and to let us in. (This is like now 3 am.)

Building custodian shows up and we start doing a walk through, checking all the classrooms and checking all the maintenance rooms and that’s when we see one of the maintenance doors open with the lights on in the room. Now, this room is literally the size of a closet.

We walk down there and look in, no ones in it and that door is locked when it closes. We look in there and we find a single footprint of a bare foot made of water (Left foot as a recall) of a small child. Freaked the living hell out of us because no one reported a missing child and the entire building was clear and still locked up. No one left, no one entered and we checked every inch of that damn place (literally a 3 hour deep sweep including ceiling tiles.)

Freaked the ever loving shit out of us and to this day, my partner refuses to go into that school.

7. THE FLYING MAN

Whilst working in remote Australia, we were forced to ‘move on’ an elderly aboriginal man because the other locals had accused him of witchcraft, and other things. We drove him to his township approximately one and half hours drive away. The other locals were terrified of him as he was rumored to be a witch doctor. We dropped him off and warned him not to return to town for three days. We turned the vehicle around and drove back to town, flying, probably 100mph+. It took 45minutes to drive back, upon our return, we find the SAME elderly aboriginal sitting in the street. To this day neither of us can explain it, maybe the other locals had every right to be scared.

8. “I NEED YOUR HELP”

Not a police officer, but a 911 dispatcher.

There was an old couple who lived on a run-down ranch house about 20 miles east of town. When the husband passed away, the woman would call 911 at least three times a week, asking for assistance with very mundane tasks not normally dealt to first responders. “I need help turning the thermostat up”, “I need help boiling water for my tea”, etc.

The woman developed dementia, and eventually, it progressed to the point where she believed she was calling 911 to ask her deceased husband for help. All of the dispatchers would recognize the address immediately, even though all she could say was “(husband’s name), I need help. Please come home and help me”

One day she called, and again was only able to repeat her husband’s (I’ll call him “John”) name. “John, I need help. Please come home and help me John.” By the time the first responders arrived on scene, they found the woman lying dead in her bed. The first unit on scene called dispatch to confirm that it was the woman herself who had called 911, as rigor Morris had already set in. We wrote it off as the fact that the heater in her house wasn’t working, and the ambient temperature in the room was about 50 degrees.

We continued to receive 911 calls from that woman, at that address for just over a year after she passed away. Even after her home was vandalized, and burned to the ground, the phone calls did not stop. “John, I need your help. John, please come home and help me.” We were obligated to send a response each and every time, but not once did we find anyone on or near the property.

Multiple calls to the phone company confirmed that the phone line had been disconnected, and the call was not coming from another address.

9. POSSESSED

I was a 911 call taker 10 years ago when I received one of the creepiest calls ever. It was freezing that night, which usually equaled a calm, quiet shift due to even the criminals not wanting to go outside. Around 3am my call box popped up green and as usual I asked what was the emergency. A man starting frantically screaming that his still was possessed by a demon and tried to cut his heart while he slept. He had ran when the attack started and locked himself in his bathroom. I ask him a series of questions trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

I ask him a series of questions trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Everytime he tried to answer I heard what sounded like scratching and banging on the bathroom door. He whispered “There is a demon in my sister’s body, it has been battling me for days. It got free from the chains…” I swear what I heard next chilled me to the core. This unearthly voice began taunting my caller through the door. It didn’t sound like a 20-something woman. It was low and guttural, like she had gargled razor blades before speaking. She continued to growl and speak in a strange sounding language until police arrived. She let out a terrifying scream when the officers broke in, then dead end.

The call was over, I was shaking and had to know what happened? Even my supervisor (who had been listening to the call in real time) was pale and speechless when the line abruptly ended. Before my shift ended the commanding officer on my creepy call called in to tell me what they found. He told me he would have nightmares for the rest of his life.

Apparently, when my caller said his sister got out of her chains, he wasn’t joking around. She still had a chain tied to a bloody handcuff when the officers came in. Her whole body was covered in self-inflicted scratches, her one eye had popped a blood vessel and was bright red. Most of what she was wearing was also shredded and her skin looked like she had been drained of her blood. She was taken in for a psych consult and as you probably guessed, stayed there for a long time. The brother was okay except for deep gouges in his chest. His sister literally tried to dig out his heart.

There was some talk about arresting the brother but nothing ever came of it. I still can vividly remember that voice, it still makes my blood run cold.

10. BREAK IN AT THE MORGUE

A friend’s father is a police officer in one of the larger villages of Illinois. He and his partner were working night-shift when they were called to investigate a suspected break-in at the local morgue. They arrived to find the custodian waiting for them out front. The custodian said that he’d been mopping one of the corridors and had seen something move in his peripheral vision. He looked up and saw a person quickly cross from one side of the hallway to the other. He couldn’t tell much about the person as he’d been turning the lights off as he worked his way through the building. Just a dim outline, but enough to be sure of what he’d seen. He was unarmed, so called the police and stepped outside to wait.

My friend’s dad and his partner entered the morgue. They started off by calling out to anyone who might be inside (no answer), then began to do a sweep, walking down the central corridor with hands on their guns, checking each room to the side, occasionally calling out for any intruder to show themselves. My friend’s dad came upon a room with the light off, pitch black inside. He fumbled for the switch and flicked it. The room lit up, nothing but an empty waiting room for relatives of the dead.

He heard his partner call out “Hey, stop! Turn around!” Friend’s dad swung back out into the corridor and his partner had unholstered his gun, was pointing it at the end of the long corridor. He said: “She went around that corner.” The custodian said: “She’s trapped, no exits that way.”

They had the custodian lock himself in the waiting room for safety, then advanced down the corridor, calling out to the woman to show herself, that they wouldn’t hurt her. This time my friend’s dad reached the end first, and with his back to the wall, peered around the corner. The woman was standing by a big grey door. Lights were off here too, so it was hard to see her clearly. But he could see she wasn’t holding a gun, had long, fair hair. He stepped out from behind the corner to talk to her, but she opened the door, disappeared into the dark inside, and shut it firmly behind her.

He sprinted up to the door and pulled at the handle. Locked. Banged on it for a while and called out to her, but no answer. The door had a deadlock on it, so his partner brought over the custodian to unlock it. They turned on their flashlights to see better. The custodian rounded the corner and faltered a little. “This door? You sure? This door doesn’t lock from the inside.”

The custodian found the right key and carefully turned it in the lock. Click. “We’re coming in! Have your hands up!”

They entered the room, flashlights illuminating every corner. The custodian hit the light switch and the room lit up. It was empty except for some equipment against the wall, and two gurneys in the middle of the room. One was empty, and one was covered in a sheet with what appeared to be a body underneath it. Nice hiding spot.

My friend’s dad approached and it was the smell that first spooked him. It smelled like a corpse. He pulled the sheet down and there the woman lay, straggly light-brown hair all around her face. The tag on her toe said she’d died four days ago.

Friend’s father is a devout Christian, does not believe in ghosts or the supernatural (even now), doesn’t know what to make of this event.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Whisky Secrets (sequel)

Here's something different. Before I ever thought about posting fanfic here, I used to write things inspired by fanfic I found by some of the incredible writers I found on tumblr. I've never posted any of them but I've really felt like writing something for Aleister Black/ Tommy End lately.

So I reached out to one of my original favourites on this site, @ghostofviperwrites and asked her if she'd mind if I published this sequel I wrote to her story Whisky Secrets. She gave me the ok (for which I thank her very much).

You absolutely have to read her piece first or this won't make any sense. It picks up literally at the point where hers leaves off and the entire premise is based on what she wrote. I think this goes in a very different direction than what she had in mind, though.

