#AND MAN ILL BE PULLING THE these are my Oc’s now CARD ALL DAY IF I HAVE TO!!!!!

[dehliman]

“Ghost is an asshole he hates Spooker,” “Ghost never puts up with Spooker,” I DONT WANT TO HEAR IT!!! 👹👹‼️‼️‼️👹👹‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️👹‼️‼️👹👹👹👹🥊

[queensoybean0724]

Succession Chapter 1 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fic

Here is chapter one of my new fanfic!

Title: Succession

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, OCs

Rating: PG-13 for language and intense scenes (for now, this is a slow burn, but it will get very hot and spicy in later chapters)

Summary: You discover a long lost relative from Moldova that you didn’t know existed has died and you are his sole beneficiary.  You are on board a plane to collect your inheritance when your plane crashes in a village in Romania.

Author’s Notes: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village.  This is a work of fiction.  Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

The music blasted from the car speakers as you drove down the main road towards the highway.  You had your phone plugged into your car stereo, your favorite Spotify playlist on shuffle.  Despite the A/C being on full blast, beads of sweat formed at your brow and rolled down your temple.  You adjusted the vents on either side of you, making sure the cold air directly hit your body.  The song that was playing had you tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, your head bopping to the beat.

The fridge at home was close to empty and it was beyond time for you to go grocery shopping.  The grocery list was secure in your purse and you were determined to stick to the items on the list and not make any frivolous purchases.  Money was tight and you only had so much money left before payday next week.

The song shut off suddenly followed by your ringtone.  Looking at the screen of your phone, UNKNOWN stared back at you. Probably a spam call, you thought to yourself, reaching to press the red Ignore button.  Unfortunately, your finger slid at the last minute and mistakenly tapped the Accept button. You watched as the call came through and the seconds ticked off.  FUCK!

“Hello?” you greeted with a hint of exasperation in your voice.

“Hello, am I speaking with Miss Y/N?” a heavily accented male voice responded.

“Yeah, this is she,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.  You tried your best to avoid these calls, ignoring them and letting them go straight to voicemail.  Very rarely was it followed with an actual message, which was more than fine with you.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Ron M. Dathermi.  I am a lawyer residing in Chisinau, Moldova in Eastern Europe…”

You raised your eyebrows at that.  Moldova?  Who the hell was calling you from Moldova?  Chalking it up to a scam, you were about to interrupt the man when he continued.

“...I wish I was calling under better circumstances, but I’m afraid I have some bad news.  Your great uncle, Serghei Popa, has passed away from a short illness and has named you his sole beneficiary…”

You couldn’t help the amused huff that came out of your mouth.  This must be some very elaborate scam.

“Umm...sorry, but I think you have the wrong person.  I don’t have family from Moldova and I have never heard of this man in my whole life.” You were about to hit the End button when Mr. Dathermi continued.

“Am I speaking with Y/N, born on (your birthday) to (your father and mother’s full names) and the granddaughter of (your grandfather and grandmother on both sides of your family)?”

Your eyes widened at that.  “Yeah, that’s me…” you answered.

“I know this may sound unusual, but Mr. Popa was the brother of your grandmother on your mother’s side.  He was given up for adoption at birth and taken in by a Moldovan family.  He did not have a spouse and had no children, and according to the genealogy report I have before me, your grandmother and your mother are both deceased.  Your mother was an only child, yes?  It appears to me that you are the last of his living relatives.”

You pulled off the road and into an empty parking lot.  The information you were being given was a lot to handle.  You didn’t have that large of a family.  You were an only child and raised by your parents and both sets of grandparents.  Both of your grandfathers had died before you turned 10.  Both grandmothers died within 5 years of each other and your father and mother died of illnesses, cancer and pneumonia respectively, in the last year.  Grief was a feeling that you knew better than anyone.  You kept to yourself mostly and you didn’t have any close friends or a significant other.

“Listen,” you began, “you are correct about all of your information, but how do I know this is not some kind of scam?”

The man on the other end of the phone cleared his throat and the sound of shuffling papers met your ears.  “I can imagine that this information is sudden and unusual.  What I will do is send a copy of his will and a copy of the genealogy papers to your address.  I encourage you to take this to your lawyer and have them look over the information.  The reason I am calling is because I need you to fly to Moldova, sign these papers, and accept the monetary inheritance that he has left you.”

Your jaw dropped as you looked down at your phone.  Fly to Moldova?  Is this true?  The only thing you knew about the country was that a foreign exchange student from high school was born and raised in Moldova.  That about sums up your knowledge of the country. This seemed incredibly asinine and ridiculous.  But the word that settled in your train of thought was “inheritance.” What inheritance?

“Mr...what was your name again?” you asked.

“Mr. Dathermi, but you can call me Ron,” the lawyer responded.

“Ron...umm, how much monetary inheritance are we talking about?”

More shuffling of papers was on the other side of the phone, Ron clicking his tongue as he looked through the information.  “He has left you 53,806,746 Moldovan Leu...which translates to $3,000,000 in American currency.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!?!” you exclaimed before clamping your lips shut.  You heard Ron chuckle.  “I’m sorry, pardon my language. It’s just...wow...this sounds insane…”

“I can imagine it does,” Ron replied, “which is why I want to mail this information to you and have your attorney take a look at it so you know this is a legitimate will and testament.  If you would like, I can mail the information straight to your attorney if you are still leery.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” you said, shaking your head.  Your mind was whirling.  None of this sounded remotely true.  You felt as if you were dreaming.  This felt like something that only happened in books and fairy tales...a girl who had nothing and nobody suddenly inheriting millions of dollars from an unknown distant relative.  What are the odds of something like this happening in real life?  You gave Ron Dathermi your home address.

“Thank you very much, Miss Y/N.  I will send this as soon as possible.  I’ll also include my business card so your attorney can contact me and we can iron out the details.  Thank you very much, Y/N...I’ll be in touch.”

You thanked him as well and ended the call.  All alone in your car in the empty parking lot, you let out an excited squeal and started hopping up and down.

*

You adjusted the messenger bag that was slung across your shoulder as you heard the overhead speaker call for the boarding of your flight.  Taking a deep breath, you got in line, extended your ticket to the airport employee, and walked down the tarmac and into the plane.

Butterflies were fluttering in your stomach.  Your hands gripped your bag tightly as the flight attendant looked at your boarding pass and pointed down the aisle to where you were to be seated.  You had never flown before and your nerves were on alert.  Scenes from Final Destination flashed in your head as you walked down the aisle towards your seat.  Taking a deep breath and willing your body to relax, you located your seat next to the window and sat down, plopping your bag onto your lap.  

The small window was close to the wing of the plane and looking beyond that was a long expanse of grass that met a vast forest.  You were thankful that you had the window seat and your headphones so you could tune everything out and relax in your own little world.

Once the papers from Mr. Dathermi arrived a week prior, you immediately called the attorney that helped you with the probate and will from your parents’ deaths several months back.  He was more than happy to help, knowing that you were all alone in the world after your parents had passed.  Two days later, he called to inform you that all of the paperwork was, in fact, legitimate and that Mr. Serghei Popa was the brother of your grandmother.  He showed you the adoption papers, confirming that your great uncle had been put up for adoption and the family that took him in had relocated to Moldova when he was two years old.  He had remained in the country until his death.  Your attorney contacted Mr. Dathermi, who in turn secured a round trip plane ticket in order for you to come to Moldova to finalize the paperwork and collect the inheritance.

At the thought of the money you were about to acquire, another surge of excitement flowed through you.  Your parents hadn’t left you much after their death and you worked at a dead-end job that had no room for advancement and no possibility for raises.  All of these recent events sounded like something out of a fairy tale.

“This is your captain speaking,” the voice sounded from the speaker above your head, “we will be departing in the next ten minutes.  Please make sure your seatbelts are secured, your tray tables are up, and all electronics are off until we are at the appropriate cruising altitude.  I will inform everyone as soon as the coast is clear.  Thank you for flying with us and enjoy the ride.”

You fastened your seatbelt and laid your head back, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Don’t be nervous…” a voice sounded next to you.  You opened your eyes and looked over to see an older gentleman with wide rimmed glasses and a nice smile.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked, returning his smile.

“It’s pretty obvious,” he chuckled, “my name is Bruce Williams.  I’m the air marshal on board this flight.” You told him your name and shook his hand. “Just relax,” he assured, “we’ll be flying for the next 10 hours.  There are lots of movies and tv shows to watch on the screen in front of you, or you can listen to your music and read a book if you brought one.”

You patted your messenger bag.  “Yeah, I have a few books to choose from.  Thanks,” you smiled.

Within minutes, the plane had backed away from the tarmac, turned towards the long expanse of runway, and increased speed before leaving the ground and soaring up into the clouds.

*

The steady hum of the plane’s engines provided a relaxed soundtrack as you slept.  It was close to early morning, according to the clock on the tv screen, but your watch was still on your regular time zone.  It read early afternoon and that threw you through a loop.  You had heard that jet lag could be a bitch and you wondered how bad yours would be once you landed.  Bruce had passed you a pillow and blanket once you were ready to sleep and he assured you that your bag and belongings would be safe while you slept.

You were so thankful to be seated next to him.  Not only was he the air marshal, but he was a really cool person as well.  You two talked about movies and actually watched a couple of them on the tv screen in front of you.  Bruce was kind and nice to talk to.  The crinkle of crow’s feet around his eyes, his laugh, and his hair color mixed with hints of gray reminded you of your father...maybe that’s why you liked him so much.

You shifted in your seat and let out a soft yawn.  Stretching your arms above your head and arching your back, you wondered how much longer it would be until you touched down in Moldova.

“You weren’t asleep that long,” Bruce murmured.  You looked over to see a book in his hand and his glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom and then go back to sleep,” you replied, standing from your seat.  Bruce stood up and allowed you out into the aisle.  You made your way to the bathroom towards the back of the plane.  The cabin was dark with little lights dotting either side of the aisle on the floor. Soft lights were shining here and there from people reading, watching the tv screen, or messing with their phones while most of the passengers were asleep.

Once in the bathroom, you did your business, flushed the toilet, and began washing your hands.  The mirror in front of you showed a tired and weary version of yourself.  Some of your eye makeup was smudged.  You told yourself once  you returned back to your seat, you’d retrieve the makeup remover wipes in your bag and do away with the dirt and oil.

Just then the plane hit an air pocket and dropped several feet, throwing  you forward towards the sink and mirror.  You let out a shriek as the plane quieted and went still.  “God dammit,” you muttered, putting your hand over your heart, “that scared the shit out of me!”

Once out of the bathroom, you slammed the door shut and walked back to your seat.  You tapped Bruce on the shoulder and he moved aside.

You lifted the window shade and looked outside.  Natural light from the start of the day began to show.  The plane was amongst the clouds so it was fairly cloudy and hard to see.

“How much farther do we have?” you asked Bruce.  He shifted the book to his left hand and looked down at his wristwatch.  “We should be there in three hours.  I think we are flying over Romania right now…”

You nodded your head and thanked him, turning back to the window.  The clouds gave way momentarily and provided the opportunity to see the ground below.  Tall, snowy mountains came into view.  You smiled and marveled at their beauty, wondering what mountain range this was.  You cursed yourself for forgetting the basics from your World Geography class in high school.  Hell, all you knew about Romania was that it was the setting for Dracula and the real life territory that was once owned by Elizabeth Bathory, who allegedly killed upwards of 650 maidens and bathed in their blood.  You shook your head and smiled to yourself.  You really did enjoy some morbid and fucked up stories.

Your train of thought stopped short when a large and spacious castle came into view.  Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped.  It looked like something out of a Disney movie or from ancient castles that still sat throughout Europe.  The place looked like it stood on several acres of land and who knows how many square feet.  What a gorgeous and breathtaking place it was.  You wondered just what was inside a monstrosity like that and who was lucky enough to inhabit such a place.  Maybe there were castles in Moldova that you could explore and visit while you’re conducting your business.

The castle fell out of view and not far from it stood what looked like a village.  You were too high up to see any people or any traces of lights or torches.  You took everything in with total awe and appreciation.  It looked like a small and sleepy storybook town.

A sudden movement close to the village caught your attention.  You squinted your eyes and tried to look closer, pressing your forehead to the window.  What the fuck is that, you wondered.  It looked like a black tree, naked of leaves or any type of growth...and it was moving.  It looked to be swaying in the breeze, but the size of it looked way too sturdy for any kind of gust to move it with such fluidity.  As you focused on the tree, it appeared to be growing...getting closer to the plane.  Was the plane descending?  Were you getting closer to Moldova?

One of the branches of the tree slowly drifted to the ground before extending long and rigid, slinging itself up into the air like a bullwhip, hitting the wing of the plane.  The plane suddenly tilted as the slithering limb wrapped around the wing and broke it off.  You let out a loud scream as the plane turned on its side, Bruce falling against you, squishing you to the wall.  “WHAT THE FUCK??” Bruce screamed as yelps, shrieks, and screams echoed in the cabin of the plane.  Dozens of people were knocked from their seats, flight attendants falling into the aisle and rolling towards the cockpit.  The plane shook and quaked as it dropped several feet in a matter of seconds.

“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!” you screamed, grabbing hold of Bruce’s arm.  The air masks dropped from overhead and Bruce grabbed yours, making quick work of putting it over your face.  “HOLD ON TO IT! HOLD IT OVER YOUR MOUTH, Y/N!!” he commanded, reaching for his own mask.

“THE WING OF THE PLANE HAS BEEN DAMAGED!” the pilot yelled from over the speakers, “WE ARE LOSING ALTITUDE! BRACE FOR IMPACT!”  People screamed and panicked, holding on to whatever it was they could.  Panic surged through your body as your fingers dug into Bruce’s arm.  The plane shook as it fell.  Your stomach dropped and it felt as if you were seconds from impact.  You looked out the window one last time before the ground came into view and everything went black.

*

He leaned over the body on the metal table in the lab of his factory.  He fastened the bolts with a wrench and tested the strength of the metal against the rotting flesh.  A soft horn sounded in the distance along with the various turns of chains and clangs of steel against steel.  He wiped the sweat off his brow and walked to his desk, looking over the blueprints and sketches he had devised the previous day.

Despite the different array of sounds, nothing could mask the loud crash that sounded off in the distance.  He lifted his head, silently trying to figure out what the fuck made that noise.  Leaving the body laying on the table, he exited his lab and made his way down the stairs and to the factory doors.  

With a grunt, he slid the doors aside and looked off into the distance.  Black smoke billowed from an area that looked to be close to the village.  Other than the crows squawking and flapping their wings in retreat, everything was dead quiet.  He looked off to the right just in time to see the long, spindly limbs of mold retreating back towards the earth.  Karl Heisenberg’s face tightened in a disgusted grimace.

“Mother Miranda...what have you done?”

[ohallows]

how is our flag means death? I see everyone talking about it and it looks great but I'm a bit uncomfortable with RPF and I'm worried it will feel awkward since Stede Bonnet and Edward Teach were real people :/

so, as someone who is also wildly uncomfortable with RPF - its basically a similar level of 'rpf' as something like black sails or hamilton, you know? so if those made you wildly uncomfy for rpf-specific reasons as opposed to content (or fandom....) reasons, you might have the same reaction to ofmd. hamilton i think is a bit worse - it sticks pretty closely to the historical side of historical fiction, whereas black sails (based on my limited knowledge of piracy in the 1700s) and our flag means death definitely hew closer to the fictional side of historical fiction, if that makes sense. which is great for kinda.. tempering the issues i have with rpf.

genuinely, my main discomfort with stuff focusing on real people has to do with people who are alive now, or who were alive more recently. like, if there was a show in progress about [spins wheel] obama and [pulls a card] harry styles falling in love, i would be SO uncomfortable with it (and, i think, rightly so). but there's a certain level of disconnect with watching a show about a real person from the 1700s, where historical records can only do so much, that makes it feel MUCH less weird, and i was able to get through black sails and ofmd with zero discomfort whatsoever related to rpf stuff!

with ofmd as well, i think both ed and stede (and izzy, i suppose) are very much so... vague allusions to who they were in real life. based on what i do know about him, i dont think the irl stede bonnet was a dandy fancyboy who just wanted to be kind all the time and used a 'people positive management style' with his crew, and blackbeard was definitely not a polynesian jewish man w heart eyes who decided to give it all up for an aristocrat he met on the high seas who, frankly, sucked shit irl.

(israel hands may have been a horny little freak irl, but i don't want to know. thats his business.)

there's also a specific level of handwaving in ofmd that makes it feel more baked in fiction than anything real - the characters are able to row across entire oceans (i guess????) in fucking canoes, there seems to be fast travel implemented based on how quickly they move around, and it very much so is 'oh this is convenient for the plot but doesnt make sense at all? put it in' which i actually found really enjoyable. (genuinely, there's a scene in which stede sails IN A DINGHY on THE OPEN OCEAN to a remote island with ZERO knowledge as to where the island is OR why he should be going there. but he shows up in a day. the show truly said we dont care and i love that for them.)

also, when i was watching ofmd (and black sails, which i know you didn't ask about but i WILL plug anyway), it was very easy to sort of... forget that they were real people and just enjoy the characters and the story! i think david jenkins (+ the other writers) do a really good job of sort of. taking the people's names and making them into characters of their own.

sorry this got long im rambly. yes ofmd is basically rpf, but the show itself feels so removed from the real blackbeard and stede bonnet that it's very easy to ignore that stuff.

honestly, give it a try! the show is an absolute delight and might genuinely be one of my faves of the year (yes its only march i am still confident in this). the discomfort about rpf is incredibly valid and i'm in the same boat as you (pirates, boat, get it), but our flag means death didn't kick up any of that for me, and i've watched the show three times now bc i am mentally ill. i would really recommend you give it a chance, and then if it does feel uncomfortable, you can always stop watching or just enjoy the supporting cast, which are basically all ocs there to be gay and cause problems.

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Eight: Mad to Live, Mad to Talk

The eighth instalment of my Chishiya x OC/reader fic - you can find it here on AO3 too. 

Thank you to the people who always leave likes and comments, seeing/reading them honestly makes my day :) xx

As for what I mentioned in my last update, I’ll add the references as a chapter at the end of the fic (because some of them will give away spoilers!)

Speaking of spoilers, you guys probably connected some dots (a la hoodie)

Sorry, I'll stop talking - enjoy!

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

The drawl of his voice stretched like a lifeline, pulling me back to myself. Back to the bar.

Chishiya was slouched against the counter, idly watching the scene before him. His eyes dropped to the gun, before rising to meet mine. There was nothing in them, not amusement, not even cruelty. Nothing. They were emptier and darker than they’d ever been. And yet at that moment, I had never been more overjoyed to see him.

‘You should probably put that thing away,’ he said. ‘Hatter won’t be too happy if you start messing with her. He’s got high expectations of her.’

The man pushed the gun further into my skin, sending bursts of anxiety through me. I didn’t want him to pull the trigger accidentally. If he shot me in the stomach, it’d be a slow, painful death.

‘You know Chishiya, I’m pretty sick of you interfering all the time. You should stay out of militant business.’

Chishiya eyed the man with disinterest. ‘Militant business. It’s fascinating what you guys do. You take out the trash and dish out the sentence, but you never check the evidence.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’ the man snarled. ‘Just shut up and stay out of this.’

‘What I’m saying is that you never bother checking to see if the ‘traitors’ are actually traitors. It’s surprisingly easy to slip a few cards into someone else’s room.’

The tension peaked, and I winced as the fingers around my wrist tightened painfully. Then just as quickly, he released me. He hissed a spew of threats in Chishiya’s face, then stormed off. I hadn’t understood a word, but either way, Chishiya was completely unbothered.

Now that we were alone, he barely even spared me a glance. I half-wondered why he was here. He wouldn’t have come to the bar just to help me. But I also couldn’t picture him as a drunk. As if to answer all the questions floating around in my head, Chishiya signalled to the bartender and said two words.

‘お水をください’ Water, please.

Knowing him, he’d say that alcohol clouds your mind and dulls your rational thinking skills. The bartender set the glass on the counter, but Chishiya didn’t walk away, but sipped his water.

‘Thanks,’ I muttered, although helping me was likely never on his agenda. ‘I’m guessing stuff like that’s pretty common around here.’

‘Well, there are only three rules,’ he said. With one side glance, he zeroed in on the hoodie Kuina had given me. ‘Right now, you’re not allowed to go roaming the city alone because you’re still new, and that makes you a liability. But the next time you’re in a game, you’ll be paired with one of the executives, or someone else with a high rank. If you ask, they’ll go with you to find new clothes.’

I didn’t know how he knew the hoodie wasn’t mine. But I had given up trying to figure out how Chishiya’s mind works.

Before I could ask, he spoke, catching me off guard once again. ‘Come on, Kuina’s waiting for us.’

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

That night, I had found out that Kuina and Chishiya were actually friends. Sort of. It was hard to tell. They hung around together and joked like friends, but instinctively I could tell that Kuina didn’t completely trust him. The days passed quickly, and despite the obvious tension between the militants and the other executives, I found myself actually enjoying it. It was hard not to, with hot water and all.

I spent my days pestering Chishiya to teach me Japanese properly (which he never did). And Kuina and I would chat about the real world. She told me about her mother’s sickness, and how she was desperate to get back to the old world so she could look after her properly. But when she asked about my own life, I filtered a lot of things out. I explained how I was visiting Japan with my brother, and how I had been trying to learn Japanese on and off for a few years just so that I could visit. But when it came to my personal life, I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about it.

‘話せば長くなる,’ I told her. It’s a long story.

The days seemed to dry up under the heat of the sun, and sure enough, my visa was due to expire.

Sitting cross-legged on my bed under the late afternoon rays, I couldn’t help but feel apprehensive after my last game… my first Hearts game… meeting Niragi and Aguni… the laser tag guns… the ball pit… the teenage girl. It had all collected into one big mass, and my throat tightened at the thought of the blood, the darkness.

No, I tried to tell myself. It’s different now. We’ll be put into teams, and I won’t be alone. We’ll clear the games together.

With slightly more resolve than before, I climbed off the bed and quietly left my room, only my stomach dropped when I saw the nasty surprise waiting for me on the other side of the door.

Niragi was leaning against the opposite wall, and the moment I exited, he shot me a grin. I had no idea what he was doing there, probably militant business, so I nodded at him in acknowledgement, then headed down the hall. I knew something was seriously wrong when I heard his footsteps stalking behind me.

‘Niragi,’ I greeted him.

‘Shorty,’ he replied, now walking beside me. ‘You really shouldn’t ignore people, you know. It’s rude as fuck.’

What does he want with me of all people?

‘私を待っているとは知らなかった,’ I told him honestly. I didn’t know you were waiting for me.

‘Ch, as if. I waited there for half an hour. Where the hell are you off to anyway?’

I held out my bandaged arm. ‘これがまだ痛い。だから医療室ではアンに会う.’ This still hurts, so I’m meeting An in the medical room.

Overall, it had healed pretty well. But after the laser tag game, and being kidnapped by militants, the wound had partially re-opened again.

‘I’ll go with you.’

Why??

My gut instinct was telling me to run away, far away.

We turned a corner, stopping in front of the elevators. When the doors pinged open, the group of girls inside immediately stopped talking once they laid eyes on us. They darted out of the elevator, leaving it empty for Niragi and I to enter. I tried not to feel nervous around him. If he wanted me dead, he’d have just shot me already, so it couldn’t be that.

‘どうして待っていた?’ I asked, slowly. How come you were waiting?

Asking Niragi questions felt like a life-or-death situation. Last time I was rude to him he kicked me in the spine. The man was like a loaded gun; he had to be handled with care.

However, he didn’t reply, and the lingered between us until the elevator stopped at the basement floor. We headed down a long, dark hallway, with exposed cables and pipes suspended from the ceiling. This was starting to feel like a really, really bad idea. Seeing the medical room door, I sped up instinctively, but Niragi’s hand grabbed my shoulder, pulling me back and yanking me around. The movement sent shooting pains down through my injured arm.

‘Chishiya,’ Niragi said, eyes glinting with malice. ‘You’ve become pretty chummy with him recently.’

Wait… what?

‘That’s not…’ I hated the way my voice stuttered. ‘そうじゃない.’ That’s not it….

He clearly wasn’t buying it. ‘Tell me what he’s up to. He’s an arrogant little shit and I know he’s up to something.’

Niragi’s grip was too tight, way too tight, and I could barely think straight through the pain. ‘違うよ,’ I insisted. You’re wrong.

‘Am I? I don’t think so, Shorty. You’d better tell me now before I put a bullet in you.’

I didn’t know whether I was scared or annoyed. My heart hammered in my chest, but I was getting pretty sick of his ridiculous questions. I tore away from his hold, inspecting the sleeve for any spots of blood that could’ve seeped through.

‘Stop doing that! クイナのパーカーを台無しにしたくない.’ I don’t want to ruin Kuina’s hoodie.

His brow furrowed a little at this, but I ignored it. Someone like him probably didn’t care about getting blood on his clothes.

I didn’t know how to say what I meant in Japanese, so all I could do was tell him in English. ‘You’re right about one thing. Chishiya’s awful. But you’re wrong about everything else. He can’t stand the sight of me, except when he’s watching me suffer. So even if he did have some kind of plan hatched up, he wouldn’t bother telling me.’

Niragi pulled away and stood up fully. Despite his visible irritation, he was listening all the same.

Perhaps he knows a little bit of the language?

‘And even then,’ I continued, ‘if he was planning something, why would he bother? You know as well as anyone he’s just in this for his own survival and being here at the Beach is his best shot. It wouldn’t make sense.’

A dangerous look worked its way onto his features. I thought right then and there that he’d attack me, kick me with his boot like he’d done before. But he did the exact opposite. With one hand, he twirled his fingers in a strand of my hair, before softly tucking it behind my ear.

I held my breath as he leaned in. ‘Everything you just said,’ he whispered, ‘is complete bullshit.’

Then pulling away quicker than I could flinch, he readjusted his rifle on his shoulder and took off back down the hall. Then he suddenly stopped, as if remembering something, and looked at me over his shoulder.

‘That hoodie you’re wearing… it’s Chishiya’s.’

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

I must’ve looked like I’d seen a ghost, because when I finally entered the medical room, An immediately asked me if I was feeling ill. I tried telling her that I was perfectly fine, but she insisted on taking a bunch of tests to make sure I wasn’t going into septic shock. I couldn’t tell her that it was closer to actual shock.

Even when I finally left the medical room, I still couldn’t shake it off. Except now, the surprise had worn away, leaving sheer humiliation in its place.

Did Kuina steal it from his room?  

When he met me at the bar, he must’ve seen it and wondered where I’d gotten it from. And when he had mentioned asking one of the executives to go shopping with me… he had probably assumed I’d been in his room and taken it.

Oh god…

I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. I wanted to scream and tell him I’m sorry. I wanted to rip the hoodie off and push it as far away from me as I could. But I couldn’t. I still didn’t feel comfortable being so exposed.

‘It’s fine,’ I tried to convince myself, ‘everything’s fine.’ I got into the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor.

My visa’s due to expire tonight, so I can get a new one for myself. I’ll just explain everything to him. It’s almost game time anyway, so he might be in the lobby.

As the elevator doors opened, I wiped any tears away with my hands, careful not to dirty the sleeves, and headed to the lobby. It was packed with Beach residents, either wishing their friends luck or preparing for the games ahead. I found the little table at the front and took the slip of paper with my name on it.

Group Two.

Then I stepped back, leaning against the wall as my eyes searched the crowds. Sure enough, I spotted a white hood, the thin tendrils of grey-blond hair visible beneath. I waited until he took his slip of paper before I stepped forward.

But there was no need. His eyes locked onto mine from across the room, as if he had clocked onto my presence immediately without showing it. He trudged through the masses, coming to a stop in front of me. I couldn’t help but rub my arms nervously.

‘I’m sorry,’ I blurted out, ‘Kuina gave me this hoodie, and I assumed it was hers and that she was letting me use it. But I just found out from Niragi that it’s actually yours. I didn’t steal it or anything, and I’ve definitely never been in your room. I’m so sorry, I had no idea.’

Chishiya didn’t seem surprised at all, or if he was, he was an expert at hiding it. ‘I know,’ he said, at last. ‘You couldn’t have known where my room was anyway.’

Thinking about it, he had a point. When I started wearing this, I hadn’t even left my own room, so I couldn’t have been in Chishiya’s.

‘I guess you’re right.’

I felt his warmth against my side as he leaned on the wall next to be me. ‘But what I told you at the bar that night still stands,’ he said. ‘Tonight, you’ll get the chance to go looking for any clothes or personal items you want.’

‘Once I get some of my own clothes, I’ll wash this and give it back to you, I promise’ I told him. ‘I just need to find out who the executive in my group is.’

‘It’s me.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because the executives create the groups,’ he said. ‘And I happen to be supervising you. Normally, when a new member arrives, we do an aptitude test. We observe them in a game to test their abilities, but I’ve already vouched for your abilities, and there were only two executives with an expiring visa.’

‘That’s….’ I trailed off, then something clicked. ‘Wait, who was the other executive?’

Ignoring my question, he went on. ‘Since I’ve already seen your abilities, your only test will be to survive. If you can do that, I’ll go with you to get whatever supplies you need.’

I tried to keep the smile from my face, but I couldn’t hold it back. ‘Sounds like a deal.’

‘Time for the games!’ a voice called out, excitedly, and the whole room erupted into cheers. The masses of Beach members piled through the doors, trying to find their assigned cars and groups.

At the same time, I hadn’t moved at all. I couldn’t keep my eyes from Chishiya’s. He was looking back into mine with that same calculating emptiness. I could see the cogs turning, but I didn’t know what they were turning for.

Then as quickly as it happened, the moment was gone as he left, disappearing into the crowd.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 12: Fairy Tale Of New York

Part 1- Gram Mo Chroi

Summary: In the run up to the Festive Period, Katie presents the Publishing Company proposal to the Stark Industries board, and our favourite couple spend their first Christmas together in New York. New Year’s Eve is welcomed in with a bang at a Stark Industries Gala and Steve’s simply happy he has his girl by his side…even when there’s a little mishap in The Elevator

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: SMUT (NSFW!) So over 18s only please. And some teeth rotting fluff… and LANGUAGE

A/N: Once again thanks to @angrybirdcr​ for her GORGEOUS edit

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 11

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

December 2013

Steve loved his girl. He would die for her if he had to, without a second thought. But the one thing he dreaded above everything was the thought of shopping, not least as it was the middle of December. Frankly, when she was shopping for herself Katie was a nightmare. Not on purpose, she was just so indecisive about whatever she was looking for, insisting that things made her look too wide hipped, short, big assed, big chested (which he’d told her cheekily wasn’t the clothes fault she had good assets which had earned him a slap around the back of the head). It was ridiculous, she was ridiculous, and he had no idea why she was so insecure as frankly she was gorgeous and would stop a room if she walked in wearing a sack.

