#The thing he said in DR about how he was lonely for so long after Garmadon fell. But once he found them he's become much happier

[jellyskink]

The Doc is OUT (For the day.)

"Callie I'm home! And I got you a treeaattt~!"

Irene's voice rang through her studio apartment with a mix of excitement and weariness. She was finally done with work for the day, seeing her child was what she was looking forward to the most after today.

(Hm... I don't see her waiting for me at the door as usual, where could she be?)

Unceremoniously kicking off her shoes next to door, she tosses her jacket onto her sofa, after which she follows suit onto.

Today was just like any other, day in and day out from the medical office. The same car troubles, the same usual bickering with Mr. Ibis, the same dang stress of worrying how soon the world as she knew it was going to end, but on top of it all off, she had another appointment with Dr. Stanford Filbrick Pines that day.

(I just don't get that guy. Nothing about his lifestyle or even state of being makes sense! This is the first time in my entire career I can't figure out SOME kind of pattern with my patient.)

Dr. Pine's entire situation confused her, and the cherry on top was that his medical records were just as confusing and a mess to figure out.

(I just don't get it, there's such a wide gap of time between any kind of medical logs that have information on Dr.Pines. It's almost like he went MISSING for a while in his life.)

Thinking about this all really made her headache worse. Her hands reached up to her temples as she began to massage them gently. It didn't help much, but it was better than nothing.

Irene found herself sighing loudly as an adorably unearthly meow rang in her ear and she felt an otherworldly ball of fur lay on her head.

"mRrowww..."

"Daww hello my little angel! I missed you so much!"

Her hands immediately went from her own to the incomprehensiblely adorable ball of fur that gave her so much reason in her life. She was her baby, her adorable little cat Calamari.

Calamari happily purred in response to Irene's affection. Irene knew she was a walking trope of a lonely cat lady who treated her cat like her own flesh and blood, but she didn't care. Calamari was really the only family she had right now, and the foolish trope was one that was lame anyway.

"Guess what? I got you a treat while I was out today! It's your favorite! A tuna flavored cat biscuit!"

Reaching into her pocket, Irene revealed the cat biscuit to her fluffy friend. Before she had the chance to unwrap it, she felt it dematerialize from her hand like it was going out of style.

"Haha! I knew you'd love it! You're so cute!!"

Alright so Callie rarely ate with her mouth and preferred to absorb most food items into her third eye. It wasn't normal but it was very much still adorable! Even if staring into said eye for too long made you space out and question life for twenty minutes.

Calamari happily rubbed her head onto Irene's hand after finishing her treat.

(I know there isn't a ton of reliable studies that show animals such as cats can thank people, but Callie's a smart kitty, I'm sure she knows how! It definitely wouldn't be the weirdest thing she could do. Hmm, it is getting pretty late now, I should probably get dinner taken care of, I'm pretty hungry right now myself.)

With a sigh and movements as graceful as she could, she picked up Calamari and cradled her as she reached for her phone and opened up her flipphone.

(I... really don't feel like cooking today. You know what? I'm going to splurge and get takeout tonight.

But what? Chinese? No I need to watch my sodium intake... Spaghetti Bolognese from that one Italian restaurant a couple blocks down? Tempting as that is one of my favorite foods, and the owner does owe me a couple of favors themselves, but then again I get that a lot, I don't want to get tired of it by accident...)

Calamari flopped around in her arms playfully as she contemplated what she wanted to eat.

(Ah of course! Why didn't I think of it sooner! Pizza! It isn't the healthiest choice either, but I could seriously go for it right now! Now where did I put that one pizza place's number...)

After what felt like eternity waiting for her pizza delivery order, Irene heard a knock on the door as she opened it. The pizza she ordered placed politely on top of her cat shaped doormat, looking as much as a treasure as an ancient relic in the moment.

(Gotta say I'm glad I'm able to pay by card for this... I'm really not in the mood to talk right now to anyone.)

Happily taking the pizza into her home, Irene flopped down onto her couch, Calamari immediately following suit.

The pizza was as delectable as ambrosia in that moment. The crust was perfectly golden brown and spiced with italian seasoning, the sauce was the perfect balance of sweet and savory, spiced to perfection, and the cheese and pepperoni on top was the perfect way to end the wonderful layers of the pizza pie. And was that basil added on top? It was!!

The pizza was cut into squares, triangle pizza at least for the past year wasn't very popular with establishments or certain people, especially if it was just a cheese pizza, but that didn't matter at all to Irene.

Before she knew it Irene found herself eating the entire pizza, sharing some of the cheese and pepperoni with Calamari since that was her favorite part to eat.

(Ah I didn't mean to indulge so much tonight... well you know what? It was delicious! Who knows how long it's been since I last ate a nice meal that WASN'T something from the hospital cafeteria...)

Calamari at this point was sleeping next to Irene on the couch, satisfied and happily napping.

(Daw... I'm glad she liked it too, thank goodness the ingredients in this are alright to give to her in moderation, I have trouble saying no to my darling little Calamari!)

Noticing the time, Irene decided it was time to get ready for bed. There were patients to see and work for her to do tomorrow.

(I really want to wear my comfiest and favorite pajamas tonight, where are they? I know I washed them and had them in my pile of clean laundry on my bed... aha! Here they are!)

Irene quickly threw on her favorite pajamas, an oversized nightshirt with the words "Live, Laugh, CatMom" printed on it in cursive accompanyed by a silly picture of a cat Irene absolutely adored. Paired with it were her flowy and comfortable pajama bottoms, decorated with pictures of cats with silly mustaches.

(Finally done for the day, I really should fold my laundry and put it away... Ehhh I'll do it tomorrow. For now I'll just put the clothes and the basket on my dinnertable.)

Nighttime quickly began to set as Irene sat at her worn down antique vanity desk. The stars were beautiful at this hour, glittering throughout the night, they were one of the only things that stayed consistent and normal in Irene's life.

(Geez, no matter how many times I look at myself in the mirror I can't help but notice how quickly time passes. Stress really isn't doing your already awkward looks any favors... Maybe I need to change up my look again? But how?

Maybe I should get back into trying to learn makeup and more "modern" fashion... Or maybe a new haircut? Maybe not that latter option, I'm quite happy with my bob, it's certainly been easier to care for my hair lately, and I'm not sure I could pull off anything shorter or more... "Adventurous.")

"Mrrroww??" With a quick leap, Calamari jumped onto the desk, knocking over a few cosmetics, toiletries, and photos while doing so.

"Woah! Careful my dear! Haha you always seem to know when something is bothering me..."

*Sigh* "I suppose I'm just worried about myself again is all. You know me, whenever I'm not worrying about how I look, I worry about my work."

(I guess I just, never expected my life to go this way I suppose. Cipher really did throw a wrench into a lot of my plans in life. I mean, did anyone expect any of this to happen? I'm ashamed to admit I was arrogant in the beginning, I believed this all couldn't be possible, that it'd be solved soon if anything, I believed it couldn't cause as much problems and dangers to the world as it did...)

"You know what they say, every rose has it's thorn, although I certainly feel like I have more thorns than rose sometimes..."

(I'll never forget my first reaction to being sent out as a part of the group of doctors to help the people evacuating Gravity Falls. There was so much panic, so much chaos, and some of the wounds I had to patch up weren't anything you'd ever normally deal with even if you worked in the ER.

It almost seemed unreal, that any moment someone would say "cut" and it would end like a movie.)

(It's these kind of moments of panic that really make me childishly wish that the world of medical science was as simple as we believed it was as kids, that all it really took was being rushed to the infirmary, some rest, a bandaid, and some care to heal whatever was hurting somone.)

(But that wasn't how things were. It was much more complicated than that, and the kicker was that you always held your patient's life in your line like a tether. Whenever that tether broke and you couldn't help fix it no matter how hard you tried, having to tell the patient's family their loved one was gone... It's almost too much to bear sometimes.)

"I'm so thankful I have you though Callie, I really think you're one of the only good things to come out of this mess and into my life."

"Woof!"

"Haha!! That's a new one! You never cease to surprise me girl! That and the weird things you sometimes bring me home..."

(When she was younger it was normal stuff like mice, small birds, and insects. Nowadays it was much more... weird. When it wasn't something like a gnome panicking for it's life or an eyebat, it was random items.)

(At first it was pretty normal, like a sparkly pink ribbon probably used to tie up hair or something, black nail polish, or what I'm assuming is someone's art project for pins of what I'm guessing is a top hat and bow tie??)

(Then it became weirder and more varied. For example, she once brought home a weird plush that resembles Dr. Pines in a way. That one in particular was odd because I don't think I've ever seen Dr. Pines smile in such a showboating way, let alone wear anything that wasn't of any semblance to "his muse". The suit seemed normal but the fez was definitely the weirdest thing.)

(Most recently she brought home some kind of sentient gummy lizard-snake thing. It had jumped out of my hands when I had tried to take it outside to release it, and I still haven't found it to this day. Sometimes I swear spot it moving around somewhere from the corner of my eye while I'm at home...)

"Anyways, how about we head to bed? I know I'm tired today after an exhausting day!"