Since this is an old story, some of the characters are very different than they are now. It was set at around the time I wrote it. Based on events in the story, it's pretty clear when that was.

It's a bit dated but I hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Aleister Black x OFC (hints of Roman Reigns x OFC)

Word count: 7,031

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, language, incidental roughness that some might find stressful

You rested on the sofa for too long, knowing that you had to get to work, that you were already behind on an assignment that was due that afternoon. As much as you desperately wanted to cling to the scent and the feeling of him being there with you and the idea that he might someday want to be there with you for longer, you knew that you were only wasting time by indulging in a fantasy. Once again, you reminded yourself, he saw you as a friend, a landing pad after he was finished his adventures. And so you dragged yourself to the computer and tried to focus.

It was a fluff piece you’d been hired to write: places for new residents of Orlando to meet people. You’d accepted it because the pay was good and it had seemed easy. But what the hell did you know about meeting people? You’d barely met anyone and the only ones that you’d call friends were the ones you met when you’d done an in-depth profile on the WWE and their development territory NXT. Of those, only Aleister had remained close and even then, you couldn’t say that the two of you had ever properly opened up to each other. Nevertheless, you’d stayed in touch with a number of them, occasionally meeting for coffee or drinks. None of this was in any way useful when it came to recommending locations to connect with strangers.

You’d tried to start the article the day before but now when you opened the file, you discovered that you’d only come up with a half a dozen corny titles and one word of text:

When?

The word was too painfully appropriate.

When were you going to run out of luck and be unable to find further work as a journalist?

When were you going to admit that what kept you here, rather than moving to another state and pursuing more secure work, was the fact that you were in love with a man who was only interested in your capacity as a friend and caregiver?

When was your hopeless love going to break you beyond repair?

Annoyed with yourself, you deleted the word and tried to start again. You could meet people at the gym classes that were ubiquitous in this city. You could meet people at get-togethers for shared hobbies like hiking or pottery or basically anything. No one had to meet people by getting thrown into their orbit and being unable to extricate themselves.

About half an hour into your resentful hammering on the keyboard, you were startled by your doorbell. For one sweet instant, you imagined that it was Aleister dropping by to pass some time with you. Then you realized that he never came to you without an invitation unless it was dead drunk in the middle of the night. Even when you invited him, it was only every fourth or fifth time that you asked that he agreed to come over and watch a movie or go for a walk in the nearby park. There was no way it was him at your door at eleven o’clock in the morning.

In fact, the person at your door was Bayley, chipper and warm as always, returning the spare laptop you’d lent her a few weeks before.

“Thank you so much,” she beamed, thrusting the computer into your hands. “You are a lifesaver. I’d have lost my goddamn mind if I hadn’t had this while mine was in the shop.”

“It was nothing,” you insist, smiling at her unconstrained warmth even though you didn’t feel very positive about your life at that moment. “Do you want to come in for a minute?”

She nodded cheerily and stepped across the foyer. You never really knew how you fit in with the women of WWE, even though you’d spoken to many of them in depth. Bayley stood out because she was determined to be your friend despite your introvert’s reluctance. And, indeed, she was irresistible. Much like her in-ring character, she cast sunshine wherever she went and her glow was contagious, even in your darkest and lowest moments.

You motioned her into the kitchen, offering her a choice of lemonade, iced tea or water. Her eyes immediately fell on the empty whiskey bottle you’d left on the counter, her expression growing more serious as she focused on it.

“Getting started early?” she cajoled.

“A friend left that here,” you replied guiltily.

She narrowed her dark eyes as she looked at you. Sweet and optimistic as she was, Bayley was not naïve. She knew exactly what friend had left the bottle behind and she knew how you felt about him.

“I’ll have a glass of lemonade,” she said, the smile slowly returning to her face.

You joined her and the two of you jokingly touched glasses before drinking.

“So, a few of us are getting together tonight,” she said hesitantly. “I thought you might like to join us.”

Your first instinct was to ask if Aleister would be there, but you thought better of it. Instead, you responded, “Well, I have an article I need to finish.”

Of course, your article was due by the end of the afternoon, which meant that your evening was free regardless, but part of you wanted to be at home in case Aleister came staggering over again.

Bayley’s jaw set in a determined expression you’d only seen from her in the ring. “We’re having a party for Roman, to celebrate him going into remission.”

Well now you felt like a bit of a bitch for making excuses and didn’t know what to say.

“It won’t just be wrestlers there. Some other journalists are even coming. And I know that it would mean a lot to him if you were there.”

When you’d done your article on the WWE, you’d interviewed Roman Reigns and he’d been incredibly generous with his time. He’d even contacted you after your interviews to confirm that you had all the detail you needed. He was the face of the company and had done everything possible to make sure that the company had provided what you required. He’d clearly wanted to make sure they’d left a good impression and you couldn’t help but be impressed by his PR skills. Although you knew it wasn’t true that it “would mean a lot to him”, you were touched by the idea that he remembered you and might like you to be there to celebrate his great news. At the same time… you needed to be there for Aleister.

“Look,” Bayley insisted, “I’m going to text you the details for the bar where we’ll be. It’s not a big deal, just a bunch of us getting together to be happy for our friend.”

There was no way that you could refuse that, so you shyly thanked her as she gulped the rest of her lemonade and made for the door.

“I’m serious,” she said as she departed. “You work so damn hard you deserve a night off. Finish what you’re doing and come have fun with us.”

As soon as she’d left, you once again sat down at your computer. Before you could return your attention to your work, however, you couldn’t resist checking Instagram.

Someone had tagged Aleister in a photo on Instagram.

Yes, you were that pathetic that you always checked.

With trepidation, you clicked the link to look at what was there. As it too often did, the notification came from an airbrushed-looking woman, her collagen-enhanced lips pressed against his. She looked arrogant and proud, while he looked smug and inebriated.

“Guess who I got to hang with last night?” the caption gloated.

You knew damn well what “hang” was a euphemism for. He never cared that the Barbie dolls he hooked up with advertised their conquest on social media. He was single and hot. Why should he care if people knew that he always scored with the sort of women other men lusted after? Why should he care that it ripped your heart to shreds every time you saw him with another woman so unlike you in every way?

The woman had posted a few other photos of the two of them together, embracing. Every part of her magazine-ready body was on display, save those parts that would have gotten her in trouble. Her artificially perfect breasts were spilling out of a tiny tube top while her endless legs were shown in their full glory between the edge of a skirt that likely required her to trim her pubic hair and the sky high heels that raised her enough to press her lips to his without having to stretch herself awkwardly. She was nothing like you, with your unkempt hair and loose, bohemian dresses, your comfortable ballet flats and blandly natural face. She had all the glamour that you lacked and he ate it up.

The images of the two of them cut into you like a laser and, for once, all you desired was to break free from the pain of feeling. A few minutes later, when Bayley sent the text she’d promised with the details of where you could find the party tonight, you immediately responded.

“I’ll be there. I promise.”

To hell with Aleister and the designer women he adored, you told yourself as you returned to your article with a vengeance. Tonight you were going to do whatever it took to break the spell he had cast over you.

*

It was just after nine when you found yourself teetering to the entrance of the bar where the party was taking place. It was marked only by a subtle sign, no words, just a stylized anchor, and it was hidden away on a tiny street that was hardly more than an alley. In your fit of pique, you’d finished your article two hours before your deadline and then, having examined the options in your closet and found them wanting, headed out and spent entirely too much money on a new dress that clung perfectly to your breasts before flaring out to highlight the movements of your body, while covering just the bare minimum to maintain decency. You’d also picked up a stylish pair of ankle boots with heels higher than you were used to and that posed a legitimate threat as you made your way down the roughly paved road to the speakeasy-style bar.