“You don’t need to come!” She chuckled at him, shoving on her jacket. “I know I’m a pain in the ass and it’ll take me ages, plus it will be busy as it’s nearly Christmas.” “You sure?”

“Yeah.” She smiled, dropping her arms round his shoulders from behind the sofa, her hands coming to rest on his chest. “I just need a break from that damned proposal and to be honest, I only make you come so you can carry my bags.” “Nice to see I have my uses” He snorted sarcastically, rolling his head round so he could catch her lips.

“Well it makes me feel special.” She shrugged as she straightened up.

And damned it, after she’d said that, how could he not go?

“You know what, its fine. I’ll come. Give me a second.” He gave a slight sigh or resignation, and when he glanced at her he noticed her turn around with a smirk on her face and he knew then he’d been played, well and truly.

“You’re so full of shit.” He shook his head as she laughed whilst he went to retrieve his boots.

Two hours later he was beginning to regret his utter lack of ability to resist her charms. She was still flapping about her New Year’s Eve outfit for the Stark Industries Ball, worse than she normally did Steve noted. Six dresses she had tried on. Six, and she hated every one. Deciding enough was enough, instead of letting her walk into the next shop he’d tugged her hand, his strength easily keeping her from following her intended path and pulled her up the escalator to the fancy, pretentious champagne bar that was placed on the floor overlooking the lower floors of the City Centre mall.

“Why can’t I find anything that looks good?” She muttered as he slid a glass of Bollinger over to her, handing his card to the bar tender.

“Katie, stop it.” He looked at her where she was perched next to him at the bar. “All of them looked great.” “You’d say that no matter what.” She looked at him, and she couldn’t help but smile at the affection on his face.

“Because it’s true.” He smirked taking a pull of his beer “But if you want my opinion the red one was my favourite.” And it was. It was a scarlet colour, straight cut satin number, which clung to every delectable curve of her body, flashing a peep of leg through the thigh high split on the right hand side, not to mention the neckline and back. It was a halter-neck with a cowl at the front giving a subtle flash of cleavage and left her upper back was bare. It was demure enough to keep most of what was underneath it to the imagination, yet also flashed enough skin to make him feel slightly warm every time he looked at her. When he’d seen her walk out of the changing room it, it had almost made his mouth water, and it had definitely made his trousers feel tighter

“The Galliano one?”

“If that was the red one then yeah.” He laughed. “Come on, Doll, like I’m gonna know that!”

She grinned as he looked up and thanked the bar tender, signing his name on the check with a flourish. He didn’t even look at how ludicrously expensive the champagne and his fancy European lager was. He didn’t care, he earned enough from SHIELD to treat his girl every once in a while. In fact, as he watched her lost in thoughts, he decided then he wanted to buy her the dress too.

“Let me buy it for you.” He said softly.

“What?” She frowned “Don’t be stupid, not like I can’t afford it.” “That isn’t the point.” He sighed, rolling his eyes at her stubbornness. “I’d like to.” She eyed him for a moment before she smiled and reached out to gently brush his cheek with her hand “Okay. Thank you.” Well that had been easier than he had anticipated. Normally she argued like hell about paying for things, be it takeout, food, meals, dates. Instead, she leaned over to give him a soft peck on the lips and he smiled back. But then another frown creased her brow and she was back to brooding again.

“Sweetheart, what is it?” He asked, his hand landing on her knee.

Katie looked up at him, before she sighed. “I’m nervous.” “About the pitch?”

She nodded. And she was. She had been working on the Presentation and Business Plan for the Publishers since Thanksgiving. The Business Plan had been submitted to the board two days ago, and she was due to give the Presentation tomorrow morning. She had hoped that shopping for a new power suit and a dress for New Year’s would distract her for a few hours. It hadn’t.

“Doll, you’ve been working on it for weeks. Pepper says it’s great, even Tony didn’t find anything to pick holes in.”

“I just, well I want everyone to vote on it because it’s a good idea, not just because of who I am, you know?” “And they will. Honestly, you’re over thinking and over worrying. You’re going to smash it.”

He watched as a small smile tugged at her lips “You and your sudden obsession with street lingo.”

“What?” He frowned, mock annoyance on his face “Can’t Captain America be down with the kids?” “Okay, I never want to hear you say that, ever again.” she chuckled and he grinned. “Oh, but speaking of Kids…are you gonna make the Foundation Party?”

Steve took a deep breath. The Stark Foundation apparently hosted a yearly Christmas Party at the tower for local children who were either ill or in the care system. Last year’s hadn’t gone ahead on account of Tony’s near mental breakdown-slash-terrorist problem but this year they were full steam ahead. Tony would be there in his Iron Man get up, Katie as well (she loved everything about the party) and she’d asked Steve if he would mind coming along. And he didn’t mind per-se, it was just the idea of 50 kids running around that invited utter chaos.

“I’m gonna try, Sweetheart. As long as there’s no missions that go off I’ll be there.”

“Well don’t worry if you can’t” she said, smiling “We’re not telling the kids you are anyway, so if you turn up it will be like Santa himself has arrived. Only in a different suit. And with a shield not a sack.”

Steve let out a chortle before he dropped a kiss to her head “Ok Cinderella, let’s go get your dress then we can go home, eat junk and watch trash.”

“You know how to spoil a lady.” Katie smirked, and Steve flashed her a grin, not least because he knew it was her favourite thing to do in the world.

***** Katie took a deep breath as she sat in Pepper’s office. She’d landed in New York little over an hour ago and was now nervous as hell. Really nervous. Steve had assured her she would be fine as he had dropped her at the airfield to catch the jet over. He had assured her she would be fine when he kissed her goodbye. He had assured her she would be fine when she landed and received his text message. And all that amounted to was the fact she now thought Steve was an optimistic fool because she was not fine. She was shitting herself.

“You ready?” Pepper asked as she walked into her office, effortlessly business-like but graceful as always.

“No.” Katie said honestly, looking up from where she had been sat reading over her cue cards again.

“Well, we’re about to start.” she smiled “I put you on first so you can concentrate on the rest of the board meeting once you’ve pitched.” Katie nodded and stood up, smoothing down her pencil skirt. “Ok, let’s get it over with.” She followed Pepper down to the Boardroom and stepped inside where one of the Interns was setting up the screen to the right. She smiled at the other members of the Board, all who she knew by name and took a seat to the right of Tony who held the head of the table, Pepper sitting opposite her to his left.

“You got this Kiddo.” Tony leaned over to whisper in her ear before he sat up “Alright Ladies and Gents, the last Board meeting of 2013…”

Katie listened as Tony spoke and then Pepper outlined the agenda and then way too fast she was being invited to speak. She stood up, cleared her throat, looked at the Presentation, to her cards and then froze before she smiled gently.

“You know what…” She said, looking round “I had a huge, posh presentation prepared but I know you’ve read all the statistics and the numbers” she took a deep breath and tossed her cue cards down on the table “So I’m gonna speak from my heart and share my vision…or in Tony’s words, I’m winging it….” Tony leaned back in his chair and watched as his sister held the room, occasionally glancing at Pepper who was smiling proudly. Katie spoke articulately, clearly but most of all passionately. He could tell that most of the board members were with her, the only one that was going to be an ass-hat about it was Jeremy Saul, their Finance Director. He had been the only one that had questioned the viability of Katie’s desire to go for un-published, un-known authors. Her proposal and vision wasn’t about making as much profit as possible, it was about encouraging talent.

“I just have one question…” Jeremy leaned back in his chair and Tony sat up, stroking his beard as he looked at the man who was staring up at his sister. Katie turned her gaze to him.

“By all means, please Mr Saul.” 

Arse-Saul more like… “I’ve read the business plan. You don’t intend to turn a profit for the first year…” He continued, an annoyingly smug look on his face. “And even after that you don’t seem to be focussed on any kind of margins or return on sales whatsoever.” “That’s correct.” Katie nodded.

“Well, forgive me for asking but what benefit will this bring to Stark Industries from a money perspective?” Katie took a deep breath, and glanced at Tony who had arched his eyebrow. She could tell he was thinking the same thing as her - ‘Dickhead’.

“The same benefit the Stark Relief Fund brings. The same benefit the Stark Foundation brings.” Katie replied, taking a deep breath “I’m not going to lie, my vision isn’t about profiteering. It’s about giving a springboard to those Authors who, like JK Rowling have had every door so far slammed in their faces.” she looked around the room remembering Peppers’ advice- Enthuse, engage, engross. “Granted, in the future it would be nice to have a decent turn over, and I don’t want to run at a loss. I’m a firm believer I can make it breakeven in the first two years as the numbers show, and the remaining three on the five year plan show a return on sales of just over five percent.”

“That isn’t a huge amount.” Saul looked at Katie and she nodded.

“You’re right, it isn’t. But you know as well as I do that Stark Industries turns over a ludicrous amount of money every year so it doesn’t need another section which turns over profits in excess of thirty percent. That isn’t my vision here, and that’s not what setting up Stark Independent Publishing is about.”

Saul nodded and scribbled down something on his note pad and looked to Pepper who was leading the meeting to show he had no more questions.

Katie took a deep breath, thanked everyone for their time and sat down.

“Okay, let’s take a break.” Pepper said, glancing around the room “Grab a coffee, back here in ten minutes for the Contract Status review.” she shot Katie a large smile as she stood up and walked out of the large Oak doors.

“Kiddo.” Tony leaned over as the various board members started to move about and chatter amongst themselves “You crushed it.”

Katie smiled at her brother as he squeezed her shoulder before standing up and shrugging on his jacket.

“Think that calls for a drink…hey, Pepper, can we…”

His voice trailed off as the boardroom door shut, leaving Katie alone. Leaning back in her chair she allowed herself a smile. That hadn’t gone too bad after all.

*****

Steve looked over to where his phone was placed on the bench by the side of the gym for what felt like the one hundredth time since midday. The meeting should be over by now.

“Expecting a call?” Natasha drawled as she sent a right hook his way which he dodged.

“It’s Katie’s pitch today.” He jabbed back with a forearm throw which Natasha easily twirled under. “I thought it would be done by now.” In all honesty he wasn’t nervous. He knew she’d got this, the passion and the detail she’d put into it made it impossible for her not to. He’d told her as much when she’d zipped up that delectable grey pencil skirt over dark black tights and shrugged on a silky black blouse that morning after her shower. He’d told her as much when he’d kissed her goodbye at the air field.

But he still wanted to know she was okay.

“Oh, the Publishing thing?” Nat asked and Steve nodded as they circled on another. “She’s a Stark, what she gotta pitch for?”

“There’s an entire board.” Steve said. “She can’t vote on it as it’s a conflict of interest. So even if Tony votes, it isn’t enough to hold a true majority. She needs them both onside.” “Huh.” Nat said, “No wonder you’re distracted.” “I’m not…” he began but in a swoop Natasha had his legs from under him, knee pressed against his throat, a shit eating grin spread across her face as he rolled his eyes.

“Wanna finish that sentence?” She smirked.

He took a deep breath as she stood up and then his phone began to ring. He effortlessly rolled out of Natasha’s light hold and crossed the room to pick it up.

“Hey, Doll.” he said, smiling. “How did it go?” “Well…” Katie began to talk, and Steve had to strain to hear her voice over the noise in the background, noise that sounded like a bar. “It could have gone worse…” “But it couldn’t have gone much better either Spangles…” Tony added from the back ground “She was fucking amazing.” “Told you.” Steve grinned, giving Natasha the thumbs up.

“Tony’s being premature. We won’t know if they’re going to agree until the end of the year but he insisted we come out for drinks anyway.”

“Pssht” Tony said in the background. “It’s nearly Christmas, can’t I treat my little sister to an afternoon on the Pier…hey, yeah can I get a…”

Steve smiled as the noise started to die down a little, Katie having moved to find a quieter spot.

“So it went well?” “Yeah. Was pointless me spending so much time on my presentation though.” she laughed “I didn’t use it in the end, went for the tried and tested Stark format of winging it.”

Steve let out a chuckle and looked back at Natasha who was watching him, an odd smirk on her face “I’m pleased it went well honey but I gotta go. I gotta finish this sparring session then I have one of those damned videos to film…” “What is it today?” Katie asked, and he could her the grin in her voice as she dropped it to mimick his own “’So, you had your first wet dream?’”

“Punk.” he shot immediately and she let out a laugh.

“Jerk”

****

“Okay, so, we all set?” Tony said, stepping forward and examining his repulsor gauntlets.

“As ready as we’ll ever be.” Katie straightened the Nova Star shaped buckle on her utility belt.

“Let’s just stick to the plan.” Steve looked to Katie on his right, then Tony on his left before focusing on the door in front “One group each. No distractions.”

The siblings nodded and Steve stepped forward, opening the large door. They were instantly hit with a barrage of noise as forty-five kids swamped the three Avengers. But it was a small, olive-skinned, ebony haired girl that reached Katie first, and she bent down beaming.

“Emmy!” Katie pulled the small girl into a hug “Wow, you’ve gotten so big!”

“I’m six now.” Emmy said proudly, flashing a grin. Her front tooth was missing.

“No.” Katie shook her head. “Uh-uh, no way.” “I am.”

“You’re catching me up!”

Emmy let out a giggle and Katie stood up, glancing over at where Tony and Steve were surrounded by little people, all of them bouncing up and down.  Emmy, however, hung back slightly as the other children all pushed forward to hug or see Iron Man or Captain America, and she gripped Katie’s leg tighter.

“You okay?” Katie glanced down at the little girl who clung to her leg as she nodded.

“I want to meet Captain America.” She said, shyly. “Everyone says he’s your boyfriend. Is that true?” “It is.” Katie nodded.

“So you kiss him?”

“I do.” Katie grinned as Emmy made a gagging noise. With a chuckle she gently ruffled the girl’s hair. “Come on, I’ll take you to say hi.” Emmy took Katie’s hand and they crossed the room to where the crowd had now dispersed, the kids being shepherded into the various groups for the annual tour round the tower, which was basically one huge big supervised treasure hunt where each of them came back holding the latest games console or tablet depending on their age.

“Captain?” Katie called and Steve frowned, turning round, it had been a while since she had called him that, well outside of the bedroom anyway. As he looked at her, the tell-tale flush spread up her neck into her face and he knew she’d had the same thought. Ignoring the heat in his own cheeks he looked at her and watched as she gently moved her gloved hand to the back of the dark haired girl’s head, as the kid’s hand curled round Katie’s. Her large, brown eyes glanced up at Steve shyly. “There’s someone here that wants to meet you.”

Steve smiled, his head devoid of his helmet, and he crouched down in front of the small girl as Katie did the same, dropping to her level. “Hi.” He greeted her.

“Hi…” She replied softly “My name’s Emily.” “Emily, that’s a real pretty name, little Miss.” Steve smiled at her

“My friends call me Emmy.”

“Can I call you Emmy?” Steve asked.

The small girl seemed to ponder for a second before she looked at Katie then back to Steve “Katie calls me Emmy. And as you’re her boyfriend I suppose that would be okay.” Steve looked at Katie who was biting her lip to stop herself from laughing and he nodded at the small girl, a smile crossing his face “Well how’s about you call me Steve then, but we keep it to ourselves. Only you and the grown-ups can call me that today.”

“Mr Stark calls you Spangles.” Emmy said, frowning.

“Yeah, he said grown-ups.” Katie smiled “Tony is not a grown up.” Emmy let out a giggle “You’re silly, Katie.” “She is.” Steve nodded and Katie stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes causing the small girl to laugh even harder.

“Emmy!” One of the attendees from the home called and beckoned her over “Come on or you’ll miss the treasure hunt.”

Emmy threw her arms round Steve and he momentarily paused before he gave her a hug before she ran off to join her peers.

“She’s cute…” He watched her go before he looked to Katie as they both stood up.

“Yeah I know you’re not supposed to have favourites but…” Katie sighed “I met her when she was eighteen months old. She’s adorable.” “What’s her story?”

“Her mom died when she was thee months old.” Katie sighed, watching as the kids were organised into a line “There were complications at birth that she never recovered from. Her dad then killed himself a few weeks later. She had no other family who were willing to take her in so she’s been in a home ever since.”

“That’s awful.” Steve frowned.

“Makes me realise just how lucky I was that Tony stepped up and became my guardian after mom and dad died.” Katie glanced at the young girl, the softness in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Steve as she spoke again “You know, every year I pray she doesn’t show up here. Not because I don’t want to see her but because it means she’s found a home and a family.” 

Steve smiled gently, looping an arm around her shoulders, the pair of them watching as Tony joined the front of one of the three lines the kids had been organised in and was looking at them all waving his hands.

“You want kids?” Katie asked, looking up at Steve. He took a deep breath and blew it out through his nose “Shit, sorry.” she continued, shaking her head and rubbing her temple. “That’s a bit forward, I didn’t mean…” “I know.” Steve shook his head, understanding. “And yeah, I did, before I joined the army. All I wanted was a family, stability, to hold down a good job. Now, well, things went a bit crazy didn’t they?” “Tell me about it.” Katie chuckled.

“What, errr, what about you?” Steve asked, rubbing at his neck a little awkwardly.

“Eventually, maybe.” She shrugged. Steve glanced down at her, a soft look on his face, but he was distracted as Emmy had returned and she was tugging on the dark material of his Uniform trousers.

“Can you be leader of our group?” She looked up at Steve.

“Woah, what about me Emmy?” Katie playfully frowned, her hands on her hips.

Emmy shot her a grin “You were the leader of my group for the last two years…” “Wow.” Katie smiled “You’re replacing me. Fine, I’m not offended. At all.”

Emmy laughed and Steve’s mouth curled upwards before he looked down at Emmy and nodded. “Alright Ma’am.” He saluted, as Emmy laughed and then slipped her hand into his. “Lead the way.” Katie watched them leave, convinced his super hearing would have just picked up the noise of her ovaries exploding.

*****

Forty Five kids came to the tower and forty five left. No one died, and Steve only had to throw his shield once for a demonstration. All in all the Stark Foundation Christmas Party 2013 was a roaring success.

The residents of the tower spent the next few days they had before Christmas lazing around, watching old Christmas films as Katie introduced Steve to her favourite one, ‘The Muppet Christmas Carol’. They decorated a tree in her apartment, headed through the streets of New York in the dark to see all the various Christmas lights, wrapped presents, spent evenings drinking hot chocolate laced with liquor and before they both knew what had happened, it was Christmas Eve and to Katie’s utter delight (and Tony’s it would seem, as JARVIS informed them dryly that Mr Stark was demanding that they go outside to build snowmen) it was snowing again to top up the already substantial covering on the ground.

Steve hated being cold, a consequence of spending seventy years frozen but the childish excitement written all over Katie’s face was enough to make him brave the snow, and so, at half past two in the afternoon he was stood in Central Park, along with Katie, Pepper and Tony, building snowmen-which Steve was amazingly adept at, something that came as a surprise to Pepper and Tony, but not to Katie considering his artistic nature. Bruce called Tony half way through following the conclusion of whatever seminar he had been in and an hour or so later joined them, and was immediately told to judge the snowmen contest. He declared Steve the winner causing Tony and Katie to pelt the mild mannered Scientist with snowballs until his grown up façade slipped and he joined in, catching Tony with a perfectly placed lump of snow right between the eyes.

The light began to draw in and after purchasing a hot dog each from one of the stands the sounds of carols drifted to their ears so the five of them wandered towards the music. They found a group of singers not far from the Alice In Wonderland statue, each holding lanterns and sheets of music. They looked at one another and joined the crowd as they group began to sing Silent Night. Steve slipped his arms around Katie from behind, pulling her to his bulky, coated frame and she leaned back happily into his embrace.  His cold nose brushed against her cheek near her ear as he stooped to drop a kiss there, causing Katie to laugh out loud as he continued to press his cold face against her neck.

“I haven’t seen a carol service since I was a boy.” He said softly.

She turned her head to look at him, as he looked back, was grinning like a school boy as the snow began to fall again, because, whilst he might hate being cold, he didn’t hate any time spent with his best girl.

She placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Taking you back?”

“A little…” He smiled before she turned back to the band, as his nose nuzzled at her ear “Love you… gram mo chroi…”

The words phonetically registered in her brain, graw miu cree the Irish brogue he had spoken made her shiver.

“Yeah that sounds really sexy and I have no idea what you just said.” She tilted her head back to face him.

“You don’t speak Gaelic?” He teased.

“Italian, German, Spanish and French…but no Gaelic.” She smirked.

“Smart ass…” He rolled his eyes before chuckling slightly, his eyes leaving hers to focus on the singers again. “So what does it mean?” She pressed.

“It means love of my heart, of my life.” “Smooth Rogers.” She grinned, catching his lips again.

The singers finished to a round of applause from the surrounding crowd, including wolf whistles from Tony, and the five of them set off back to the Tower, the streetlights bouncing off the white of the snow. Walking the twenty or so minutes back they all stopped to enjoy hot chocolates laced with lashings of brandy at a small Cafe on the corner of Park and 5th, along with roast chestnuts and mince pies. Katie smiled, remarking that it was about as clichéd a Christmas Eve you could get. And she absolutely loved it.  

Once back at the tower they all said goodnight and headed to their respective floors and apartments. Once Steve and Katie had shed their various outer layers of winter clothing, Katie instructed Jarvis to light the fire before she headed off into the bedroom before walking back out and across the hall to the larger bathroom where Steve heard her turn on the tap to the tub.

“You having a bath?” He called dropping onto the sofa.

“Warming up.” She called back, grinning as she dropped a Christmas Pudding shaped bath-bomb into the tub, watching as it started to fizz, the gorgeous smells of cinnamon hitting her nostrils. Biting her lip she walked to the door of the bathroom and leaned against it calling down the hall. “Wanna join me?”

Steve heard her, and didn’t need asking twice.

He walked into the bathroom to see her drop her robe to the floor, flashing him a view of her bare back, ass, legs before she stepped into the obscenely large tub and he shed his clothes in about five seconds flat, climbing in behind her. She leaned back against him, his arms coming to rest naturally on the sides of the large tub.

“Why…” he began, looking at his skin, “is there glitter all over my arm?” “I used a bath bomb”

“A what?”

“Things you drop in the water alongside or instead of bubble bath and they smell nice. I’ll show you another day.” Katie explained, closing her eyes and leaning back into the warmth of the water, her head laying on his chest, the fingers of her right hand delicately rubbing across his knuckles.

They were silent for a while, Steve’s head lolling against the back of the tub, utterly contented to stay there until the water went cold, when Katie spoke.

"Say it again.” She whispered softly, wanting to hear the words he’d said before.

He quirked a crooked smile. “Say what?”

She chuckled and bit at the corner of her bottom lip and tilted her head round so she could look at him. “The thing you said earlier… say it again.”

He didn’t’ say a word, instead he dropped his head to kiss her neck, lips laying soft kisses along her shoulders. Slowly, his right hand moved from its spot on the tub to stroking her hip, down the outside of her thigh, up again and then across to her abdomen. The subtle brush of his fingertips on her sensitive flesh set off chills of a very different kind to the one’s Katie had been feeling all afternoon in the snow and she let her eyelids fall shut, a small sigh escaping her lips as his mouth trailed a line from her right shoulder across to her left.

"Say it again.” She breathed out but still Steve said nothing. Instead, he moved his hand down her abdomen going lower and lower until he slowly began to tease her.

Katie shuddered, her breath caught again as her head fell backwards. “Say it…” she tried again, the words coming out as a desperate choked plea.

His grinning face pressed to her neck and shoulder as he nipped gently. “Sorry, I’m an old man. I forget what I say sometimes.”

He knew exactly what she was after and Katie knew he did, he was just being a tease and it was driving her wild. So she decided to deploy the big guns. Her hand drifted down to find his, wrapping tightly around his wrist, stilling his touch and she turned to face him, gently straddling him, sitting on his thighs and sending a slosh of water over the side of the tub onto the tiled floor.

"You forgot that I’m the love of your life?” She pouted softly, eyes locking onto his.

“Doll,” Steve shook his head, dropping his forehead to hers. “No one could ever make me forget that. Ever.”

Bingo. Katie felt the smile cross her face as she leaned in to kiss him as her hand reached down into the water and wrapped around his hardening cock causing him to grunt at little as she squeezed her palm around him.

“Then say it.” She demanded, her hand slowly sliding up his shaft and Steve looked at her, his eyes blown with lust.

“You’re such a fucking brat.” He reached up and tangled one hand into her hair, pulling her face down to his, kissing her hard and he muttered against her mouth, “Gram mo Chroi…”

“Fuck, I love you,” Katie huffed out into his open mouth as his hands went down to her waist and he gently pulled her forwards, positioning her before, without warning,  he thrust upwards and she moaned, pushing down onto his lap, water lapping around them as he filled her. “I love you, more than anything.” Katie nipped at his lip and coiled her fingers into his hair, drawing a hiss from his mouth as she moved again, rocking her hips, grinding down on him.

“I love you too.” His ragged breaths snagged on the words as he pressed up into her harder, then harder again, his hands straying to her back, fingers sliding up and down her spine as he pulled her closer to him, kissing her hard before turning his lips to her neck then her chest, the trails of water and soap suds trickled down from between her cleavage to her navel. It made him groan as he looked at her gently rocking on top of him as bucked his hips upwards, meeting her thrust for thrust.

He sat up a little making her purr as he hit her even deeper, as he pulled her close, chest pressed to chest as he kissed her, hands snaking up into the back of her hair which was piled messily on top of her head. Katie moaned into his mouth as he thrust upwards again, and again as she pushed down, rotating her hips against him.  It was slow, deep, loving, the sounds of sloshing water and gentle moans and groans filled the large bathroom as they both clung to one another, as close as they possibly could be. Eventually Katie felt the knot in her stomach beginning to unravel and she threw her head back in a soft cry, Steve’s name tumbling from her lips, before she fell forward, burying her head into the crook of his shoulder and neck as she caught her breath. A few more thrusts and Steve was right behind her, his body sliding down into the tub, head resting against the back, his girl tightly clutched to his chest.

Steve’s hands ran up and down her back as Katie gave a low hum of contentment before pulling back, smoothing his hair back with her hands and smiling softly at him, before she kissed him gently.

“You know,” Steve said gently as she pressed her forehead against his. “This is certainly an improvement on Christmas Eve last year.”

Katie chuckled slightly and closed her eyes. "It’s been the best one I’ve ever had.”

*****

Christmas Morning was one of the few times Katie could remember having woken before Steve. But she was always up at the crack of dawn on Christmas Morning and had been since she was a child. Steve’s arms were wrapped around her, one leg tossed over hers doing his best koala impression as always, head buried into the back of her neck. She shifted, rolling over to face him, causing his grip to loosen slightly and simply watched him, taking in how much younger he looked with his face relaxed and how comfortable and peaceful he was in sleep. She leaned over to gently place a kiss on his cheek just underneath where those ridiculously long eyelashes rested, before she rose, swapping Steve’s T-shirt for a long sleeved pair of Christmas pyjamas adorned with little snowmen and Christmas trees and headed into the living area.

The tree was already lit (God bless Jarvis) as was the garland over the fire place and the lights in the kitchen. Turning on the radio low, she poured some ground Christmas Roast into the machine and set about making pancake batter whilst popping off a cork on a bottle of Krug to use for Mimosas, the breakfast drink of champions

Steve heard her singing. Cracking an eye open he glanced at the clock, it wasn’t even gone Eight yet. He took a moment to stretch before he got out of bed, went to use the bathroom and came out, throwing on a pair of plaid sleep pants over his boxers before he made his way to the kitchen. He stopped dead when he saw her dancing around and had to stifle his laugh as he slipped his arms around her from behind, making her jump slightly.

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.” He gruffed, his voice still thick with sleep as she tilted her head round to catch the kiss he was offering.

“Merry Christmas, Soldier.”  

“What are you wearing?” He arched an eyebrow and Katie grined. “It’s the rules…” She turned to look at him. “On Christmas Day, in the Stark house, we all wear Christmas pyjamas and no one gets dressed until well after lunchtime and then we wear Christmas sweaters, eat dinner, lounge around and do absolutely nothing bar stuffing our faces, drinking and watching movies.”

“I don’t have any Christmas Pyjamas…or a sweater.” Steve frowned. “Yeah you do.” Katie informed, putting down the bowl of batter she had been whisking and grabbing his hand. She tugged him back down the hall and into the bedroom, Steve cursing her silently in his brain for as usual thinking of everything. She headed into the large walk in wardrobe and tossed him a Bloomingdale’s carrier bag. He arched an eyebrow as he reached inside pulling out first the sweater, and giving a loud groan as he examined the large reindeer on the front.

“Its nose lights up.” Katie grinned as she pressed it.  At that he let out a snort and shook his head.

“I’m not wearing this.”

“Hey I don’t make the rules.”

“I never was one for rules.” He muttered, now examining the Pyjamas that were green with little red Santa Clauses all over them.

“Bullshit!” Katie laughed and he looked at her, as she fake saluted “Captain America reporting for duty, Sir!”

“Punk.” He shook his head as his lips quirked upwards and he waved the clothes he was holding at her. “They’re awful.”

“They’re supposed to be, that’s the point. Don’t be a Grinch…” “I have no idea what that is.”

“Ok, a Scrooge then…” “I am not dressing like an idiot.” Katie opened her mouth to make a joke about stars, stripes and spandex but he cut her off instantly, spotting the look on her face. Holding up his hand he shook his head. “Just don’t.”

After some cajoling, Katie managed to convince Steve to wear the Pyjamas for the morning. Stockings were opened, Bucks Fizz and Coffee was drunk as they exchanged gifts sitting cross legged on the floor by the fire. But Steve had one last gift for her that he hadn’t wrapped as it wasn’t a Christmas gift really, it was something he’d wanted to give her for a while now but he finally felt the time was right. He took the opportunity to retrieve it from his bag whilst she was dressing after they had eaten breakfast, grabbing the small item in his hand and crossing the room so he was stood in front of her.