(I'll clean up my vanity later, it's certainly getting way too late for me to be up at this hour...)

With that, Irene promptly headed to bed with Calamari following in tow. She promptly fell asleep quickly after laying her head down, despite wanting to spend some more time thinking about things.

Unbeknownst to her though, up high in a corner of the wall of her apartment, was a cute little housespider sitting on it's web.

Of course the next morning Calamari would be found by Irene playing with this exact spider.

A cute little spider, with a strange pattern that strangely looked like a certain evil dorito with an eye. :)

(I'm really glad you and others liked my cringey fanfiction! It definitely surprised me and had me smiling ear to ear!

I hope you don't mind I kinda winged it with Oleander's character. I thought she kinda gave off the vibes of a tomboy/tomboy in her youth while also the vibes of the "determined doctor" trope. Hopefully this doesn't clash with your actual ideas for her? I love the idea too of her being a dorky cat lady too lol.

I seriously loved the details you made about Calamari! I thought it'd be funny if her teleporting power also let her travel dimensions for funsies, because imagine all of the mischief she could cause! Especially if she likes to steal Bill and Ford's stuff the most lmaoo.)

I LOVE cat mom Oleander!! And Calamari stealing stuff from other universes? PERFECT. I DEEPLY hope she steals things from other AU Fords!

And, Ford. Honey. Baby. Calamari isn't the reason you lost the cat show.

(I think I'll call this ask fiction! I'll put these in that tag, for those who want to find them again!! c: )

[crowleycorvid]

I am always thinking about the dark island trilogy journal entry things Wu writes and how much he genuinely adores all the people he cares about. He writes so fondly and lovingly about Misako and Lloyd and all the ninja and and and augh This bad boy can fit so much love in him

[adelheidvonschicksal]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ It's Like That *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You decide to accept Itadori's invitation to the movies. It turns out better than expected.

Pairing: Itadori x GN!Reader

CW: Fluff, SFW, hand holding, potential friends to lovers, it's technically a date 💕

“Do you guys want to see Human Earthworm 4 with me?”

The three of you minus Itadori, who posed the question, share a lukewarm look. You’re on the edge of the shopping district, trying to decide what to do after your mission, if anything, and that’s the first idea that floats out amongst the group. 

“What’s it about?” Nobara asks.

After Itadori explains the horror romance, there’s even less enthusiasm amongst the group to watch the movie with him. Sensing this, he ups the bargain.

“I’ll pay.”

You wince when you see Fushiguro pull out his phone. “I don’t really have the energy to sit through a movie,” he excuses himself, fingers going a mile a minute to escape the situation of friendship for today. “I’m going home.”

Your broody classmate holds his ringing phone to his ear and briefly glances at Nobara.

“I’m going to hit up the shops," she responds to his silent question.

Megumi leaves the three of you behind in no time flat. Nobara only stays behind long enough to ask if you want to go shopping with her. While you normally love to go with her and are in dire need of new shoes, you notice a lonely sullen shadow building over your slit-cheeked classmate and throw up an apologetic smile to her. 

“I think I’ll go with Itadori-kun today.”

You miss the way his head perks up as you wave her off. Before you have a chance to collect your thoughts, Itadori is already on top of you, his fists drawn in front of him excitedly and chestnut irises filled with happy stars.

“You’re going to love it,” he tells you. It’s cute how he nearly shakes with excitement, you can even hear it growing in his voice and shining in his eyes. “It’s such a good series! I mean, I know it sounded weird, but it’s so much better on screen that— forget any of what I said, you gotta see for yourself!”

He wastes no time taking off in the direction of the theatre, and you jog to keep up with the speed of the Tiger of the West. It isn’t until he notices you lagging behind that he slows up to grab your hand and pull you with him.

“Come on, come on, we don’t want to miss the opening.”

“Is this one of those movies where I need to see the first three to know what’s going on?”

“Well, there’s a few returning characters, like Dr. Richter, but I can fill you in on the important stuff so don’t worry.”

When you get to the theatre, Itadori immediately jumps in the ticket line, huffing in relief when there are still seats available. You begin to pull out your wallet but pause when he hands you a pink paper ticket.

“I told you it’s on me,” he reminds you before going down the line and ordering a large popcorn, two drinks, and beating you to grab a packet of candy that you were staring at for two seconds too long. 

He hands the bag of sweets to the cashier to scan. “And this please,” he asks before handing the candy to you. 

“That’s okay,” you tell him, but he laughs it off.

“It’s fine. That’s your favorite, right?”

You shyly nod and hold onto the envelope of overpriced candy like it’s the most precious thing in the world causing the cashier to smile at you as she finishes preparing your items.

“Aren’t you two the cutest,” she comments. 

You squeak quietly at her comment, crumpling your candy in surprise. It’s not a big deal she mistook you as a couple, it’s not like Itadori was someone you didn’t like after all, and it’s not like there was any need to correct her but you didn’t know if he felt the same way about the situation. 

Curiously, you look at him, waiting for him to make the decision on the matter. Surprisingly, he blurts out a quick and happy, “Thanks!” before moving on to fill his drink.

As you watch him, you fight the urge to ask why he didn’t correct her; and when you notice that he’s way more interested in finding the right theater, you decide he must have said it because it wasn't worth a fuss.

The two of you get seats at the back of the theater, and you shift over people carefully to avoid falling into Itadori’s back as you find your seats. You can finally relax as he sets the bucket of popcorn on the armrest between you.

Soon enough, the movie begins to play.

It starts off like every normal horror movie. A mad scientist, a hapless victim, and an escape followed by a romantic subplot of the human earthworm discovering that the woman he met indeed loves him even if he is a worm. 

That’s about as much as you can keep up with. There are too many easter eggs that keep flying over your head and too many callbacks to the previous movies in the series. Itadori does his best to try to help you whenever you whisper questions at him; but eventually, you’re too distracted by the couple in front of you making out to pay attention to the movie.

It’s so obnoxiously grotesque, their arms wrapping around each other and a soft moan every so often that’s drowned out by the guttural sounds of the earthworm children. You can’t really believe they’d do that in public, and why did they have to be so close to you out of all people?

Itadori looks at you and then finally catches on to what’s making you squirm. When he does, a faint hint of red starts to coat across his nose, and he becomes equally uncomfortable. 

Deciding to make it a little better for the both of you, you nudge him then make a silly disgusted face with your tongue stuck out to mimic a gag. You’re rewarded with a snicker from him and his own silly face in turn, and it makes the awkwardness of it a little easier to take as you try to focus back on the movie.

It’s another half hour in before you wonder exactly how the hell are they still going at it. 

“Society really needs to bring shame back,” you think before a warm breath hits your ear and fans down your jaw. 

You nearly jump before the smooth sounds of Itadori’s voice greet you. 

“So, that guy—” he begins but you’re way too focused on how close he leaned into you this time, how low the timbre of his voice goes to keep from disturbing those around you. It makes your feet curl in your shoes and your breath catch in your chest when his shoulder connects with your arm.

You feel heightened to his presence and the heat of him so close. It wasn’t like this earlier, but your heart is racing and your skin tickles the more he whispers. You think he’s so close that he could almost kiss your earlobe. 

It’s a path that you didn’t know you had in your mind, and it leaves you rattled as the smallest brush of pink hair hits your skin as he straightens back up and reaches for another handful of popcorn. 

Every time he touches your arm after to get your attention or your hand scoops by his in the popcorn bucket, you start to become flustered and jittery like a child after too much sugar. 

It lasts until the movie reaches its apex.

There’s a combined scream that fills the theatre, and you tense at the splatter of blood hitting the camera, leaving the few remains of your popcorn scattered across the floor as you unwittingly knock it over and squeeze Itadori’s hand tight. 

Your fingers slot with his and your fingertips bury against his palm, and it’s the only thing keeping you from bursting into a scream. 

When the lights flash back on, you notice how pink his hand looks under your tense hold and mumble out an apology. 

“Oh, that?” he asks followed by the same charming laugh as always. “It was pretty funny. You should’ve seen your face, like a blowfish,” he comments, teasingly mocking your blow-eyed expression as everyone around you begins to exit. “I never took you for a scaredy-cat.”

“You’re one to talk. You screamed in my ear at least a dozen times,” you remind him as the two of you also make your way towards the exit doors. “Sounded like you were on fire.”

“Don’t say fire in a theatre!” he scolds with a hiss.

“You said it louder.”

“To remind you not to say it!” 

You giggle at how offended he sounds as you break out into the light of the late afternoon. You walk with Itadori back to your pickup spot on the edge of the shopping district. It’s surprisingly quiet especially considering who you’re with, and it makes you worry a bit. 

You thought Itadori would be more excited after watching the film and practically forcing you to run 500m dash to get there, but he’s barely said two words about it since leaving the theatre, briefly mentioning how he’s still glad they used a real costume for the main earthworm instead of CGI.

But since leaving, his mood seems to have dampened. You thought about bringing something up from the movie, but you couldn’t really catch more than a few bloody scenes and a little evil monologuing from Dr. Richter outside the moments when Itadori would have your attention, with his voice in your ear or his hand excitedly clasping around your wrist each time he enthusiastically info-dumped a scene to you.