A little further down the alley, you see a couple leaning against a car, taking turns swigging from a liquor bottle. The woman is one of those glamorous animals that makes you so insecure, laughing in drunken delight in a way that only confident people can. In one quick movement the man spins her around and bends her over the hood of the car. He immediately takes out his cock, stroking it a couple of times before he thrusts into her, one hand on her back while the other holds the bottle that he continues drinking from. And it’s a moment before you realize that it’s Aleister, fucking away at a woman whose name he won’t remember in a few hours.

The sight makes you want to curl up and die, makes you want to say that you’ve made a mistake and run along home so you can bawl your eyes out while you wait for his inevitable drunken arrival. But, if nothing else, the damage that you’ve done to your credit card in order to make yourself look just a bit more sexy and edgy than usual, as well as the glasses of wine you had already consumed to fortify your courage, push you forward. This is a test. In order to pass, you need to be able to ignore the man whose indifference is killing you and enter the world of others, where someone who wasn’t up to the standards of the rarified model girls might be willing to give you a second look.

Aleister doesn’t even glance up as you enter the bar a few feet away from him, can’t feel the dark weight of your eyes on him or the force with which you tear them away as you step through the door.

As soon as you do, you are once again frozen with the idea that you’ve made a mistake. When Bayley characterized this as a “get-together”, you’d assumed it meant a group of people spread out around a few tables chatting away and toasting Roman’s health. Instead, what greets you is a basement club full of people with a dance floor alive with writhing bodies. You recognize a few journalists but for the most part, the space is taken up with every WWE and NXT star you’ve ever heard of. It’s a convention of beautiful people and you can’t help but feel dowdy even in your overpriced finery.

You slowly descend the stairs, fully intending to look around, say hello to a few familiar faces and then bolt for the exit, but you’re immediately greeted by a familiar voice that fairly shrieks. “Oh my god woman, just look at you!”

It’s Sasha Banks, standing at the edge of the stairs with Bayley, who gives you an exaggerated round of applause.

“Miranda, you look amazing,” Sasha continues breathlessly. “Seriously, you’re putting everyone to shame.”

You don’t feel like you’re putting anyone to shame, least of all Sasha in her body suit that hugs every curve of her perfect little hourglass, but you blush at the compliment.

“Come on,” Bayley gushes, “we need shots to celebrate your hotness!”

She pulls both of you through the crowd to the bar and somehow is able to get the bartender’s attention almost immediately, ordering two rounds of tequila shots because, she tells you and Sasha, there’s no point in getting just one round when you know you’re going back for seconds. The three of you toast and toss down the shots and then immediately do so again and you have to admit that you’re feeling the warm glow already. Sasha, apparently feeling something herself, wraps her arms around you and once again reassures you that you are devastatingly beautiful.

Another shot is thrust into your hand, this time by Dash Wilder, who’s arrived with his Revival partner Scott Dawson. Wilder has always been attractive to you, so you give him as radiant a smile as you can manage and you swear he blushes a little just before he downs his shot. Dawson is hugging Sasha and Bayley close to him, allowing Dash to edge a little closer to you and you’re feeling a little high on yourself when another voice cuts through your circle.

“Miranda? Holy fuck I can’t believe you’re here!”

Roman Reigns pushes right through the bodies close to the bar and grabs you firmly by the shoulders, his eyes gradually focusing on yours. He’s grinning with an intensity that clearly comes from his being a little past feeling no pain but it doesn’t hamper the thrill it gives you when he wraps his arms around you and nearly crushes you in a hug.

“I mean, shit, I don’t think I’ve even talked to you since you did that interview,” he pouts. “Thank you so much for coming.”

You smile as another shot is pushed into your hand, biting your lip self-consciously. You down about half the shot before Roman grabs it from you and finishes it, breaking up with laughter. He signals the bartender for another round, keeping an arm around your back until the tray of shots arrives. You’re all toasting each other and you wonder why you ever questioned yourself for coming here because this is exactly what you needed.

“Come dance with me,” Roman chuckles, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards the dance floor. He’s clearly floating on a sea of drunken bliss, goofing around and happy to have someone to have fun with, someone he didn’t expect to be there. Even if you wanted to resist his offer, you couldn’t because, while he isn’t doing anything that might hurt you, his grip is strong enough and the rest of him powerful enough to compel you forward.

The two of you deliberately dance like complete nerds in high school, awkward movements and ironic posturing until you’re both laughing so hard you can barely stand. It’s then that you realize that you’ve become the focus of some attention; Roman goddamn Reigns, the face of the company, the locker room leader, the man who everyone has come to celebrate, is dancing with you. Most of the people here have no idea who you are but because you’re with Roman, you are somebody. Basking in the subtle attention and envy, you close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in the music, swaying to the beat until you feel a large pair of hands on your hips.

You open your eyes to see Roman pulling you closer to him with a devilish grin before spinning you around and pulling your back against his massive chest. You continue to move but at a slower pace, your movements limited by how close he’s holding you and the sensual way in which his body moves against yours. Keeping one arm loosely around you, he lets his other hand fall against your thigh, lightly playing with the hem of your dress. It makes you gasp.

“You never responded to any of my texts,” he murmurs gruffly in your ear.

You remember at least half a dozen messages asking if he could clarify anything or if you needed any additional material for your article. You hadn’t needed anything else but you suddenly feel terribly rude for not answering.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “you were very professional and I should have at least told you that I had what I needed.”

His voice drops even lower as he speaks. “I didn’t mean to be professional about them. And I was hoping that you didn’t have everything you needed.”

He pulls you up and firmly against him and for the first time you can feel his hardening cock through his pants. You can’t help but thrust your hips into him, barely able to process what’s happening to you. The two of you are still ostensibly dancing, although it’s more like a rhythmic grinding to the music as he reaches down and pulls the hem of your dress up, rubbing your thigh and then your ass as he presses his lips into your neck. His hands are everywhere on you and you’re aware that your entire lower body is basically on display for anyone who cares to look but you don’t care because it feels like you’ve won the lottery. You moan at the feeling of his growing excitement against your flesh, both his large hands grazing up the front of your thighs and for a moment you think that you’re ready to beg him to take you right there when you’re violently spun away from your dance partner, a bruising grip on your arm.

It’s Aleister, eyes incandescent with rage as he tells Roman, “I need to speak to her for a minute.”

Roman looks confused and tries to speak to you but Aleister drags you away and a gaggle of women immediately descend on Roman, desperate to take your place.

Aleister flings you against the wall, glaring at you with an intensity that you’ve never seen outside the ring.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

“I was dancing before you interfered,” you snap back at him, rubbing your arm.

“Dancing?” he repeats with derision. “That’s what you call that?”

“I was having fun.”

“What the hell are you wearing?”

For the first time since you saw him with his woman of choice outside, you feel ridiculous, like a girl trying to look glamorous by donning her mother’s clothes.

“I wanted something a little different.”

“A little?” he hisses back. “Do you realize what you look like? You’re all tarted up and letting some guy grab at you and get you half naked in front of a bar full of people.”

“What I look like?”

“Everyone could see practically your whole goddamned body. They could see what you were letting him do to you.”

“You mean to say I look like a whore.”

Aleister crosses his arms and glances away, refusing to confirm what you’ve said.

“So what, Aleister? So what if I’m letting a man touch me and show me that he wants me? Who cares who else sees? Maybe that’s what I want!”

“Are you so stupid that you think he wants you for anything other than a one night stand?”

The accusation stabs at your heart and your confidence but you’re determined not to let him see that.

“Again, so what? Maybe I’m happy to have this big, gorgeous man want me. Maybe I’m fine bringing him back to my place for a few hours of fun because at least it means someone is thinking of me as a sexual being for a change.” You pause, knowing the danger of what you’re about to say but unable to stop yourself. “Maybe I’d be fine if he just took me outside and fucked me over the hood of a car.”