“There’s something else I wanted to give you” He spoke, but as he did he found himself unable to stop his eyes from straying down the top half of her body which was clad in nothing but a bra as she pulled on the large sweater. "Huh?” Her voice was muffled as her head emerged from the hole in the sweater and she noticed him watching her. She smirked, sticking her arms through the garment.  “You already did that last night. Several times remember?” “I don’t mean that.” He rolled his eyes as she started laughing before he crossed the room and stood in front of her. Katie watched as he was turning a small, circular leather box of some kind in his hand. “I found this when we were going through my stuff for the museum” he said, gently handing it to her. “I want you to have it.”

She looked down at the worn leather of the dark brown box, before pressing the small button which released the catch on the worn, dark brown leather and she carefully opened the lid. Her eyes widened as she glanced down at the delicate ring inside. The stone was a small, tear drop shaped emerald set into a yellow gold band with 3 small diamonds sat underneath the larger part of the teardrop stone. “It was my mom’s” Steve offered by explanation as she looked up at him, her eyes shining “Dad bought it for her before they left Limerick for New York, something to remind her of home.” “The Emerald Isle…” Katie smiled gently as she looked at the ring, her chest filling with warmth. “It probably isn’t worth much and I know you don’t really wear yellow gold but I was reading up that you could get it coated…” “Steve…” She shook her head as she looked up at him. “I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s beautiful.” And it was. All the more so because it had belonged to his mother. A woman she knew so much about. A woman who raised the wonderful man stood in front of her. A woman she wished with all her heard she could have met.  

“Are you sure you want me to have it?” She blurted out and Steve nodded. “She gave me that specifically to pass to my someone special.” He trailed off as Katie smiled softly, taking the ring out of the box and slipping it onto the ring finger of her right hand. It was a tad loose but nothing that was too drastic to stop her wearing it for the time being. “Thank you.” Her voice cracked slightly as she looked up into his eyes, those baby blues she knew so well were misting over. “And for the record, regardless of what it’s worth or not worth, it means the world to me that you want me to have it. It’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever had”. She gently cupped his cheek in her hand before she leaned up and captured his lips in a soft kiss. “I love you.” She whispered gently as his nose rubbed against hers, their foreheads coming to a rest against one another. “Love you too.” He smiled, before giving her another quick kiss. “Enough to wear the sweater?” She pulled back, her arms snaking round his neck as his hands dropped to her waist. He glanced at the one she was wearing which made her look like a giant Christmas tree and let out a long groan. He really didn’t want to wear the hideous Christmas sweater, but as he looked at her she made those eyes, those goddamned eyes that could get him to do whatever she wanted.

He just couldn’t say no to her. He was whipped, big time. And he knew it. "Fine I’ll wear the sweater." 

**** Chapter 12 Part 2

[monsoonblooms12]

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 3- Lifeless

A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing💫💛? Today I have the 3rd chapter of Detectives by Chance. This fic was one of my personal favourites to write, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Forgive any mistakes and happy reading💛💛!

Thank you so very much @ohramsey​ for pre-reading and making my day many times better with your lovely comments🤍❤.

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

Pairing: Ethan × f!MC (Dr. Pooja Sharma)

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Word count: 1.7K 

Triggers: Mentions of blood, murder

A gloved hand moved steadily towards her. It held something that glistened under the obscure luminescence of the surroundings.

It was, It was a knife. And something was trickling from it, something scarlet.

Blood. Fresh Blood.

The gloved hand came closer and closer. The blood on the knife in that hand glinted.

And then, a croaky, vicious laughter reached her ears.

The growly voice professed “ I began the game, and I will complete it. You are going to die, I WILL KILL YOU!!” and another hoarse laugh followed.

Then the knife was in front of her face, near to her throat. She wanted to throw it out of that hand, but she couldn’t move. Something invisible tied her to her place.

So she screeched, she shrieked but to no avail.

“NO! Please don’t do this, please don’t do this, I don’t know you, I didn’t do anything, please don’t do this, PLEASE!!!”

“Pooja??”

“Don’t do this, No, please don’t do this….”

“Baby? POOJA?”

“AHHHHHHH! Leave me, leave me alone.”

“Pooja, Sweetheart, Wake Up!”

“Go away, go- Ohh, Ethan!” Pooja finally woke up from her nightmare.

She hugged Ethan tightly, too frightened to let go, the visions of her nightmare still fresh in her mind. Even on a cold night like that, she was sweating profusely.

“Ethan, I saw it again. The same nightmare. Every single night since that day. I- I am really scared.” Pooja mumbled, slightly tearing up on the thought of the nightmare. She had always thought of herself to be a headstrong lady. And now these nightmares were making her feel like a dastard, snatching away her confidence.

“Baby, I am here, I will always be here, by your side. I love you, and I won’t let any harm even look at you, let alone touch you.” Ethan murmured in her ears and cradled her to sleep. Feeling secure in his arms, Pooja slowly slipped into a silent slumber.

Three days ago:

Pooja and Alex stood at the door, their eyes wide, hands shaking obscurely and their face pale. They couldn’t think of anything, nor could they move. It felt as if somebody had stuck their feet in place.

Mr Davis’s body was in a horrific condition. The most prominent was the slit throat, but there were many cuts and marks on his hand and face. It was clear that he was not the man behind the notes, because seeing his condition, he had been dead for at least 5 hours, and the blood on the note was relatively fresh.

Finally, succeeding in breaking from the haze, Lex ushered Pooja away from the room and closed the door. She took her to the nearest water fountain, made her drink and sat her on one of the hospital seats. Pooja was slowly breaking from her haze, but the sight made her remember one of the most terrible incidents of her past. One she had always wanted to forget. One she had hidden deep in her heart, but she couldn’t forget it.

Lex pulled her phone out and shot a text to Ethan and Mark asking their whereabouts. Their replies came almost immediately. Ethan was in the diagnostics office, whereas Mark was collecting some results from the lab. Their next text was the same, “What happened?”

Alex told Mark to come ASAP to the diagnostics office, and then she took Pooja and set off for the same destination.

In 5 minutes, all the four were in the diagnostics office. From the looks on Pooja and Alex’s faces, Mark and Ethan could tell something grim had happened.

“Lex, what happened? Is it another note? Did somebody do something to you both? Just say the word, and I will make sure that they don’t see the end of this” Mark fumed, clenching his fists.

“M, first I need you to calm down. The person, whosoever they are, they are very dangerous. They have a sinister ploy, and it seems like they are coming for us.” Alex said, with a sprinkle of uneasiness. She shuddered ever so slightly, but it was enough for Ethan, Mark and Pooja to notice. Pooja put a hand around her.

“That is okay, but can you tell us what has happened? You two look like you have just seen a ghost.” Ethan asked concernedly.

“W-We went to check on Mr Davis-”

“Mr Davis, who?”

“Mark, focus, it is the name of Poo and Lex’s Patient.”

“Oh! Okay sorry, continue.”

“So we went to check on Mr Davis in the morning. When we went to our lockers, there w-was another n-note in my locker” Pooja presented the note as she spoke.

Mark took the note from Pooja while Ethan held her by her shoulder. The situation had hit her much harder than the other three. It brought grim memories of a past she never wanted to remember again.

Alex continued, “After getting the note, we went to check in on Mr Davis, to make sure he was alright and also to check if he was instigating all this or not. However, when we reached his room, it was locked.”

“Okay, that is wrong. Patient rooms are never locked, as doctors and nurses have to go in and out quite often” Ethan stated.

“Exactly! That was the first suspicion. Then I went to get the key from the nurses’ office. And it appeared that they had lost the original one. The nurses spent five freaking minutes in searching the duplicate one.”

“Okay, definitely fishy,” Mark remarked.

“Yup! So then I arrived with the key, opened the door, and-” Lex stopped abruptly. The next words were arduous to say even for her.

“And we saw, Mr Davis, lying dead with his throat slit. His body was all bloody. W-we were so horrified that we c-closed the door and left.” Pooja completed, somehow mustering up courage, but losing it all once she had finished speaking.

These words seemed to take a toll on Mark and Ethan too. The thing they all took for an imprudent joke was not a joke at all. They were dealing with a murderer and a treacherous one.

“We have to inform the Police. This is not something we can manage alone” Ethan asserted, breaking through the silence that had settled in the room. They still had some time before the morning shifts started, and if they hurried, they could also find some vital clues from the dead man’s room.

“Let’s go to Dr. Banerji and inform him what happened. Then till the time the Police reaches, we can look around the room for any clues we might find” Pooja suggested, composing herself and the 4 of them rushed to the Chief’s office.

After recounting everything to Dr Banerji, who assured that the Police would be informed to come as soon as possible, Mark, Ethan, Alex and Pooja set out for Mr Davis’s room.

Alex unlocked the door with the duplicate key she still had, and the four of them entered.

For the first time, Mark and Ethan came face to face with the dead body, and the sight made them discomposed. They had seen many patients dying, but to see someone dying due to an illness and to see someone killed cold-bloodedly is very distinct.

The four of them started searching the surroundings. Their eyes had trained to observe the details, so they didn’t have to touch anything. But nothing seemed suspicious. Nothing looked out of place. Well, nothing except the dead man.

However, in the corner of the room, something caught Pooja’s attention. A note. No, Another note. It looked the same as the previous ones.

“Look!” She said to get everyone’s attention. The other three turned and went to where Pooja was standing.

“Another one?”

“It looks like the murderer knew that we were gonna come to investigate”

“Should we pick it up?”

“I think we should. But I am not sure.”

“Let’s pick it up, coz we know well the Police won’t share their investigation with us.”

Pooja picked it up lightly.

Suddenly Ethan called out, “Wait a sec, what is that?”

Ethan bent down and picked two more pieces of paper. One looked like a receipt of something, and the other one was a visiting card.

“A visiting card! Look if there is any name or any identity?” Lex and Pooja asked

Mark analyzed the card and said, “Nope. The name is too faded to read. But-”

“But what?” The other three asked in unison.

“But if we look closely, we may be able to deduce the address written on it.”

“So are we keeping these stuff?” Ethan questioned, slight uncertainty evident in his voice.

“For now. But if the Police doesn’t get any other solid clue, we can present them these along with our research.” Mark uttered.

“Alright. But lets going before we get suspected” Pooja said, ushering them out.

“Mark, Ethan, you two take these and keep them with you. We both will go and drop the spare key at the nurses’ office.” Lex mentioned, and the four of them left the room.

Now:

The Police were now regular visitors at the hospital. Although the case was supposed to be highly private, the hospital gossip spread like wildfire, and the fear was evident in the staff.

But that didn’t mean any decrease in rush at the hospital. As the new week began, the workload increased, and everyone drowned themselves in it to keep unpleasant thoughts at bay.

Pooja and Alex had been questioned by the authorities multiple times, obviously because they were assigned the case, just before the murder.

However, they couldn’t help much. They told the officers about everything they knew, except for the notes. Mainly because they didn’t have time to research the evidence they had found in the room.

But what had happened had pulled forgotten strings in Pooja’s heart. The nightmares began, and they got worse and worse every single day.

Finally and luckily, Ethan and Pooja had a day off together, which was rare. So, they decided to sit down to research the clues they had collected.

However, what they hadn’t realized then was that even tiny bits of paper, can bring out dark reminiscent of a forgotten past.

PS: So that’s all for chapter 3. If you enjoyed the story, please like, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going 💕. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a great day ahead.💕💕

Tags: @bbrandy2002​ @kaavyaethanramsey​ @ohramsey​ @ohvamsey​ @hopelessromanticmonie​ @trrfanaddict @nervoussaladsludgeopera​ @imonlybibecauseofethanramsey​ @lovablegranny​ @bellcat2010​ @gkittylove99​ @kingliam2019​ @3riche @chetachisblog​ @starrystarrytrouble​ @arcticrivers​  @aylamreads​ ​@drariellevalentine​ @mvalentine​ @aestheticartsx​ @angela8756​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @choicesficwriterscreations

[jeongyunhoed]

8 Stories, 8 Movies from the Golden Age (1930s to 1960s).

It’s the golden age and 8 men are the most sought-after actors in Hollywood. Lights, camera, action!

A tale of love and suspense, Park Seonghwa is haunted by the memory of his deceased wife, a shadow looming over the halls of his mansion. When he marries again, his new wife now comes to realize that even in death, his wife still remains.

Daphne

Warnings: Mentions of murder, death, suicide, and illness. Might have some innuendos, might not. But I’m putting these warnings out there regardless.

Other things to note: There are OCs. I might mention other idols (most likely NCT).

A/N: More of creepy San, but the last (and longest) part of Seonghwa’s story. Who’s next? Most likely Jongho or Yunho, or maybe even San. Either way, enjoy. 

Masterlist

Part 3

She ran out of Daphne’s room mortified with what San told her and in tears. It felt like she was running around a maze without an escape, an escape from the shadow cast over the Fontaine estate by Seonghwa’s first wife. She was that powerful, and she was that barrier between them. She ran down the flight of stairs, and like a light at the end of the tunnel, she saw Seonghwa enter, following Hongjoong who was carrying his briefcases. “Seonghwa!” She cried out, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight hug as if hoping that he would shield her from the madness. 

“Hello to you too,” He giggled, returning the embrace. “Hold on any tighter and you’d be choking me,” He added, pulling away to give her a soft peck on the lips. 

“Am I?” She asked, hoping that it would at least snap her out of the overwhelming anxiety she felt earlier. 

“Yes, my darling, what have you been doing while I was away?” Seonghwa asked, holding her hands. 

“Seonghwa, I was thinking we could hold a costume party, a ball, we could dress up and show everyone that the Fontaine has always been the same. Can we?” She asked. 

Seonghwa smiled. “Alright, if you’d like, we can have it. You should probably get help from San,” He suggested. 

“No, no,” She shook her head, feeling a lot more assured after getting her husband to agree. “I don’t need him to help me, I can do it on my own.” 

“Alright then, if you’re sure,” He said. 

That seemed to give her the confidence she needed to do what she was thinking of doing next. She was going to do something about the looming shadow of Daphne over the house, and sooner or later she returned to Daphne’s room and approached her desk, noticing all the embellished “D”s on her notebooks and contact lists. She opened the drawer and took out the thick wads of letters and cards that Daphne had signed, noticing some cards coming from Wooyoung, further confirming how he knew her. 

She piled everything on top of the desk. If they were to move on and be happy, there was only one thing they could do. One thing she could do. She picked up the phone and asked for San to come inside. “Yes, Madam?” He appeared shortly after. 

She got up and approached him. “I want you to gather all of these things and throw them out. Pile them in the cottage by the beach, I don’t care, I want all of these things out of the Fontaine immediately,” She instructed, sounding firm in her resolve this time. 

“This belongs to Mrs. Park, Madam,” He replied. 

She stared at him and turned to the door. “I am Mrs. Park now,” She turned the knob. “I would also request that Seonghwa not know about Wooyoung dropping by earlier either.” 

“Yes, Madam,” San could only reply before she left the room. 

~ 

Regardless of her insistence not to have San help her decide what to wear for the costume ball they would be hosting, he helped anyway. He suggested that her costume be based on one of the portraits on the walls, a woman in a flowing white dress, puffed sleeves and a hat with ribbons. She hoped Seonghwa would like to see her in it, and as the days went by until the party, she planned everything with a kind of excitement she hadn’t felt since they got married. 

The night of the ball approached, Hongjoong choosing to wear his graduation toga with his cap, while some of their friends and their respective spouses wore other costumes. Seonghwa greeted them in his tuxedo as she could see from her room. She could imagine the look on his face when he’d see her enter from the hall. She hurried down the steps to enter the ballroom, but stopped when she saw that everyone had gone quiet. 

She noticed all of them looked shocked. None of them had smiles on their faces, especially Seonghwa, who looked as if he was going to faint or collapse from fright. She carefully approached her husband, feeling all eyes on her as she went up to him. His expression was now stiff, and she could tell he was upset. “What the devil were you thinking?” He said. 

“Seonghwa, it’s based on the picture, the one in the gallery-” She paused, seeing his expression stiffen even more. “What? What is it?” She asked. 

“Take it off, go and take it off,” He said. “Just take it off and change, what are you standing there for? Go and take it off!” Seonghwa snapped, making her step back in surprise. 

She seemed to have hit a nerve as she excused herself to her room, tears streaming down her face in embarrassment. She could sense San was already following her to her room and she closed the door, wiping the tears that kept streaming down her cheeks. “Do you need help with another gown, Madam?” She heard his voice by the door. 

“No,” She sniffled, shaking her head. “No thank you, Mr. Choi.” 

“Mr. Park was upset, I saw you just now, Madam,” San spoke. “I watched you go down the stairs, just as I watched her a year ago. Even in the same dress you couldn’t compare with her.” 

She looked up at him, eyes wide in the realization. “The same dress? This is the same dress?” She said, now understanding why Seonghwa was so upset. “And you knew it, you knew it. You knew she wore it and you suggested it on purpose!” She didn’t know whether to cry from being further humiliated or get angry. “Why do you hate me? What have I done to you for you to be this way with me?” 

“Because you tried to take her place,” San said stiffly. “You let him marry you. I’ve seen his face, his eyes. He had the same look as those first few weeks after she died. I used to listen to him pace in his room, in the study, all night long thinking of her, miserable because he lost her.” 

She covered her ears the more San spoke. “I don’t want to know! I don’t want to know!” She yelled. 

“You thought you could be Mrs. Park, you thought you could live in her house, walk her steps, take her things,” San’s voice was growing louder. “But she’s too strong for you, you can never beat her. No one could, ever! She was beaten in the end, but it wasn’t because of a man, but because of the sea!” 

“Stop it! Stop!” She cried out, backing away from him. 

“Oh, you look distraught, Madam, I shall open the window for you, the sea air could do you some good,” San walked up to her, making her realize that she was already standing by the window that he was opening. “Come, stand here, Madam. There’s no need to be afraid,” He approached her again, gesturing to the view of the sea. “Look down there, isn’t the sea beautiful?” 

She turned around to face the window, but more chills ran down her spine when she realized that San was now standing behind her. “Why don’t you go? Why don’t you leave the Fontaine? He doesn’t need you,” He hissed. “He’s got his memories to live with, you have nothing to stay for, nothing to live for,” 

“Look down there, it’s easy, isn’t it? Why don’t you? Why don’t you jump?” 

She cried out again, nearly sliding to the floor in tears only to stand up straight when the sounds of a ship’s whistle were heard from the distance, followed by a rocket fire. “What’s that? What’s that noise?” She wiped her face, looking out into the sea. 

Moving past San, she changed into the first other dress she could find and left the room. “Seonghwa? Seonghwa!” She called out, looking around the halls. “Seonghwa?!” She continued to call out, noticing that everyone had left to look out for the sound. She stepped out, catching up to the crowd, Hongjoong being the first one she saw. “Hongjoong! What happened?” She went up to him. 

“There’s a shipwreck, there’s a ship sending up rockets,” Hongjoong looked up at the sky, then turned to one of the staff. “Call the coast guard, tell them there’s been a shipwreck” He instructed, the staff nodding and running off. 

~ 

Hours had passed since the news of the shipwreck. The party didn’t matter now as something had come up that she noticed how worried everyone seemed to be, including the rest of the staff in the Fontaine. “Hongjoong?” She saw him standing by the path that led to the beach. “Have you seen Seonghwa?” She asked upon approaching him. 

“Not since 30 minutes ago,” He replied quietly, looking out at the waves crashing onto the rocks and the shore. 

“I haven’t seen him back at the house all night, I’m starting to think something probably happened to him,” She said, looking out at the view as well. She glanced at Hongjoong and stopped. “Hongjoong, are you okay? You look worried.” 

Hongjoong looked down for a moment, then back at the sea again. “A diver went down to inspect the bottom of the ship found the hull of another boat,” He said. “A sailboat.” 

She stared at him, sensing something unusual in the way he said it. “Hongjoong? Is it-” 

“Yes, it’s Daphne’s boat.” 

“Daphne’s?” She was in disbelief. “Oh, why did they have to find it? Why couldn’t they have just… left it there at the bottom of the sea? Poor Seonghwa, it’s going to be hard for him again,” She let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Yes,” Hongjoong nodded slightly. “It’s going to bring it back again, but this time it’s going to be worse.” 

~ 

She left Hongjoong later on to find Seonghwa, getting increasingly worried the more she looked for him at the beach. She couldn’t sleep knowing that something probably happened to him. Everything seemed to be caving in on both of them and it felt like they weren’t going to be able to come out of it. She called out his name the more she looked, but there was no answer, until she stopped at the boathouse. Daphne’s cottage, but this time, it looked like there was someone inside from the dim light coming from the window. 

A part of her suspected it was probably the old man with his shells again, but a bigger part of her felt that Seonghwa was in there. She approached the cottage and gently pushed the door open. She could see the fireplace was lit, and seated by the fire was Seonghwa, looking distraught and tortured, one side of his face illuminated by the flames. “Hello my dear,” He said softly. “Come in.” 

She would’ve been relieved upon seeing that he was alright, but as Hongjoong had predicted, Seonghwa looked like he was about to curl up in fright, like he was about to cry but no tears would escape him. She closed the door behind her and took small steps in case he was still upset about the costume party. “Seonghwa, you haven’t slept a wink, have you forgiven me?” She asked, almost kneeling down in front of his lap. 

“Forgiven you?” He asked. 

“For last night, for what happened in the party, I was so stupid, I’m so sorry Seonghwa-” 

He shook his head. “I forgot about that.” 

She sighed, reaching for his hand to hold. He had never looked so devastated with their situation. “Seonghwa,” She began. “Can’t-can’t we start over? I’m not going to ask you to love me, I’m not going to ask too much from you. But I’ll be your friend, I’ll be your companion, I’m perfectly alright with it,” She said quietly, squeezing his hand. Her own heartache didn’t matter when her husband was too stricken with fear and guilt from the past, from his first marriage. 

Seonghwa looked into her eyes and cupped her cheek with his other hand. “You love me very much, don’t you? But it’s too late now, my darling. We’ve lost our chance at happiness.” 

She shook her head. “No, Seonghwa, no.” 

“Yes, it is. It’s all over now. Daphne has won,” Seonghwa looked down, his hand on her cheek dropping back down onto his lap. “Her shadow has been between us all the time, keeping us from each other. She knew this was going to happen.” 

“Seonghwa, what do you mean she knew?” She said, squeezing his hand again. 

“They sent a diver, they found a boat-” 

“I know. It’s Daphne’s boat,” She cut him off. 

Seonghwa nodded slightly. “The diver found something else. He broke through one of the ports and found a cabin. There was a body.” 

“A body? Then she wasn’t alone? Someone was sailing with her?” She asked. 

Seonghwa looked even more devastated. “No, you don’t understand, there was no one else with her. It’s-it was Daphne’s body they found.” 

She gaped at him, unable to say anything. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “No, no, that’s- no,” She said. 

“The woman that was washed up on the beach,” Seonghwa sighed, voice cracking. “The woman that is buried in the family crypt, that wasn’t Daphne. It was some other woman. I identified it even if I knew it wasn’t her. I knew where Daphne’s body was. On that cabin floor at the bottom of the sea…” 

She didn’t want to ask what she was thinking, but she needed to know. “Seonghwa, how did you know her body was there?” 

Seonghwa looked away, pulling his hand away from hers. “Because,” He paused. “Because I put it there.” 

“Seonghwa…” She managed to say. She wasn’t sure how she was taking all of this. “You? You put it there?” Her eyes were welling with tears. She didn’t know what to think, she didn’t want to think it but the suspicion was beginning to set in. 

“Will you look into my eyes and tell me you still love me now?” He asked, pain evident in his tone. 

“Seonghwa…” She said. 

“You see?” He looked away from her again. “I was right. It’s too late.” 

She shook her head, trying to regain her composure and trying to process everything she found out. “No, no, it’s not too late. You shouldn’t say that. We can’t lose each other now. We have to be together now more than ever,” She insisted, almost pleading. 

“We may only have hours, days left,” He said weakly. 

She got up and sighed. “Seonghwa, why didn’t you tell me before?” 

“Sometimes I nearly did, but you never seemed close enough,” He managed to reply. 

Frustration was beginning to sink in her. “How could I be close to you when I knew you were always thinking of Daphne? How could I even ask you to love me when I knew you still loved her?” 

Seonghwa’s expression changed from distraught to disbelief at what she said. “What are you talking about? You thought I loved Daphne? I hated her.” 

It was her turn to be surprised again. “...Hated her?” 

Seonghwa got up this time. “I was charmed by her as everyone was charmed by her,” He paced back and forth. “But I never had a moment’s happiness with her. She was incapable of love, of tenderness, of decency.” 

“...You didn’t love her?” She asked, now firm on trying to understand what he was saying. 

Seonghwa moved to the window seat and sat down, the light from the fireplace casting a slight glow on his features. “Remember that cliff where you first saw me? Daphne and I went there on our honeymoon,” He recalled. “That was where I found out about her, about who she really was, four days after we were married. She stood there, laughing, her dark hair blowing in the wind as she told me about herself,” 

She stood in her place, prompting him to explain further. “Things I’ll never tell anyone. I-I wanted to kill her,” He paused. “She told me, ‘I’ll make a bargain with you. You’d look rather foolish if you were to divorce me now after four days of marriage, so I’ll play the part of a devoted wife, the mistress of your precious Fontaine. People will visit us and envy us and say we’re the luckiest, happiest couple this side of the world. What a big joke it’ll be - we’ll have fooled all of them!’” 

Seonghwa looked down at his hands. “I shouldn’t have accepted her proposal, but I did and I kept it. She apparently upheld her end too, but after a while she got careless, sloppy. She got a place in the capital where she’d stay away for days at a time, then she started to bring her friends here. I warned her but she ignored me. Then there’s that cousin of hers, Jung Wooyoung.” 

“I know him,” She nodded. “He came the day you went to the capital.” 

Seonghwa looked up at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I didn’t because I thought he would remind you of Daphne again,” She explained. 

“As if I needed reminding,” Seonghwa scoffed. “Wooyoung used to visit her here in this cottage. When I found out, I warned her that if I see him here again I’d get rid of them both,” He sighed and looked down again. “One night when I found out she came back quietly, I thought Wooyoung was with her. I decided to go down here and do away with them, but,” He paused. “She was alone, lying on the divan, looking rather ill. Then she got up and walked up to me. ‘When I have a child, neither you nor anyone else can ever prove it wasn’t yours. You’d like to have an heir wouldn’t you, Seonghwa? For your precious Fontaine?’” 

She looked down, nodding as she listened. “Then she laughed,” He went on. “‘Funny, isn’t it? I’ll be the perfect mother just as I’ve been the perfect wife, and no one will ever know,’ She walked closer, face to face with me. ‘So, what are you going to do about it, Hwa? Aren’t you going to kill me?’ I guess I went mad for a moment, I probably struck her but she stood there looking at me as if she won. She started to go up to me again, smiling, but she stumbled and fell, and it must’ve been a while when I looked down as I saw her on the floor. She hit her head on a heavy piece of ship’s tackle, and I wondered why she was still smiling but then I realized that she was already dead.” 

She looked up at him again. “You didn’t kill her, Seonghwa, it was an accident, you didn’t do it,” She said. 

Seonghwa looked away from her. “No one would believe me, but I had to do something, so I carried her out to the boat, placed her in the cabin and when the boat was far enough into the sea, I tried to destroy the planking of the hull, the water eventually coming in. I climbed onto the dinghy and pulled away from the boat. The boat capsized and sank, and it began to rain,” He finished. 

“Seonghwa, who else knows about this?” She asked. 

“No one else, just me, and now you too,” He replied. 

“Then we have to explain it. It has to be the body of someone you’ve never seen before,” She suggested. 

He waved a hand dismissively. “No, they’re bound to know who she is. The rings and bracelets she always wore and was still wearing. They’ll identify her and then look into the other woman, the one buried in the crypt.” 

“Seonghwa-” She approached him this time and sat beside him, wrapping her arms around him to hold him tight. 

“I did a selfish thing, marrying you,” He said, cupping her cheeks. “I’ve loved you, and I always will, my darling. But I’ve always known that Daphne would win in the end.”

She kept shaking her head. “No, no, she hasn’t won. No matter what happens, she hasn’t won” she insisted, leaning up to kiss him. 

They heard the phone ring, and Seonghwa pulled away slightly to reach for it. “Hello? Hello Hongjoong...Who? Colonel Song Mingi? Yes,” He said with a soft sigh. “Tell him I’ll meet him there as soon as I can,” and he hung up. 

“What happened?” She asked. 

“Colonel Song Mingi called. He’s the Chief Constable of the area. He wants to know if I was mistaken,” He paused. “In identifying that other body.” 

~ 

As Seonghwa had expected, they were able to identify the body was Daphne Yoo. An inquest soon occurred and she knew she had to be there for him. She knew he was innocent even if everyone else found it hard to believe. She was the only one who knew what really happened, his side of the whole story. Among the crowd in the inquest was the coroner, Kang Yeosang aside from Colonel Song Mingi who was overlooking the proceedings. “I’m sorry to bring you back here for questioning, but now that you’ve heard the statement from the boat builder, maybe you can help us somehow,” Yeosang said. 

Seonghwa shook his head. “I don’t think I can.” 

“The holes in the planking were done from the inside, is there any possible reason you can think of?” He asked this time. 

“Of course I can’t think of any reason,” He snapped. 

“Then since Mrs. Park was sailing alone, is it possible that she made those holes herself?” Yeosang prodded him again. 

“Believe whatever you like!” Seonghwa snapped again, sounding increasingly annoyed. 

“Can you tell us why Mrs. Park may have wanted to commit suicide?” Yeosang continued to prod. 

“I don’t know of any reason whatsoever!” 

Yeosang pressed on. “Mr. Park, as painful as it may be, I’ll have to ask you a very personal question. Were you and the late Mrs. Park happy?” He asked. Seonghwa didn’t answer. “Again, were relations between the two of you happy-” 

“I won’t stand for this any longer,” Seonghwa got up and she could feel herself getting light-headed. 

“No, Seonghwa-” And she collapsed, falling to the floor. 

“Mrs. Park! Mrs. Park!” Yeosang exclaimed, the crowd surrounding her, including Hongjoong, gathered around. Seonghwa broke through to help her up. “We’ll adjourn after lunch.” 

“My darling, are you alright?” Seonghwa helped her up, slinging her arm around his shoulders. “Hongjoong, help me bring her outside for some air.” 

~ 

“Be careful, there’s no need to hurry,” Seonghwa said, helping her out of the courtroom and towards the car. 