“Hey, um,” he begins piquing your interest. He seems to lose his nerve when you catch his eye; his gaze flutters to his feet before nervously picking back up to glimpse at your face but only for a few seconds. “Thanks for coming with me.”

You smile. “Don’t mention it. It was…different.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees but he still seems down. 

“Itadori-kun? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah…It’s just…I could tell you didn’t really like the movie. I mean I knew from the start it wasn’t really your thing. You and Nobara usually like to shop together more than watch horror movies. But still—” he breathes in deep, a shy color blossoming across his face. “It’s been a while since it felt like I did something normal, so it was really nice having someone to come with me. I appreciate it.”

There's something about his explanation that makes your heart hurt. He hasn’t been a sorcerer that long yet; and coming from being a normal kid to the world you were born into was probably scarier than you all could understand. 

“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it! I just couldn’t really follow the story between that annoying couple smacking the whole time, and I felt like I barely follow anything at all!” you reason with him, but he still has that kicked puppy look on his face. 

You sigh with soft empathy before offering him a reassuring smile.

“Hey, Itadori-kun, you know I think I’d like to come back and see it again with you. After we watch the first three movies of course."

He gives you a curious look, his eyebrows raised with disbelief. 

“Really?”

You give a cute and short nod. “Mhm! I can’t really give it a fair chance if I haven’t seen the ones leading up to it. Besides, I want to know why Dr. Richter was trying to kidnap the baby H.E.s in the first place? Couldn’t he make more Enhanced H.E.s from the DNA left from the original experiment victim like he did at the beginning of the movie?” 

It’s like you open the skies back over him when your words sink in, and he moves so happily, speaks so fully, and it makes you happy to see him simply be happy. 

“They explain it so good in the third movie,” he says, unable to hold in his excitement. “I know a great site, it has subtitles and everything, and a special director’s cut at the end of the second movie.”

You laugh. “Sounds good!”

“We should pick up some more snacks; the original is actually pretty long,” he warns and starts to lead you towards the convenience store. Your smile only breaks when you feel the tug on your arm and look down to notice his hand still fastened around yours. 

You freeze, feeling your face warm a bit when you realize he’s probably been holding it since before you left the theater. This makes him pause and turn towards you.

Softly, he calls your name and asks if you’re okay, making you drop your head bashfully.

“Oh, it’s nothing really but you’re still holding my hand,” you point out.

Itadori looks down between the two of you and confirms that his fingers are still locked with yours, a comfortable fit.  

“Huh, oh, I guess I am,” he states matter-of-factly before he blushes. “Oh, it’s probably all gross and oily right? Yuck.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s not actually,” you correct, making no move to force him to let go because you honestly don’t want him to stop this good feeling pouring from him into you through the simple act. 

Your soft expression makes his cheeks warm for a different reason this time. 

“Oh, well, w-we should probably hurry,” he stammers out, and your hand tightens around his hand just a little bit more as you agree and find the closest convenience store to prepare for your first movie night. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Nobara stops outside the convenience store, hand to the glass as she stalks back and forth, trying to catch glimpses down the aisle. 

She could have sworn she just saw the two of you walk in from the other side of the street, and she was going to come to say hi – partially to ask how the movie went and partially to make Itadori carry her shopping bags if the two of you were done – that was before she noticed how close the two of you looked.

Weirdly close. 

When she finally catches you in the foggy glass, hand in hand, looking at the mini gacha inside the store, she gasps and quickly shuffles her bags around in search of her phone. 

Kugisaki quickly scrolls through her contacts, impatiently tapping her foot as she waited for the line to pick up.

“Fushiguro get here quick,” she harshly whispers into the device.

There’s a lazy voice on the other end asking what she wants, and she vaguely explains the situation to be met with resistance.

“Well then have Ijichi drop you off again! What do you mean ‘No’?" she growls. "Shut up and listen to me. They just went into 7/11. Ugh. Fine, fine, I’m sending you some pictures,” she argues. 

Kugisaki quickly starts to snap some pictures through the glass and frantically sends them off before bringing the phone back to her ear.

“That’s what I’m saying so hurry up and get here! Yes, it’s like that!” 

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Bloodlust | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, implied sexism/objectification

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Dean was in the best mood you’d seen him in in a long time. He was grooving to his music as the Impala cruised along the highway; having finally fixed his baby. “Whoo! Listen to her purr! Have you ever heard anything so sweet?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know, if you two wanna get a room, just let me know, Dean.”

“Oh, don't listen to her, baby. She doesn't understand us.”

Sam laughed. “You're in a good mood.”

“Why shouldn't I be?” Dean questioned.

“No reason.”

“Got my car, got a case; things are looking up.”

You hummed. “Wow. Give you a couple severed heads and a pile of dead cows, and you’re little miss sunshine.”

He laughed. “How far to Red Lodge?”

Sam responded, “Uh, about another three hundred miles.”

“Good,” Dean smirked, flooring it.

***

The sheriff you and the brothers talked to obviously thought the three of you were insane when you questioned him about the decapitations and cow mutilations. He ordered you to get out of his office, to which you agreed.

Needing another plan, you and the brothers headed to the hospital in your respective suits and dress. You didn’t miss the way Dean’s eyes raked over your body as you made your way into the morgue.

“Decorum, please,” you teased, swishing your hips as you walked ahead of him.

Dean walked closely behind you and read the nametag of the unsuspecting intern sitting behind the desk. “John.”

“Jeff,” he corrected.

“Jeff. I know that,” Dean chuckled. “Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away.”

“But Dr. Dworkin's on vacation.”

“Well, he's back. And he's pissed, and he's screaming for you, man, so if I were you I would—” he clicked his tongue and jutted his thumb behind him.

The intern looked terrified and ran away.

“Hey, those satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, reversed pentacle on the forehead,” Sam responded.

“Yeah. So much fucked up crap happens in Florida.” He handed you and Sam pairs of latex gloves and tugged on a pair of his own. 

You pulled out a metal bed with a woman’s corpse laying on it and a box between her legs. 

“Alright, open it,” Dean told Sam.

“You open it,” Sam protested.

“You guys are pussies.” You grabbed the box and took the lid off, unfazed by the sight before you.

Dean cringed at the sight of the head, saying, “Well, no pentagram.”

“Wow. Poor girl,” Sam said.

“Maybe we should, uh, you know, look in her mouth, see if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat. Y'know, kinda like the moth in Silence of the Lambs.”

“Yeah, here, go ahead,” you smirked, spinning the box toward him.

“No, you go ahead,” he rebutted.

“What?”

“ ‘Put the lotion in the basket.’ “ 

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.” You pried her mouth open and looked down her throat. 

“Dean, get me a bucket?” Sam grimaced. “I'm going to puke.”

You felt around her mouth a bit more and found strange grooves above her gumline. You pulled her lip up and pressed just above one of the holes, and a fang descended. “Oh, this fucking bitch.”

“She’s already dead, (Y/N), relax,” Dean told you.

“Well, this changes things,” noted Sam.

“Ya think?” you and Dean asked in unison.

***

You and the brothers decided to go for a few drinks after the discoveries you’d made and pick up the next morning. You immediately felt a man’s eyes on you and uncomfortably shifted in your seat. “You pickin’ up what I am?” you discreetly whispered to Dean.

“Yeah, definitely,” he responded lowly, sitting on a barstool. “How's it going?”

The bartender answered, “Living the dream. What can I get for you?”

“Three beers, please.”

Sam began, “So, we're looking for some people.”

“Sure. Hard to be lonely,” the bartender smirked. 

“Yeah. But, um, that's not what I meant.” Sam pulled a fifty dollar bill from his pocket and dropped it in front of the bartender, who took it hesitantly. “Right. So these, these people, they would have moved here about six months ago, probably pretty rowdy, like to drink—”

“Yeah, real night owls, you know? Sleep all day, party all night,” Dean chimed in.

“Barker farm got leased out a couple months ago. Real winners. They've been in here a lot— drinkers. Noisy. I've had to 86 them once or twice.”

You and Dean thanked the bartender for his help and continued to nurse your beers. After a few minutes, you and the brothers continued to feel the man’s eyes on you. On high alert, all three of you moved for the door and noticed all that was left of the man was a smoldering cigarette in an ashtray.

You and the brothers walked out of the bar and past the Impala to lead the man who’d been stalking you away. You rounded a corner and jumped out of the way so the brothers could pin the man who’d followed you to the wall. Dean held a knife to the man’s throat and commanded, “Smile.”

“What?” the man asked.

“Show us those pearly whites.”

“Oh, for the love of— you want to stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire," he replied nonchalantly.

You frowned.

“Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there.” Even his voice was unsettling.

“What do you know about vampires?” you asked.

“How to kill them. Now seriously, bro. That knife's making me itch.”

Dean cocked his head and the man started to pull away. Sam pinned him down harder. 

“Whoa. Easy there, Chachi,” the man said. He slowly brought his hand up to his lips and revealed normal gums. “See? Fangless. Happy?”

Dean let him up. “Now. Who the hell are you?”