For a second, you think that Aleister is going to strangle you. The look on his face is like the moment before the sky erupts in thunder and lightning. Truthfully, you expect that he’ll turn on his heel and walk away from you and never come back, and perhaps that’s what you need him to do so that you can get over him.

Instead, he grabs you, pinning you to the side of his body and pulling you towards the door. His movements make you stumble, and the more you try to resist him, the more ungainly you look.

“She’s dead drunk,” you hear him assure a few people, “I’m going to make sure she gets home.”

And while it’s true that you are drunk, you’re not nearly as drunk as he’s making you out to be. The second he has you outside, you try to twist away from him and go back, only for him to wind you closer, pulling you off balance so that you look even more inebriated.

You hear him whisper to Seth Rollins, who’s observing the spectacle through the corner of his eyes. “Look, tell Roman that she’s falling down drunk and I just had to get her home. No disrespect meant.”

Seth has a confused expression on his face but nods and tells him, “Sure thing.”

Realizing what Aleister is doing, you once again try to rush past him, but he blocks you, gripping your arm and pulling you after him so that you really do appear pathetically unable to take care of yourself.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me?” you shout at him, figuring that there’s no reason to worry about who might hear you, there being no further you can sink in their estimation. “Why can’t you just let me enjoy myself?”

“Jesus, Miranda, you’re loaded. You can barely stand up.” He emphasizes this by jerking your arm forward, which almost causes you to keel over onto your face. “You’re just embarrassing yourself.”

“No,” you insist, pulling yourself to a halt. “I knew what I was doing. I knew what I wanted. Sure I’m a bit tipsy but-“

“You don’t want that,” Alesiter snaps, threading his arm through yours and continuing down the street. “You don’t just want to whore yourself out for a night because you think it might help your self-esteem.”

“You don’t get to decide what I want, Aleister.” You’re crushed against his side and he’s moving so quickly that your feet only graze the ground every third or fourth step. “Let me go. I’m sick of playing the surrogate mother for someone who’s incapable of seeing me as a real woman. I want to go back there. I want to have someone make a show of wanting me. I want to get fucked so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Aleister shakes his head like a parent frustrated with a misbehaving child. “Stop it. You’re being ridiculous.”

“So let me be ridiculous!” you yell back, trying unsuccessfully to extricate yourself from his grip. “What the hell is it to you? Are you worried that for once I’m not going to be there when you need a place to collapse at four in the morning?”

The two of you reach the corner where the alley meets the street and he swings you to face him, glowering at you with a terrifying expression, gripping your biceps so hard you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. He says nothing but stares at you until he whips his arm out and hails a taxi seemingly out of nowhere.

He launches you, there’s no other word for it, into the back seat of the car and snarls your address to the driver as your tears start to fall. The cabbie is noticeably uncomfortable with your quiet whimpering and seems confused by the fact that Aleister does nothing to comfort or engage you. He sits with his arms folded, scowling, until you arrive at your building. Reflexively, you reach for your purse only to have Aleister swat your hand away and pay the driver himself. You try to keep pace as he yanks you towards the door, but stumble because of your unsure footing in these strange heels and because your vision is glazed by the tears you’re fighting to hold in.

When Aleister pins you against the door and rummages through your purse to find your keys, it somehow feels more invasive than Roman gripping your ass for an entire bar full of people to see. You feel, for a moment, that he is looking at you with tenderness. But when the door opens, he simply guides you through it. As you hear it click shut, the last of your strength, physical and emotional, gives out and you drop to your knees, finally allowing the tears to fall. It’s a full-on ugly cry, punctuated by guttural, anguished sounds you’d never allow anyone else to hear. Despite everything, you desperately want to hear the door open again behind you and to hear him say that he’s realized he loves you.

But no, in the end, he’s just found it gross that the woman he sees as his caregiver might have another side. He found you pathetic in your overpriced dress and shoes. He knew that you were desperately trying to act like something you could never be: like someone who could compete with the perfected Instagram beauties he fucks every night. You could never be that. He knew that you were just a sad little woman decked out in a gaudy outfit. You’d never be that sexy, desirable person who stopped men dead in their tracks, no matter what your dance with Roman had temporarily led you to believe.

You’re on your knees for what seems like hours, choking on tears and snot and trying to restrain yourself from howling. Just as the sound overpowers you and a low wail escapes your lips, you’re startled by a pair of arms, familiar, tattooed arms wrapping around your waist from behind.

“Shh. There’s no need for any of that,” he grunts into your hair.

And while you’re shocked and thrilled that he actually stayed behind to make sure that you were ok, it’s also even more humiliating that he’s seen you fall apart so spectacularly. Your body feels limp with defeat and unable to react at all as he gathers you up and carries you into your bedroom, setting you gently on the edge of the bed. He rests his hand on yours for a moment and you’re able to stem the flow of tears until he stands up and heads back towards the door. This time, you’re determined to hold in the worst of your misery until you’re sure he’s gone, even though you can’t stop the tears from running down your face.

But after a few minutes of straining to hear the door close, you see Aleister return, a damp washcloth in hand, and he sits once again beside you on the edge of the bed. He presses the cloth, cool and soothing, against your cheeks and then holds your chin as he delicately wipes it across your face. It takes you some minutes to realize that he’s removing your smeared makeup, cleaning you off so that you look good as new, so that you look more like the plain girl who lets him into her home in the middle of the night, his touch filled with a tenderness that you never imagined him capable of. When he’s satisfied with his work, he tosses the cloth aside and wraps an arm around you, pulling you close against him. The sweetness of his friendly gesture makes you want to cry all over again but you choke it back, knowing that you’ll have plenty of time for that when he’s gone.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he whispers, the sound of his voice making you feel weak.

You nod and roughly pull back from him, unsure of your ability to stop yourself from throwing yourself at him and begging him to wreck you. You fumble with the zipper of your boots until Aleister slides off the bed and onto his knees and removes it for you. He glides his hand along your calf, up to your thigh and then moves to your other boot. As he slides it off, he presses his head against the side of your knee, giving the skin a light kiss before rocking back on his haunches. You know he’s being gentle with you because he feels sorry for you. He finds you pitiful, which is even worse than finding you asexual.

The feelings are too much for you to take and all you can think of is that you want to get into bed where you’ll be safe and where you can sleep off the nightmare your evening out has become. You clumsily shed your dress, stockings, bra and panties without thinking much of the fact that you have an audience. Why should it bother him seeing you naked, after all? Normally, you put on some nightclothes but you don’t even have the strength to bother. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Aleister has turned his head towards the door. He’s embarrassed for you, the way you would be if a parent or sibling was undressing around you.

You crawl under the covers with a grumbled “good night” and immediately start to feel yourself drift off. You’re jolted back to wakefulness when Aleister climbs in beside you. In all the time you’ve known him, as many nights as he’s come and collapsed on your sofa, you don’t think he’s ever seen your bedroom. Now, having seen it, he’s apparently happy not to leave it, indulging in the comfort of your bed without even asking permission. It makes you a little self-conscious that you’re nude but it’s hardly the most humiliating thing to happen to you tonight, so you let yourself ignore it. If you can just fall asleep, this night will be over and you can begin the process of trying to forget it.

It’s only a matter of seconds, though, until you feel his body pressed against yours from behind, one hand coming to rest flat on your stomach and pushing you back against him so that you are acutely aware that you are not the only person naked in the bed. The hand on your stomach flutters downward until his fingers are moving lightly over your pussy, like he’s plucking the strings of a harp. His other arm wraps around your shoulders and keeps you flush against him, close enough that you can’t mistake the feeling of his erection against your back.