She was beginning to regain her composure as she got some air, Hongjoong choosing to catch up in case something happened again. “It’s very foolish of me, fainting like that, I’m sorry, darling,” She said, her husband shaking his head to assure her. 

“Hello hello!” Came in the cheery voice of Wooyoung, making them look. 

“Oh, Seonghwa. It’s-it’s Wooyoung,” She noticed his expression stiffen again upon the mention of his name. Before she knew it, Wooyoung was standing by them. 

“How is the bride doing today?” He asked with a grin. 

“What do you want, Wooyoung?” Seonghwa asked. 

“And how are you doing, Seonghwa? I have to admit I got a little worried about you after hearing about the inquest. That’s why I’m here,” He replied, a sly smile played out across his features. 

“How thoughtful of you,” Seonghwa turned back to her. “If you don’t mind-” 

“I have a feeling their verdict’s going to be suicide,” Wooyoung said. “Unless of course, something else, something unforeseen is revealed?” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Well, I can’t help but feel that before the end of the day, someone might bring up that very expressive claim of foul play,” Wooyoung revealed. The more she listened to him, the more she felt uneasy, but she knew she had to be strong for Seonghwa if he was to make it. Seonghwa said nothing and instead gave him a look that prompted him to explain. “You see, Seonghwa, I’m at an awkward position right now, and you only need to read the note that I have to know why,” He took out a card from his pocket. “It’s from Daphne, written on the day she died.” 

“She-?” Seonghwa looked uninterested. 

Wooyoung pocketed the note again. “I’m not going to regale you with the details at the moment, but I can tell you that it’s not written by someone who plans to drown herself the same night,” He paused, glancing at her. “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to retire to the countryside, have a nice place with a few acres where I can go shooting, I haven’t figured out how much it would cost per year and I’d like to take that up with you.” 

Seonghwa turned back to his wife. “Darling, Mr. Jung and I have some business to take care of, we should probably do this in the nearby inn. They have a private room there.” 

“But Seonghwa-” 

“Are you feeling better now?” He asked. 

“Yes, but-” 

“Hongjoong will be back, and when he does, ask him to find Colonel Song Mingi, then bring both of them to the inn right away, okay?” Seonghwa kissed her forehead. He turned back to Wooyoung. “Come on, Jung. Let’s go,” and they walked off. 

~ 

Seonghwa made the introductions between Wooyoung and Colonel Song Mingi later on when they all gathered at the inn. Wooyoung, with his attempt to be affable, suggested he was friends with the colonel, who only greeted him a good morning when introductions were made. “Since you’re old friends, you probably already know he’s also the head of police here. Colonel Song might be interested in hearing what you have to say,” Seonghwa pointed out. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Seonghwa, I just want to see justice done, Colonel Song,” Wooyoung turned to the official. “The evidence seems to suggest some possible scenarios regarding Daphne’s death, suicide being one. But, I have a note here that can put that scenario out of court,” He took out the card again. 

Colonel Song read out the note, revealing that Daphne went to a doctor and was on her way back to the Fontaine. “I shall be at the cottage this evening, and shall leave the door open for you. I have something important to tell you, Daphne,” He read. 

“Well? Does that look like the note of a woman who tried to take her own life? Colonel Song, as an officer of the law, don’t you feel that there may be some grounds for suspicion?” Wooyoung asked, as if trying to taunt and accuse at the same time. 

“Of murder?” Colonel Song asked. 

“What else could it be?” 

“Blackmail!” Hongjoong suddenly spoke, glaring at Wooyoung. 

“Blackmail’s not that simple, Mr. Kim,” Colonel Song pointed out. “Mr. Jung Wooyoung, perhaps you have a motive to present?” He asked. 

“I knew you were going to ask that, and present it, I will,” Wooyoung said, moving to the door. 

She turned to Seonghwa, squeezing his hand. “What do you think he’s going to do?” She asked. He said nothing. 

“Will you come in, Mr. Choi San?” Wooyoung called out as he opened the door. The figure of the head butler appeared, and she felt her heart stop for a moment. Wooyoung introduced him to the Colonel. 

“Mr. Choi San, I have some questions for you-” Colonel Song spoke but Wooyoung cut him off. 

“I think it’s better if I ask it as he might understand it more from me,” He said. “Sannie, who was Daphne’s doctor?”

“Mrs. Park always had Dr. Jeong Yunho from the village,” San replied. 

Wooyoung shook his head. “Daphne’s doctor. In the capital,” He added. “We both know Daphne went to a doctor in the capital on the last day of her life, who was it?” 

“I don’t know.”

“I understand, Sannie,” Wooyoung nodded. “You’re trying to defend her. I’m doing the same thing.” 

Colonel Song spoke this time. “Mr. Choi, it was suggested that Mrs. Park was murdered.” 

San stared at him in horror. “...Murdered?” 

“There you have it, Sannie,” Wooyoung said. “There’s also another thing you should know, the name of the murderer, Park Seonghwa,” He glanced at the taller, who said nothing. San remained horrified. “Well, Sannie?” 

“...Mrs. Park sometimes went to that doctor privately,” He revealed. 

“What’s his name?” 

“Dr. Choi Jongho,” He replied, revealing the address of the said doctor. 

Wooyoung looked triumphant, like a predator close to catching its prey. “There you go, Colonel. There you’ll find your motive! He’ll tell you why Daphne went to him, she wanted to confirm that she was going to have a child! A sweet, sweet, rosy-cheeked child, and she told Seonghwa about it and like the gentleman that he is, he killed her!” 

She wanted to say something, she wanted to refute his accusations and deny everything, but she knew she couldn’t. Colonel Song turned to Seonghwa. “I’m afraid we’ll have to question this Dr. Choi Jongho,” He said. 

~ 

Despite Seonghwa’s insistence that she go back to the Fontaine to wait for him, she chose to stay. She still wanted to be there for him, partly because she wanted to see Wooyoung proven wrong. As the said doctor was brought in, she stood by him, holding his hand tightly to assure him that things will be okay. “Dr. Choi, are you sure you’ve never had a patient named Daphne Yoo?” 

“I’m sure of it,” The doctor brought out his notebook that had his schedule. “Here, all my appointments that day, Liu Yang Yang, Xiao Dejun, Wong Kunhang, Choi San-” 

“San?!” Wooyoung exclaimed in surprise. 

“Doctor, can you please read that name again, Choi San?” Seonghwa asked. 

“Yes, the wife of Choi San, she booked the appointment under his name. She was my three o’clock,” The doctor replied. 

“Can we ask what she looked like?” Seonghwa said. 

“Oh yes,” He nodded. “I remember her very well. She was very beautiful - tall, dark hair, elegantly dressed,” The doctor recalled. 

“Daphne!” Seonghwa pointed out. 

“Well in that case, it’s surprising, I’ve been seeing her for a while,” The doctor revealed. 

“What was going on with her?” Wooyoung asked. 

“Mr. Jung, there are certain ethics involved-” 

“Dr. Choi,” Colonel Song spoke. “Could you perhaps give us a reason for Mrs. Park’s suicide?” 

“For her murder!” Wooyoung exclaimed again. He turned back to the physician. “She was pregnant, wasn’t she? Come on, say it!” 

The doctor raised a brow at him. “No she wasn’t, Mr. Jung,” He said. “But she was very ill.” 

The color seemed to drain from Wooyoung’s face. Seonghwa looked just as stunned while she felt relieved and she could tell Hongjoong was as well. “You mean...she wasn’t going to have a baby?” 

“That’s what she thought, but the diagnosis said otherwise,” The doctor explained. “She wanted the truth, I told her. She only had a few months left probably even less than that.” 

“Did-Did she say anything more when you told her?” Seonghwa managed to speak. 

“Well, she smiled in an unusual way, but then she said something that I thought was even more unusual after I told her,” The doctor recalled. “She said, ‘No, not that long.’” 

Wooyoung’s expression fell further. “Thank you, Dr. Choi, you’ve been very helpful,” Colonel Song said. “As for you, Mr. Jung, I’d like to have a word.” 

“Hey, I-I didn’t know-” Wooyoung stammered. 

“Will we be needed any further at this inquest, Colonel?” Hongjoong asked. 

“No, no,” Colonel Song shook his head. “I’ll see to it that Seonghwa’s not troubled any more, you may go.” 

~ 

It was all over, and she wrapped her arms around Seonghwa as they left the inn that night. It was then they realized that they were there all day and into the night, but she didn’t care. Seonghwa was finally free from suspicion. “Hongjoong, there’s something you don’t know,” He suddenly said as he drove. Hongjoong raised a brow in response. “I didn’t kill her, but now I know that when she told me about being pregnant, she wanted me to kill her. She lied. She knew what was going to happen. That’s why she stood there, laughing-” 

“Don’t think about that anymore, Seonghwa,” He said. 

“It’s all over now” She assured him this time. 

Hongjoong sat up when they noticed Seonghwa pull the brakes. “Hwa? Why’d you stop?” He asked. 

Seonghwa looked up at the sky. “What time is it?” 

“It must be three or four in the morning, why?” 

“The sky. That way,” Seonghwa pointed. “It can’t be the dawn coming in.” 

“It must be an aurora,” Hongjoong replied. “But then, we only see those in the winter…” He looked to where Seonghwa was pointing to. 

Seonghwa’s expression turned into that of horrified as he figured out the cause. “It’s not an aurora, it’s the Fontaine! It’s burning!” He stepped on the gas again, driving faster than before. 

She could feel the wind grow warmer the closer they got to the estate where they heard the loud sounds of crackling flames as the mansion was now set ablaze. The staff were all surrounding the house, trying to put out the fire. Seonghwa pulled the brakes and the three of them got down the car. “What happened? What happened? Why is the Fontaine burning down?!” Seonghwa asked the staff. 

“It’s Mr. Choi, San, he’s gone mad!” One of the housekeepers said. “He set the house on fire!” 

“He’d rather destroy the Fontaine than see us happy here,” She realized, holding his hand tightly. 

“He’s at the West Wing!” Hongjoong pointed to the other balcony. 

“Seonghwa! He’ll be killed!” She said. 

Before any of them could do anything, they heard a scream as a loud crash from the West wing was heard. No matter how hard the staff members tried to put out the fire, it was too late. The Fontaine continued to burn down. 

[fatelotusorder]

Name: Elizabeth Tudor

Others  Names : Good  Queen Bess  , Liz  ,Lizabeth  ,Beth

Class: Ruler

other  Classes He  Qualifies For - Berserker(All Tudors Except Ed) , Caster, Saber(All English Ruler Qualify  for this class Bess Finds  this  dumb ), Lancer , Shielder

Alignment: Lawful Good

Voice Actor:Mitsuo Iwata (Sunny from Toriko , Hes  Also The Second Voice  For Ivanvok in One piece )

https://youtu.be/76jZj7Ymy9Y

Gender: Male  Likes: Sweets, Fashion , Beauty  in general

Dislikes: Don't call Him  Fat or  A Drag Queen , Dentists  , His Sister and  Father

Tags:King  ,English , Divine  ,Humaniod ,Servant ,Weak to Enuma Elish  NaturalEnemy: Mary Tudor  , Herny  the 8th  , Gilgamesh,Ozymandias  , Aslaung  , Medb

Cards: Buster,Art , Arts ,Arts Quick Active Skills:

Unwavering  Charisma (Increases Attack for  all Allies  and   Increases Allies  Defense  For 3 turn)

Ageless Beauty- Chance  to  Charm  All  Enemies  for 1 Turn ,and Seal their  NP for  Three  Turns

Glory of the Crown-Increase NP Gain and Apply Damage Cut to all allies for 3 turns

Passive Skills:

Rage of  Tudors - Increases allies   Attack  When Bess  is on  the Felid    Magic Resistance  

NP: Tudor Rose- Protection From the  Queen -  Arts-  Bess  Gives  a  Pray out  to God

,"when wars and seditions with grievous persecutions have vexed almost all kings and countries round about me, my reign hath been peaceable, and my realm a receptacle to thy afflicted Church. The love of my people hath appeared firm, and the devices of my enemies frustrate"

Before Similar  To  Neros A Room  Appears  Around  Him   as He Walks Towards  The  Throne , He Smiles as  Bess Sits  Down on  the Throne   And Snaps His Fingers   and a Light illuminates the Room. Give Invincibility for two hits and a 3 turn Heal Regen for Allies and Lowers Defense  for all Enemies .

Biography:

Elizabeth Tudor known By Many Aliases the last  Ruler of the  Tudor Dynasty in  England  , who Unlike her predecessors Before Enjoyed a Long Reign of about 44 years. Although Documented as a Woman in the History , The "Queen" was Actually  Male, Born with the name Arthur Tudor after his fathers late brother  but then Why Didn't  Bess take the  Throne  next Instead of   Edward he  was the Son Henry always wanted  .

Truth is  Henry  Declared  Bess as one  of His Daughters as Bess wasn't the son Henry wanted and Henry  didn't  consider   Bess Manly Enough  to  considered   His Next Heir   and  so Hid the Fact He Had another  Son by raising Bess  as  Girl and Eventually Declared Bess along with His Sister Mary as   Illegitimate  as Soon as He  had Edward .

Bess despite  His Arrogance, Flamboyancy, and Confidence in himself.Bess  Dose question if he truly a Man as He went through Great lengths to Hide the fact that he wasn't a Woman (even pulling an Artoria and giving himself breasts temporarily ) Mainly for political Reasons and so he didn't suffer the Similar short Rules of His Sister. Not for the Reasons that Modern Day people do it so His pronouces are He/ Them.

-—-

Summoned: "Elizabeth Tudor ,Servant Class : Ruler ,Is it Nice to be in the presence of a Queen  ,Master"

Bond 1:  Its  not  Everyday  Your  around a Queen My  Master ,Smile ~

Bond 2:Hm ,your an Interesting  person  to Say the Least

Bond 3: Your orders Master ,I’ll Do anything you  ask me  to.~"

Bond 4: Hehe ,You Remind Me  of  Someone Very  Special to  me in life. Who is this person? Your not ready for that just yet

Bond 5: this special person , Well his Name was  Robert Dudley , I  had a crush on him for the longest time .

Dialogue 1:"Why  Do you Stare At  me like that ? ,Master ? Is it Because I'm So Breathtakingly beautiful ... or Is it Something Eles?"

Dialogue 2: "D-dentist, Master ,I D-don't need a Dentist"

Dialogue 3:"Master ,This Scale Has to Be wrong I can't  have gained  weight ,I Cut  back on Sweets"

Dialogue 4: "Some Days I wonder Why I was Summoned as a Ruler I'm Not a Saint  or anything ,Just  a person Who believed that God was  on His Side protecting Him. "

(If you Have  Henry the 8th) " Master  , Don't   Compare me  to that  Boar  in Humans  Clothing  ,He dosen't  Deserve the Comparison "

(if You Have Mary Tudor ) "Mary ,Your Here  ...M-master We need to  Talk"

(if You Have Francis Drake )

"  Don't Go Telling People , How Big My (temporary) Breasts  Were! and they  Were Not  Bigger than  Raikou's Cow Udders ! "

(if You Have Ivan  the Terrible ) "You  Look Just as   Ugly and Horrid as  that Letter  You wrote Me"

(If You Have  Ragnar or Judge Vinsmoke )" You  Remind me  of my  Father   ,That is a  Bad  thing "

(if you  have  Sanji,Before whole Cake ) - Okama! Who are you To Say whether I'm  an  Okama or not  , I'll  break You  Arms  Clean off!

(if you  have  Sanji,After  Whole Cake ) "I seem We were Similar Situations, Your father  wanted to mold  you Into a Warrior that lacked Empathy and Compassion and Hated your Passion of Cooking  for his Ridiculous Standards on  What Royalty should and Shouldn't do.. ...Huh ,but I  thought You  didn't  like ugly ass Okamas.~"

(if you Have  Ivar the Boneless Before  Rwby Event) - "he's  the shortest  Viking I've  Seen  and  his Legs Flop around like  if he   was a Ragdoll , He's Kinda  Adorable looking  He reminds me of a Cat .”

(Ivar After Rwby) " Of  Course Come Here  ,Ivar  , If you Need  a Shoulder  to  Cry   come  to  me  , I have been Moved by Your Life  Story, You  still Remind  of  a Cat  though "

(If You Have Gilgamesh , Ozy or Medb) " Aww ~ You seem Jealous, Is it because of My Breathtaking Beauty  attracts Everyone to me like bees to a Flower."

Something you like: I love Sweets and Sugar ,but I'm on diet after looking at the Scale .

Something you dislike:  I personally Hate being  Called a Drag queen or Okama  its Basically  telling me I couldn't  past for a Woman to save my life  , I don't like being Called Fat my Father had to be carried by crane  you know.

About the Holy Grail: Grail , If I had  I'd wish  to  be able  to Find  True Love   and Get married   During an

Event: An  Event , Ah something  Different   than Our Usal Missions we should take break and relax. Birthday: Happy Birthday , Master  ,I shall  get the Cafeteria  to prepare a Banquet.

——-—

Other stuff

to clarify Bess is More gender non conforming and Really doesn’t caring for looking or acting Traditionally Masculine or Feminine . He’ll wear a Pencil skirt cause it looks nice and if people Mistake him for a women then he really dosent care to him that just means He looks pretty. He’ll drop to his natural sounding voice . Mainly because Elizabeth was Literally praised for his beauty even in his older Years where he was worse for wear in Servant form hes at most in his 30’s .

The reason why Bess hid as Women all his Life is that he was afraid of appearing weak and having a short chaotic rule like his sister as he says” It better to appear as a strong woman than be consider a weak man.“

also He’s 6’3 very tall .

In Fate Lotus order

The some of servants of Chaldea seemed to started a Fan club around Bess . This was started by Nobu and Nobukatsu( Whose actually a saber in this universe) cause Nobukatsu ended up forming a crush on him .

Bess pseudo Harem( cause he dosent know about this )now has

Finn mc Cool

a Chinese moth

Drake in there technically cause they’re Friends

his Advisor who is now a Pretty boy merged with a Snake like Eldritch god due messing with the Occult ( John dee )

he is unapologetically Bi and Unapologetically aware that he’s Thicc

Bess being a Male is based of a Debunked theory of Elizabeth Tudor being replaced by Similar looking male child after dying of illness . He is My Very first servant Oc along with his Sister Mary and Red riding Hood.

[squirrelly831]

Leaving Him [Minseok, Junmyeon, and Yixing]

Note: This is JUST a reaction. I do not think you should EVER be in a violent relationship. NEVER let yourself get abused by another [mentally or physically]. You’re worth more than that kind of life.

Not all my mafia/gang reactions will involve violence against the OC by the member. These relationships are supposed to be loving and not just down right abusive. But there will be violence in some reactions.

Enjoy

Minseok

Minseok sat in front of the piano as he waited for his girlfriend, Zoe, to arrive for their date night. Today was going to be the day, the day he would finally ask Zoe to marry him. It had been three and a half years and he felt like now was the best time. Not only because he wanted to be with her forever, but marrying her would also make it easier to protect her. Protect her from his enemies who would love to find her and torture her to hurt him. But, if they were married, he could have her with him at all times. Zoe could travel with him to the meetings, though her involvement in the actual meetings would not be necessary. 

However, Zoe was entirely in the dark of Minseok’s criminal activities. She didn’t know that the man of her dreams lived such a dangerous lifestyle. To her, running into Minseok was a chance of faith. She was his waitress one day and the next she was hired as his personal secretary. It was her first secretarial job and after a year of work, her relationship with Minseok went from secretary and boss to girlfriend and boyfriend. Zoe felt like she was walking on air dating Minseok. She hated comparing things to being perfect, but Minseok was perfect. Everything from his smile to his personality was perfect and he treated her like a queen. 

Zoe had left her job as Minseok’s secretary after she began dating him and started working in a cafe as a barista. She was closing up the cafe when the front door opened. “Sorry, we’re closed” she called from the back as she picked up the mop and bucket. 

“Sorry to disturb you so late Ms. Zoe Burchman, but do you have a moment?” 

Zoe set down the mop and the bucket. She walked out front to see two detectives, “Can I help you, detectives?” She gave them confused looks as she watched them glance at one another. 

The younger one stepped forward with a smile, “We were just wondering if you have a moment to come to the station with us. We wanted to talk to you about Kim Minseok.”

Zoe pulled off her apron and gave a concerned glance, “Oh--sure. Let me just lock up and we can go.” The detectives’ shoulders relaxed as they flashed her a smile and waited for her to finish closing up shop.

“Are you sure you don’t know anything?” 

Zoe had her face buried into the crook of her elbow. She shook her head as her other hand pushed back the pictures of Minseok in Hong Kong. “I never would ha--” she shook her head as she sat up, “I would never be with a killer.” 

“But you knew he went to Hong Kong?” The young detective held out a handkerchief.

“For a business trip” she grabbed the handkerchief and rubbed at her eyes. “I didn’t know--” She looked back at the picture, “Oh god…” 

The older detective took the pictures away from her sight, “We’re sorry to do this to you. You’re free to go.” 

Zoe stumbled as she stood. She bowed to the detectives as she wondered out of the police department numbly. Her head spun as she walked down the sidewalk. Her home was only mere blocks from the police department, so she walked the way home. The fresh air helped her breathe better, but when she got home and she shut the front door, Zoe flipped. Zoe let out a sharp cry as she flung the small end table by her front door. She sank to the ground and sobbed into her hands unsure what to do.

Minseok called Zoe’s cellphone for the fourth time that night. After the third call, Minseok sent out his men. He waited at home in case Zoe showed up, but when one of his underlings entered the room with Zoe’s phone in hand, Minseok’s heart dropped. He feared the worse. He felt he was too late to protect her. Sehun entered the room and dismissed the underling as he handed Minseok a picture. “What is this?”

“She was at the police station. Apparently, they took her down after the cafe closed.” Minseok stared at the image in his hand. “She made it home, but then she took a taxi. I haven’t been able to track her since she took a train, but I’m working on it.” 

“So she knows…” He ran his hand in his hair as he let out a light-hearted chuckle. Zoe was alive, she was safe. She was still breathing and okay. 

Sehun’s eyebrow rose, “Shall I go look for her?”

Minseok shook his head. His hand went to his suit pocket where the engagement ring rested, “She’d be better off without me… But keep an eye on her. If any of our enemies find her, who knows what they would do to her.” He walked out of the room to his bedroom where he hid the engagement ring in the nightstand along with any happiness he had managed to keep since becoming a gang leader.

Junmyeon

Bianca felt like she couldn’t stand still as she watched the cars pulling up and driving off from the airport. Her longterm boyfriend, Junmyeon, had planned to spend a week and a half in Japan for a business trip. It took a lot of begging and pleading from Bianca to get Jumyeon to agree to let her spend the weekend in Japan with him. It was to be her 25th birthday and she wanted to spend it with him as her family still lived in the US. 

A cop cruiser pulled up in front of her and Biance moved believing they were just trying to get out to check the airport. However, the cop from the passenger seat exited the car and approached her. He spoke to her in Japanese at first which only got a raised eyebrow from Bianca. He spoke again, “Bianca Guerra, we need you to come to the station with us.” Before she could really say no, the second cop had reached for her luggage and threw it in the back of the cruiser while the cop in front of her guided her to the cruiser. As if to show no ill intent, the cop let her sit in the passenger seat while he took a seat in the back.

Junmyeon was only ten minutes late when he swung by the airport to pick up his girlfriend. His meeting with a yakuza member ran later than he intended as they ironed out the details of their alliance with EXO. Junmyeon sent Bianca a text to let her know he was on his way to the airport and how excited he was to see her. When no text came in, Junmyeon called Bianca to check on her. The phone just rang and rang until he hung up. He pulled off to the side of the road and checked the GPS to see Bianca’s location. His blood boiled when he saw her phone ping at the nearby police department. Junmyeon threw his phone on the passenger seat as he gripped the steering wheel tightly and took a u-turn to the police station. 

Bianca sat in the interrogation room with a detective who interpreted for his partner who sat beside him across from Bianca. She was shaking and visibly upset as the interpreting detective leaned towards her. “Just tell us what we need to know and you’re free to go. We won’t press any charges against you if you come clean.”

She wrapped the cardigan tighter around her body as she cried harder, “I don’t know what you want from me… I told you--”

The second detective slammed his hands down on the metal table and rushed Bianca, “Look at these pictures!” He pointed at the open file where pictures of corpses rested. Bianca shut her eyes tightly. “Look at them!” She let out a cry as she shook her head. “You know Kim Junmyeon. You know he’s here in Japan. Is he here to kill someone else?”

The detective who interpreted for her broke the other detective away from her as he tried to keep the peace. “I apologize for my colleague. We just need to find the victims’ killer.”

“It’s not Junmyeon” she whispered. She looked at the interpreter, “He’s a kind soul, he’d never kill someone.” 

The detective gave a sympathetic smile, “I hope for your sake, you’re right. Here’s my card. If anything happens, please call us.” 

“Don’t let her go!”

She slipped the card in her pocket just as the door to the interrogation room swung open against the protest of officers behind the intruder. Junmyeon fixed his tie as he entered the interrogation room calm and collective as he eyed the two detectives. 

“Junmyeon” Bianca shot out of the chair and rushed over to Junmyeon who wrapped his arm around her protectively. 

“You’ll be hearing from my attorney. Good day, gentlemen.” Junmyeon led Bianca out of the police station. 

Junmyeon sat Bianca down on the couch in the living room before he retrieved a hot cup of tea. “Here, my love.” He handed her the cup and knelt in front of her, “Did they hurt you, angel?” Bianca shook her head and Junmyeon took her hand in his. He pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, “I’m sorry. That must have been scary for you, but I promise this won’t happen again.”

That night, the two were in bed when Junmyeon received a phone call. He thought he had answered it before it woke up Bianca, but as he left the room to take the call, Bianca climbed out of bed. She followed after him and hid in the hall as Junmyeon took the call in his office. “Why are you calling me? I told you I’d call you” he growled. “What do you mean--are you that incompetent. Get rid of him. I never want him to be found again, do you understand me? And never- NEVER call me again. Meet me at noon at the docks, we’ll do the exchange there.” Bianca rushed back to the bedroom making no sounds as she returned to bed. She buried herself in the covers just as Junmyeon entered. When he saw her shift, he crawled in bed and wrapped an arm around her, “Did I wake you?”

“Yea… Who called?” 

“No one important. Just my employee in Germany. I guess he forgot about the time difference.” He kissed her cheek as he snuggled up to her and he went back to sleep. However, Bianca was wide awake and hoping for morning to come so he was away from her.

The next morning, Junmyeon pecked Bianca’s lips before he headed out claiming to go meet up with a business partner. Bianca was surprised by how calm and natural she could act around him when she could feel her heart race against her chest. As the front door shut behind Junmyeon, Bianca let out a shaky breath as she pulled out her phone. She wore the cardigan she had the day before and pulled out the business card of the police officer. She dialed the number and pressed the phone to her ear.

“Hello, Detective Younghwa speaking?” 

Bianca gasp, “Detective! It’s Bianca Guerra.”

“Ms. Bianca, are you okay?” The detective asked with concern laced in his voice. “Did something happen?” 

Bianca sank down to her knees as she cried, “I think you’re right-- Please. Help me.” Detective Younghwa spoke to her in a gentle voice as he explained what she needed to do. Bianca rushed through the home getting dressed as she texted Junmyeon to let him know she was going to a cafe.

She sat at the cafe with a coffee trying to act natural when a man approached her, “Ms. Bianca?”

She jumped at her name and saw it was Detective Younghwa in casual clothes. He led her out of the cafe and to his unmarked vehicle and drove her to his temporary housing. Once there, she told him about the conversation she had overheard the night before. Detective Younghwa took her hands and squeezed them reassuringly, “You did great, Bianca. This information will be helpful. I have to go back to the station, but you’ll be safe here.” 

It was noon, Junmyeon met with his hitman. He handed over the briefcase to the hitman. However, after the hitman checked the content and began to walk off, a ring of police cruisers circled them. Detective Younghwa was the first out with his gun as he ordered the two men on their knees. Junmyeon glared at him as he did what he was told and he was put in cuffs. It would only be in the interrogation room where Junmyeon would learn Bianca had heard the conversation from the night before and turned him in.

Yixing

As much as he loved his fiancee, Vivianna, there was one thing about her that annoyed him. Her constant need for answers. If he came home late, she questioned him. A little blood on the corner of his shirt, she questioned it. He couldn’t just tell her about his work as a collector-at least not about what he really collected. Vivianna knew he was a debt collector in Junmyeon’s company, but not the type of debt she had thought. 

He wasn’t going to correct her that the debt he collected usually ended in death. He was the last resort if people who screwed over Junmyeon didn’t pay him back tenfold. Yixing was one of the best killers in EXO, but there had been times where he slipped up. It was one slip up that brought Yixing’s criminal activity to light. 

Yixing invited Vivianna to stay the night at his place as they hadn’t been together in some time due to Yixing’s job. They were in bed relaxing from another round in bed when Yixing heard the deadbolt on the front door unlatch. His eyes darkened as he got out of bed and gave Vivianna an excuse that he was getting water as he slipped on a pair of boxers before he retrieved a knife from his drawer. He slipped out of the room and made his way down the hall towards the living room. He heard the shuffle of feet and rolled his eyes amateurs. Yixing fixed his grip on his knife, loosely holding it between his fingers as he stepped into the living room. “What brings you to the dragon’s lair?” He smirked. 

The amateur hitmen were startled by his sudden appearance, but quickly recovered and rushed him. “You gotta be a lot fast than that” he huffed as he jumped over the first attacked slicing the man’s throat as he landed behind him. Yixing whipped around to the second attacker and stopped his attack midair. 

The sound of the first man’s body alerted Vivianna. She quickly got dressed and grabbed her cell phone. She was leaving the room when she was pulled from behind, a hand pressed against her mouth silencing any cry that would have left her lips. She felt a sharp blade press against her neck as a cold voice told her to slowly walk to the living room. The two of them entered the living just as Yixing yanked his knife out of the second attacker. Vivianna felt faint as she saw the two bodies and Yixing standing over them with excitement dancing over his face. 

Her captor cleared his voice and Yixing’s head turned in their direction. His smile faltered when he saw Vivianna. His demeanor changed and both Vivianna and her captor shivered at the change in the air. “You have five seconds to get your hands off her.” He flicked the knife in his hand as his eyes never left hers. 