"Gordon. Gordon Walker," he replied. "You?"

"I'm Dean. This is Sam; that's (Y/N)."

The man led you over to his car and pulled out an arsenal rack from behind his backseat. “Sam and Dean Winchester. I can't believe it. You know I met your old man once? Hell of a guy. Great hunter. I heard he passed. I'm sorry. It's big shoes. But from what I hear you guys fill 'em. Great trackers, good in a tight spot—”

Dean was on-guard. “You seem to know a lot about our family.”

“Word travels fast. You know how hunters talk,” the man explained.

“No, I don’t, actually,” you chimed in.

“You're a firecracker, aren't cha?” he asked. His somehow hauntingly melodic voice had you on edge.

You refused to respond.

“So, um, so those two vampires, they were yours, huh?” Sam jumped in.

“Yep. Been here two weeks.”

“Did you check out that Barker farm?” Dean questioned.

“It's a bust. Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though, they could kill you with that patchouli smell alone.” You almost laughed at Gordon’s comment. 

“Where's the nest, then?” Dean asked.

“I got this one covered. Look, don't get me wrong. It's a real pleasure meetin' you fellas. But I've been on this thing over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin; tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it.”

“We could help,” Dean suggested.

“Thanks, but uh, I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy.”

Dean groaned, “Come on, man, I"ve been itching for a hunt.”

“Sorry. But hey, I hear there's a Chupacabra two states over. You go ahead and knock yourselves out.” He got down into his car and leaned out of the window. “It was real good meeting you, though. I'll buy you a drink on the flip side.” He drove off.

“He seems like a world-class douche,” you commented as you watched his retreating red car.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam snorted. 

“C’mon.” Dean started off to his car.

“Where we goin’?” 

“To find ourselves a fang.”

***

Dean followed Gordon’s distinctive red car to a warehouse where you deduced he’d tracked a vampire to. 

You rushed up the labyrinth of ladders toward the sounds of a running mill saw and the two men struggling. When you arrived at the scene, you saw Gordon on the verge of getting his head taken off by the vampire and the saw. You and Sam each grabbed a boot and pulled Gordon away from the vampire’s impressive strength. Dean attacked the vampire and replaced Gordon with him, lowering the saw to the vampire’s throat. You watched in concern as blood sprayed across Dean’s face, and he seemed completely unreactive. 

“So, uh, I guess I gotta buy you that drink,” Gordon chuckled awkwardly. 

***

You agreed to meet Gordon back at the bar you’d met him at after you cleaned Dean up. Sam went into the bar with Gordon to get a round of drinks started. You took hydrogen peroxide out of the first aid kit in the car and began to wipe Dean’s face off with it.

“I can do this myself, y’know,” he mumbled.

“I do.” You let a silence settle between you before you spoke again. “What happened to you back there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Dean, you got fucking scary back there. I’ve never seen you like that,” you explained.

“I was just excited to get back to huntin’, (Y/N).”

“No, dude, I know you. You’re lethal but never… cold. You’re worrying me,” you admitted.

“Well, don’t, okay? I’m fine,” he said, lightly pushing you off him and taking the towel from you. He finished wiping himself off and began to walk inside. You were hurt but refused to let that show and followed him into the bar. 

***

Rounds deep of Gordon and Dean swapping stories, you and Sam were exhausted of the talk of blood, guts, and gore. Gordon soon circled back to Dean’s kill of the evening. “Dean,” he laughed. “You gave that big-ass fang one hell of a haircut, my friend.”

“Thank you,” Dean grinned.

“That was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”

“Was it, though?” you questioned, ignoring the way Dean’s gaze burned into the side of your head and keeping your eyes locked on Gordon.

“You all right, sweetheart?” Dean asked you.

“Fine,” you responded.

“Well, lighten up a little, sweetheart,” Gordon jested.

“He's the only one who gets to call me that,” you immediately stated firmly.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay. No offense meant. Just celebrating a little. Job well done.”

“Right. Well, decapitations aren't my idea of a good time, I guess,” Sam chimed in.

“Oh, come one, man, it's not like it was human. You've gotta have a little more fun with your job,” Gordon said simply. 

"That's what it is, though," you broke in. "A job. I enjoy it, but bloodshed doesn't exactly get my rocks off." You kept your eyes locked on Gordon, who stared back.

Sam sighed and stood up. "Look, I'm not gonna bring you guys down. I'm just gonna go back to the motel. C’mon, (Y/N).”

“You sure?” Dean asked the two of you as you stood.

The two of you nodded wordlessly.

“Remind me to beat that buzzkill out of you two later, alright?” Dean joked, throwing Sam the keys.

You walked out angrily and didn’t say a word to Sam on the way back to the motel.

***

“I don’t like that guy,” you muttered to Sam as you paced around his and Dean’s motel room. “I really don’t like vampires, but I really don’t like that guy.”

“Yeah, me neither. I’m gonna call Ellen; see what she thinks.”

“Good idea.”

Sam raised the phone to his ear. “Hey, Ellen, uh, Sam Winchester… Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine. Got a question. You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?... And?... Well, we ran into him on a job and we're kinda working with him, I guess…” His face suddenly changed. “I— I thought you said he was a good hunter.” 

You watched curiously as he listened to another thing she had to say before bidding the woman goodbye. “I’m guessing she told you he was bad news,” you said once he’d hung up.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Great.”

“Sam, I hate vamps more than probably anybody. But Dean was just… so… not Dean when he took the head off that one,” you said.

“I know. It’s buggin’ me, too,” he sighed. “I’m gonna go get a drink. You want one?”

“Just a water, please,” you replied.

Minutes went by, and Sam still hadn’t returned from the vending machine. You were beginning to get a little worried, but decided that maybe he just needed a second to himself. When ten minutes turned into fifteen, though, you really started to panic. You darted outside and looked over to the vending machine. Sam was nowhere to be found. You called Dean in a panic, saying, “Dean, Sam’s gone. I can’t find him anywhere.”

“What?! What the hell happened?!”

“I don’t know!” You ran a hand through your hair. “He just went to get a drink, and now he’s gone!”

“Well, maybe he just went for a walk,” Dean tried.

“No, Dean, he would’ve told me. What the hell is with you? Normally, you’d be flipping out by now.”

“Watch it, (Y/N). Hang tight. We’re on our way.” He hung up the phone.

‘We. Gordon. Fucking fantastic.’

***

When Dean and Gordon returned to the boys’ motel room, you clung to the back wall, feeling very uncomfortable around Gordon and Dean’s new attitude.

Gordon was discussing strategies on how to get Sam back with Dean— supposing the vampires you were hunting was behind this— when the man in question strolled through the door.

“Sam?!” you asked, pushing off the wall and running to him. You hugged him tightly around his neck. “Where the hell did you go?”

“Can I talk to you two alone?” he asked you and his brother.

“You mind chillin' out for a couple minutes?” Dean asked Gordon, who shook his head. You and the brothers exited the room and stood in the parking lot. 

“Guys, maybe we've got to rethink this hunt.”

“What makes you say that, Sammy?” you asked. 

“Where were you?” Dean questioned.

“In the nest.”

“What? You found it?” Dean questioned. Yours and his eyebrows shot up.

“They found me, man.”

“How'd you get out? How many'd you kill?” the older brother asked.

“None.”

“Well, Sam, they didn't just let you go.”

“That's exactly what they did.”

“No fucking way,” you said. “I know vamps, they wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, how do you explain the fact that I’m not dead, (Y/N)?”

You shrugged. “Good point. But what the hell, man?”

“Where is it?” Dean asked.

“I was blindfolded. I don't know.”

“Well, you've got to know something,” the older brother pressed.

Sam huffed. “We went over that bridge outside of town, but guys, listen. Maybe we shouldn't go after them.”

“Why not?” you and Dean asked.

“I don't think they're like other vampires. I don't think they're killing people.”

Dean laughed humorlessly. “You're joking. Then how do they stay alive? Or undead, or whatever the hell they are.”

“The cattle mutilations. They said they live off of animal blood.”

“And you believed them?”

“Look at me, Dean. They let me go without a scratch.” Sam held his arms out to either side of himself, encouraging you and Dean to examine him.

“Wait, so you're saying—” Dean cut himself off. “No, man, no way. I don't know why they let you go. I don't really care. We find 'em, we waste 'em.”

“Why?” Sam huffed.

“What part of 'vampires' don't you understand, Sam? If it's supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That's our job.”

“No, Dean, that is not our job. Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!” the brunet argued.

“Of course they're killing people, that's what they do. They're all the same, Sam. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them.”

“Dean, I’m with Sam on this one,” you finally said.

“Really, (Y/N)? You?” he looked at you stunned.

“Yeah, dude. I trust Sam. I hate vampires more than the next person. But I just don’t feel good about this hunt all around. I say we leave these vampires and Gordon in our dust,” you responded.

“Oh, so that’s what this is about,” Dean scoffed. “Gordon?”

“Why are you so defensive of him?” you questioned, voicing rising slightly.

“Because he’s been going after these things for a year, (Y/N), I think he knows,” he said.