He presses his lips and tongue against your neck, making you whimper as you try to keep your heart rate stable. Your little noises seem to motivate him further, his touch becoming more insistent and one of his legs snaking over yours, pulling it back to give his hand greater access.

“Such a little fool,” he murmurs, his fingers stroking insistently along your fleshy folds. “Thinking I don’t see you as a sexual being.”

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, making you cry out- more from the shock than the pain. His mouth continues to move around your neck and shoulders, nipping and sucking on the skin there, his grip on you tightening until it’s nearly painful.

“What are you doing?” you manage to ask.

“Leaving marks,” he says matter-of-factly.

You’re at a loss for what to say, but are saved from having to answer as he pushes two fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit. You’re embarrassed that he must have felt how wet you were just from being in his presence but he says nothing, quickening his pace and giving satisfied little growls when his touch elicits gasps and cries of pleasure from you.

It’s pity, you remind yourself; what he’s doing to you, he’s doing it because he feels sorry for you and because he’s drunk and horny despite his encounter earlier in the evening. But the thought gets whisked away as he brings you closer and closer to what you’ve desperately needed from him for so long. You let out a little shriek when he removes his hand, unable to believe he’s so cruel as to bring you to the precipice and then deny you. But he simply flips you onto your back before pressing his fingers inside you once more, watching your reactions to be sure he’s hitting just the right spot before burying his face between your legs. His tongue, lips and fingers work together like an orchestra. Your knuckles are white from the force of clenching on the sheets and you’re biting down so hard on your lip to muffle the sounds you’re making that you’re worried your teeth will end up permanently embedded. He unexpectedly raises his head and stills the movement of his hand inside you and the shock is almost enough to make you start crying again. You look down at him, his eyes sparkling in the low light with an expression you can’t read.

“Why won’t you let me hear you?”

Because you don’t want him to know how good his merciful little gesture is making you feel. Because you don’t want to admit to yourself that it’s better than you’d imagined. Truthfully, whenever you’ve thought about the mechanics of sex with Aleister, you imagined that it would be fast and rough and hedonistic, much like his other sexual encounters seem to be. But he’s chosen this moment to take his time, to focus on his partner, rather than go for a quick, dirty fuck in a darkened corner.

You don’t tell him any of this, instead croaking out, “I’m shy.”

He raises himself up and over your body with the effortless grace of a serpent, pressing his head close to yours and kissing along your jawline.

“What do I have to do to make you not be shy?”

“I don’t know… I just… am.” You wriggle a little under him, turning your face away when he looks directly into your eyes.

He cups your face in one hand and runs the other, still wet with your juices, over your breast, teasing the nipple and making you shudder involuntarily.

“Am I moving too fast?”

You shake your head, not quite trusting your voice.

“Is there something that you’d enjoy more? Something you want me to do for you?”

You give him another little shake of the head.

“You don’t have to be shy with me. Whatever you want, I want you to tell me so I can give it to you. Anything.”

For the first time, he kisses you on the lips, his tongue, that still tastes of you, slides against yours and the hand at the side of your face slides to hold your neck, cradling your head so that you don’t have to tense any muscles to stay in that position. Your body has nothing it needs to do but experience the sensations he’s creating. Of course, you still answer his kiss, hungrily flashing your tongue against his, reveling in the light scrape of his lip ring against your lips. His hand glides back down between your legs, and even the proximity is enough to draw a couple of little mewls of pleasure. You feel him smile a little against your lips at the noises and he pulls away from the kiss.

“Am I making you feel good?”

You nod as he starts to work his fingers around your entrance once again.

“Do you want my mouth down there again?”

You nod even more vigorously than the first time but he shakes his head.

“Tell me. Say it out loud.”

You open your mouth to do so and he immediately thrusts his long fingers into your g-spot and your clit at once, making you yelp in pleasure. It’s almost enough to make you cum on its own but he eases the pressure before you reach that peak.

“Yes?” he asks again.

“Yes, fuck, yes!”

“Then let me hear you. Please.”

He returns his attention to your core and has you making all manner of unholy noises in short order. He expertly teases you and then holds back, so many times that when he does finally take you over the edge, you feel like you might pass out from the intensity of it. Your gasps for breath sound cavernous in the quiet room.

He keeps the palm of his hand firmly against you as he leans forward and presses his lips into your neck, letting out a satisfied purr every time an aftershock rolls through your body.

When he’s satisfied that you’ve fully come down, he raises himself up on his arms, giving just the hint of a smile when you grab onto his biceps to steady yourself.

He’s so rigid that he doesn’t even need a hand to guide himself into you. He simply presses forward in one slow but sure moment, his eyes closed as if it’s a kind of religious experience, not opening them until he’s fully seated inside you. It’s been long enough since you’ve been with anyone that the feeling of being stretched draws a little whimper from your throat. He remains still, his eyes open and bearing down on you with a delirious kind of excitement, aching prick twitching inside you, desperate to proceed but waiting for a signal that he can.

And it’s at that moment that you allow yourself to think that this isn’t pity or a drunken mistake, that he’s as hungry for you as you have been for him and that what’s happened tonight has just served to connect a circuit. The fiercely possessive look in his eyes as he watches you, the fury when he thought someone else was claiming you, the need to mark you to make you his, the flush of pure lust on his face and chest… it is just a little frightening, something you suspected was in him but never that it was focused on you. But you’ve always known you could handle his darkness if he let you in. So you thrust your hips a little and wrap your legs loosely around his waist to show him that he can continue. Just as he starts to move, he cups your face and presses his mouth to your ear.

“You deserve so much better.”

“Stop trying to make those decisions for me,” you moan, feeling your insides flutter with his movements.

“I’ve never felt anything like that jealousy.” He’s staring into your eyes as he confesses. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder pressing deeper inside you and gasping at the feeling. “Knowing that everyone could see how sexy and beautiful you are… And I’m an idiot for waiting for that to happen before I did anything, I just…”

He grimaces and slows his pace a little, obviously trying to prolong the sensation.

“You mean it?” You have to ask because you still can’t quite believe that this has been on his mind for all this time when he’s shown no sign of it to you.

“God yes,” he answers through gritted teeth, once again allowing himself to move faster and more urgently.

You can’t completely banish your fears that he’s going to regret this in the morning and just shut you out again but every second with him is pushing them further away. You lace your fingers through his hair, nipping at the shell of his ear as he lets out his own stream of desperate, lusty noises, running your nails gently down his back as he approaches his crescendo.

His head drops to your chest and he cries out as he releases inside you.

“Fuck I love you, fuck I love you, fuck I love you.” He repeats it like a mantra that brings him back down from his high, saying it a final time as he looks into your eyes.

Slowly, he rolls onto his side, gathering you close to him like he thinks an errant breeze might carry you away.

“I have…” he begins quietly, “… there’s a lot that goes on in my head… Bad things, I guess. I thought you’d run away. Or that I’d pull you down with me. I still don’t know that won’t happen.”

He looks so vulnerable that it makes your heart hurt but at the same time you have to stifle a smile.

“Well I’d rather you let me try to deal with it. I’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for being.”

His expression grows a little guilty and he nods. He wraps his arms tighter around you and you do the same until the two of you are lying in your bed, wound around each other.

[megalony]

Met his match

This is a new Murderer! Ben Hardy imagine that should have a follow-up imagine soon when I can get round to it, I hope you will all enjoy this one feedback is always lovely to have.

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Murderer! Ben masterlist

Summary: Ben is a hitman tracking his latest target, and he is getting ready to kill them but things get tricky when his conscience gets the better of him. And the situation unravels when soulmates are involved.

Enjoy.