Vivianna felt the rush of air by her ear and her captor let out a gurgled grunt. The blade at her neck fell away from her as her captor reached from his own throat. Vivianna was yanked by Yixing just as the man collapsed on the ground as blood began to pool. Vivianna let out a cry as the situation she was in finally set in. 

Yixing tsked as he looked around the room covered in blood, “They made a mess in my apartment… bastards.”

Vivianna turned to him in disbelief, “We need to call the police!”

Yixing glared at her, “We will do no such thing.” He took her phone and dialed a number. He waited a moment until someone answered the phone, “D.O. get over to my place. Those fuckers came just as you said.” 

Vivianna broke up with Yixing after that night. After finding out the truth about Yixing, she packed up and left. She was still distraught, but she didn’t call the police. Yixing didn’t threaten her, but he really didn’t have to. He made a show of what he was capable of doing. More shocking was that Yixing let her leave, a smirk on his face as she walked out of his door. “You’ll come back, love. You always do!” Their relationship was a testament to his words. Their relationship was an on and off affair, she had walked out of the relationship but each time she returned after a few weeks.

However, when the fourth month passed with no sign of her, Yixing began to grow frustrated. He wasn’t going to cave in and drop by her apartment, at least that’s what he said. He drove passed her apartment periodically but never checked to see if she was inside. Then one day, he received a text message from her phone. He was in the middle with Junmyeon when his phone flashed with her name. He smirked as he picked up the phone to see what Vivianna said. He had planned to make her beg for him to take her back. He opened the text and his smirk fell. His jaw clenched as he viewed the text. He stood quickly, “I got some business to take care of” he growled. 

“What could be so important?” Junmyeon’s eye twitched as he looked up from the file in front of him. 

Yixing tucked his phone in his pocket and reached for his gun, “Look, I take care of people who fuck over EXO. I’m not your personal hitman who takes out the men who steal your women. Unless you wanna start paying me for it. Or you handle it your damn self.” With that, he stormed out of Junmyeon’s office ignoring his calls for him to return. Yixing checked his gun for bullets as he rushed to his motorcycle remembering the image of Vivianna bound to a chair with a blindfold. He was going to make whoever kidnapped her pay and he was going to enjoy making them suffer. 

Vivianna had been at home when she was kidnapped, but she was knocked out before she could see her intruders. When she came to, she felt the blindfold ripped off her face down and it fell around her neck. She took in the new sight still trying to gather her bearing. She noticed the two men lounging around her with a cigarette in each mouth eyeing her as she came to. Both were huge, they reminded her of two bodybuilders. A third guy walked up in front of her, he much smaller, but even the two men stood to attention at his presence.

He flashed her a smile, “Sorry they were so rough with you. They don’t know when they should hold back their own strength.” He pulled a chair and sat with the back of the chair at his chest. He reached out and touched the wound on her head. “You’re probably confused why you’re here.”

“Yixing…”

His eyes widened with surprise, “Well guess it’s not much of a surprise. If you don’t try to fight us, I can guarantee your safety. We’re just after that bastard. You’re just the thing that will bring him to us.”

She shook her head, “We broke up. He won’t come and save me.” 

As if on cue, the sound of a revved motorcycle rang out and shouts could be heard from the entrance as the motorcycle grew closer. The guy in front of Vivianna chuckled as he stood from his chair as the motorcycle was switched off. Yixing smirked as he got off it with his gun in his hand, “I heard you picked up my fiancee. How nice of you, but I think I’ll take her from here.” 

The man nudged his head and the two body-builders rushed past the two towards Yixing. He fought against the body-builders. Yixing had used the body-builders as a distraction as he reloaded his gun and took a shot at their leader. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but enough to bring him to his knees. The gun was knocked from his hands, but the two men went down by Yixing’s hidden knife. Yixing wiped off his hands and picked up his gun. He approached their leader with a cocky expression as he pointed the gun at him. “I’d kill you, but I need you alive long enough that you can let others know not to touch what belongs to me.” He let off another shot into the man’s knee before he pocketed the gun. Yixing turned to Vivianna and his smirk only grew.

Part II || Part III

Credit to gif owners

Written & revamped by Squirrelly831

♕ REQUEST

☮ EXO MASTERLIST

∞ ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,006

Tag List: @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali​

Chapter 39: Not Today

“Today we’ll never die. The light will pierce through the darkness.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Seoul – Myeongdong; Jung District South Korea

It was the calm before the storm.

Hoseok could feel it in his bones to the point where he swore that they creaked with each step he took. He barely heard what Namjoon was telling him as they approached the large building in downtown Myeongdong. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince him to change his mind; to postpone this meeting for another day. Or if it was something else entirely. Hoseok was only vaguely aware of the noises on the streets as they passed pedestrians on the path to their destination.

There was too much simmering beneath the surface for him to focus on anything outside of reaching his destination.

When he’d received the call from Taehyung a couple of days ago, Hoseok knew it was time for him to make his move. Yoongi falling ill and being hospitalized, even for a day, should have been the metaphorical straw that broke the camel’s back. Truth be told, Hoseok was in and out of meetings for most of the days during the week and had little time to spare outside of his business practices. Things were starting to look good. Things were finally beginning to take a positive turn, just as they planned.

Even with the instances that the Jade Fangs did show up, they were minor inconveniences at most. Hoseok was made aware of the slight against Eden, Jungkook’s girlfriend. He offered to have her monitored, but at Jungkook’s behest, he didn’t follow through. Eden was apparently a woman who valued her personal life and her privacy. The last thing she wanted was anyone shadowing her unnecessarily, even if it was for her own protection. From what he was told, Eden was also a woman who could more than handle herself if it came to a rough and tumble fight.

Hoseok did not pull his eyes back from Raelyn, even if she was seeing Taehyung now. There was always the chance that something could happen and at a moment when everyone least expected it. If she were ever made aware of it, he would apologize for it later. In this case, it was better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.

Old habits die hard, as they say…

Feet shuffled to a halt as he stood in front of the large building, Namjoon at his side. The two of them looked up at the high-rise, the sun already sinking beyond the horizon and down below the tree lines. The twilight hour was upon them and the world was still just as busy buzzing with life. As it would continue to do for many days to come.

Clearing his throat, he began to move forward – approaching the sliding glass doors. “Let’s go,” he said just as the doors opened to grant them entrance.

Two security guards approached them from either side, causing the two men to stop in the main lobby. Hoseok lofted a brow at each of them and Namjoon shuffled just a little bit closer to him. His tan trench coat hung off his shoulders while he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pin-striped slacks. Lifting one hand from the pocket, he undid the button on the matching suit jacket as he slid his aviators off his face.

“Im Changkyun is expecting me,” came his even reply as he put the shades into the inner pocket of his jacket, “so be good boys and step aside.”

Hoseok didn’t bother hiding his irritation. He wanted it known that this wasn’t some pleasant little business meeting or a check-in visit. This was nothing of the sort.

This…was personal.

A phone rang at the secretary’s desk, snapping her out of her momentary trance at the small incident that was stirring in the lobby. The two security guards continued to block Hoseok’s path, but then the woman quickly stood from her seat and bowed before hanging up the phone. She clapped her hands to get the guards’ attention.

“Chairman Im said to let them through.”

The guards stood there a little while longer before finally stepping to the side, giving both Hoseok and Namjoon a clear path. They approached the desk where the young woman handed Hoseok a keycard. She bowed in apologies before pointing to the corridor off to the right.

“If you take that hallway, there are sets of elevators. The key card will give you access to the Chairman’s office on the top floor.”

Hoseok flashed her a polite grin, waving the card at her clamped between his fingers. “Thank you.”

And without so much as a second glance, he began heading toward the hallway. Namjoon followed behind him, making sure that the two security guards weren’t intent on doing something stupid. Hoseok didn’t see his friend visibly relax until they were alone in the elevator.

He slid the keycard through the card reader, waiting for the elevator to begin lifting them from the ground floor. When it jerked slightly upon its initial ascent was when Namjoon finally spoke.

“Hoseok-ah? Do you think—”

“Don’t, Namjoon-ah,” he interrupted, staring ahead at their muddied reflections on the elevator’s stainless-steel doors, “not now.”

“We didn’t even discuss this with the others.”

There was concern in Namjoon’s voice, which was well-warranted. It was rare for Hoseok to go rogue. When he did, it was usually something small. He never made moves like this without discussing it with the others first. Seokjin always made it a point to ensure that everyone was on the same page so that none of them could get blind-sided. Strategizing and prioritizing situations before others was what helped the Golden Jackals climb up the ladder of success so quickly. Impulsivity had no place in their lives back then and it shouldn’t have now.

However, this time, Hoseok wanted to be selfish. He’d earned the right to be selfish. He deserved and had every right to be as livid as he was at that moment. Anyone who tried to tell him otherwise was delusional.

“This doesn’t concern them right now.” He cast a sidelong glance to Namjoon, brows furrowing deeply. “Honestly, I don’t even like that you’re with me. You should have stayed in the car like I told you to.”

Namjoon blinked at him, clearly jarred by his words. Or that he’d suddenly grown a second head. “You thought you’d just waltz into Im Changkyun’s business office alone, huh?” He snorted. “Yeah, no. Jin Hyung would have my head and I’m a pretty big fan of it staying attached to my neck.”

Hoseok grinned. “That’s not like you, Namjoon-ah. You’re usually the first one to show your guts.”

“Yeah, well that was then. This is now.”

The elevator dinged softly as they reached their destination. The steel doors slid open slowly, revealing a long hallway with a black and red carpet leading from the elevator to a pair of double doors at the very end of the long stretch. There was someone standing just outside the door, but they were too far away to be made out easily.

Hoseok stepped out and strode forward, Namjoon matching his pace. The closer they got to the end of the hallway, the more the person’s face standing just outside the door came into view. When they were only a couple of yards away, they could now tell it was Shownu. He looked between the two of them, a satisfied smirk etching his features. Hoseok peered up at the man who was older and slightly taller than him. His image from five years ago overlapped his current one and a phantom ache throbbed at Hoseok’s side from when he’d been kicked by the man in the rainstorm.

Shownu politely stood away from the door, gesturing toward it. “He’s waiting for you, Jung Hoseok.”

He nodded, casting his gaze over toward Namjoon. “Wait here.”

Namjoon looked like he was about to protest, but then Shownu placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s get a drink, hm? I’m sure they’re going to have a lot to discuss.”

Again, Namjoon looked reticent. But Hoseok nodded, his earlier expression dissolving into a softer one. He saw his friend blink in surprise. He could only imagine what his face looked like, but it probably reflected an old version of himself he hadn’t shown in quite some time. After a moment, he watched Namjoon sigh before nodding.

“If you need anything, call me.”

Hoseok nodded again. “I will.”

He waited, watching the two men make their way back down the hall. Shownu turned off to the left, entering a room and Namjoon followed. But not before he met his gaze one more time. Hoseok took a breath, promising to apologize to Namjoon later, and opened the doors.

The interior of the office was what Hoseok would have expected. Pristine. Clean. Modern. There was the traditional name plate sitting on top of a black polished desk made of expensive and imported wood. The marbling on the floor was flawless and the furniture held a business design with sectionals surrounding a glass and metal coffee table. Elegant art pieces decorated the walls and off to the right was a large window that overlooked the entire downtown area of Myeongdong from hundreds of feet in the air. A wet bar was situated near the small nook near the back.

Hoseok wasn’t impressed, however. This was to be expected of Im Changkyun, the Wolf of the Jade Fangs. He hadn’t climbed up in the ranks and obtained his title of “leader” if he wasn’t capable of this level of eloquence and prestige. His ambition suited his taste in decorating.

Instead of stepping further inside, he remained near the entrance as the doors closed behind him. Changkyun was seated at his desk, immersed in a book of some sort. The computer monitor was situated, visually, to Hoseok’s right. When their eyes met, Hoseok didn’t smile even though Changkyun did.

“Oh, Hoseok Hyung,” he said, closing the book and sliding it just to the side of him, “welcome. I’ll admit, I was a little surprised when I received your call. It’s not often you take the time to come visit me.”

Hoseok heard the bitter edge to the statement but made no effort to acknowledge it. He gave a slight shrug, remaining where he was until he saw Changkyun slowly rising from his plush leather chair. The wheels shifted along the marble floor and it was in that moment that Hoseok reached behind him to turn the deadbolt on the door – synchronizing it to match the sound of the chair’s movements.

“Your boys have been paying mine little visits here and there,” he said, stepping away from the door, “I figured that I should return the favor.”

Changkyun flashed an open-mouthed grin. “Ah, yes. Yes, they have.” He reached up to brush his dark hair out of his eyes. “Is that the reason for this, Hyung? Are the boys getting in your way?”

Hoseok scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Hmm, well that’s no good. I was hoping that was why.”

Slowly, Hoseok made his way to the left of the sectionals in the center of the office. “Because?”

“Because I’m still trying to figure you out, Hyung. I have questions and you haven’t answered them all yet.”

Changkyun’s words didn’t match his expression. Instead of looking inquisitive, he had the look of a man who appeared to have already won the game. It was a look that Hoseok remembered from many years ago – before the Golden Jackals were formed. Before they truly began to understand what the criminal underworld really looked like.

Before Im Changkyun killed the previous leader of the Jade Fangs in cold blood.

“Then let me give them to you.”

Hoseok’s body moved in a blur – matching the speed of his youth which was fueled by his anger alone. He knew he wasn’t in his twenties anymore. He hadn’t been fighting every day like he had years ago when his brothers and he first arrived in Seoul. Their lives were harder, but they were much simpler back then. When they were happier and driven to reach a future they could all obtain together.

He tapped into that feeling and rushed Changkyun’s desk – his trench coat flying off his shoulders and landing on the ground just as he went airborne. Just like that rainy night five years ago, during the gang war on the streets of Gangnam, he watched Changkyun’s smug look melt away as sudden realization washed over him instead. Hoseok cleared the chair at the head of the coffee table and landed on Changkyun’s desk in a crouch.

Jerking his right arm, the switch blade slid from the sleeve of his jacket and landed in his hand. He flicked the blade free, aiming straight for Changkyun’s neck. However, he knew that this wouldn’t be enough for the leader of the Jade Fangs. There was a reason he’d earned the nickname Wolf all those years ago. And it was because of his primal instincts.

Those very instincts came into play as he reached up to catch Hoseok’s wrist. Changkyun tried to pull his arm away from his body, attempting to keep the blade as far from his neck as possible. But just like Changkyun earned his moniker, so had Hoseok. The Death Claw didn’t back down from a fight because he’d looked The Grim Reaper in his face and spit in it.

Hoseok used his free hand to grab at his wrist, fingers locking over Changkyun’s and then pushing his weight forward. What distance was gained was soon minimized as Hoseok leaned in, the tip of the knife moving up and casting a shadow over Changkyun’s face. If he wouldn’t let him take his throat, he would jam the blade straight into his eye socket.

“H-Hyung,” growled Changkyun through clenched teeth as he glared up at Hoseok, “what do you think you’re doing?”

He could feel his arms trembling with the amount of force he was exerting. Changkyun was putting in just as much effort, causing a horrible stalemate that was on the verge of fracturing. The odds evened out as Hoseok watched him reaching up with his free hand to brace against his own wrist – mimicking each other.

“What does it look like?” Hoseok replied, his eyes narrowing darkly, “I’m answering your questions.”

He watched him blinking up at him in confusion. He was a young man Hoseok once believed to be full of potential and drive. Someone Hoseok admired years ago. Before he discovered the depth of his said ambition.

Silence stretched between them, neither of them easing off their stance or their grips. Hoseok felt a bead of sweat slip down his temple just as he saw one sliding down to drip from Changkyun’s chin. There were the occasional grunting sounds as one attempted to overpower the other, but outside of that, no words were spoken.

Changkyun finally let out a choked-out scoff, bitter disappointment evident on his features. Yet he smirked, regardless. “So, this is your answer, Hyung?”

Hoseok mirrored his gaze. “Yes, Changkyun-ah, it is.”

Something passed over the younger man’s face. But it was so brief, Hoseok couldn’t place it. At least not then.

“That’s a shame, Hoseok Hyung. A real shame.” He let out a shaky breath. “But if this is your answer, then I guess I have no choice but to continue the game without you.”

And then he moved faster than Hoseok could have anticipated. He released his hold and Hoseok felt all his weight collapsing forward. The blade nicked Changkyun’s cheek, but it was a sacrifice he willingly made. Hoseok realized this when he saw knuckles sailing toward his face. He pivoted in mid-air, changing his trajectory and his shoulder landed hard on the desk. Changkyun moved to elbow-drop him, but Hoseok whirled his legs into the air to block the assault, slamming his knee into Changkyun’s shoulder before rolling completely off the desk.

However, as he landed on the marble flooring, he felt pain exploding across his back and causing him to stumble forward. He quickly pivoted on his heels just as he saw Changkyun lowering his arm from where he’d had it extended – noting that his punch had, in fact, successfully connected. The two of them heaved, inhaling a lungful of air. Hoseok reached up to dab at the sweat on his brow with the back of his wrist.

A full minute passed before both men lowered their stances, silently agreeing that this discussion was at its conclusion. Hoseok turned to head toward the entrance, scooping up his trench coat along the way. Just as he made to unlatch the doors to the office, he heard Changkyun popping his neck before a breathy chuckle escaped.

“You’ve made yourself clear. So now I’m going to make myself clear.”

Pausing, Hoseok turned to look back at the leader of the Jade Fangs. But he chose to say nothing. Changkyun continued.

“What I do from this moment on, you no longer play a factor into it. What happens after today is a result of the answer you’ve given me. And I’m going to make good on it.”

Hoseok scoffed. “Is that right?” He rolled his eyes, unlatching the door. “We’re done playing this game with you. Do what you want.”

The grin that Changkyun gave him was the most wolfish he’d ever seen and it caused his spine to lock up uncomfortably, even for just a moment.

“Oh, I will. Trust me.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Just remember that it’s nothing personal, Jung Hoseok.”

Dropping the honorific was expected. Hoseok wasn’t surprised. So, instead of giving it credence, he simply exited the office and slammed the doors behind him. He needed to breathe. He needed air. So, for now, he would simply text Namjoon to come out when he was ready and that he’d be waiting in the car.

After he vomited his anger into a nearby bush somewhere.

[winchesterbrotherstan]

SPN- The Usual Suspects (2.07)

Pairing: Olive Winchester (OC)

Summary: A case goes side-ways, Dean is left cornered, and it’s up to Sam and Olive to get him out of the mess. Olive falls fatally ill, and Sam must team up with a law enforcement officer.

Warnings: lots of coughing, blood, mentions of drug use, gun threats, uh ghosts and like... the usual??

Word Count: 8547

Baltimore, Maryland

Outside a motel room, a SWAT team gears up. It’s dark, and the few people outside have scattered. Someone stays closeby, but only their face is hidden. They’ve got their hood pulled up, one hand is in their pocket, and their other arm is in a makeshift sling. They’ve got a dog on a leash, and they do their best to stay in the shadows.

In a police station across the city, a sheriff enters an interrogation room and sits down.

“Well, first I thought you were just stepping up your game. Credit card fraud, breaking and entering, and this one…” he looks over the file with a sigh, “puzzled me. Grave desecration. But still, these are a long way from murder. Then we get a fax from St. Louis. Where you’re suspected of torturing and murdering a young woman. However, no one could prove anything, of course, because you died there. But I gotta tell you something. You look pretty healthy to me.”

The detective moves, sits on the table. “Now we know. Karen Giles isn’t the first person you’ve killed. But I guarantee you she’s the last.”

At the motel, the SWAT team stands outside a second floor room, ready. They knock the door down with a battering ram, and the person inside immediately puts their hands up. One of the detectives steps forward, keeping her gun on the person.

“Going somewhere, Sam?” She asks.

There’s a rifle ready to shoot the middle Winchester through the heart, and he swallows hard, eyes set in disgust as he looks at the woman.

In the police station, the detective shoots the prisoner a dirty look before getting up and walking out. The prisoner is Dean.

The person standing in the motel parking lot pulls their hood back, watching as Sam is dragged from the room. It’s Olive. She pulls the hood back up, turns on her heel, and walks off.

                                                               ***

The detective that cornered Sam enters his interrogation room. She places a coffee cup on the table, and Sam glances over, but continues to pace by the window.

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

“Okay, so you’re the good cop.” Sam assesses. “Where’s the bad cop?”

“Oh, he’s with your brother.”

“Okay. And you’re holding us why?”

“Well he’s being held on suspicion of murder.” The woman adjusts her sleeves and a look of shock washes over Sam’s face. “And you? Well, we’ll see.”

“Murder?” Sam repeats, leaning onto the table.

“You sound genuinely surprised. Or are you that good of an actor?” The woman smiles.

“Who is he supposed to have murdered?” Sam squints.

“We’ll get around to that.”

“Well, you can’t just hold us here without formal charges!” Sam is growing more and more upset.

“Well, actually, we can. For forty eight hours, but you, being a pre-law student, would know that. You see, I know all about you, Sam.” She picks up a file folder and opens it. “You’re twenty three years old. No job, no home address. Your mother died when you were a baby, your father’s whereabouts are unknown. And then there’s the case of your brother, Dean. Whose demise was, well, just a bit exaggerated. Feel free to jump in whenever you like.”

Sam leans against the wall and folds his arms over his chest.

“Shy?” She teases. “No problem. I’ll keep going. Your family moved around a lot when you were a kid. Despite that, you were a straight-A student. Got into Stanford with a full ride.”

Sam says nothing. They haven’t mentioned Olive, and he’s not sure whether he should be relieved or worried. His mind spins. There’s got to be a record of her somewhere out there. Sure, she wasn’t born in a hospital, and she almost never went to the doctor, and she went to school under fake names, but there’s gotta be something.

The woman closes the file. “Then about a year ago, there was a fire in your apartment. One fatality. Jessica Moore, your girlfriend. After she died, you fell off the grid. Left behind everything.”

Sam says nothing, but he looks up through his eyelashes. “I needed some time off. To deal. So I’m taking a road trip with my brother.”

“And your little sister.”

Sam’s blood runs cold.

“Don’t think we forgot about little old Olive.” She smiles. “Such a strange name.”

His nose twitches in anger. He picked that name. She smiles again, wider this time.

“Where is she? We didn’t find her in the motel room. The bathroom window was open, but she couldn’t have jumped. Two stories is too high, don’t you agree?”

Sam says nothing.

“Where is she, Sam?”

He leans further into the wall.

“How’s that road trip going for you guys?”

“Great.” Sam shrugs softly, then takes the chance to derail her. “I mean…” A smile grows on his face. “We saw the second largest ball of twine in the continental US. It was awesome.” He pulls up a chair and straddles it.

“We ran Dean’s fingerprints through AFIS.” The detective comes to the end of the table.

“Okay.”

“Got over a dozen possible hits.”

“Possible hits.” Sam repeats. “Which makes them worthless.”

“But it makes you wonder. What are we gonna find when we run your prints?”

“Well.” Sam smiles and pounds his fist on the table, every movement dripping with sarcasm. “You be sure to let me know.” He points at the cup. “May I?”

She nods. “Please.”

“Great.” He takes the cup, smells it, and then takes a sip.

She leans over him, eyes intent.

“Sam. You seem like a good kid. It’s not your fault Dean’s your brother. We can’t pick our family. Right now, detectives in St. Louis are exhuming a corpse. They’re trying to figure out how your brother faked his own death.”

There’s a scream from outside, and against all common sense, on instinct, Sam’s head snaps up. It’s Olive’s scream.

“Get off of me!” She screams, squirming.

She’s dropped Jinx off at a safe place. The Richmonds will pick her up and take care of her until this is over. Olive is being dragged through the police station, kicking and screaming. She’s managed to nail two men in the crotch, and has sent a mug full of pens to the floor.

Back in the interrogation room, Sam’s face is pale. The detective turns back to him with a smile.

“Is that baby sister Olive?”

He glares.

“She’s sixteen, isn’t she? Has been for a little less than a month now. She can be tried as an adult. Look, Dean’s a bad guy. His life is over. Yours doesn’t have to be, and neither does Olive’s.”

Sam turns with a glare. “You want us to turn against our own brother?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “We’ve already caught him cold. Red-handed at the Karen Giles murder scene. We just need you to fill in some missing pieces.”

“Why would I do that?” Olive spits from her seat in a third interrogation room.

They’ve cuffed her down, and she knows she could break them, but that would lead to another issue they couldn’t solve without making an even bigger mess.

“Because we can talk to the DA for you, kid.” The detective who had talked to Dean sits across from her. “Dean’s gone. You don’t have to be.”

She grits her teeth, composes herself, and then spits in his face.

“Go to hell.”

The man wipes the spit from his face angrily and stands.

“Fine. Just remember, I tried to help you.”

Sam begins to talk, voice quiet. “My dad and Tony Giles were old friends. They were in the service together. We’ve known him since we were kids, you know? So we came as soon as we heard about his death.”

Cafe, Before

“Here.” Sam placed three coffee cups down and slid into his chair.

Dean handed him the newspaper he had been reading. “Anthony Giles.”

“Who’s Anthony Giles?” Sam squinted.

“Baltimore lawyer. Working late in his office, check it out.” Olive pointed at the article she and Dean found.

Sam scanned over it, mumbling out loud. “Throat slit, room was clean. Huh. No DNA, no prints.”

“Keep reading.” Olive grinned. “It gets better.”

“Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant.” He scoffed.

“So we’re thinking either somebody messed with the tapes-”

“Or we’ve got an invisible killer on our hands.”

“My favorite kind.” Dean smiles. “What do you think, Scully? You wanna check it out?”

Sam scoffed, and Olive snorted.

“I’m not Scully, you’re Scully.”

“No, I’m Mulder.” Dean fought back. “You’re a red-headed woman.”

“Hey!” Olive whined. “Can I be Scully? I’m a girl.”

Dean and Sam shared a look, and each broke out into a smile. Dean patted her head and Sam gave her hand a squeeze.

“You’re too little to be either, bug.”

She rolled her eyes with a huff. “Fine, fine. Let’s go check this out.”

Second Interrogation Room, Present Day

“Would’ve been kind of hard for Dean to kill Tony, considering we weren’t in town at the time.” Sam is still straddling the chair, hands in his lap.

“So tell me what happened next.”

“Okay, uh, that when we went to see Karen.” Sam sighs. “She was barely holding it together. We just wanted to be there for her. You know?”

Giles House, Before

Karen sat on the couch, on the verge of tears. She flipped through the forms the siblings had handed her and sighed shakily.

“Insurance. I totally forgot about the insurance.”

“We’ve very sorry to bother you right now, but the company is required to conduct its own investigation. You understand.” Sam smiled sympathetically.

“Sure.” Karen nodded, pushing her glasses back up.

“Okay. Um, if you could just tell us anything you remember about the night your husband died.”

“Um… Tony and I were just supposed to have dinner. He called and said he was having computer troubles, and that… that he had to work late.” She sniffled again. “That was it.”

“Do you have any idea who could’ve done this to him?” Olive’s voice was sympathetic.

“No.” Karen shook her head. “No, it’s like I told the police, I… I have no idea.”

“Did Tony mention anything, you know, unusual to you? In the days before his death?” Dean asked.

“Unusual…” Karen trailed off.

“Yeah, like strange.”

“Strange?” She repeated.

“You know, weird. Weird noises, uh, visions, anything like that?”

Sam cleared his throat and glared at Dean, and Olive sent him a similar look.

Could you be any less subtle?

Karen turned to glance at Sam and Olive, who immediately switched back to the looks of concern and pity. She looked down again, and the two younger siblings shot him a look again.

“He had a nightmare the day before he died.” Karen shrugged.

“What kind of nightmare?”

“Uh, he said that he woke up in the middle of the night and there was a woman standing at the foot of the bed. He blinked and she was gone, I mean… it was just a nightmare.”

“Did he say what she looked like?”

“What the hell difference does it make what she looked like?” Karen spat.

Dean squirmed, and Olive leaned forward, voice gentle.

“Our company is just very thorough. I understand this is an upsetting process, but we just need to ask a few more questions, and we’ll be on our way.”

Karen nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry. He said she was pale, and that she… she had dark red eyes.”

The siblings nodded as they each made a note.

Second Interrogation Room, Present Day

“So I gave Karen a hug, told her to call me if she needed anything, and that was it… end of story.” Sam shrugs.

“Sam, I am trying to help you here.” The detective hisses. “But you have got to be honest with me. Now, we have an eyewitness. Someone who saw two men and a young woman fitting you and your siblings’s descriptions breaking into Gile’s office.”

“Okay.” Sam sighs. “Look, Karen called us later, said that there was some stuff that she wanted from Tony’s office. But the police weren’t letting her in. Like, a picture of the two of them in Paris, and some other stuff. Look, it was wrong to enter a crime scene, but she gave us the key!” Sam puts his hands up in protest.

Giles’ Office, Before

Dean picked the lock, and he ducked in first. Olive followed, and Sam went last, shutting the door behind themselves. Each ducked under the police tape with ease. Sam shone his flashlight on a pool of blood on the floor.

“Hey. Giles’ body was found right about here.”

He rummaged through his jacket pockets and pulled out the newspaper from earlier. “Throat slit so deep part of his spinal cord was visible.”

Dean let out a low whistle. “What do you guys think? Vengeful spirit? Underlining vengeful?” He emphasized.

“Yeah, maybe. I mean, he did see that woman at the foot of his bed.”

Dean picked a paper off the desk. “Look at this.”

Olive took the paper and held it where Sam could see it too. danashulps was written all over it, in small print.

“Dana Shulps. Name?” Sam suggested.

Dean picked another paper off the desk. “I dunno, but it’s all over the place.” A grin broke out on his face. “Well, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

Sam shone his flashlight over the glass table and paused. Olive looked up at him.

“What is it, Sams?”

“Do me a favor, breathe onto the table.”

She eyed him, but did as he asked, pulling away when she realized that danashulps was written all over it.

“What the fuck?”

“Well, I’d say we’ve officially crossed over into weird.

“Maybe Giles knew her.” Dean suggested.

“Or!” Olive perked up. “Maybe it’s the name of our pale, red-eyed mystery girl.”

“Alright, let’s just see what we can find.”

                                                              ***

Dean let out a loud groan, and Olive sighed from her spot on the couch. Sam was at the desktop computer, typing away.

“There’s not a single mention of a Dana Shulps anywhere. There’s not a D. Shulps. Or any other kind of fucking Shulps.” Dean complained.

“Great.” Olive huffed. “I can’t find anything either. Sams, what about you?”