“Sam called Ellen. She says he’s bad news.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

Dean looked at his brother. “You called Ellen?”

Sam nodded.

“And I'm supposed to listen to her? We barely know her, (Y/N). No thanks, I'll go with Gordon.”

“Right. ‘Cause Gordon’s such an old friend,” you scowled. “You think I can’t see what this is?”

“What are you talking about?” Dean grunted.

“He's a substitute for your dad, isn't he? A poor one.”

“Shut up, (Y/N).”

“Hey! Don’t talk to me like that.” You stepped closer to Dean, face set angrily.

Dean wasn’t backing off. “Then don’t talk to me like that.”

The two of you were in each other’s faces, angrily staring each other down.

“You know what? I'm not even going to talk about this,” Dean grumbled, turning away from you.

“I know exactly what you’re doing, Dean. I can see right through you. I know how you feel. I lost my dad, too. But nobody can replace him. That hole you’re feeling hurts; I know. But this isn’t what’s gonna fix it.”

He snorted humorlessly. “Okay.” He walked away from you and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He turned to his brother. “I'm going to that nest. You don't want to tell me where it is, fine. I'll find it myself.”

You followed him back into his motel room. “We are not done with this conversation.” 

Dean went to respond to you but noticed Gordon was gone before he could. 

“You think he went after them?” Sam asked.

“Probably,” you said. “Dean, we have to stop him.”

“Really, (Y/N)? Because I say we lend a hand.”

Sam chimed in, “Just give me the benefit of the doubt, would you? You owe me that.”

“Yeah, we'll see. I'll drive. Give me the keys.”

Sam gestured to the table where he’d set the keys earlier, but they were gone. “He snaked the keys.”

“Fucking awesome,” you grumbled, eyeing Dean angrily for his trust in Gordon.

Dean then had to hotwire his own car, cursing under his breath about how he’d “just fixed her.” “So the bridge, is that, uh, is that all you got?” Dean asked his brother as the three of you began to speed off.

“The bridge was four and a half minutes from their farm,” Sam explained.

“How do you know?” you asked.

“I counted.” 

You smiled. This was another one of those moments where he reminded you a lot of Steven; he would've done the same thing.

The younger brother continued, “They took a left out of the farm, then turned right onto a dirt road, followed that for two minutes slightly up a hill, then took another quick right, and we hit the bridge.”

***

A while later, you and the brothers arrived at the farmhouse the vampires had been holing up in. You found Gordon circling a tied-up vampiress covered in scratches and her own blood. 

“Guys. Come on in,” Gordon grinned at you.

“You’re fucking sick,” you growled, eyeing him dangerously.

“You wanna get a handle on your girlfriend there, pal?” Gordon said to Dean.

Dean ignored his comment. “What's going on?”

“Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood. She's going to tell us where all her little friends are, aren't you? Wanna help?”

Dean sighed. “Look, man—”

“Grab a knife. I was just about to start in on the fingers.” Gordon dragged his knife across her arm, cutting her deeply.

“Stop it!” you ordered.

“Hey, let's all just chill out, huh?” Dean said simultaneously.

“I’m completely chill,” Gordon responded coolly.

“Gordon, put the knife down,” Sam quietly pleaded. He went to step toward Gordon, but Dean held him back.

“Sounds like it's Sam here needs to chill,” Gordon scoffed.

“Just step away from her, alright?” you tried.

“You're right. I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk. Might as well put her out of her misery.” Gordon pulled out a larger knife. “I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane.”

You stepped to block Gordon from reaching the vampire. “Gordon, I'm letting her go.”

Gordon pointed the knife at your chest, stopping you. “You're not doing a damn thing.”

“Hey, hey, hey, Gordon, let's talk about this,” Dean broke in, concern rising in his voice.

“What's there to talk about? It's like I said, Dean. No shades of gray.”

“Yeah. I hear ya. And I know how you feel.”

“Do you?” He turned to Dean, but kept the knife trained on your chest.

“That vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but this one—”

Gordon laughed. “Killed my sister? That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her. It made her one of them. So I hunted her down, and I killed her myself.”

Dean’s awkward smile wavered. “You did what?”

“It wasn't my sister anymore; it wasn't human. I didn't blink. And neither would you.”

“Gordon, I had to do the same thing to my parents,” you said. “But my parents were trying to eat me. I think that’s a bit of a different circumstance than these guys who are just eating a few cows.”

“Then you should understand why I have to do this.” He pushed the tip of his knife into your chest, trying to get you to back up. You hissed in pain.

Dean immediately drew his gun and pointed it at Gordon. “Cut it out.”

“So you knew all along, then?” Sam continued provoking the hunter. “You knew about the vampires, you knew they weren't killing anyone. You knew about the cattle. And you just didn't care.”

Gordon chuckled. “Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking innocent people? And we're supposed to buy that? Trust me. Doesn't change what they are. And I can prove it.” With no warning, he grabbed your arm and sliced it open. You yelped as he held your arm out with one hand and held the knife to your throat with the other. He shoved you toward the vampire tied up in her chair.

Dean cocked the gun and demanded, “Let her go. Now!”

“Relax. If I wanted to kill her, she'd already be on the floor. Just making a little point.”

“Oh, you motherfucker—” he held your arm over the vampire while you struggled, causing blood to drip on her face. She hissed, and her fangs extended. 

“Let me go!”

“You think she's so different? Still want to save her? Look at her. They're all the same. Evil, bloodthirsty.”

The vampire controlled herself, though, retracting her fangs and turning her face away. You softened at the sight as Dean continued to try and intimidate Gordon.

“You hear her, Gordon?” Sam said. 

The vampire was stringing together a chant of “No” over and over again, trying to control herself.

You kicked Gordon between the legs and worked your way out of his grasp when the knife moved away from your neck. “We're done here.”

“Sam, get her out of here,” Dean told his brother. 

He did as told, and when Gordon tried to step toward him, Dean caught his attention with the gun. “Uh-uh. Uh-uh! Gordon, I think you and I've got some things to talk about.”

“Get out of my way,” Gordon told you and Dean, who both had guns trained on him.

“Sorry,” Dean murmured.

“You're not serious,” the man scoffed.

“I'm having a hard time believing it too, but I know what I saw. If you want those vampires, you gotta go through me.”

Gordon nodded, considering. He looked down at his knife and jammed it into the table. “Fine.”

Dean looked at the knife and then his gun. He pulled the clip out of his Taurus and set it aside.

“Dean, what are you doing?” you asked.

“Trust me on this one.”

You kept your gun trained on Gordon as he lunged at Dean. You couldn’t get a clear shot as the two of them rumbled around. You couldn’t lie, they were pretty evenly matched in hand-to-hand combat. Gordon grabbed his knife again and held it to Dean’s throat. “What are you doing, man? You doing this for a fang? Come on, Dean, we're on the same side here.”

“I don't think so, you sadistic bastard.”

Gordon threw Dean across the room.

“Hey!” you said, cocking your gun. “Back off!”

“Stay out of this, sweetie,” Gordon told you before turning back to Dean. “You're not like your brother. You're a killer. Like me.”

Dean kicked Gordon down and hauled him up against the wall before elbowing him between the eyes. He pinned him under his elbow and slammed his head into another wall. “Oh, sorry.”

You chuckled despite the situation as you and Dean began to tie Gordon up.

“You know, I might be like you, and I might not. But you're the one tied up right now,” Dean monotoned down at Gordon. He turned to you when he seemed to come back to reality. “Are you okay?” He put his hands on either side of your face and tucked your hair behind your ear. 

You nodded. “Fine.”

He grabbed your arm gently and looked over the cut Gordon had given you. Dean sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I’m gonna take care of that.”

“Dean, you don’t have to—”

“Yeah, I do.” He took a deep breath. “You were right.”

You gave him a lopsided smile. “I know.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to have a moment with you here,” he smirked.

You just smiled and looked down to the floor. “I know. Thank you.”

Sam came back into the room. “Did I miss anything?” he asked, noting Gordon tied up.

Dean shook his head. “Nah, not much. She get out okay?”

“Yeah. All of 'em did.”

Gordon groaned as he came back to. 

“Then I guess our work here is done. How you doin', Gordy? Gotta tinkle yet?” Dean snarked, making you giggle.

Gordon just glared at him.

“Alright. Well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days; have them come out, untie you.” He jammed Gordon’s knife into the table behind him.

“Ready to go, Dean?” Sam asked.

“Not yet. I guess this is goodbye. Well, it's been real.” He hit Gordon straight across the jaw, knocking him to the floor. “Okay. I'm good now. We can go.”

As you exited the farmhouse, you grabbed at your arm that suddenly began to sting. 

“I wish we never took this job. It's jacked everything up,” Dean lamented.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“Think about all the hunts we went on, Sammy, our whole lives. What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us—” Dean trailed off and shook his head.

The younger brother’s expression softened. “Dean, after what happened to Mom, Dad did the best he could.”

“I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill, I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it.”

“You didn’t kill that girl, though,” you pointed out.

“No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all.”

“Yeah, Dean, but you didn't. And that's what matters,” Sam reminded him softly.