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Reaching his calloused hand into his back pocket, Ben pulled out the phone that was vibrating to show someone was calling. Taking a scan of the phone case, he sighed at seeing it was his personal phone which he couldn't be bothered to answer right now.

He'd been in the game for a two years now and had managed to pick up many tricks of the trade. Rule number one was to have seperate phones so if he got caught, he could give the police his normal phone that was just for friends and family. The innocent phone. All the implicating and cryptic messages were on his work phone so he could keep things separate and in order. His normal phone was white and his work phone was black as a teasing reminder of his life like day and night.

Switching the rather annoying item off, Ben slipped it back into his pocket before turning his attention down to the glass resting on the shining polished wooden surface in front of him.

This was a very different experience for Ben considering that for the past three months he had been in hiding.

Laying low wasn't all it was cracked up to be and Ben hated it. He hated having to disappear underground, to go to dingy, disgusting bars for a drink and to make sure no one would find him. He hated having to scan the bars to make sure they were the kind that didn't have CCTV so he could stretch the truth about how long he was there if an alibi was needed. He hated being around the cringy, loud-mouthed people that bustled about and spilt their drinks on one another.

Ben couldn't abide by the hotels and the small B&B's that he had to go to when he was out of town and needed to go unseen.

Laying low was the part of being a hitman that he despised because in order to keep the job he had so graceously decided to take, he had to cover his tracks and give himself alibi's. He had to make sure his face was never in papers or on websites. He had to make sure only the right kind of people knew who he was so he wasn't known to the posh people or the ones in contact with the police so he wouldn't be caught. He had to make sure the people who knew what he did weren't informants for the police or traitors.

But his job was something he found great pride and achievement with, even though he knew he shouldn't. Killing people wasn't the kind of job that someone should be proud to have and yet Ben was. He had pride that he had been doing this for two years and no one had caught him yet. He was proud that people respected him in the underworld and that people paid a high price for the job that he did. People went to the trouble of finding him to get his help, they risked a lot to find him with the knowledge that he could turn them down.

The thrill that it gave him, the planning that he got to put into it and the risks he took made laying low all that much better.

But to finally be out of his hiding and back in the world of the living was something that he enjoyed immensely. Ben enjoyed being able to come to the bars and restaurants that were more appealing to the eye and soul. To be able to act as if he fit in with the higher society when really, despite how he hated to lay low, that was where he belonged.

The thin black button-up shirt he was wearing was rather itchy around the collar and he had to refrain from scratching his neck every ten seconds but he had to act formal since he was technically at work right now.

Turning his head to the left, Ben locked his bored eyes onto the man he had seen wandering around the restaurant for the past hour. He went around hitting on any girl that walked in and every time he had got rejected which wasn't surprising given that this wasn't the most high class place but it certainly wasn't of low standards. The women here were more refined and didn't take to a drunk man wandering the bar asking them if they wanted to go home with him for a 'night-cap'.

The drunk man seemed to get more riled up and annoyed with every rejection he got until he was starting to get aggressive. If the guy would take each rejection with his chin up then Ben would have said good on him for taking it in his stride but the hitman was getting fed up of the idiot's persistence with anyone in sight.

Hunching his shoulders forward, Ben leaned his head down but let his eyes lean around the idiot a few feet at his side, trying to get a look at the poor victim the man was now pestering.

Ben had to refrain himself from growling in sheer annoyance when he realised that the victim this drunk idiot was pestering was Ben's next target. Rubbing his hand over his face, Ben scratched at the corner of his eye with the pad of his thumb as he tried to stay calm and unnoticed.

It was always a surprise to Ben when he found out that his victims were women because eighty percent of the people he was told to snuff out were usually middle aged business men. With the odd exception of a young inexperienced boy who had taken something he shouldn't or who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. But killing a woman was never hard for Ben, a hit was a hit and it didn't matter who it was as long as the job was done and Ben got paid at the end of it.

The only times he ever refused to do a job was if he himself deemed the hit unnecessary. Maybe there was a young boy who just didn't need to be killed or a woman who was only wanted dead because her rich husband wanted her out of the way.

Other than things like that, Ben usually didn't care the reason even though he always asked. It was part of his invisible policy that Ben was to be given all the details, the reason and half the payment up front before he went through with a hit.

For the past two weeks Ben had followed his victim, got to know her routine and what she did and he knew that tonight was the one opportunity that he had to get the job over and done with.

Tonight was a night where she was most vulnerable because she was alone, away from home and her family and friends thought she would be away for another week so the timeline for her disappearance would be vague at best. Ben had already disabled her phone signal from afar and he had ensured that he wasn't on any security tapes.

All he had to do was find her after she left the restaurant and he could pounce.

Ben knew the reason why he had to kill this girl.

She had smuggled a lot of money from her father's account and placed it into a lot of other accounts ranging from her own to her father's victims who he had complete control over. What she had done was completely legal since she had access to the account and had unsuspectingly gotten her father to sign the documents allowing the transactions. He had lost out and now his daughter was a threat to his rather secretative dodgy dealings.

She was a threat he wanted rid of and the police couldn't do anything, nor could they get rid of her in the sense that her father wanted.

But Ben could.

He applauded his victim's reasons and what she had managed to do but at the end of the day, she was a hit and Ben had taken the job.

Turning his head to the left, Ben glanced his eyes over at his victim as if making sure that she hadn't disappeared without him knowing.

His victim had her rather long hair folded and pinned to her lower head just at the top of her neck but she had two short strands of hair hanging loose framing both sides of her face. And her vibrant eyes were shining for everyone to see. Her head was tilted to the side and the distant look in her eyes made her seem as if she was in a world of her own. She had one arm resting on the circular wooden table and her other hand circled around the half empty glass of red wine in front of her.

She looked as if she fitted in so well here with her baggy button-up shirt tucked into her high-waisted trousers that skimmed over the top of her ankle boots. Her appearance and her smile and the way she held herself made her fit in so well with the upper class people in the restaurant. But there was just something about her that made Ben feel like she was an outcast. Someone desperately trying to fit in when really, she didn't belong anywhere at all.

Just like him.

The pick up line that the drunken man used on Ben's victim washed over Ben's head just like it did the girl's head because she didn't spare him a glance. She seemed to be used to people trying to gain her attention and she seemed very good at choosing who deserved her attention and who didn't.

When the man didn't persist anymore and left in a huff, Ben felt like doing the exact same thing. He had been in this restaurant for two hours now and had had no interaction or conversation with anyone but the bartender who simply kept refilling Ben's glass the moment Ben pointed at it.

As much as Ben enjoyed being at places like this, it did get boring when he had no one to talk to because talking to people could potentially ruin an alibi if he needed one. They could say the exact time he left, who he had been looking at, what exactly he had told them. Ben would never say anything to incriminate himself or make himself seem untrustworthy but interactions were just as harmful as doing the job he did.

As bad as it was that he sat and talked to no one, it was safer.

"Any good?"

The new voice broke Ben out of his consuming thoughts, much to his relief, but when his head turned to his left he felt a spark of adrenaline bursting through his stomach when he saw who it was talking to him.

"The whiskey here, is it any good?" (Y/n) pointed her finger towards the circular glass of whiskey resting in front of Ben that he was holding with a vice grip in his left hand. It was the only thing she could think of to spark up a conversation with the one person here who seemed to feel like an outcast here the same as she did.

It seemed to take him a while to respond, she could see his eyes studying her as if he didn't exactly know what to make of her or how to take her question.

Ben observed the way that (Y/n) leaned her elbows on the counter with one arm outstretched like she was trying to reach behind the bar and grab one of the bottles. Whilst her other hand was resting against her neck like she was trying to prop her head up. Ben couldn't help but let his eyes wander over her, noticing how her hips were pushing against the bottom of the bar counter and her knees were straight like she was trying to make herself look a bit taller than she really was.