“Nothing. No Dana Shulps has ever lived or died in Baltimore in the last fifty years at least.”

“So what now?”

“Well, I think I’m pretty close to cracking Giles’ password. Maybe there’s something in his personal files, you know?”

“By close, you mean?”

Sam shrugged. “Thirty minutes, maybe?”

Dean glanced down at his watch and sighed. “Awesome, so I guess I just get to uh… hang out.” He sighed, then grumbled something under his breath.

Olive got up from the couch and sat in the other red chair, watching as Sam worked. Dean began to click his tongue, and both younger siblings turned with similar looks of annoyance.

He paused, and once they both looked away, he started to make fart noises with his mouth. Olive stifled a giggle, and Sam sighed.

“Dude, seriously!”

“Alright, I’m gonna go talk to Karen again, see if she knows anything about this Dana Shulps, huh?”

“Great.” Sam huffed.

“Be careful.” Olive smiled at Dean as he stood.

He leaned down and kissed the top of her forehead, then shone his flashlight at Sam. “Keep going, Sparky.”

Third Interrogation Room, Present Day

“Then Dean went back to Karen’s place to check up on her. I mean, you know, she had obviously been upset earlier.” Olive huffs.

“So why didn’t you and Sam go with him?” The one from before, who Olive’s figured out is named Sheridan, asks.

Olive half shrugs. “I had to take care of some lady things. Sam came with me to the motel.” She pauses. “How did you know he was there, by the way?”

“We found the motel matchbook on Dean when he arrested him. Now-”

“How’d you know where to find me?” She questions.

“Let’s quit dicking around. Now you two were with Dean the whole time you were in Baltimore. Why separate now? Because your brother left you. To go kill Karen.”

“He didn’t kill anyone!” Olive shouts.

The anxiety is ramping, and it’s making her fractured arm hurt.

“I heard the 911 call!” Sheridan slams his fist on the table. “Karen was terrified! She said someone was in the house!”

Giles House, Before

Karen was on the couch in her pajamas, crying. The TV was on, but low. She wasn’t watching. She blew her nose, and heard something as she did. She took her glasses off to rub her eyes before quickly putting them back on. She noticed a figure in the mirror across the room.

She let out a frightened yelp and stood, turning the lights on. There was nobody there, but she turned into the bedroom and shut the door. She dialed 911 and put the phone to her ear.

“Hello, emergency services.”

“Hello? I think I saw someone in my house.”

“What’s your address?”

“It’s 421 Clinton Avenue. Please, can you-”

A click, and the call was disconnected.

“Hello?”

The printer on her desk flicked on and began to rapid-print sheets with the same thing from Tony’s office.

danashulpsdanashulpsdanashulpsdanashulps

Karen fumbled around for a flashlight, and finally turned. She turned to be face-to-face with the ghost. She screamed.

                                                              ***

Giles House, Before

Dean knocked on the door. “Karen, you in there?”

He got no answer. He looked around before bending to pick the lock. He opened the door and tried the light in the entryway. It didn’t work. He shut the door behind himself and ventured further into the house. He went up the stairs and turned into the bedroom. He pushed the door open to see Karen lying on the floor in a pool of blood. He turned and noticed the printer pages.

“Seriously, what the hell?” He grumbled.

He knelt by Karen’s body, noticing bruises on her wrists. He slowly picked up one of her hands.

“Freeze.”

Dean cursed to himself. Behind him, two cops had their guns trained on his head.

“Stay on your knees. Hands where I can see them. Now!”

He complied.

First Interrogation Room, Present Day

Sheridan sits in an observation room, where he can see Dean, who is handcuffed to a table. The detective that had been with Sam, Ballard, enters.

“You getting anywhere with him?”

“No. Just a lot of wise-ass remarks.” He grumbles.

“What about the girl?”

Sheridan rolls his eyes. “Nothing. Her story matches his down to the last detail. You?”

“Same with Sam’s.”

“Hmm. Yeah, well, these guys are good. I’ll give them that.” Sheridan crosses his arms over his chest.

Ballard sighs. “If we don’t get Sam or Olive to flip, we have nothing but a lot of circumstantial evidence.”

“Hey. We’ve got Dean at the crime scene with blood on his hands. And we caught Olive trying to steal a car. Juries have convicted for less.”

“Yeah, but…” Ballard sighs. “I mean, where’s the murder weapon? What’s the motive? You talk about reasonable doubt.”

“Diana.” Sheridan leans in and touches her face. “Do you have reasonable doubt? We keep leaning on these three, one of them will tumble. And don’t forget about St. Louis. I’m telling you. This Dean guy is our guy.”

Ballard sighs. “I know Tony Giles was a friend of yours.”

“Yeah.” Sheridan nods. “He was, he was a good friend.”

“Look, and I know you just want to clean this mess up quick, but some on. Tony knew a lot of criminal types, I mean… maybe we’re just-”

“Criminal types?” Sheridan cuts her off with a snarl. “He was a defense lawyer, for fuck’s sake. Of course he knew criminal types.”

“Alright.” Ballard sighs. “Let’s get back at them.”

“No, you know what? Let em stew in their juices for a bit.” Sheridan glances around to make sure nobody is nearby. “Come here.”

He pulls her into a kiss.

In the interrogation room, Dean huffs.

“Dana Shulps, Dana Shulps, Dana Shulps. Dana- Dana Shulps.” He mumbles to himself, eyes closed.

He’s stiff cuffed to the table, and he’s got his hands laced together as he thinks.

Sam, hands free, pulls a pad of paper and a pen to himself. He writes Dana Shulps in print, frowning as he thinks.

Olive is still cuffed to the table in her interrogation room. Her wrists are beginning to hurt, and her leg is bouncing up and down, shaking the entire table. She mutters curses as she looks around, in thought.

“It’s not a name, it’s not a name, it’s not a name.” She squeezes her eyes shut.

Sam huffed as he got to work. “Anagram, maybe?”

Dean continues to mumble to himself, looking up when there’s a knock on the door.

“Mr. Winchester?” A middle aged man pokes his head in.

“Yeah.” Dean grumbles.

“Hi, I’m Jeffrey Kraus.” The man walks in. “I’m with the public defender’s office. I’m your lawyer.”

Dean deadpans. “Oh. Thank god. I’m saved.”

Kraus sits, and Dean leans forward. “Hey, could I uh, steal a pen from you? Maybe some paper?”

“Sure.” Kraus hands the items over to Dean, who goes to town. “Uh, well, the police haven’t found a weapon yet. So that’s good. But uh, they got your prints. And well,” the man chuckles, “literally blood on your hands. And with your police record, uh…” he trails off when he notices that Dean isn’t paying attention.

“Mr. Winchester?”

Nothing.

“What are you doing?”

“I think it’s an anagram.” Dean grunts.

“A what?”

“Same letters, different words.” Dean explains as he continues to scribble.

The paper now reads:

dna shulps

dan shulpas

land pushas

supash land

push landas

plush danas

He pushes it over to Kraus. “Uh, do me a favor? See if you recognize any of these words. You know, local names, places, anything like that?”

“Do you understand how serious these charges are?”

“I’m handcuffed to a table.” Dean scoffs. “Yeah, I get it. Humor me. Take a quick look.”

Kraus sighs and pulls the pad of paper over to him. “Well, I don’t know about s-u-p, but Ashland is a street name. Not far from here.”

“A street.” Dean repeats.

He takes the pad back, tears the paper off, and begins to scribble again.

“Let’s start with where you were the night Anthony Giles died.”

“Can you get in to see my brother and sister?” Dean looks up quickly.

“Mr. Winchester, you could be facing the death penalty here.”

“Hey, thanks for the law review, Matlock. But, if you wanna help me.” Dean holds up the two scraps of paper he’s written on. “I need you to see my brother and sister.”

Third Interrogation Room, Present Day

Olive unfurls the note and snorts.

Lil,

Ashland Street

Call richies if you’re alone

-Phil

“I hope that means something. He was adamant I get that to you.” Kraus sits across from her.

Olive rolls her neck. “Yeah, thanks. How far exactly is Ashland Street from here?” She crumbles up the note and looks up, expectantly.

“Uh, maybe a ten minute drive. Miss Winchester, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to-”

“No.” Olive shakes her head. “I don’t need a lawyer to talk me through this. They think Dean’s a killer, they found me stealing a car, and they’re gonna pin Sam and I as accessories. They’re gonna bring up everything we’ve ever done, gonna bring up the fact that our dad is gone, gonna say Dean had blood on his hands, and that’s gonna be the end of it.”

Kraus sighs. “You’re sixteen-”

“They’re gonna try me as an adult, I know.” She nods again. “Look, Matlock, why don’t you go talk to Sam? He’s prelaw, full ride to Stanford. I’m sure he can help you work out a strategy for us.” She smiles a sickly sweet smile, but it’s full of anger and poison.

Krau sighs a third time before getting up and exiting the room.

Second Interrogation Room, Present Day

Sam reads over the note Dean sent.

Hilts-

It’s a street

Ashland

-McQueen

Kraus sighs. “I hope that’s meaningful. But I’d like to discuss your case now.”

Sam gestures to the chair in front of him. “Sure thing, Matlock.”

Kraus sighs again. “You three really are siblings, aren’t you?” He sits. “Now, as you know, the DA might be interested in-”

A knock on the door, and then Ballard barges in.

“We need you.” She looks at Kraus. “With the other one.”

Sam stares at the door after they close it. He huffs. Several people have crowded outside Dean’s interrogation room, watching as the digital camera is set up across from him.

“Counselor?” Sheridan grins. “Your boy decided to confess.”

“Mr. Winchester?” Kraus warns. “I’d strongly advise against that.”

“Talk directly into the camera, first stating your name for the record.”

Dean clears his throat and sits up. He leans forward and looks into the camera. “My name is Dean Michael Winchester. I’m an Aquarius.” A smile begins to creep onto his face. He knows that if Sam and Olive were to see this, they would roll their eyes and break into a cackle, respectively. “I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women. And I did not kill anyone.” His smile drops. “But I know who did. Or rather, what, did. Of course, it can’t be for sure because our investigation was interrupted. But our working theory was that we’re looking for some kind of vengeful spirit.”

“Excuse me?” Ballard spits.

“You know,” Dean shrugs. “Casper the bloodthirsty ghost?”

People in the observation room begin to laugh.

“Tony Giles saw it. I’ll bet you cash money Karen did too. But see, the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason, it’s trying to tell us something. But communicating across the veil, it ain’t easy.” Dean shakes his head. “You know, sometimes the spirits, they, they get things jumbled. You remember redrum. Same concept. You know, it’s uh, word fragments, sometimes it’s anagrams. See, at first we thought it was a name. Dana Shulps. But now we think it’s a street. Ashland. Whatever’s going on, I’ll bet you it started there.”

Dean spreads his hands and smiles. His part is done.

“You arrogant bastard!” Sheridan shouts. “Tony and Karen were good people, and you’re making jokes!”

“I’m not joking, Ponch.” Dean’s lip curls up.

“You murdered them in cold blood! Just like that girl in St. Louis!”

“Oh, yeah…” Dean sucks in air through his teeth. “That wasn’t me either. That was a shape-shifter creature that only looked like me.”

He smiles at the camera again, and Sheridan snaps. He picks Dean up by the collar, which is no easy task, as he’s 6’ 2” and about 170 pounds. He slams him against the wall, and although Dean is uncomfortable, he doesn’t flinch. He keeps his cold front.

“Pete, that is enough!” Ballard pulls him off.

“You asked for the truth.” Dean speaks calmly.

“Lock his ass up.” Sheridan spits, dropping Dean to his feet.

Another cop takes over and shoves Dean face-first against the wall, cuffing him. Dean grunts, but a sense of calm washes over him. He did what needed to be done. Sam and Olive would fix it from here.

Sheridan storms into Olive’s interrogation room, only to find her gone. He lets out a frustrated scream and throws a chair across the room. A breeze blows through the window, and he sticks his head out. It’s a five story drop, and the fire escape is at least six feet away. There’s no way she could’ve reached it.

“Where is she!” He shouts.

Ballard comes running. “Sam’s gone!”

She blinks, noticing that Sheridan is the only one in the room. “What?”

“What did they do? The fire escapes way over there! For both of them!”

“These fuckers.” Ballard hisses, showing Sheridan the note left on Sam’s table.

“Hilts and McQueen? Lil and Phil?” Sheridan spits.

“Hilts is Steve McQueen’s character in the Great Escape.” Ballard sighs. “And Lil and Phil are from the Rugrats.”

Sheridan lets out another scream.

                                                              ***

Dean is cuffed once more, in a smaller room. Ballard enters, looking around, nervous. Dean huffs.

“Can we make this quick? I’m a little tired, it’s been a long day, you know, with your partner assaulting me and all.”

“I want to know more about that stuff you were talking about earlier.”

Dean hums. “Time Life. Mysteries of the Unknown. Look it up.”

She circles around to stand in front of him. “Let’s pretend, for the moment, you’re not entirely insane.”

Dean hums again. “What would one of these things be doing here?”

“A vengeful spirit?”

Ballard nods, and Dean pouts as he thinks.

“Well, they’re created by violet deaths. And then they come back for a reason, usually a nasty one. Like revenge on the people that hurt em.”

“And, uh, these things… they’re capable of killing people?” She asks, rubbing her neck.

Dean smiles, lining up his next smart-ass response, when he notices deep, dark bruises on her wrists, the same he had seen on Karen’s.

“Where’d you get those?”

Ballard sighs and pulls up her sleeves, seeing the bruises for the first time.

“I don’t know. It… it wasn’t there before.”

“You’ve seen it before, haven’t you? The spirit?”

“How’d you know?”

“Cause Karen had the same bruises on her wrists. And I’m willing to bet that if you look at Giles’ autopsy photos, he’s got em too. It’s got something to do with this spirit, I… I just don’t know what.”

Ballard turns away, looking into the mirror.

“I know. You think you’re going crazy. But let’s skip that part, shall we? Because the last two people who saw this thing? Died, pretty soon after. You hear me?”

She turns back to him, face drained of color. “You think I’m going to die.”

Dean sighs. “You need to go to Sam and Olive. They’ll help.”

Ballard’s shoulders fall. “You’re giving them up.”

Dean sighs again, looking away. “Go to the first motel listed in the yellow pages. Look for Jim Rockford and Angel Martin. It’s how we find each other when we’re all separated. Now, you can arrest them if you want.” He looks up at her. “Or you can let them save your life.”

Motel Room, Present Day

Sam sits at a desk, rifling through files. Somebody knows on the door, and his head perks up. The person knocks again, and this time Sam gets up. He tucks a handgun into the back of his jeans and looks through the peephole.

He throws the door open with a sigh of relief. Olive tumbles into his arms, shaking. He holds her, then realizes that her legs have given out, and she’s relying entirely on him. He picks her up by the waist and puts her down on the bed, kicking the door shut.

“Bug, what happened?”

She coughs, and a few specks of blood fly out. “I had to jump. I wasn’t gonna make it to the fire escape, so I just went straight down.” She groans. “I landed in a dumpster, my leg broke, and my lungs hurt. I’m mostly healed now, but… it still hurts.” She leans back onto the wall with a heavy sigh.

“Fuck.” Sam mumbles under his breath.

He sees the fear in Olive’s eyes and sits next to her, pulling her to rest in his lap. “Okay. Once we get all of this fixed, I promise we’ll go straight to Bobby. Okay?” He runs a hand through her hair.

She coughs again. “We’ve gotta get Dean.”

The door opens, and Sam whips the gun out, his other hand holding Olive protectively. It’s Ballard. She eyes the gun, and Sam hesitates. She gives a soft smile, and Sam puts the gun down. Olive doesn’t move. She’s scared she’ll cough up a lung, and she’s barely breathing as is. Sam notices Ballard’s eyes on her.

“You’ll have to sit here.” He gestures to the bed.

She does so. “I saw it.”

“What?” Olive speaks, then coughs again, ending with a groan.

Ballard eyes Olive again, then shows Sam her wrists. He takes her hands in his and winces as he looks over the pink skin.

“These showed up after you saw it?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ballard sighs.

“Alright. You’re gonna have to tell me exactly what you saw.”

Ballard hesitates. “You know, I must be losing my mind. You’re both fugitives. I should be arresting you.”

“You can arrest us later.” Olive rasps. “After we get through this.”

“She’s right.” Sam sighs. “Right now you’ve gotta talk to me.”

Ballard nods.

“Okay. The spirit, what did it look like?”

“She was… um, really pale. Her throat was cut, and her eyes… they were like, this deep dark red. It appeared like she was trying to talk to me, but she couldn’t. It was just… a lot of blood.”

“Okay. There.” Sam points to the desk, and she rises, going to it. “I’ve been researching every girl that’s ever died or gone missing from Ashland street.”

“How’d you get these?” Ballard flips through the photos. “These are from crime scenes, and booking photos.”

“You have your job, we have ours. Look through them, tell me if you recognize anyone.”

She sits down and begins to look through papers. Sam turns back to Olive and presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I’m gonna get you some water. Okay, bug?”

Olive mumbles an agreement and lets Sam move her out of his lap. He goes to the bathroom, wets a towel, and brings it back, placing it on her forehead. He’s seen her sick like this before, but it’s never been this bad. Panic begins to grow in his chest as he fills a glass with water. He doesn’t know what to do. He needs Dean.

“This is her. I’m sure of it.”

Sam places the cup of water down on the nightstand and goes to stand at the desk with Ballard.

“Claire Becker. Twenty eight years old, disappeared about nine months ago.”

“But I don’t even know her. I mean, why would she come after me?” Ballard’s growing exasperated.

“Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?” Sam suggests.

“Yeah, Pete and I did. Before homicide.”

“You ever bust her?”

Ballard shakes her head. “Not that I remember.”

“It says that she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place, didn’t find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves. See if we can find her body.”

“What?” Ballard squints.

“Salt and burn em. It’s the only way to put her spirit to rest.” Olive speaks, eyes closed and voice thin and scratchy.

The panic flares in Sam’s chest once more. He needs Dean. She needs Dean.

Ballard sighs. “Of course it is.”

“Sammy, I wanna come with you. I wanna help.” She starts to sit up.

“No, no, no, Ollie. I can’t let you.” Sam rushes to her side, pushing her back down. “No, baby girl. You’re too weak, you’ve gotta stay here.”

“But I wanna help save Dean.” She whines.

“I know, babes, I know. But I need you safe, and that means you have to stay here.”

“She should be in a hospital right now.” Ballard states.

“No!” Olive jumps, then proceeds to cough, spitting blood into the crook of her elbow.

Sam rubs her back and shakes his head. “No hospitals. She can’t do hospitals.”

“Why not?”

He sighs. “Family issue.”

Olive groans, then rolls onto her side, looking up at Sam with puppy eyes. He sighs again, pushing her hair behind her ear.

“I don’t wanna be alone.” She whispers.

Healing large injuries drains her more than turning itself does. A broken leg is no small feat, and she’s definitely injured her lungs. But she had to get out of there, so she forced herself to begin to heal. Once she’s started, she can’t turn the healing process back off. It’s killing her.

She doesn’t want to be alone when she dies.

They both know it.

He helps her sit up, and they both ignore the grunt of pain that escapes her lips. He holds her tightly, but gently.

“Okay.”

2911 Ashland Street, Present Day

Sam leads them down into a creepy warehouse. Olive has her finger hooked in his belt loop, and her feet are dragging. She’s getting worse by the minute, but she refuses to let her mind slip away, not until she sees Dean.

“So what exactly are we looking for?”

“I’ll let you know when we find it.” Sam whispers.

They split up. Sam and Olive start up a flight of stairs as Ballard continues on the lower level. She turns around a corner, and sees Claire, standing by a window. She gasps, and Claire moves towards her, trying to speak.

“Sam? Sam!”

Sam and Olive share a look. Olive lets go of his belt loop and nods, and he runs back down the stairs, toward Ballard. Claire disappears.

“Hey! Hey, I’m here. What is it, what happened?” Sam looks her up and down, noticing that she’s unscatched.

“Claire…”

“Where?” Olive croaks, making her way down the stairs.

“Here. She was here.”

“Did she attack you?” Sam asks.

Ballard shakes her head. “No,” she hesitates, “No, she was just like… reaching out to me. She was over there by the window.” She points.

Sam and Olive share a look before Sam moves the shelves away from the window. Olive squints as the words printed on the glass become clear.

Ashland Supplies

She snorts. “That’s the word.”

“Well, yeah, now the extra letters make sense.” Sam fishes an EMF reader from his pocket and slowly makes his way to the wall, where the words are perfectly shadowed.

“What is that?”

Olive stumbles to follow her brother as she clears her throat. “Spirits and certain remains give off electromagnetic frequencies.”

“So, if Clarie’s body were here, it would tell you?”

“Yeah, that’s the theory.” Sam mumbles.

The EMF meter begins to purr, and Sam turns back around to a brick wall. He sighs and looks around. Olive spots a rusted crowbar and drags it behind her as she follows Sam. He plucks it from her hand and begins to break through the wall. Olive coughs as dust and debris fly through the air. She slumps down against the staircase, coughing every so often. Her head falls back when she’s not struggling to breathe, and her eyes are beginning to roll into the back of her head.

“There’s definitely something in there.” Sam grunts as he continues to break through the wall. “You know? This is bothering me.”

“Well, you are digging up a corpse.” Ballard shrugs.

“No, no, uh…” Sam chuckles. “That’s pretty par for the course, actually.”

“Then what?”

“I mean, it’s just… no vengeful spirit we’ve ever dealt with wanted to be wasted… so why the hell would Claire lead us to her own remains?”

Olive lets out another cough, this one sounding loud and wet. Sam pauses and stares at her. Her head is back against the wall, her mouth is open and bloody, and her eyes are closed. She’s pale, sweaty, and barely breathing.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Ballard shakes her head, snapping Sam back into reality.

He shakes his head, again glancing over his shoulder at the teenager sprawled on the ground.

“Here, gimme a hand.”

Together, they pull out a body that is wrapped in shrouds of cloth, and place it on the ground. Sam fishes out a pocket knife and cuts the ropes off, revealing the body. He sighs, looking back at Olive. Her eyes are shut, and her head is falling off to the side. Her chest heaves with each breath, and Sam can hear her wheezing. Ballard puts her wrists out, above Claire’s.

“Her wrists, yeah.” Sam turns back. “They’d be bruised just like yours.”

Ballard reaches out with a shaky hand, cautiously touching a necklace on the body. Sam perks up.

“That necklace mean anything to you?”

“I’ve seen it before. It’s rare. It was custom made over on Carson street.” Ballard’s hand goes back to her own neck. “I have one just like it.” She looks up at Sam. “Pete gave it to me.”

He huffs. “Now this makes sense.”

“I’m sorry?”

“She’s a death omen, not a vengeful spirit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Claire’s not killing people.” Sam sighs. “She’s trying to warn them. You see, sometimes, spirits, they don't want revenge. They want justice.” He nods to himself. “Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is.” He pauses, and it clicks in his head. “Detective, how much do you know about your partner?”

“Oh my god.” Ballards face falls.

“About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously, it was a cop. We never found out who did it, but whoever it was would need someone to fence their product.”

Sam snorts. “Someone like a heroin dealer. Somebody like Claire.”

Olive stumbles to her feet. Her lips are dry and her skin is devoid of color. Her fangs are peeking out of her mouth, and her eyes are watery.

“Dean’s in danger.”

Armored Van on a Highway, Present Day

“So I’m being extradited to St. Louis, huh?”

Dean gets no answer, so he tries again.

“And you just decided to transfer me yourself, eight hundred miles at two in the morning?”

Again, nothing. The hairs on the back of Dean’s neck begin to rise.

“This can’t be good.”

Baltimore, Present Day

“Okay. Thanks.” Ballard snaps her phone shut.

“What is it?” Sam asks, leaning forward.

He’s in the backseat with Olive. She’s in and out of it, and she looks worse every time they pass under a street light.

“Pete just left the precinct. With Dean.”

“What?” Olive forces her eyes open as she sits up, grunting.

“He said the prisoner had to be transfered, and he just took him. Dispatch has been calling but he won’t answer the radio.”

“Radio?” Sam repeats. “He took a county vehicle?”

“Yeah.”

“Well then they should have a lo-jack. We’ve just gotta get it turned on.”

Empty stretch of road, Present Day

The van pulls off onto the side of the road. Dean pushes the rising anxiety and leans forward.

“Pee break? So soon?” He taunts. “Might wanna get your prostate checked.”

Sheridan says nothing before he gets out. Dean listens as the footsteps circle around to the back of the van.

“Son of a bitch.” He groans to himself.

Sheridan yanks the backdoors open, and Dean inches away.

“Hey, man. I’m cool in the van. You go do what you gotta do.”

Sheridan grabs him by the jacket and hauls him out of the van, throwing him onto the wet ground. Dean lands with a grunt, squirming to sit up.

“You’re a cocky son of a bitch.” Sheridan spits. “You think those people in St. Louis are gonna buy that shit you’re peddling?”

Dean makes it to his knees and pants, staring at Sheridan.

“Here’s the thing. You’re not gonna make it to St. Louis. You’re gonna die trying to escape.”

Dean blinks, and Sheridan’s gun is out, pointed between his eyes.

“Wait!” Dean pleads. “Wait, let’s talk about this. I mean, you don’t wanna do something that you’re gonna regret later.”

Sheridan only cocks the gun.

“Or maybe you do.”

Olive growls from low in her throat, holding back a cough and the load of blood in her mouth. Sheridan turns at the noise, and Ballard puts her gun up. Sam tucks Olive into his side, shielding her from the gun. She’s shaking, and Dean’s eyes are glued to her.

His stomach drops. She’s dying. He knows it.

“Pete! Put the gun down.”

“Diana? How’d you find me?” The gun goes back to Dean’s head, and Olive feels bile rise in her throat.

Sam hugs her tighter.

“I know about Claire.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sheridan shakes his head, gun still up.

“Put the gun down!” She shouts.

Sheridan drops the act, and a smirk grows on his face. “Oh, I don’t think so. You’re fast. I’m pretty sure I’m faster.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I didn’t do anything, Diana.” Sheridan shakes his head.

“It’s a little late for that.”

“It wasn’t my fault.” Sheridan scoots closer to Dean, and another growl rips through Olive’s throat.

She swallows what she can and spits blood onto the grass.

“Claire was trying to turn me in! I had no choice.”

“And Tony? Karen?”

Sheridan shakes his head again. “Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I’m sure he told Karen everything.”

Dean’s eyes go back to his younger siblings. Sam’s holding the entirety of Olive’s weight, and he’s looking at Dean with big eyes. Dean shakes his head, and Sam looks about ready to cry. Olive lets out a weak cough.

“It was a mess. I had to clean it up. I just panicked.” Sheridan shook his head.

“How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?”

“There’s a way out.” Sheridan looks back at Dean. “This Dean kid’s a freaking gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just… just one more dead scumbag.”

“Hey.” Dean fronts.

Sheridan puts the gun closer, and Dean backs off, shoulders falling.

“No one will question it. Diana, please.” Sheridan begs. “I still love you.”

Ballard puts the gun down with a sigh. Dean’s eyes fill with tears as Sheridan’s gun connects with his head. A loud growl tears through the trees, and Sheridan is tackled to the ground. Dean rolls out of the way, and Sam pulls him up. Ballard tries to get a shot, but she can’t.

There’s another loud growl, and the tangle of limbs stops moving. Sheridan is down, and Olive falls to her knees, coughing loudly and violently. Blood sprays everywhere, and the second she stops coughing she begins to throw up. Sam rushes over, holding her hair back. Diana unlocks Dean’s handcuffs, and he joins his brother, watching as Olive fights to breathe.

Blood continues to drip from her mouth as she wheezes, chest heaving. Dean pulls her into his chest, and she begins to shake.

“So now what, officer?” Dean asks, cradling Olive like a baby.

“Pete did confess to me. He screwed up all your cases. Royally. I’d say there’s a good chance that we could get them dismissed.”

“You’d take care of that for us?” Sam looks up.

“Yeah. But the St. Louis murder charges? That’s another story. I can’t help you. Unless…” Ballard sighs. “I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.”

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, she’s sure, Sam.” Dean hissed.

“No, it’s just… I mean, you could lose your job over something like that.”

She shakes her head. “Look, I just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I’ll sleep better at night.”

Olive lets out another strangled cough, and Dean pushes her hair from her face.

“Is she gonna be okay?” Ballard asks.

“I don’t know.” Sam whispers, in shock.

“Where’s my car?” Dean calls.

“It’s at the impound yard down on Robertson.”

Dean groans, shooting Sam a look. “We need Dad’s journal, it could have answers.”

Ballard shakes her head. “Don’t even think about taking the car. You guys have to get out of here. I have to radio this in.”

The boys nod and Dean hoists Olive up. Coughs continue to rack her body, and she’s spitting blood everywhere. Sam takes her from him and they start down the muddy road.

“Dean, what do we do?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen her like this before.” Dean hisses back.

“We’re miles away from Dad’s journal. We’ll never make it in time.”

Olive wheezes, then coughs again, choking on her blood and spit. Dean stops, panting. He shakes his head at Sam, who is staring back with wide eyes.

“Sam, we can’t do anything.”

Olive’s stomach heaves again, and blood is the only thing to come out. Sam sighs as he stops. The brothers kneel down, and Sam places Olive between them.

She stares between the two with tears in her eyes.

I’m sorry.

Dean pushes her hair out of her face with a soft smile. “We love you.”

Sam is trembling, enraged. He picks her back up and shakes his head. Dean follows, shouting Sam’s name.

“We have to be able to do something, Dean. I’m not gonna watch her die.”

“We don’t have Dad’s journal!”

“Then we call Bobby!”

“Sam, we don’t even know if Bobby knows.”

“We have to try!”

Dean swallows the bad taste in his mouth as he yanks out his phone and dial’s Bobby’s number. Olive coughs.

He puts it on speaker. “Hello.”

“Bobby!” Sam shouts.

“What’s wrong, kids?”

“Olive’s dying, we don’t know what to do!”

“What?”

“Bobby, we’ve gotta tell you something important.”

“You sister’s part Okami. I know. What happened?”

The boys blink at each other, but a groan from Olive snaps them back into reality.

“The healing process is killing her. What do we do?”

There’s a long sigh, and Dean watches the little color left in Olive’s face drain. Her chest heaves once more, and then she stops breathing. He drops the phone, snatching Olive from Sam’s hold.

“Olive!”

“Bobby!” Sam grabs the phone, in tears.