“Yeah. Well, 'cause you two are a pain in my ass,” Dean grunted.

“Guess we might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass, then,” the brunet smirked.

“Thanks,” Dean said honestly.

“Don’t mention it.”

***

You returned to the motel to quickly shower off and gather your things. Dean followed you to your room and looked down at your arm. “Gimme that,” he said.

“What? My arm?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“This is our thing now, I guess, huh?” you asked as he pulled a chair up to where you sat on your bed, using your first aid kid to clean your wounds.

“Oh, god, don’t try and make this cute,” he groaned.

“Well, it is!” you protested. “I like how much you care.”

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you, and you began to work on Dean’s wounds he’d sustained from Gordon.

“(Y/N), I—” he began, “I was a complete asshole back there. I just… it’s what I told Sam, I mean, this changes everything for me.”

“I get it,” you nodded. “Me, too. You know I fucking hate vampires, and I wanted to smoke every last one of them. But I don’t know. I’m starting to see the humanity in ‘em, I guess.”

“‘S funny. Humanity in monsters.”

“I know,” you giggled. “Sounds stupid saying it out loud. But think about it. That chick reacted the way any regular person does with severe addiction. Just makes you think, y’know? Maybe they’re more like us than we ever thought.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Don’t get all philosophical on me; I can’t keep up when you do.”

“Yeah, but you love it, though,” you teased.

“I do, actually,” he said, much to your surprise. “You’re so smart, it scares me sometimes.”

“Whoa, look at you and your compliments,” you joked, grinning.

“What?" he chuckled.

“Normally I'm the touchy-feely one,” you answered, giggling. “But thank you. It means a lot coming from you.” You finished wrapping a bandage around his knuckles. “There.”

He flexed them painfully in your upturned palm before playing with your hand in his. You looked up at him, breath hitching in your throat. “Dee, if you’re not ready—”

“(Y/N),” he said, leaning in to you. You surged forward and connected his lips with yours.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[multific]

Doctor’s Secrets

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: During a very difficult and convoluted case the team stumbles into a secret. Soon they will figure out just how smooth Spencer Reid can really be.

"The man we are looking for targets lonely married women. Women with husbands who have jobs which keep them from home. The unsub is in his early 40s and has a criminal record of violence." As Gideon kept on going to explain to the officers just who they are looking for, Reid had a sudden realization. "This is his way of punishing the husband and the wife at the same time. In his eyes, the husband is guilty of not taking care of her and she is a cheater, much like how his parents were when he was a child. He is violent and often angry. Road rage and public meltdowns are common for the unsub."

"I have to make a call." Reid told Hotch as he suddenly rushed out to make his call.

The team did notice that Reid was rather nervous the entire day, he kept fidgeting and he was uncharacteristically weird. Spencer kept on staring at his phone as if he was waiting for a text or a call. 

But no one questioned it.

"You good, Kid?" well no one except for Morgan, of course.

"Yes, I am. I'm only worried a little."

"What this unsub got you scared?"

"I'm... kind of..."

This is when an officer walked over to the room where the team was, knocking on the door.

"Dr Reid, as you requested, your wife is here."

The entire team looked at Spencer.

"WIFE?!" called out Garcia through the phone before she ran to find them.

---

You were sitting at home, working when your phone rang.

"Hi Babe." you said as you started to drink your tea.

"Y/N, I sent a car to you, there is a serial killer out there, his profile... he is killing women like you, the police car will be there soon, please just go with them, they will bring you to me." he sounded extremely worried, and you knew what you needed to do. 

"I will be fine, Spencer, they just arrived, I'm coming to you."

You heard him let out a long sigh and without another question, you gathered your purse and headed to the cop car.

When you arrived at the station you had no idea what to do.

Spencer always kept you very far from his job so you won't be affected like he once was. 

You never minded him keeping you so far from his line of work it did help a lot for you to help him through the harder times.

Spencer and you have been married for the last three years and before that dating for years, his team didn't know about you because he chose not to mention you to any of them. 

It was the reason why he always kept his wedding band at home, you weren't really a fan of him not wearing it but you understood.

But now, when he called you, he did make you worry a lot.

Talking about a serial killer who targeted women like you.

"Y/N," you heard your name being called and when you turned you saw Spencer, a smile find its way onto your lips.

"Hi." he went over to you and gave you a hug. "I'm all good." you said when you felt him tighten his grip around you.

"I'll introduce you, come on." he grabbed your hand and guided you into a room. The room was filled with files and photos on a board but for now, you tried to focus on the people as all of them introduced themselves one by one.

"Hi, my name is Penelope, very lovely to meet you."

"Hi, I'm Y/N Reid, nice to meet you as well."

"While we figure things out, Garcia please look after, Mrs Reid." said Hotch.

"OH! I will show you my magic room!" the kind woman chirped as you nodded, you understood they had a job to do.

Penelope was a very nice woman, her room, was filled with monitors and she kept on going over them.

"Can-Can I ask you something?" you asked as you rolled over to her in your chair. 

"Of course,"

"Spencer said that the killer targets women like me. Can-Do you know what he meant?"

"From what I heard, the killer targets women with husbands who stay away for longer periods, this is his way of punishing the people who are like his parents were."

"I see, I was trying to think if I have seen or heard anything but-"

"This is not your fault, Spencer did well on protecting you as he should."

"I know but, there are women out there who don't have a husband with such knowledge, they are in danger. I cannot help but think that while I had the opportunity to run away and hide, many of them don't."

"Don't blame yourself, Sweetie. This is not your fault at all. And you being here helps Spencer concentrate so they can catch the killer faster."

"Thank you."

"Of course," she smiled as the phone rang, she picked up, it was on speaker.

"Talk to me, Hot Stuff."

"Garcia, can you check on a Dr Thomas Jones?"

"Works in New Jersey, family medicine doctor, no criminal record, divorced, his wife now lived in California... guess she ran as far as she could."

"Oh God." Garcia looked at you as you said that. "I know him."

"Y/N? What do you mean?" Derek said on the phone. 

"He was my doctor, I used to go every other month for a check-up. He-He tried to hit on me many times but I told him I'm married. I always thought he was weird."

"Good, thanks, we can use that against him. Thanks, Garcia, Y/N."

Derek hung up the phone as you looked at Penelope.

"One time, I went because I had a fever, he was touching me but I thought I was only imagining it because I had a high fever. I didn't go to him after that."

"So, that's how he chooses his victims. He knows about your husband, he has all of your info."

"The sick bastard. I should have told Spencer."

"It's okay, Y/N. We will catch him now." you nodded as she began to type. You moved back to the table but you couldn't concentrate. You just hoped the horror would end.

You and Penelope went to get some coffee when Spencer barged into the kitchen.

"We got him." he smiled and you saw him letting out a long sigh. You smiled at him as you put your mug down, heading over and giving him a hug.

"I'm proud of you." you said as you pulled away, returning to your coffee.

"SO, as I was saying, the store had a sale but the bag I had my eyes on for months, just disappeared." Penelope groaned behind you as you turned to look at him, sitting down by the table, you turned to Spencer.

"I can wait for you, if you have paperwork."

"Okay, I'll try and be quick." he smiled and you nodded before you returned to the conversation with Penelope. 

Spencer run to his desk as he sat down he noticed Derek looking at you from where he was sitting by his desk.

"You got lucky, Reid." Derek said. "But why keep it a secret?" Morgan now looked at Spencer. 

"I thought we were friends, you could have told us." Emily now also sat down at her desk joining the conversation.

"It was a small wedding, only her parents and my mum, that's all I had time for. But she didn't mind, she said she understands that I'm busy. She often says she wouldn't have married me if she didn't know what it comes with." Hotch hearing that, really felt a pain in his chest, but everyone else could only smile at Spencer.

"Let's go out for a drink sometime, so we can get to know her like Garcia did." said Jason Gideon as he grabbed his bag and left for the weekend.

Spencer could only smile as he soon finished his report.

"Let's go home." you turned around at his voice. 

"Let me grab my bag." you headed back to Garcia's room. "It was nice meeting with all of you." you said to everyone as you waved goodbye. Spencer's hand was on your waist as he guided you to the elevator.

"Garcia?" asked Hotch as everyone looked at him.

"She is perfect, so kind and smart." Hotch nodded before heading back to his office.

Everyone was more intrigued now, they all wanted to get to know you.

No one could believe that their boy-wonder was keeping such secrets.

As Spencer started to drive, you turned to him.

“I really like your team.”

“They like you too.” he smiled.

“Do you think I could get to know them better?”

“Of course, Gideon already wants to go out for drinks so he could talk with you.”

“Oh great, cannot wait to get profiled by him.”

“Well-”

“Shut it! I know you already did but I don’t want to know!”

“You got it, Darling.”

“Penelope is a sweetheart, she gave me so many names of stores to get clothes.”

“Please don’t start dressing like her. I like your style already.” you smiled at that.

“Thank you, Spencer. I know I should have told you about Dr Jones... but you are already so busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you, Love.” he grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it.

You soon arrived home, took a nice shower and hit the bed. You were always very worried that his team won’t like you, but now, after meeting them, you felt at ease.