"Better than most places I've been to."

Ben didn't usually talk to his victims.

In theory, Ben could tell his victims anything. He could tell them his bank details, his name and address, his age, his national security number. He could tell them anything and everything about him because his victims always ended up in the same place; a grave. And dead men tell no tales.

But this was different, Ben talked to his victims when he was about to force a bullet into their skulls or make their deaths drag out. He didn't normally jave a chat with them before they knew that he was their personal grim reaper about to steal their life and soul. He never talked to his victims like he was trying to make a new acquaintance or even a friend.

Talking to his victims could often make him feel sorry for them or make him regret killing them. Ben didn't need them haunting him in the dead of night disturbing his sleep or making him think over his life choices and his choice of jobs.

"That's enough for me." (Y/n) didn't even get chance to speak when the bartender approached them both before her new acquaintance pointed to his glass before holding up two fingers indicating he wanted two glasses this time. It always fascinated (Y/n) how people like him were willingly in places like this when they clearly didn't want or need social interaction.

It would clearly be a lot easier and cheaper for him to just buy a bottle of whiskey and take it back to wherever he resided. But then again, if he liked to be around people he wouldn't get that if he lived on his own. Some people like to be surrounded but not interacted with, they liked to people-watch but not be watched themselves. (Y/n) didn't know him or why he was here and she wasn't usually one to judge a book by its cover.

"Thank you." (Y/n) generously took the drink placed in front of her, a curious but appreciative look in her eyes to which the stranger nodded in understanding before downing his drink.

It was her last night after all, the least he could do was buy her a drink.

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

Breathe.

The one thought rattling through (Y/n)'s mind was telling her to do something that she normally never had to think about. Such an automatic process that happened thousands of times every day was something that (Y/n) was now having to remind herself to do in case she suddenly forgot or held her breathe for so long that she endangered herself even more by fainting.

Breathing was the only thing that (Y/n) was certain of right now, everything else was an illusion that she couldn't see past and it was frightening to say the least.

But even breathing was becoming hard when (Y/n) could feel her lungs pushing uncomfortably against her ribs ten times faster than usual. Her chest was heaving, her body was aching and none of her muscles were back under her control yet.

(Y/n) didn't even know where she was and the more she thought about what had happened, the worse her head started to ache because she didn't understand it. One moment she had been walking down the street aiming to get back to her hotel, the next moment an arm had secured around her waist and a cloth was smothered to her lips. When she awoke, every part of her was aching and she seemed to be laid on a sofa if she had guessed right. Unsure where she was, what was going to happen or why she was even taken in the first place.

She could tell that none of her limbs were tied up, her kidnapper had relied solely on the medication on the cloth that had knocked her out and the blindfold wrapped around her head to stop her from seeing anything if she woke too early. But (Y/n) couldn't move, her body was still asleep even if her mind was now awake meaning getting away was impossible right now.

"I can tell you're awake."

A small maon escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she tried to get her body to come back under her control, but the moment those words registered in her ears she could feel her blood running cold.

She knew that voice.

"W-whiskey." (Y/n)'s voice shook and her head spun as she felt waves of horror creeping up her spine causing her muscles to shiver. It was the man who had bought her a drink at the bar. The man she had spoken very few words to and shared a drink with before heading back to her table. The man who had left the restaurant way before she herself had done.

What on Earth had she done to him to make him want to kidnap her?

"I'm honoured you remember me, love."

(Y/n) could feel the whiskey man getting closer, she could feel the way he cut through the air ever so slowly like he was slowly piercing the atmosphere with a knife. And when she felt him leering over her a whimper escaped her lips that were numb from whatever had been pressed against them earlier to knock her out. He hadn't looked the most harmless man in the bar but he didn't give off the vibes of a kidnapper. (Y/n) didn't know him, she'd never seen him before in her life, what did he want with her?

When his fingers slowly trailed against her cheek and up to her hair (Y/n) wanted to cower back in fear but the most she could do was shift her shoulders a little.

She could feel his hand slowly brushing the loose strand of hair behind her ear before he slowly grabbed the material covering her eyes, pulling it away to reveal her tired eyes that were blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim light. (Y/n) almost jumped when her vision cleared enough for her to realise that the whiskey man was crouched down on his knees in front of her. A serene yet almost intrigued look on his face as he stared at her with his lips turned up at the corners.

(Y/n) tried to move her uncoordinated limbs and managed to press her right hand down on the sofa before pressing the back of her left hand down against the cushion to try and lift herself up. The whiskey man had laid her down on the sofa as if she had just fallen asleep and he had carried her here- wherever here was. He didn't tie her up or lock her somewhere or even dump her somewhere, he had taken time and care with her. And when (Y/n) tried to manoeuvre herself up, he even leaned and placed his arm under hers with his hand resting on her back to guide her up.

Ben didn't miss the way that (Y/n) flinched when he touched her and he didn't exactly know why he had let her live so long.

He brought her to a hotel that he knew had no security in the reception or in the corridors so he couldn't be seen or caught on camera. He had the room already set up and paid for in advance and simply told the man on reception that his wife had gotten drunk and he was carrying her back. The young man believed him, who wouldn't?

But Ben could have killed her by now.

He could have put a bullet in her or even a knife if he wanted to get creative and he could have left through the fire escape without anyone knowing. No one knew she was in this hotel, it wasn't booked in her name so they wouldn't know who she was and Ben had taken her purse and phone. It would be a mystery and he could have given her some peace by killing her whilst she was asleep. It would have been kinder.

But Ben just couldn't do it.

He brought her in here, laid her down, locked the door and closed the curtains. But when he thought about just killing her and leaving, something stopped him. He had spent at least twenty minutes or so just watching her sleep, wondering what was going through her mind and when she was going to wake up and beg him for mercy.

He didn't have a problem with killing her, there just seemed to be something about her that made him want to talk to her and make her beg before he eventually took her life from her.

"What... why am I here? I don't know you..." (Y/n)'s speech was slow and her words were slightly slurred from how delirious her mind seemed to be after being drugged. She didn't know where she was but she didn't even know why she was where she was, let alone why a stranger had taken her.

"No, but I know how you are, love. We're both here on business and very soon, that business will be finished."

(Y/n) couldn't help but whimper, unsure what kind of business this man wanted with her but she had a few grave ideas. But the moment her eyes set on his right hand, she felt like she was going to be sick. He had a gun in his hand with a silencer on the end. If she tried to scream he could shoot her and no one would be any the wiser. If she tried to escape then he could shoot her before she even got off the sofa and by the looks of things, he was going to shoot her regardless of whether she tried to get away or not.

She was dead no matter what she did.

"No... no p-please... why would you kill me?"

A pang of pain struck Ben in his heart as he watched the way her lips couldn't help but pull down at the corners and when the tears fell from her eyes Ben almost felt bad. But this wasn't personal, he didn't have a vendetta against her or hate her or want to hurt her just because he randomly picked her to be his next victim. This was calculated and decided by someone else, Ben was just the paid method to get rid of her. This had nothing to do with him.

"This isn't personal, darlin'. I'm afraid this is what I'm paid to do, your daddy decided it. Don't worry, you won't have to feel anything unless of course, you want to."

He could see it in her eyes. She was desperate to beg him to spare her, to lie to her father and tell him she was dead but secretly let her live. She would disappear, she would go far away if he would spare her life. But it was clear in his eyes that he wasn't going to let that happen. As he said, this wasn't personal, this was clearly a job for him and he seemed like the kind of man that didn't stop until the job was done. The whiskey man didn't care for her and therefore her pleas were going to fall on deaf ears because he wouldn't be fazed by her begs for mercy or he wouldn't have agreed to do this in the first place.