“Blood.”

“What?”

“She needs blood. Once a day, every day. It’ll make her stronger, she won’t get sick again.”

“Bobby, we’re not-”

“Gimme your knife.” Dean interrupts.

“What?” Sam’s eyes go wide.

“Give me your fucking knife!”

Sam doesn’t move, and Dean forces Olive’s mouth open. He slices his palm against her fang and groans as blood trickles out.

It falls in droplets, staining her teeth and her tongue. The phone call is long forgotten, and Sam is on his knees by their side. Olive’s eyes begin to twitch behind her eyelids, and Dean gasps. He squeezes his hand, bleeding harder.

A second passes, and Sam stares at Dean. Dean doesn’t look up from Olive.

Her fangs begin to recede, and Dean watches, shaking. A small cough moves her body, and then she begins to wheeze. Sam drops his head to her chest. He hears her heart and he lets out a loud sigh, resting his head against her.

“Boys?”

Her voice is soft and unharmed. She sounds like she just woke up from a nap. Dean pulls her up and hugs her. She sniffs, reaching up to rub her eyes.

“How?”

Sam lets out a weak laugh and brushes her hair back. “Dean saved you.”

She leans into her oldest brother and looks up with a soft smile.

“Thanks, De.”

He laughs and kisses the top of her head before pulling her back into a second hug. “Anything for you, baby girl. Anything for you.”

Previous Ep: No Exit (2.06)

Next Ep: Crossroad Blues (2.08)

taglist:

@i67​

[knivestothroats]

Red Blood, Black Heart Part 1 - Dawn of the Red

Alright I’m finally writing/posting the story for the oc I keep talking about. Oh god oh god it’s happening. 

Not really any content warnings besides a Stranger Danger situation, presence of knives

 ~~

Red’s gap year had come and gone, along with her insistence that she would totally go to college after the gap year, don’t even worry about it, mom.

The thought of going to school again after barely surviving high school… she couldn’t stomach it. The thought of getting a shitty day job was the lesser of evils. At least at the end of a bad day you got a paycheck instead of homework.

It might’ve been different if Red had something she wanted to do. A major she wanted to study, a career they wanted to pursue. A light at the end of the tunnel that she could head for.

Until the divine revelation of what she should do with her life came to her in a vision, or whatever, she got a job as a cashier at a grocery store.

Red got out late one night. The employees were supposed to park in the back of the lot. Red, being the rebel that she was, parked most of the way towards the back. A good two-thirds back, for sure. Unless it was raining, maybe.

This night, her car sat isolated, under a streetlight.

Are they called streetlights when they’re in a parking lot? Red wondered idly to herself as she unlocked her car, glancing through the windows before getting in. She pulled the door shut behind her and locked it before turning to throw her bag in the back seat. As she turned back, she saw a man sitting in the passenger seat.

Red’s heart beat so fast it made time feel slow. The man sat there, smiling pleasantly. Red’s first thought was to get out of the car. But if it turned into a chase, Red had to make it across the parking lot and into the store to get help. If she got the man out of the car, she could drive away. Red’s hand shot out to the center console, throwing back the lid and reaching inside, snaking through the CD cases and miscellaneous junk.

“I already took out the big wrench you keep in there,” the man said calmly. “I set it on the back seat so that you wouldn’t be worried about me using it against you.”

Red said nothing. She sat there, breathing heavily as her heart pounded in her chest. Her hand closed around something.

“I don’t want you to feel afraid right now,” the man said.

“Then why the fuck are you in my car?” Red spat, as venomously as possible, trying not to sound frightened.

“I thought it would be worse if I approached you while you were walking to your car. I also didn’t want to bother you while you were working, and…” the man glanced down. “Why is your hand still there?”

“For this.”

Red opened the knife and made a wild stab towards the man. The blade cut through the fabric of the seat.

The man was gone.

There was a knock against the driver’s side window. Red nearly jumped out of her seat as she spun around. The man waved from where he stood outside.

“Please don’t drive away,” he said, voice somewhat muffled through the glass.

The car keys were sitting in Reds lap. She silently apologized to every horror movie character who ever struggled to turn a car on as she switched the knife to her left hand and fumbled the keys into the ignition.

“Listen,” the man said from the passenger seat again. “I just want to talk to you.”

“Fuck!” Red screamed. “What the fuck are you? Are you a ghost?”

The man laughed. “No, I’m not a ghost. I’m just a person… who can teleport.”

He gave space for a reaction, but Red said nothing. One hand held the knife, the other rested on the gear shift. Neither moved.

“Pretty cool, right? So you keep a knife and a comically large wrench in your center console? The wrench is supposed to be a blunt force weapon, right? It doesn’t seem like it would have many other practical uses.”

“What…” Red took a steadying breath. “Just. What the fuck. Explain… all of it. You said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes. My name is Barnes,” the man said, holding out his hand.

“No,” was Red’s only response.

“Okay,” Barnes said, pulling his hand back. “I work for an organization called X-Caliber. We protect people from extra-dimensional threats. Teleportation is the easiest way to travel.”

Again, he left room for a response. When Red gave none, he prompted, “Any questions so far?”

“I want to say that that’s ridiculous and you’re absolutely fucking with me but I did see you disappear and reappear, so… I’ll go along with it. What the fuck are you doing in my car?”

“Well,” Barnes took a breath, folding his hands in his lap. “A few things. I knew I could talk to you alone here. I knew that you would look before you got in your car, so when I appeared you could be sure I wasn’t there before. It’s easier to prove the teleporting thing before explaining it. Secondly I wanted to see how you would react to a strange man appearing in your car at night.”

Before Red could spit out a “fuck you,” the man continued.

“But mainly I’m here to offer you a job.”

Red blinked. She watched the man for a moment, before saying, “I kind of thought you were going to say I was in extra-dimensional danger.”

The man smiled. “Ha, no. You don’t seem too caught up on the extra-dimensional part, I must say. That’s good, though; that’s what we’re looking for.”

“Why… me?” Red asked.

The man pulled a tablet seemingly out of nowhere. He tapped the screen a few times and pushed up his glasses as he read, scrolling through the text.

“Let’s see, background in martial arts. You didn’t pursue it for very long, but it does help to have the base. You certainly have the fighting spirit, as you did just try to stab me.”

Red didn’t apologize. Barnes continued reading.

“There’s some mumbo jumbo here about behavior. You’re not in college and you have, let’s say, a job that isn’t a career. Not a lot of personal ties…”

“What the fuck is this?” Red snapped. “This is… you – you’re fucking stalking me? No personal ties – you definitely sound like you’re about to murder me. Not even regular murder; something they’re going to make a documentary about in a few years.”

“Sorry,” Barnes said, lowering the tablet. “Those points are only relevant because… well, this job is a lifestyle choice. We wouldn’t be trying to recruit, say, a parent with a salary job. I’ll skip down to the big one. You’re a traveler, you just haven’t unlocked that part of you.”

“What does that mean?” Red asked.

“A traveler is someone who can jump between points on a DST, or dimension space timeline. It’s rare for someone from your world.”

Red said nothing. Just stared at the strange man in her car.

“Not one for words, huh?” Barnes remarked. “This is usually pretty mind-blowing stuff.”

“Well I’m waiting for you to elaborate but you’re being very cagey. Are you trying to tell me that I can teleport? Like you did? And, what time travel?” Red asked.

“I’m saying that you have the latent ability to teleport, but you just don’t know how to do it. Not exactly time travel, but… maybe a little time manipulation. We, at X-Caliber, can teach you. Among other things.”

“Among other things? Bro, get to the point.”

Barnes chuckled. “How to fight, how to protect people. That’s what we want you for. We think you’d make a good protection agent. Basically, we identify a potential threat, and you go in ahead of time and keep the would-be victim safe.”

Red nodded slowly, mulling this over. “And I can teleport.”

“And you would be able to teleport, yes.”

“And I’d be, like… fighting interdimensional monsters?”

Barnes made a noncommittal noise. “Sometimes they’re monsters. Sometimes they’re people with ill intent. If it helps, you can think of those people as monsters too.”

“What’s the catch?”

Barnes smiled slowly. “None of this seems like a catch to you?”

Red just shrugged.

“It can be dangerous. It’s difficult to juggle your personal life with the job. I want you to think about it, and then we can talk again in a bit. I know you’ve had a long day of work already,” Barnes said. He pulled a business card from his pocket and held it out to Red, who took it hesitantly. “I won’t sneak up on you next time, I promise.”

Red examined the card. She looked up to speak, but the man was gone. 

[Next]

[srnokedmirrors]

* . time stands still , the way it did before.     it’s like i’m  s  l  e  e  p  w  a  l  k  i  n  g .

                          { courtney eaton, twenty-four, agender, they/them } Have you seen JACK C. KENNEDY walking around?  Little do they know, they’re the child of LEON S. KENNEDY from RESIDENT EVIL, and they ARE AN ONLY CHILD.  I guess that explains why they’re so CRAFTY & RESOURCEFUL and ALOOF & SELF-SERVING.  They are a COLLEGE STUDENT.  — penned by eve.

FIRST THINGS FIRST.

Hey guys !! I’m EVE , twenty from the EST timezone ( pronouns are she/her ) and I have TWO kids to introduce to you guys - the first being Jackie here !! I’m a huge fan of video games hence why my first two children are from them - RE in particular is one of my favorites. It’s a popular franchise , but if you’re not too familiar with it do not fret because all you need to know about Jack , their dad , and the world they originate from will be in here. And I apologize profusely if this is too long because I . . . have a tendency to ramble so !! Let’s get on with it.

TWS : Mental illness / depression ( implied ) , mentions of bullying & death & violence

I. THE PAST - DO YOU REMEMBER ??

You are born Jacqueline Cheri Kennedy , the first & only child of your father - Leon Scott , a lone survivor of the fallen Raccoon City - with no mother in the picture. Your father always wanted children , but his line of work is cruel to those who hold their loved ones dear , and originally the prospect was brushed off. But you are an accident - left on his doorstep - and the man who originally thought he’d never have children due to a fear of losing what he’s attached to . . . . he SOBS , holding your tiny body close and vowing that now , he has a new reason to live and not just survive.

So you grow. You grow fast , and as a child , you know a few truths - you like princesses & superheroes , and you are your papa’s little princess & your papa is your superhero. And you are treated the best you can - in the early years of your youth , you have to spend multiple week trips sleeping over at your Aunt Ashley’s before your father suddenly tells you ‘Daddy isn’t going to work anymore’ and he’s with you all day , every day , save except for school. You grow up with your father as your best friend and you know he loves you more than anything.

You are ten years old when you start to understand things - not ENOUGH , and not too much , but you can understand the fact that in a way , your beloved papa is sick. But it’s not the germy kind of sick - not the kind of sick that results in tummyaches or sniffles. No , it’s the kind of sick that you can tell his heart isn’t working - it’s broken , and you can tell his smile sometimes doesn’t reach his eyes and the weird stuff he drinks is to help with it - but he doesn’t want you to know he’s sick. He SMILES at you and plays with you and hugs you tightly and kisses your forehead and reads you bedtime stories and everything seems okay - but you know your superhero can’t fly as high as he used to , and you know he’s more sad than he lets on. But he does everything so he thinks you don’t catch on , and so you are happy even if he isn’t.

You are twelve years old when the big men in black jackets & bulletproof vests come knocking on your father’s door to beg him to come back to them , and he says hell no and there’s an argument you don’t listen to since FRANKLY , you’re busy pasting up posters of rock bands in your bedroom. You know your father doesn’t talk a lot about where he used to work or what he used to do - the only inkling you get is the next day , when you’re innocently helping your father find his unopened pack of plastic razors in his bedroom , and you open a drawer with a shiny badge that says ‘Raccoon City Police Department.’

You are fourteen when you first start finding your own voice - you are hardened from bullying that comes your way and you grow BLUNT & SARCASTIC and a lot of your father’s friends tell you that you’re just like him. This becomes a bit of a joke between the two of you - but it escalates further in school. They call you Jackboot since that’s a symbol of the opposite of what you stand for - you TALK BACK , you rebel , you aren’t afraid to show your poisoned tongue and it gets you in trouble. But you remain authentic - even if people don’t like you. But you’re still vulnerable - your first boyfriend breaks your heart and as you’re crying through screams & wails on your couch , your father gently hugs you close , rubbing your back and telling you you’re going to be okay. You are hardened , but you are not unbreakable.

You are fifteen when you finally realize why your father feels the way he does and why he quit his job , and why he’s so protective of you. You are innocently putting on makeup to get ready for homecoming when you hear gunshots coming from the living room. You pull out the shotgun your father keeps under his bed and when you head downstairs , your house is being broken into by MINDLESS DRONES OF THE UNDEAD and thank god you inherited your father’s accuracy , because you save one from biting your father’s cheek and then , he grabs you , and the two of you book it out of the area.

. . . Your father . . . was the only survivor of an outbreak - a bioterrorist attack - back in Raccon City. Your father was a cop for one day , and then worked as a government agent to quell parasitical outbreaks in Spain , and then the fall of Tall Oaks , and countless other machines. You learn the words Umbrella and C-Virus and T-Virus and thank GOD you are a fast learner since this is the reality of the life you’ll have to live in time. And your father holds you close and sobs and begs you to live your life the best you can , away from the shit he went through , but one evening is far too much - and you have already seen too much.

You still know the truth , though. You are still your papa’s little princess and he is your superhero - but your superhero earned his hero status at the price of his own happiness. And maybe you’re almost doomed to do the same.  

You are sixteen when you’re ripped from everything. Sixteen when you lose sight and it’s all erased. And sixteen when your superhero fades from your existence and you remember nothing but normalcy - and maybe it’s for the better. Maybe it’s also for the worse.

II. THE PRESENT - WHO ARE YOU , YOURSELF ??

S’OKAY SO. I’m gonna try and highlight what Jack is like with and without memories - their personality honestly doesn’t change much aside from obvious Resident Evil stuff & their bond with their dad.

WITH MEMORIES : So to start , Jack is an extremely blunt individual - they have a tendency to be a little bitch-faced and kinda-sorta don’t show their emotions very well , but they’re also extremely honest and don’t lie at all. They DO have a sense of morals & take everything they learned from their dad to heart - especially given the fact that now they’re aware of everything he’s done and been through and that they’re gonna be going through the same thing. But they also carry around a Devil-may-care attitude , snarky & rebellious and honestly maybe a bit short-tempered. But they are smart. They are smart and they know it and thank god they know how to act quickly on their feet in bad situations - they’re just. Kind of a dick. 

WITHOUT MEMORIES : So Jack wasn’t as nearly as close with their fake-life parents as they were their actual father , Leon , and that impacts them in the sense that they’re slightly more of a lone wolf than they were before losing their memories. They only remember rebelling against their parents & fighting with them whereas in real time . . . Jack & Leon never really argued. Jack never really disobeyed. But NOW they just remember always doing what the opposite of what their parents said and that sorta fuels their fire. And also , Jack isn’t haunted by what they’ve seen in terms of bioterrorism and viruses and all that , so that leaves them unaffected. They overall don’t change much , they’re just . . . them.

GENERAL FACTS ABOUT THEM AHEAD THAT REALLY DON’T CHANGE , BUT

Jack . . . is kind of. A philanderer aishufhasush like I will not lie to you they are an extreme flirt and honestly get around but will never commit due to the fact they fear strong attachments and what they mean so just. Apologies for that.

And when I say Jack is self-serving , I mean so in the sense that they only do things if the consequence benefits them or something they care for or someone they care about - like Jack will help their loved ones because they love their loved ones , but otherwise , they really just . . . want to only get involved if it physically , mentally , financially , socially , what have you benefits them.

They’re a DICK but they’re not like... an awful , awful person. They’re just sorta someone who mainly thinks of themselves and looks out for number one and those who PERTAIN to number one. It’s sorta better to show their character rather than like . . . tell , because they’re not the most nicey-nice OC but they’re like they’re dad - kind of grouchy & snarky sometimes but still with good intentions and not at all a bad person. Leon’s such a good character and Jack is both EXTREMELY like him and also. Not. 

Also rly quick Jack’s pronouns are again they/them and they take both masculine and feminine titles if there isn’t a gender-neutral option available. Jack said fuck gender.

ANNEA-WAAAYYYY onto the next part -

III. THE FUTURE - WHO MAKES YOUR CIRCLE ??

Just ?? General WCs I guess ?? Idk I got no braincells when it comes to this shit but

I’m gonna get the begging for hookup & ex connections out of the way FIRST because Jack is honestly. Again. A philanderer. Definitely kinda like a fuckboy tbh ausydgygdyagysgds

ALSSOOOOOO I’d love 2 see ppl that Jack just frequently butts heads with ?? Again they are kinda fighty so I’d love to see some enemies around

They don’t have a lot of friends so a few friends would be nice - but only a FEW close friends bc again Jack doesn’t rly open up , they keep their cards to their chest while simultaneously being an open book and it’s Confusing 

may b a longshot but . . . o-other . . . Resident Evil kids ?? Please ?? Baby Redfields ?? Please ??

IDK LIKE I’LL RLY TAKE ANYTHING BUT. that’s it for now if i do ciel’s intro tonight i will be genuinely shocked bc i’m EXHAUSTED bt yeah !! here’s jack !!

[clansayeed]

Bound by Choice ― III.iii. Belief

PAIRING: OC x OC x OC (Valdas x Isseya x Cynbel) RATING: Mature (reader discretion advised)

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Choice ⥽

Before there were Clans and Councils, before the fate of the world rested in certain hands, before the rise and fall of a Shadow King ― there was the Trinity. Three souls intertwined in the early hands of the universe who came to define the concept of eternity together. Because that was how they began and how they hoped to end; together. For over 2,000 years Valdas, Cynbel, and Isseya have walked through histories both mortal and supernatural. But in the early years of the 20th century something happened―something terrible. Their story has a beginning, and this is the end.

Bound by Choice and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Choice is the only book in the series not based on an existing Choices story. It is set in the Bloodbound universe and features many canon characters.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Choice/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Some people spend their whole lives looking for something to believe in. They're lucky that they never had to.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Two months later…

Cynbel watches as Ambrose leans against the railing with hands braced on the cold metal. Colder sea spray lashes at their cheeks under the night sky but they pay it little mind. They have, perhaps, had enough heat and fire to last more than one mortal lifetime.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had such a fill in my life.” The American groans, and Cynbel actually feels bad for him.

“There is far more to this life than fighting someone else’s wars. Give it time — you’ll see why we were starving so.”

Together the man glance down to the depths below. Where the foam left in the wake of their ship fades pink from bodies already lost underneath the ocean’s current.

“If y’all eat like that every day I’m startin’ to get it.”

And true enough the last few weeks of travel have been positively lavish compared to the squalor of mine living. Even this limited food supply seems boundless when they remember the rot of starvation in their bellies. But that does not diminish how good it is — how good it feels to be, not unlike the sea, free.

Sayeed held up her end of the bargain, so it was only fair that Cynbel and Isseya do the same. The where of their journey did not matter so long as they were far from Virginia’s shores. The when was with haste — and for good reason.

With none left to lead them the remaining militia of the Order of the Dawn was made harmless. The comparisons of the sides were unfortunately fraught with similarities, some not even Cynbel could deny. As the Order had culled the Old Blood; the vampires who had survived centuries of their fruitless extermination attempts, so had the war turned in their favor. But with only the newly inducted left to lead them — and many with ties that bound them to communities, to families; to vulnerability — their ‘holy mission’ was made second to the more pressing matters of the not-so-United States.

He couldn’t care less about the Godmaker’s plans now, whether he chooses to retaliate against the Trinity’s desertion of him or not. Two decks below his beloveds pass the boring hours with card games and wistful possibilities of when they make port.

He needs nothing else.

Now imagine their surprise at the familiar sight catching the last call to board. His battalion may now be nothing more than ash but there was no reason for Ambrose to turn and run. In fact Valdas had a strong inclination to name him Gaius’ spy and cast him overboard.

With only a matter of days before they find Europe on the horizon… he actually can’t remember why they didn’t.

A life for a life.

In between shuffled decks and lavish feasting and their halfhearted attempts at breaking through the hull by way of their beds, though, the Golden Son has found himself fond of the man. Older in appearance and admittedly wise beyond his years — but still so very new to what this life could offer—would offer, now.

Habit makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand when Ambrose reaches inside the breast pocket of his coat; eases when he sees the tinder box and cigarettes rolled with absolutely no skill whatsoever in his hands.

Ambrose sparks the tinder. Cynbel swallows down nightmares of hellfire. They share a moment of quiet.

“I should have said this before…” Cynbel begins around a mouth of ill-tasting smoke, “but when we make port this — our camaraderie — will come to an end.”

He’s come to expect the long silences in between answers, so much so that it barely feels like any time has passed at all when Ambrose finally does speak.

“I thought as much.” And doesn’t that just make the older vampire laugh.

“Two millennia and only now do we meet someone who understands. Shame and pity.”

“Oh I don’t, not even a lick.” The eyes that meet his, though, contradict Ambrose in every way. Eyes that seem sure and solid despite the rocking beneath their feet. So he continues.

“You three — whatever you’ve got there is… it’s dangerous.” So they have been told, and by lesser men. “But through this whole fight I’ve seen men Turn, live, and die over and over again without even a drop of the conviction you two’ve got for your Maker. I’ll be frank with you, Cynbel. It’s unsettling.”

“It’s love.”

“Is that what love is? I’m really askin’ here. Because I sure as hell ain’t ever felt a love like that. Not in this lifetime or the one that came before it.”

Just like that the conversation takes a turn for the uninteresting. Cynbel draws his attention out to the midnight horizon, where one can’t tell the sky from the sea. “All the more pitiful are you, then. I will not justify what we are for your whims, Ambrose. Not for you, not for Sayeed, not for anyone.”

“You misunderstand.”

“I doubt that.”

“It ain’t your strange-like love I’m interested in, but rather what it makes you.”

The only reason he’d offered Ambrose company was because Iss’ refused to play anything other than rummy, and he’s terrible at rummy. And standing here he can’t help but wonder which is more of a torture.

“You and Isseya nearly died for him. And I think you would have should that have been what you needed to do.”

“Of course we would have.”

“And I couldn’t understand why — not really. Why you’d risk yourselves, risk anyone else, but not him.”

Cynbel doesn’t bother hiding the venom in his answer. “Because He is more than they were. More than Iss’ or myself could ever hope to be. That is the kind of devotion He inspires. Would you not do the same for Augustine? Or your First, to make a finer comparison of it.”

The same long pause — but this one drags out. Thin, fragile between them and quickly unraveling at the seams. Then—

“No.”

“Then you’re wasting time searching for answers when you would not even recognize them when found. We would have died for Him — of course. But that is merely part of it. That is what the rest of the world sees and takes us to be entirely. We are more than the death we bring and would bear for Him.

“No one seems to realize that we lived for him. Just as fiercely — perhaps even more so because we could have died, but we did not. That is what has driven our lust for living; not that we would fall to our knees and take the sword with our necks for Him, but that He gives us the strength to take the sword in hand and say ‘no more.’”

Perhaps it would be nice to be understood for once. For the ages not to seem so ignorant and dull as they always have because one person — just one, that’s all it would take — realizes their love is not about sacrifice. But that it is about survival.

In silence Ambrose takes out another cigarette, more flint. Offers him one but Cynbel declines with a small shake of his head. Four weeks he’s been able to put the events of that day behind him as he had always done. Left it in the past and continued on to a future where they need not worry about being apart.

Four fucking weeks, but that’s all.

Ambrose keeps the cigarette between his lips when he speaks again. “I lived human for forty-some years. Spent my whole young life livin’ just as most did; you understand,” —he marched the breadth of those states just the same, he understands quite well— “and Turnin’ gave me more than just the power to free myself. It gave me — well, I thought — somethin’ to believe in.”

“Immortality?”

“The First.” The way he says her name is wistful enough to strike up a curiosity in Cynbel, much like the small flame struck up on his tinderbox.

Wistful, and no longer so reverent.

“Won’t say I’m the only one, either. There were a lotta boys like me who heard about the First Vampire who rose herself up from false judgment, from bein’ put in chains on another’s lies, and not only struck her enemies down but wanted to make a place where all like her were just as free.”

They are words that draw Cynbel back to Charlottesville, to the barn and Ambrose with his little box of ashes and his little gathering and his little words of worship and meaning in their comrade’s death. Strange that the man from then is the same one who stands before him now.

“Faith does wonders in times of strife.”

“It did — ‘til I heard you two talk about your Maker, your Made-God.”

“And what has that changed in you, hm?”

“The first time I ever heard Augustine tell the story of the First Vampire he made sure we well knew that every death was a piece’a her power going home — just another drop to fill some vessel that would bring her back to save us.

“But you don’t think like that,” Ambrose says it like a revelation; like wool no longer being pulled over his eyes, “and it got me thinking about what exactly I’m keepin’ immortality for. ‘Cause I gotta say doin’ it for a love like that sounds a helluva lot better than staying around just so some day I can die for a myth.”

Cynbel narrows his eyes. “The First was no myth. She was very real.”

“I’m sure she was, Old Blood. To you and Isseya and even Valdas, probably. Just like she’s real to Augustine and Sayeed. But that’s all two thousand years gone now. Who knows if she’ll ever come back, or when. That makes her pretty myth-like to me.”

What does one say to that? He may have propositioned Ambrose for this their night of feasting with a bottle of cheap liquor in hand but it wasn’t nearly enough to bring this kind of philosophical debate out of him. Yet it’s affirming in a way—not that any of the Trinity would seek affirmation for themselves, for their devotion to one another—he didn’t quite expect.

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re trying to confess your love to me or not.”

“Ha!” Ambrose laughs so hard his cigarette tumbles into the sea not half-finished. Deserves it. “In your dreams. Though I’ll start rackin’ up a tally seeing as that’s the second time you’ve propositioned me.”

“You’re being terribly rude. And it’s a terribly long swim back to the colonies.”

But the other man just shakes his head. “Truth be told no one’s ever let me ramble on this long about anythin’. Ended up a little off the tracks.”

“A little?”

“All I’m saying, Cynbel, is you and yours —”

“The Trinity, respect your elders.”

“— yeah, sure. Whatever you call yourselves—that kind of devotion can be inspiring to my kind of folk. A lot more than prayin’ on ‘maybes.’ What was that thing, the one Isseya said in the caravan.”

“Which — oh, while she was eating your man for insubordination?”

There’s a clatter behind them and both men turn towards it. They had found themselves so deep in debate that neither took notice to the young couple stretching their legs under the moon. To the young wife who looks aghast and sullied just for hearing the words and to her young husband suddenly trying to pull her to some imagined safety.

Cynbel and Ambrose take the same moment to watch them scurry along before they resume. A needed break in the tension.

He remembers it of course. Clear as the daylight that had struck them down. Even in their desperation and fear for Valdas’ fate it was hard—literally—not to hear such things from her bloodied teeth and find himself aroused.

“‘I choose to believe in a God who walks beside me. Who will answer when I call.’”

Ambrose nods. “Strange and, pardon my French, fuckin’ insane as she was then, that’s the kind of stuff gospels are made from.”

“So you’re proposing, what,” Cynbel’s disbelief is obvious, “The Gospel of Valdemaras?”

Silence. Real, non-hesitant silence. The kind of silence that forces Cynbel to face the man for answers and finds them in a resolution unfounded in those strange, dark eyes.

Well… one person finally understands. If only he knew what that means.

[vixxscifiwritings]

to ruin it all (and love like fools)

Title - to ruin it all (and love like fools)

Pairing - Wonshik x female!OC

Characters - Wonshik, Groovl1n crew, OCs

AU - Soulmates

Genre - romance drama

Warning - all characters in this are pure of heart but dumb of ass

Summary - Wonshik doesn’t have a crush on their youngest dancer. The tugging on his finger is a constant reminder why he can’t like anyone

Tag List -  @tomatoholmes @merlionmen @seraphistols  @k-craze-97 @blossomtearsleo

-

Wonshik feels the familiar tug on his little finger as he gets out of the car. His soulmate is nearby. He sighs, resisting the urge to touch the affected finger.

The tugging starts when they move into the new studio building. Groovl1n is still a baby company and in its early stages. Wonshik remembers the first two days passing without him noticing the effects. He passes it off as soreness after a minor injury sustained at the gym.

It’s only when Daehyun jokingly asks him if he is trying to use the force to sense where his soulmate is that he realizes that the tugging is the effect of his soulmate being nearby. The idea terrifies him. There are too many big decisions taking place and too many changes for Wonshik to deal with one more.

It’s also the first time meeting the new staff and crew. Apart from Inseob and Daehyun, he knows no one else. Fortunately and unfortunately, the new studio building also has a small office and a popular yoga center above it. Combined with Wonshik’s ill advised determination to put off facing this discovery, he never comes to know who his soulmate is.

If they are part of his new crew, they don’t show it by reacting to his presence any different. Wonshik wonders if he will ever know, given by the extreme emotions he gets from fans and haters alike. Perhaps he has already met his soulmate and knew no better. Maybe they work in the office above or are regulars at the yoga center. The possibilities are endless.

“Super Manager-nim!” he hears. He knows that playful voice. When he turns around, he is greeted by a surprise voice.

“CEO Kim, you’re here too” Haneul says, greeting him politely with a bow. She’s the youngest of the Crack Kidz dance crew and also the newest addition. Haneul joined them two weeks ago but she gets along with everyone as if she has known them for years. They have nicknames and inside jokes already.

She’s only extra polite and awkward around him. It’s the disadvantage of being the leader, he guesses. Though he wishes this wasn’t the case but that is a worry for another day.

“He has a very busy day at work” Daehyun feigns seriousness. His tone is apologetic for the sad state of affairs but his mischievous eyes aren’t.

“I’m pretty sure you make me busy schedules on purpose” Wonshik complains. Daehyun laughs and even Haneul smiles.

“Then I met you both at the perfect time! I am on a coffee run for the crew. I can get you something if you want” she offers.

“We’re all making Minhun go broke by charging his card for fancy coffee” she adds and Daehyun grins. Minhun is their new choreographer and a tough taskmaster. Coffee money is a small petty revenge.

“Can I get the fanciest thing on the list then?” Wonshik jokes.

“One caramel latte with extra syrup and whipped cream for Kim Sajang” Haneul says. She notes it down on the list she has on hand.

“He’s on a diet. He only gets an americano” Daehyun frowns.