You just couldn’t wait to meet them once again, after all, they are your husband’s second family.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 2 / next.

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader (You), Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, Allison Argent Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 6.7k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, emetophobia, parental death (rip to your fake mom), descriptions of burning, depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Scott’s new-found abilities and the murky world they’ve been dragged into is making it pretty damn hard to keep his promise. 

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real and old family skeletons rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive? 

Maybe, the real question is how long will they want to? Chapter Summary: After an awkward encounter with Lydia Martin, Stiles realizes that his new acquaintance might be the perfect person to jumpstart his 15-year plan. You, on the other hand, aren't interested in discussing your ex-best friend; you're much more focused on the man who was attacked by the mysterious beast ravaging the town.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support so far. So many of y'all have been so sweet :') Comments and reblogs are love.

Monday came, and you’d forgotten about Stiles Stilinski and his sweatshirt. In all fairness, you almost forgot your essay too. Lack of sleep, maybe, or perhaps lack of Wellbutrin—you’d also forgotten if you’d taken your pills before you left for school.

You crinkled your nearly empty can of Red Bull a few times and twisted the tab in circles until it snapped off. Nervous habit. You flicked the tab into a trashcan and squeezed the can until it crumpled in on itself. Okay, you’d definitely forgotten to take your pills. However, on your list of things to forget, homework outranked antidepressants by several places, so your day wasn’t off to the worst possible start in the world. Dr. Lin always said that you should spend at least five minutes every morning changing your ‘self-talk’ to ‘gratitude, not negatude’—she also said that consistently taking your meds was imperative to your mental health, but one out of two wasn’t so bad. See. Positive thinking; you were killing it. 

It was, however, pretty damn difficult to put a positive spin on a bloodied school bus cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. 

You lingered on the outskirts of the swarm of teenagers gawking behind the barricade that a few deputies were fruitlessly attempting to enforce. The back door of the bus was crumpled in the middle, wrenched open, and barely clinging to life with a lone intact hinge. More concerning, was the blood smeared across the yellow paint and the bloody handprints pressed against the windows. You peered through the mass of shoulders in front of you and cupped your hand over your eyes. There were four large gouges in the door and tears in the vinyl seats—claws: you realized. They were claw marks. 

Baffling. The entire scene was, in all sincerity, baffling. 

Awful, you quickly corrected yourself. The carnage was awful, first and foremost. It was awful, horrific, and totally tragic…but it was also bizarre. Animals, wild or not, generally didn’t hunt on school grounds; that honor was reserved for creepy super-seniors and perverse volleyball coaches. You chewed on your bottom lip and stewed. A bear seemed most likely, given the battering the bus took, but Beacon Hills was a long way from Los Padres. Mountain lions and coyotes, on the other hand, often strolled into small-town suburbia to snack on the occasional unaccompanied support animal. Still, you doubted they had the strength or dexterity to rip a steel door off of its hinges. 

The first warning bell rang, and it was especially shrill while you were lost in your own head. You managed to not flinch with a herculean effort and pushed through the remaining voyeurs towards the front doors. Stuffing your airpods into your ears, you turned up the volume on your phone until the bass vibrated all thoughts of coyotes, cougars, and bears out of your mind. Oh my. 

Positive: Ellie Rowsell’s ethereal vocals demanded your full and undivided attention. 

Negative: Ellie Rowsell’s ethereal vocals demanded your full and undivided attention. 

You grabbed your chemistry notecards, a few highlighters, and a fat stack of books from your locker just as an overly-cologned jackass shoved his equally pungent friend straight into your crowded arms.

Positive: You hadn’t gotten the chance to organize your notes by unit number before they scattered all over the floor. 

Negative: They were still scattered all over the floor.

Biting back a few choice expletives, you crouched down and gathered your notecards into a messy heap. You stretched across the scuffed tile for your highlighters; one brushed past your fingertips and rolled into the pointed toe of a sleek brown leather boot. You glanced up, apology ready, but your tongue went cottony when you locked eyes with Lydia Martin.

Lydia Martin was many things to many people, but you supposed the general consensus would be that she was the apex predator—regardless of what the bloodbath outside might lead a person to believe. Most students were consenting prey. Enthusiastically consenting, in fact. You understood the impulse. Knowing she could destroy you, that was the thing that made Lydia so undeniably captivating.

Lydia was…sublime. That was the only word for it. She was the duality of fear and attraction. She defined indefinable beauty—because she wasn’t just beautiful (anybody could be beautiful), Lydia was fiercely beautiful and, in the same breath, the grace of girlhood. She was…she suckerpunched Jordan Aadams in the third grade for making fun of your eyes without lifting a single manicured finger; that was the closest you could come to explaining the phenomenon Lydia Martin left in her wake.

Lydia’s thick red curls spilled over her shoulders as she looked down at the obstacle in her path. The angry pinch in her brows softened briefly once she made eye-contact with you, but she quickly corrected her slip and schooled her face into a blank expression. Returning her attention to her friend, Lydia’s heels clicked against the floor as she stepped over your copy of Metamorphosis and continued on with her conversation like it hadn’t ever stopped. Like you were just a mirage or a distorted oil-slick reflection—like you were a ghost who just wouldn’t fucking die already. You watched her go, forgetting to blink, until they reached Lydia’s locker on the other side of the hall.

Before she got extensions, Lydia liked to wear her hair in a French braid. Before she discovered full-coverage concealer, her freckles were golden against the fairness of her cheeks. Before everything fell apart, she was your best friend. 

In the end, it wasn’t a terribly dramatic thing. There wasn’t a melodramatic scene or an explosive fight; sometimes, you wondered if that would've been better. There was a certain kind of brutality to a slow, quiet death; one that lasted long after the hot water turned cold and shampoo stung your eyes. After the funeral, you could taste decay in your conversations, in your silences. The rot crawled listlessly—everything did back then—tauntingly sluggish. You saw the end coming weeks before you stopped speaking, and you didn’t even try to stop it. To be fair, Lydia didn’t either.

On the first day of seventh grade, Lydia had new friends; they all smelled like vanilla and owned matching couture purses. She’d always been magnetic, but evidently losing her only constant was her final quest before she transcended to godhood. You made her human; that must have been the problem. You were babies together. You were more than family. Now, you sat across from each other in a class you couldn’t bring yourself to care about, and you did not look at each other unless it was straight through.

You snatched the runaway highlighter and quickly sunk back against the wall, pressing into it like you could force your body through the cracks in the bricks or at the very least shed the sentimentality clinging to your skin. You darted your gaze across the hall and almost snorted when you saw the amount of people who’d flocked to Lydia’s side in the span of no more than thirty seconds. Lydia was unobtainable, unknowable—and yet ever so desirable. No one really knew her, so of course they all wanted to be her. 

Lydia only liked one of them, the new girl with shiny black hair and dark eyes; you could tell. Her top lip pursed ever so slightly when she was holding back a barbed comment and a violent eye roll. Usually, Lydia didn’t bother with niceties, but for whatever reason she’d decided her new persona should only intimidate peons with looks and confidence, never brains. It was a shame, really; her cave-dweller boyfriend desperately needed educating. 

You resisted the urge to look across the hall again and smoothed out the bent corner of a notecard until ‘alpha’ became ‘alpha particle’. A shadow fell over the pink-highlighted text, and you frowned. Glancing up, your frown cemented when you saw Stiles’s elven nose and remembered that you still had his sweatshirt wadded on your desk chair.

“Hey,” Stiles adjusted his grip on his backpack, “did your car make it home okay?”

You nodded and shut your locker with your elbow, bending with the wobbling tower of school supplies in your arms until it stabilized again.

“Cool.” He nodded a few times, mouth puckered like a duck, and scratched at the back of his neck, “So. You and Lydia, huh.”

You stared intently at your notes, “Is that a question?”

“No, it’s a statement.” He hooked his thumbs around his backpack straps and leaned back slightly, “And that episode of telepathic taekwondo was definitely a statement.” 

You glowered until ‘alpha decay’ and ‘helium-4 nucleus’ mushed together into an illegible pink blob, “I’ve got a statement for you—only two words actually.” 

“So it is a thing.” You could hear the smirk in his voice as he grabbed the books from under your arms.

You refused to feel grateful, even as you readjusted your grip on your cards and freed one of your hands, “Get lost, Stilinski.”

“That’s three words.” The smirk was deafening now.

The one-minute warning bell rang and a mass of students swarmed the hallway, effectively drowning out Stiles’s smugness with a sea of jock whooping and band geek trumpeting. You met his gaze and smiled, quick and sickly-sweet, before stepping around him, “Kindly. Choke.”

You ignored the sound of Stiles’s large footsteps following far too closely behind you. You wanted to be annoyed with him, but English was his first-period and he did have your books in his stupidly big hands. Instead of flipping him off, you focused your itching fingers on stacking cards and pencils on top of your desk until Stiles sat down in the seat next to you—without permission. You changed your mind; he was annoying. 

Stiles scooted the desk closer to yours with his feet, and the metal legs screeched against the linoleum flooring for you. “Was it like a ‘grew apart over the summer’ thing, or did some serious shit go down?”