Ben watched in curiosity as (Y/n) moved her hands to rub her arms like she was trying to give herself a comforting hug before she died, knowing it was inevitable.

She wasn't like the rest of his victims, begging, pleading and sobbing loudly or trying to attack him and make their escape. Most of the time Ben killed from afar, he stalked like a predator then suddenly shot them in a dark alley or stabbed them. Some of the worse ones were the ones he dragged out, he tortured them before leaving them to die somewhere. But just recently he started talking to a few victims or letting them wake up like now before he killed them.

But none of his victims seemed to sit and accept their fate like she was. This one was special, she was smart.

Ben let his eyes wander down to the gun in his hands as he slowly stretched up until he was hovering over her, looming like the grim reaper ready to snatch her soul. He checked the bullets left in the gun knowing full well he had five rounds though he only needed one or two at the most if he felt cruel. He then twisted the end of the silencer to make sure it was properly fitted, not wanting to make a surprising sound and let anyone know what he was up to in here.

(Y/n) needed him to do it now and get it over with.

She couldn't handle waiting and watching like this, death was always something that scared her but she always thought it would be unexpected or hoped she would pass in her sleep. Knowing it was about to happen now made her skin crawl and sent her mind reeling and this whiskey man was just prolonging it even more.

But as she watched him click the safety off the gun, her heart rocketed in her chest and started to spasm achingly when he began to whistle a quiet tune like he was preparing himself for an audition rather than a killing.

Oh God no.

(Y/n) knew that tune, she knew that tune all too well. It was the tune she had had in her head since she could remember, it was her song. That tune was the song that belonged to (Y/n).

Everyone in the world had a soulmate somewhere out there. People say that they know their soulmate from the first glance or just by looking or talking to them. But the one definitive way of knowing your soulmate is the song. Everyone has a song in their mind that is their own, not a song from the radio that they choose, but a certain rhythm, a humming or a whistling song in their head that they share with one other person in the world. Their soulmate. They are the only two that know the tune.

The whiskey man was whistling (Y/n)'s tune.

The only way that he could know that tune was if he was her soulmate. But he was trying to kill her, why would he whistle that tune if he was trying to kill her? Who whistled or even thought of their song when killing someone? She was going to be murdered by her soulmate and no one was going to come to her aid or her rescue.

Did this man even believe in soulmates?

Ben's lips curved up into a rather sinister grin that made (Y/n)'s skin crawl but she whimpered when he turned the barell of the gun towards her, aiming it at her temple. He could feel a small wave of guilt washing over him but he knew it would be taken away with the tide soon enough. His whistling grew louder as he got ready to pull the trigger, knowing he would have a lot of cleaning and tidying up to do very soon.

"It won't hurt, love. I promise."

But Ben's hand shook and his arm suddenly recoiled to his chest in horror when he heard her response.

His eyes blew wide in his sockets when he heard the rhythm she was shakily humming against her chapped lips. Her wild, rabid eyes locked with his own as she started to hum a bit louder, showing how uneven and timid her voice actually was because this was her only chance at survival. Humming his own song back at him.

"How do you know that tune? How?!"

The words bellowed around the room, resonating back at Ben as he suddenly jerked his arm out and pushed the barell of the gun against (Y/n)'s temple. Hating the way she cried out and cowered back at the feeling but still tried to hum the tune to prove she wasn't copying him, she knew what tune he had started to whistle.

"I- it's my s-song." Her chest quaked and her whole body trembled like she was undergoing an electric current before she tried humming the ending of the tune to keep herself alive, at least for now.

What the Hell was he supposed to do?

Ben's job was to murder people for cash and get away with it. He had no morals or code or rules he lived by and he certainly had no partner or wife waiting at home for him because he couldn't have any weaknesses or strings attached to him.

But that was his tune. He recalled his mother telling him about how she met his father and despite what Ben did for a living, his home life had been a good one. He knew his parents had been in love and he knew that soulmates existed purely because of the way his parents had been when he was growing up. No one had loved or appreciated his mother more than his father did.

A soulmate was not what Ben was looking for, he simply assumed that whoever out there shared his song was someone that he would never find. He wasn't looking for them and he didn't need a soulmate in his life, his life was perfect as it was right now.

But she was here right in front of him, cowering away because he was about to snatch her life from her.

But he couldn't.

If he took her life right now, all Ben could think about was what he would have done if his father had taken his mother's life. What would have happened if his father had killed his mother at any one point in their relationship?

(Y/n) didn't ask to be his soulmate, maybe she wasn't even looking for her soulmate either. Ben couldn't do it. The one thing in life that he wanted to believe in and abide by was a soulmate, he didn't necessarily want his soulmate right now but he knew it was real and he believed it happened. He couldn't ruin that by killing his soulmate, (Y/n) did not choose to have her fate be entwined with a murderer. She didn't choose to have her soulmate be a brute who was about to kill her.

"You... fuck! Fuck!" His voice suddenly rocketed around the room before the gun was launched out of his hand and violently hit the wall opposite him. "Why?! Why did you have to have my song? Why did you have to fucking hum it? I could have killed you by now- I should have killed you by now!"

"Y-you would rather kill me... not knowing you killed your soulmate? You could have killed me i-if you hadn't of whistled our song."

It wasn't just his song, it was their song. They both shared it and (Y/n) didn't know if it would have been better if he killed her because he would have gone through the rest of his life wondering why he never met his soulmate. People didn't always end up with their soulmates, they got tired of waiting around and just settled with someone else or settled on their own and made a new life for themselves. Some people chose not to believe in it and others met their soulmate and were too stubborn to want to be with them. But everyone met them at one point in their lives and knew about it.

Ben would have been more confused if he went through the rest of his life and didn't meet his soulmate.

"But I can't fucking do it now! I can't... for fuck's sake! I can't tell my client I haven't killed you because it turns out your my shitting soulmate!"

"Then kill me!"

"I can't!"

Ben all but screamed the words back at (Y/n), knitting his hands into his shortened hair before he turned his back on her so he could try and gather himself and think it through. Ben couldn't bring himself to kill her now, not now he knew there actually was someone out there for him. A soulmate was different than just finding someone and falling in love. (Y/n) was his match, she was someone that would love him and take him as he was. She was his soulmate and therefore their fates were entwined, it meant that she would love him despite him being a hitman and murdering people for a living.

He didn't deserve love but now he had a chance at it and this was his one and only moral. He couldn't bring himself to kill her, it had been hard enough to convince himself to do it before but now it was impossible.

"I can't kill you now... as weird as it seems, I just can't do it. I've failed this job and now you'll go and leave me because I've tried to hurt you." Ben smoothed his hand over the back of his head and neck before he bent down on his knees in front of (Y/n). He didn't know how else to explain it and he was desperate for her to see this from his point of view but it was virtually impossible. He had kidnapped her, told her he was going to kill her and now he couldn't because their fates were entwined.

Ben could see it now that if he didn't kill her he would have to let her go and then he would lose her because he couldn't follow and stalk her for the rest of his life. It wouldn't be right. She would leave him and he would lose her all because he couldn't kill her.

"I don't- I can't leave you... I mean, your my soulmate too."

(Y/n) had her proof that this man wasn't going to kill her, he didn't have the mind-set or the courage or the will to do that. The worst he could do was be rude because he clearly didn't intend to hurt his soulmate which meant he had some very warped morals. (Y/n) believed in soulmates, she had been waiting for him and now he was here, albeit in the worst of circumstances. She wasn't just going to walk away from him yet.

"What do we do now?" As bad as this situation was, (Y/n) couldn't quite see where they went from here.

"Isn't it obvious? I was supposed to kill you but I can't do that... now I need to protect you instead."