Wonshik pouts and makes puppy eyes but Daehyun is too strict. So he turns to Haneul. She bites her lip but doesn’t waiver because Daehyun is glaring at both of them. How does Jaehwan make it work and get away with it every time?

“I’ll sneak in a cold brew in a covered cup” Haneul stage whispers and Wonshik smiles. She takes her leave, promising to be back within fifteen minutes and he watches her go.

“You’re not subtle when you are crushing on someone” Daehyun says, giving him a pointed look.

“I’m not crushing on anyone” Wonshik replies defensively. His reply is immediate and Daehyun only narrows his eyes in a knowing manner. Wonshik hits his shoulder half heartedly before walking into the building.

He doesn’t have a crush on their youngest dancer. The tugging on his finger is a constant reminder why he can’t like anyone. And too much is on the line for the new label for Wonshik to get distracted now.

Thirty minutes later when he finds a cup of cold brew on his desk accompanied with sugar free sweeteners and a sticky note asking Daehyun not to be too mad, he can’t help but wish he could.

-

Wonshik likes to think the only reason that Daehyun can tell what he feels with practiced ease is their long standing familiarity. He realizes that he isn’t subtle at all when Chiwoong catches him looking at Haneul. Chiwoong only shakes his head, fondly exasperated at the elder man.

It’s one week to the release of Vacay and the artists and crew members have begun practice for their dance and promotional videos. After a particularly long day, Wonshik decides to treat everyone to a late night dinner. The decision is followed by cheering and animated discussion over what to eat and what food stalls will be open now of the night.

Chiwoong suggests a pop up tteokbeokki stand that he frequents . Everyone agrees when Inseob adds that they can get soju or beer from the convenience store nearby. That’s how everyone ends up on an arrangement of circular tables on either chairs or stools. By virtue of being youngest, Chiwoong and Haneul help with the orders and drinks.

Once the food is all on the table, Chiwoong sits down next to him and she sits down next to Jeongyeon. Haneul loves extra spicy tteokbokki that no one else can eat. It turns into a competition to see if the others can handle the spicy rice cakes just as well. Jeongyeon eats half of a rice cake and almost cries much to everyone’s amusement.

Wonshik laughs when Haneul eats the rest and sticks her tongue out at Jeongyeon. She gets called the most disrespectful maknae ever and falls over laughing. Wonshik admires her cheeky spirit and liveliness. He pushes the rice cake around in the sauce, head propped on his hand. It’s been a long day and he doesn’t know how everyone else has energy left. Luckily his company understands and leaves him alone.

Chiwoong turns to ask him if he wants more to eat but catches wonshik smiling at the chaos. Wonshik realizes a second late and blushes in embarrassment. He didn’t realize he was staring. Maybe subtlety is a talent he doesn’t have.

“Whatever you are thinking or whatever Daehyun told you, it isn’t what it looks like” Wonshik clears up.

“I wasn’t thinking anything” Chiwoong says playfully. “I was merely admiring Hannie’s spice tolerance. I think you were too.”

Wonshik feels a pang of jealousy at the nickname. Chiwoong and Haneul are born in the same year and get to be informal with each other. He doesn’t know when Chiwoong met her but this is a small label where everyone eventually knows everyone.

“I’m going to get some more beer” Chiwoong says, leaving Wonshik to his thoughts. Almost as if to make him more jealous, Chiwoong stops to talk to Haneul after getting more beer. He says something and she indignantly protests when Jeongyeon supports him.

Wonshik looks away. It’s too late in the night to be jealous and it takes too much energy. Especially when he is trying very hard not to be. He poses for a picture with Inseob and pulls Daehyun’s leg. Jiwon texts him a cute picture of Butt who is currently at home and Wonshik misses him. After the promotion cycle, he’s going to bring Butt back to the studio. Hopefully his son will like the new one as much as he liked the older one.

“Kim Sajang, do you mind if I sit here?” Haneul asks, interrupting his thoughts.

“Haneul?” he asks, surprised. She is standing next to him with a plate of what looks like more tteokbokki and an expression that alternates between a frown and a glare at Chiwoong. Wonshik thinks he can glare at him too.

“Sure. You don’t need to ask permission" Wonshik says, still taken by surprise. He pulls the chair for her so she can set down the plate and sit down.

"I got banned from every table because of the spicy tteokbokki" she huffs.

"Everyone is just teasing you" he laughs. Chiwoong winks at Wonshik from a distance. Wonshik covers his face in embarrassment and pretends he didn't see.

"We'll see who has the last laugh when Minhun makes everyone do split stretches in the morning tomorrow" she grumbles to herself.

"Do you always hold grudges like this?" Wonshik asks, thoroughly amused.

"Yes. The kid who answered the question before I could in fifth grade is my mortal enemy" Haneul tells him. She stabs the rice cakes for emphasis.

"You are so extra" he laughs. Haneul glares at him before she realizes who she is glaring at. Unlike previous times, this time it is good natured embarrassment and not awkwardness. She looks cute even while blushing, he thinks fondly.

There is a mid tug on his finger and he shivers. Why now? What does it mean? It's a disappointing pull to reality. His soulmate is nearby now but no one else has come in or left as far as he has noticed.

"Kim Sajang, are you feeling cold?" Haneul asks, looking at him. She is already taking her jacket off before Wonshik nods in reply.

"My sister used to be an idol trainee. She would always say that colds were a singer's worst enemy" she says by way of an explanation when she holds it out to him.

"Won't you be cold?" he hesitates.

"Not very much" she shrugs. He takes the jacket and pulls it around himself. The extra warmth makes him feel better. Her jacket is old and worn out but comfortable after long use. It makes Wonshik feel at ease and he smiles gratefully at her.

This time when his finger tugs, he ignores the feeling entirely.

-

"You're zoning out" Jongin says. Wonshik has been moving back and forth on the hoverboard for a while now.

Jongin has a rare break from schedules and he decides to hang out with Wonshik at his new studio. Something has been distracting Wonshik as of late and Jongin is determined to find out what.

"Nothing really" Wonshik lies.

"Something is. It's clearly seen on your face" Jongin tells him.

"Am I really that transparent?" Wonshik despairs.

"Like clear glass" Jongin says. The truth behind this statement amuses him no end. No one can tell what Wonshik is thinking most of the time, but when you get to know him he becomes an open book on display.

"Do you remember meeting your soulmate?" Wonshik asks. Jongin nods, encouraging him to continue.

"Why didn't you date them?" Wonshik asks. He doesn't know the person or any other important details. He only knows that Jongin met them a long ago but has been single for however long Wonshik has known him.

"I was too busy with training and then with debut" Jongin shrugs.

"Would you have dated them if you weren't an idol?"

"Maybe I would have. But so many things would have changed if I wasn't a celebrity" Jongin admits. "Not everyone ends up with their soulmate and that's fine. Most of the time you don't even meet them in this lifetime."

"When I was a child and I learnt about them, I was so sure I would end up marrying whoever it is" Wonshik confesses.

It's silly but it's a thought he had harboured for years now. It's part of what makes actually meeting his soulmate so terrifying. It is also what makes his feelings for Haneul feel like a betrayal.

"Soojung wasn't your soulmate but you still liked her" Wonshik thinks out loud.

"I did. A lot. Our timing was terrible but I don't regret it" Jongin says carefully. "I would have regretted not trying."

"What if I never meet my soulmate?" Wonshik asks. It's a possibility. They are so close yet so far away.

"Then you can definitely safely ask out the person who you are crushing on. Who clearly isn't your soulmate apparently" Jongin laughs. "It might even be the best case scenario for you."

"I hate it when you do that" Wonshik gripes, getting off the hoverboard. "Don't read me like an open book."

"You love me anyways. But I was serious. Tell me more about your crush" Jongin asks, leaving forward excitedly.

"Only if you promise not to tell anyone because no one knows" Wonshik says.

"Knowing you, I am sure everyone already knows" Jongin teases. He gets a cushion in his face for his troubles.

"It's one of the dancers in the new crew" Wonshik starts.

"Aren't most of them new? Your crush hasn't lasted long then" Jongin deduces.

"It's been around long enough" Wonshik sighs.

"What's her name? How did you both meet?"

"Haneul. We met here at the studio, on the day she joined the crew. She was part of the same dance school as Minhun and he recommended her."

"Does she know you like her? Do you know if she likes you?"

"I doubt it. We don't get to meet as much. And for the longest time she referred to me formally and wouldn't even look me in the eye."

"How did you end up developing a crush on her if you guys never talked?" Jongin asks confused.

"She's a really good dancer. And she's lively and cute and full of energy. I don't know. The first time we met, I was late and dance practice had already started. I think I started liking her when I saw her dance for the first time. Isn't that stupidly cheesy?" Wonshik asks.

"Very cheesy" Jongin laughs. "But also very cute."

"I don't know what to do" Wonshik says more to himself than to Jongin.

"Invite her for coffee. Or a meal together. Maybe ask for her opinion on a song and spend some time in the studio together" Jongin suggests.

"I owe her for lending me her jacket" Wonshik says, thinking hard. A coffee date might work.

If he ever manages to work up the courage to ask her. He flops down next to Jongin and lies down with his head on Jongin's lap. Why is this so hard?!

"I should warn you. With instant crushes like this, you might even find that you don't actually like the person after spending time together" Jongin warns him. His best friend is a romantic who tends to set himself up for heartbreak.

"Why can't all these stupid feelings go away on their own?" Wonshik asks with a deep sigh.

-

"Kim Sajang, you are just in time" Minhun says cheerfully.

"I was only passing by. I didn't know you were looking for me" Wonshik says, surprised.

He racks his brain to remember if he forgot about a message or if Daehyun told him that he was needed in the studio.

Truth be told, he just wants to return Haneul's jacket to her. So he picks the time when he knows that dance practice would be over and "accidentally happen to be in the same area". His calculation is slightly off as he finds Haneul and Minhun in the studio with no intention of leaving like the rest of the crew.

"We weren't looking for you specifically. I was teaching Haneul the choreography for Layered because she will be your new partner and you happened to pass by. Do you guys want to run through it once?" Minhun asks.

"Oh" Wonshik says. Warning bells start in his head immediately. The choreography is intentionally intimate and sensual and the last thing it was designed for is him dancing with his crush.

"Looks like Kim Sajang is busy. We can run through it some other time" Haneul suggests, saving him from embarrassment.

"Yeah that's a better idea. We can do run throughs before the next launch party. I don't think we added Layered to any performances in other events" Minhun thinks.

He nods to himself when his memory confirms his assumptions. He walks off to the speaker in deep thought and Haneul and Wonshik share a smile. Their head choreographer tends to do this all the time.

"I actually just wanted to return your jacket" Wonshik tells Haneul. He picks up the packet in hand and shakes it for good measure.

"I almost forgot about it" Haneul says, blinking at the packet.

"I should have returned it earlier, sorry" Wonshik apologizes.

"It's alright" Haneul says, smiling at him. Wonshik smiles in return. She takes the packet from him and their fingers brush. There is a violent tug on his finger and Wonshik accidentally grips her hand in surprise.

"Okay, let's run through the next part" Minhun announces, fiddling with the speakers and blissfully unaware of Wonshik's crisis.

"I'll leave you to it" he says stiffly before exiting the room. Haneul calls after him but he doesn't hear it over the storm of thoughts and emotions in his head.

-

"Hey" Daehyun says, snapping his fingers in front of Wonshik's face. Wonshik opens his mouth and then closes it and Daehyun frowns.

"What are you so worried about?" Daehyun asks, sitting next to him.

"Nothing. Writer's block" Wonshik lies.

It couldn't be further from the truth. After the dance studio incident, he has taken to hiding in his small studio. The extra time has actually helped him focus on producing more songs. Writer's block is the last of his issues.

"It's okay. You should take a break from composing now and then. You're always stuck in the studio till late in the night" Daehyun assures him.

"You should take time off and go date people or visit places or something. Get more life experience, you know?"

Wonshik nods. He smiles at Daehyun who takes it as a cue not to push Wonshik more. Baby steps is always the key.

"I thought you went to get more coffee" Wonshik says, noting the distinct lack of coffee cups on the table.

"I asked Haneul" Daehyun says. He feels particularly proud of this ingenious way of getting them to spend time together.

"Is she a coffee girl? Why are we always troubling her with coffee orders? Maybe we should just install vending machines in the building" Wonshik rants.

Daehyun raises an eyebrow but Wonshik continues.

"I know she's the youngest but we never made Sanghyuk get coffee. Or Chiwoong. But Chiwoong always says he'll remember the orders and then forgets it right at the counter. Just because Haneul actually notes down orders and is efficient, doesn't mean we should keep troubling her again."

"Okay man" Daehyun says, interrupting him before he goes on forever.

"Sorry. But you get my point right?" Wonshik asks, running his hand through his hair.

"Why are you avoiding Haneul?" Daehyun asks outright.

"I'm not avoiding Haneul" Wonshik lies. It's ineffective and it only confirms Daehyun's suspicion.

"Three years ago, you got into a fight with Taekwoon and every time anyone mentioned him you went on off topic rants like this one" Daehyun tells him.

"I swear to God that I'm changing my manager" Wonshik swears.

"You won't survive without me. I'm a super manager for a reason" Daehyun grins.

"Only Haneul calls you that" Wonshik reminds him.

"Because she is the only one who appreciates my hard work unlike you ungrateful brats" Daehyun complains. He swats at Wonshik's shoulder too. It starts a playful fight that is interrupted with Jeongyeon knocking on their door.

"Hello" Daehyun greets her with a smile. He almost frowns when he notices the coffee in her hand.

"Hannie had to help Chiwoong with something so she asked me to bring you the coffee" Jeongyeon tells them.

"Please stop sending our youngest on errands and let her focus on dance practice" she says solemnly before handing the coffee cups over.

"That's what I keep telling Wonshik" Daehyun says and gets a look from Wonshik in return.

Jeongyeon raises an eyebrow and shakes her head at Wonshik. "There are better ways of spending time with a girl you like. I thought you would know that Kim Sajang" she teases.

"I don't know why any of you have that assumption" he grumbles, turning away to focus on the notes on his table.

Haneul rarely asks anyone else to do her work. If she asked Jeongyeon then that only means she doesn't want to see him again after the studio incident.

Wonshik understands but he also curses his soulmate's existence. If only the stupid red thread of fate could stop interfering with his life. Especially if it doesn't plan on introducing him to his soulmate soon.

"I'm heading downstairs for practice. If you guys need anything, do it yourself" Jeongyeon says, sticking her tongue out at Daehyun before leaving.

-

Wonshik's gut feeling is correct. Haneul reverts to her respectful behavior where she never interacts with him directly.

He hopes to clarify the situation but with his tight schedule, he barely sees her in the studio building. She's very effective at avoiding people and he's terrible at trying to figure out a way to approach her that doesn't come off as stalkerish or aggressive.

So he resigns himself to waiting. He doesn't push her and the rest of the crew has noticed the cooled tension so they don't tease him either. Though no one knows exactly what went wrong, they sense that something is up and leave the two alone.

"Did Hannie reject you?" Chiwoong asks when they are alone in the changing rooms.

The rooms are small and the two of them charitably let the rest of the crew change first after the water bomb festival. As cool as the festival performances look, wet clothes in the humid heat really don't improve anyone's mood.

"Not exactly" Wonshik says carefully.

"You made a move and she turned you down? Or did you realize that you actually didn't want to pursue your crush?" he asks.

The younger is curious because he knows that Haneul was just as attracted to Wonshik as he was to her. The sudden apathy to each other does not compute.

"Things… happened and she made it clear that she wasn't interested in me. I didn't want to make her uncomfortable" Wonshik tells him.

"That sucks. I hope you feel better soon" Chiwoong says, putting a hand on Wonshik's shoulder. Wonshik nods and the two of them finish changing in silence.

The event staff have begun packing up and the Groovl1n crew are some of the last to leave the venue.

"Chiwoong, you're in the first van. Jeongyeon and Haneul will travel with us because it's a bigger and safer vehicle" Daehyun tells the pair. Chiwoong shares a look with Wonshik before walking over to the first van.

"Just murder me, why don't you" he says, not actually meaning to say it out loud.

"I do so in my head at least five times a day" Daehyun says rushing him along.

Wonshik sighs and climbs in. The only seat left is the one all the way in the back with Haneul next to  one window and Inseob to the other. This is the universe being completely cruel to him. But at least the middle seat opens to the aisle and hence has more leg space.

It's a two hour ride back to the city and everyone has the same agenda of using the time to nap. Inseob has already dozed off, pulling his cap down to cover his face and Haneul has tuned out, gazing out of the window as if the cloudy sky above holds answers to the universe.

Wonshik plugs in his headphones and leans back. There is enough space for all three of them to be seated without bodily contact and he is grateful for the small mercies.

The van starts and enters the crowded highway. The slow pace is compounded with the rain starting and Wonshik knows it'll be a good three hours to the city now. He closes his eyes.

He's too wide awake for a nap so he decides to scroll through Twitter on his private account. The general reviews of their performance at positive and some fansites already have pictures out. He saves some good ones to share on the group chat later.

While replying to some of his messages, he looks towards Haneul from the corner of his eye. Her eyes keep closing and her head tilts as she drifts in and out of sleep. Her elbow props up her head but Wonshik anticipates her getting hurt should the van brake suddenly over bumps.

He shifts closer to her and gently pulls her head to rest on his shoulder. He's just being a good friend, he reasons. She could get hurt and he is preventing that. He'll pull away before she wakes up and hopefully she won't mind when she realizes it.

Haneul unconsciously wraps her arms around the arm she is resting on and nuzzles into his shoulder. Wonshik stares, never expecting her to move closer to him. Her body is warm and she fits like a puzzle piece that's custom made for him.

His finger tugs violently but Wonshik no longer cares. Backed with the adrenaline rush of the epiphany of his feelings, he kisses her forehead. Haneul sleepily asks for five more minutes to sleep a little more and he has never been more endeared.

He resolves to clear up any misunderstandings between them the moment they are back in Seoul.

-

Wonshik doesn't get a chance till five days later.

The Nirvana II launch party is coming up next. Haneul and Minhun practice together more and more while Wonshik runs the TV show promotional circuit. On his request, they decide to practice late at night after shootings and he gets his chance to talk to her alone.

"Hey" he says awkwardly when both of them sit down. Minhun just left and Haneul decides to stay back for half an hour so they can practice the performance a few more times.

The car ride has reduced some of the awkwardness between the two. Practicing together also helps. It's a slow climb back to the carefree friendship established earlier.

"Hi" Haneul says. She's more tired than he is after dancing the entire day. He passes her a bottle of water and she thanks him.

"We don't have to practice more if you feel tired" he suggests. "I'll run through it alone and we can practice together in the morning before I leave for my shoot."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something" Haneul starts, putting the water bottle aside.

"It's about what happened in the studio that day, isn't it? I am so sorry. Something else shocked me and I reacted without thinking. It was a mistake and I hope you didn't take it the wrong way" Wonshik apologizes first.

"A mistake…" Haneul trails off.

"Yeah. I didn't mean anything by it" Wonshik assures her.

"I understand" Haneul says thoughtfully. "I figured as much but things were already awkward by that point."

"I'm sorry about that" he adds.

"I'm sorry as well. It was my fault too" she replies.

"Forgive and forget?" he asks and she nods.

"Are you doing anything after practice? It's not that late but maybe we can grab some food?"

"Wonshik, you don't have to go out of your way to smooth things out. I'm fine with this arrangement honestly."

It's the first time she has addressed him with his name. Wonshik doesn't understand what just happened. Didn't they just work everything out?

"I think I'll just head home. We're fine with the choreography anyways" she says standing up and dusting her tracks.

"Wait" Wonshik says, following her. "Are you still mad at me for something?"

"I'm not" she replies, keeping her tone as neutral as possible. "I understand completely. Not everyone has a romantic relationship with their soulmate. Honestly I'm glad you wanted to be friends and it's good that we cleared it up before more misunderstandings happened."

"What do you mean by soulmates?" Wonshik asks, paling a little. It couldn't be… had he really been that blind?

"What else did you… Wait, did you even know that I was your soulmate?" Haneul realizes. No wonder he looks confused. In an instant, everything is clear for both of them.

Haneul looks him in the eye and takes his hand. The tug of the red string is there, as clear as day. Wonshik can't believe that he has been this stupid.

"It wasn't even a possibility for you, was it?" Haneul asks. Her voice is shaky and eyes glassy, all betraying the hurt she feels.

"No. It wasn't like that. Haneul I swear it wasn't -" Wonshik panics. This is not what he wanted to do. Haneul has the wrong idea. She couldn't be farther from the truth.

"Excuse me" she says before grabbing her bag and leaving the studio. Her firm tone prevents Wonshik from saying anything. He's a minute too late in following her out because she is out of sight by the time he is in the corridor.

-

"Did he stay here the entire night practicing?" Jeongyeon asks Minhun. Minhun looks at Wonshik  who has fallen asleep while sitting against the mirror in the dance practice room.

"I think he did" Minhun says, deducing it from the clothes he was wearing. No one in the room wants to disturb him after looking at his worn out face.

Chiwoong peeks into the dance practice room and finds Minhun and Jeongyeon in the middle of their dilemma.

"Daehyun hyung has been looking everywhere for him. He wasn't answering his phone" he explains.

"It must have switched off" Minhun reasons.

"I'll call hyung. He can come pick Wonshik hyung up" Chiwoong agrees.

The three of them sit down silently so that they don't disturb Wonshik. Promotions are always a stressful time and they sympathize. The life of an idol is not easy.

The door opens and Chiwoong looks up to see Haneul enter while rubbing her eyes. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun and shoulders hunched. The day has barely begun but everyone in the room looks tired already.

"Sorry I'm late. I couldn't sleep at all last night" she says, stifling a yawn. Jeongyeon hushes her and points to the sleeping man by the mirror.

"We think he slept here. We're waiting for Daehyun hyung to pick him up for his schedule" Chiwoong tells her. Haneul nods in understanding. She glances at Wonshik and takes a minute to make up her mind.

She walks over to him and kneels down next to Wonshik. She taps on his shoulder and he stirs.

"Kim Sajang" Haneul says gently, tapping his shoulder again. He grunts in response before sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"You slept in the practice room" she tells him when he looks around in a daze. The room is too bright and it takes him a moment.

"I was waiting for you" he tells her sleepily. She freezes and everyone else pretends not to have heard him say that.

"You're mistaking me for Daehyun" she replies firmly.

"No. I really meant you" he insists, wide awake now. "I have to talk to you."

"We'll give you both some space" Jeongyeon says, pushing Minhun out of the room already. Haneul panics and almost leaves herself but Wonshik puts his hand on hers, pleading silently for her to listen to him.

"Just let me know if I have to kick hyung's ass later" Chiwoong tells her before leaving. He gives the couple an awkward thumbs up before closing the door behind him.

"What are you doing?" Haneul asks him.

"I need to clarify everything. Properly this time" he stresses. Haneul's lip press together but she nods and sits down with her legs folded.

"I like you. A lot. For the past few days I have been having a crisis because I thought you weren't my soulmate. I knew by the tugging on my finger that they were somewhere nearby. I never guessed it was you because there were too many new people present when we met and I couldn't tell" he explains, speaking in one breathe.

"How long have you known that you had a soulmate?" she asks.

"The day I met the new dance crew. How did you know?" he asks her.

"You walked in in the middle of the dance practice and I felt it for the first time. Every time after that only confirmed it" she tells him.

"We've known for the same amount of time then" he thinks.

"I thought you knew too and that you didn't like me so you never reacted or brought the topic up. I honestly thought I disappointed you."

"You didn't. You could never."

"It's not that simple. You're… you Wonshik. The most talented and dedicated and frankly, handsome person ever. There was no way I could measure up. To add to the complications, you were my boss too. I worked my ass off to become a dancer and if you didn't like me, I could be kicked off the crew. I couldn't risk it."

"I wouldn't have. After that day in the studio, I thought you hated me for leaving."

"And I thought you left because you hated me."

"We're quite a pair."

"Tell me about it."

Wonshik lets go of her hand and Haneul takes the opportunity to sit down next to him. Both of them are on the same page now but the pages afterwards are blank.

"It's funny that you couldn't tell that I liked you because everyone else knew instantly" Wonshik laughs.

"What can I say, I am very dumb of ass" Haneul admits. She huffs and he grins.

"And you? Do you like me too?" Wonshik asks. It may be too soon for the question but Wonshik instinctively knows that if he doesn't ask now, he will never get the chance again.

Haneul blushes as she nods and Wonshik almost yells with joy. He leans forward and kisses her on her forehead and she helps, pushing him away.

"Can I take you on a date? Once the mixtape releases, I will have more free time. We can't go somewhere public but we can definitely do anything else you like" he promises.

"I'd like that" she agrees. Wonshik wonders whether the warmth in his chest is growing because his heartbeat has picked up or because Haneul is smiling at him. He decides that both factors are equally responsible.

"Hannie?" he asks. She hums in response, happier now that he uses her nickname to address her. He leans in and kisses her on her nose.

"Wonshik" she calls, and leans forward to kiss him on his cheek. They giggle, knowing this is extremely silly but also cute and heartwarming at the same time.

"If you both are quite done with your disgusting PDA" Daehyun says impatiently while tapping his foot on the floor. Both of them yell and start, jumping five feet apart.

"Hyung?!" Wonshik exclaims, embarrassed on having company.

"I tried stopping him but he insisted that you would be late for your hair appointment" Chiwoong explains, gesturing to Daehyun apologetically. Minhun and Jeongyeon nod behind him in support.

"Kill me now" Haneul says more to herself but everyone in the room echoes the sentiment.

"We need to rush but I am going to talk to both of you once we are back" Daehyun says, pulling Wonshik away. Wonshik whines and doesn't want to budge, looking at Haneul for support.

"I'll wait for you after practice" she promises him. He sighs and gets up, following Daehyun who loudly expresses his disgust for whipped romantic couples.

Wonshik gives a last wave to Haneul who waves back at him before being accosted by Chiwoong and Jeongyeon for details. He closes the door but can still hear Minhun yell at everyone to stop wasting precious practice time.

After days of anguish, it feels like things are going to be just fine for the two of them.

-

[girlwiththegreenhat]

About that send me a character thingie, Blurr from TFA? I also want to know more about Auto too so I am stuck in between.

TFA BLURR1: sexuality headcanon: i already headcanon transformers as an asexual species but even if i didn't i'd be slamming that asexuality headcanon button. i like to HC him as aromantic too if you missed my pride icon last month lol2: otp: thanks to the above i don't have one, but as for platonic OTPs... 3: brotp: blurr and wheelie for lyfe, man. i'd die for the found family trope and blurr basically adopting wheelie is like, one of my fav concepts ever. they've both got weird speech quirks, one's serious the others Literally A Goofy Child Who Speaks In Rhymes, they're blue and orange which are the best colors ever, and i love to think wheelie idolizes him and wants to join the elite guard some day to be like him. 4: notp: i feel like i'm gonna get at least One (1) mean message in my inbox about this but,,, i dont like blu///rr x shock/////wave At All oopsies. (no ill will nor hate to people that do though!! you do you!! ) i see people pulling the ITS ABOUT THE CONES IMPLICATIONS card sometimes and that's about as close as i've ever gotten to understanding how or why this is a thing. i also recently discovered that romantic blu//rr x whee//lie is a thing and that made me want to Die, i know the lines blur with robots and different concepts of age and what not but wheelie is literally canonically referred to as a child even by cybertronian standards and blurr definitely Is Not, THAT’S GROSS FAM AND FOR THIS ONE I’M NOT SORRY FOR SAYING IT LOL5: first headcanon that pops into my head: (this just reminded me i have a whole LIST of blurr headcanons i dont think i never posted, oopsies) he LOVES having his nose in other people's business, he wants to know Everything about Everyone and he's got dirt on basically everybody. thing is he's a master of keeping secrets despite his motormouth, so even when Fellow Gossips try to get info out of him he doesn't crack. he knows all, but shares nothing. 6: favorite line from this character: well, he's got less than 13 minutes of screentime total, and not a whole lot of what I guess I'd call memorable dialogue, but you never get tired of seeing him transform for the first time and hearing him snap FIRST OF ALL, THE NAME'S NOT “Z I P P Y . . .”7: one way in which I relate to this character: now i'm probably just projecting, but he gives me the vibe that he's got some crazy problems with ADHD. it's probably the whole "talks fast goes on tangents constantly and probably doesn't have a single thought without immediately verbalizing it" thing but I Feel That. 8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: i've made a post about this before but it's the fact that his boss, longarm, has a similar aesthetic and voice to known decepticon shockwave, and he... didn't put two and two together. like shockwave and longarm being one and the same is really obvious if you put more than two seconds of thought into it, blurr is a highly skilled and capable agent who worked under longarm for spark knows how long, and he just. "HMM LETS DO A VOICE PRINT MATCH THAT'LL SOLVE WHO THE TRAITOR IS I DEFINITELY CAN'T FIGURE THIS OUT ALL ON MY OWN NNNOPE" 9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave? um total and absolute cinnamon roll??

and... y'mean like, Auto? my auto? camera boy? unusual but definitely allowed and Very Appreciated!!

now lets see if i can answer this without dropping a bunch of spoilers since i don't think this meme was made with OCs in mind lmfao

1: sexuality headcanon: he is a flaming home-of-sexual, my guy2: otp: auto x AJ, obvs. they compliment and support each other perfectly, this is something i'd love to get into but i caaant. lets just say they're two very jagged, broken, oddly-shaped pieces that fit perfectly together. 3: brotp: also the above in a way, he doesn't have a lot of friends. do actual father/son relationships work for broTPs?? i'll vote auto and torres then, that's his dad. on two different levels its ironic that auto is the one who plays the straight man to his father's kooky science bullshit. 4: notp: auto x happiness. haha kidding mostly, probably auto x anyone who isn't AJ, really. 5: first headcanon that pops into my head: is it really a headcanon if its my own character? mm whatever, if he could eat or were human his favorite food would be ice cream. which flavor? oh how DARE you make him choose, but cookies and cream is the secret answer. 6: favorite line from this character: does this count?? disregarding a threat in the name of memeing?? yeah, probably counts.

7: one way in which I relate to this character: he's an absolute anti-social shut-in disaster who is afraid of the inevitability of change. hey, that's like four things. o o p s i e s. 8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character: he's an absolute anti-social shut-in disaster who is afraid of the inevitability of change. hey, that was the last answer too. o o p s i e s. 9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?: he might be a chaotic disaster, but he's still a cinnamon roll.