You sighed heavily and lined your pencils and pens next to each other, first in order of length and then color, “Why do you care?”

His mouth remained open for a second, and then he shrugged a little too casually, “I’m a naturally inquisitive person.”

“You’re unnaturally irritating,” you grumbled, low in your throat, and scowled at your picked-apart cuticles like they had done you a particular disservice. 

Stiles huffed through his nose and threw his hands in the air, “Come on, I totally saved your ass Friday—very chivalrously too, might I add. I won’t even press charges for the theft.”

“Theft?” you finally turned around in your seat to face him at the accusation. 

Stiles nodded solemnly, “My sweatshirt. My most favorite sweatshirt of all the sweatshirts.”

Oh. You deflated a little; you’d forgotten about that pesky little detail again. You snatched your books off of his desk before your lives could become further entangled and replied flatly,  “I’ll overnight it.”

“No, I insist you keep it.” His smile was a little too crooked to be truly cocky,  “I’m a good guy like that.”

You tapped your pencil against your chin, eraser side up, and cocked your head to the side, “Isn’t it incredible how every self-proclaimed ‘good guy’ is exclusively terrible.”

Stiles’s face twisted into a petulant scowl as he collapsed against the back of his chair, and you were a little surprised that the desk managed to contain all of his gangly appendages without collapsing as well. “I like her, okay!” His exasperated confession carried to the next row of students, and Stiles melted into his seat when a jacked sophomore with no neck whistled lewdly behind you. Squeezing his eyes shut, Stiles lowered his voice, “Actually, I’m kind of in love with her if you want to be technical about it.”

“Oh.” You blinked and then laughed.

“Don’t laugh, asshole.” 

“Sorry,” you grinned, not sorry in the slightest, “it’s just…isn’t everyone?”

Stiles shook his head and sighed wistfully, “Not like I am.”

You turned to get a better look at him and didn’t mask the doubt in your eyes. He was wearing a brown flannel that was practically mewling for a good ironing and a red t-shirt with the silhouette of a spider embossed over his chest. Spider-Man’s emblem, obviously. If you had to hazard a guess, you’d say it was the Andrew Garfield version. Regardless, it was blatantly clear that Stiles’s homeplanet was lightyears away from Lydia’s.  

You folded your arms over your chest and leaned back against your seat, “Have you even talked to her?” 

“Technically…no,” Stiles dipped his head from side to side like a bobble head and then pressed his palms together, gesturing with them every so often to emphasize the most ridiculous words in his sentence, “but we have a deep, unspoken connection, mostly via sporadic eye-contact.”

You just looked at him, unamused and unimpressed.

Stiles held up his hands like a director and kicked his feet onto his desk, “It’s about the long-game.”

“Gross,” you pulled a face. You weren't sure if you were referring to the gray wad of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe or the pride in his long-con. It was probably a bit of both.

“Are you gonna help a guy out or not?” Stiles nudged the leg of your desk with his sneaker—the gumless one, thankfully—and sent one of your pens careening towards the edge.

You caught it before it could hit the ground and glared at him. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not an ‘in.’” You returned the pen to its rightful place between your pencil and purple highlighter: a perfect rainbow of neuroticism. You straightened your row of writing utensils again and swallowed shallowly, “I don’t even know her anymore.”

For the first time since Stiles had popped up in front of your locker like a chronic zit, understanding clicked in his eyes. Actually, he almost looked apologetic. Stiles sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and leaned forward onto his forearms, “So…what happened? Did you not make queen bee first-string?”

“No,” you bristled. After a long exhale, you crumpled in on yourself a little and mumbled, “Yes…kind of. I don’t know. I have my version; I’m sure she has hers.”

Stiles clasped his hands together and nodded sagely, “There are as many truths as there are people.”

Your brows scrunched, and your eyes went lidded as you flipped through your mental philosophy rolodex, “Camus?”

He shook his head and clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth, “Evangelion.” 

You were startled into a snorty chortle, “Obviously you’re a weeb.”

Stiles hid his amusement behind a slow roll of his eyes, “You’re at least 1/16 weeb if you know Evangelion is an anime.”

Before you could deny such blasphemy, you were distracted by the boy who usually sat next to you—Greg something, you were pretty sure—coming to a stop directly between you and Stiles. He lingered next to the side of his desk, breathing heavily through his mouth like some kind of sick prowler. 

Stiles glanced at him with a flat expression and then looked up again, brows shooting towards his hairline, when he didn’t leave, “Can I help you?” He jerked his head forward and shook it slightly, “Need a mint?”

Greg Something stared at him, red-rimmed eyes thoroughly glazed over, and you wondered if being faded at 7:45 in the morning was worth the tortuous five-hour wait until lunch. 

“No?” Stiles waved his hand in the air; Greg didn’t even blink. “Okay seeya.”

It took him roughly 30 seconds to comprehend what Stiles was saying, but eventually Greg shuffled towards one of the remaining empty seats in the middle of the classroom. 

“Thank you,” Stiles muttered before returning his attention to the side of your face.

You smirked slightly at your notebook, doodling a little bird with sharp talons along the margins of your notes on Kafka’s thoughts on absurdism—spoiler alert: the guy who wrote a book about a dude randomly transforming into a bug was a big fan of it. You added a long feathered tail to your bird and said, “It is his seat.”

Stiles scoffed and looked over his shoulder. You both watched Greg shove a handful of Cheeto Puffs into his mouth in slow-motion for a moment, and Stiles replied, “I think he’ll live.”

“Oh,” you shook your head a little, freshly bitten lips curling around the extended vowel, “I’m not worried about him.”

Stiles clicked his pen aggressively with his thumb and pressed his mouth together until his lips disappeared into a flat line. “If you would just answer my questions the first time, I wouldn’t have to keep asking them, so, for the love of god—” fortuitously for him, he was cut off by a loud scratchy buzz before you could succumb to your base instincts and throw an eraser into his flapping mouth. 

Principal Montoya’s voice crackled through the loudspeaker, “Attention students: I know that many of you are concerned about the…incident in the parking lot, but rest assured that the police have it well in hand. Classes will proceed as scheduled as they continue their investigation. Have a productive day, Cyclones.”

A resounding groan echoed throughout the classroom and into the hallway, followed by the hum of students breaking into various complaints. Mr. Lyman thwacked his pointer against the whiteboard, and the force of his swing sent the cartoonish hand on the end of the stick into rapid vibration—effectively shutting everyone up. The quiet was only disturbed by the rustle of zippers being unzipped and papers being smoothed when he instructed everyone to turn their essays in. 

You hastily wrote your name across the top of your paper and pointedly kept your eyes on the board when Stiles leaned across his desk. “Life’s short, y’know. One day you’re a traveling salesman, and the next you’re a grotesque, monstrous insect, wishing that you’d seized life when you had the opposable thumbs for it, so—”

“A man just died; have some class,” you interrupted him, voice dry as it was soft. Stiles might not care about getting in trouble, but you’d worked very hard to remain on a no-name basis with all your teachers. 

“We don’t know that he’s dead—or that he’s a he.”

“Oh yeah,” you jotted down the daily prompt in your notebook and muttered, “I’m sure the guy just decided to go home and sleep off the mauled limbs.”

“It could’ve been an animal,” Stiles huffed, bowing his head in submission when Mr. Lyman shot him a stern look from behind his desk. He continued with his hand over his mouth, muffling his words, “And they do run off to die alone.” 

You stared at him for a long moment. “That’s cats. Are you saying a bear ripped a bus apart for a cat.” 

“Well, if you say anything in that tone, it’s going to sound ridiculous,” Stiles muttered sullenly against his palm, and you were pretty sure that he was pouting behind it too.

You opened your mouth to reply and then squinted slightly when a boy with floppy hair skidded to a halt in front of you. His mouth was slightly agape as he looked back and forth between Stiles and Greg, who was now licking the nearly toxic orange dust off of his fingers. 

 “Sit, Scotty,” Stiles jerked his thumb towards the empty desk behind him. “Good boy.”

The boy, Scott you gathered, did not look amused, but he sat down behind Stiles anyway and leaned forward to whisper something in his ear. Stiles whipped around and responded in a hushed screech.

You were distracted from her eavesdropping when Lydia’s friend sat down next to Scott—directly behind you. Her jaw could cut glass. You dropped your chin onto your folded arms and refused to let yourself frown; the end result was a slightly constipated pout. It was just…Allison had just started going to Beacon Hills a few weeks ago, and she was already completely intertwined in Lydia’s life. 

Lydia was…prickly, so you were just surprised, that’s all, how easily Allison fit into her life. More palatable, you thought as you risked a peek over your shoulder; she must be more palatable than most. A terrible, ugly thing creeped over you, and you found yourself imagining Allison choking on her beautiful, silky black hair until her beautiful dark eyes popped out of her head. Just for a moment. A brief, awful, horrible moment—until you remembered it wasn’t Allison’s fault. 

“Hey.” You flinched when you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder.

You reluctantly shifted in your chair so that you could see Allison. You just looked at her for an uncomfortable moment, and Allison smiled awkwardly, “The tests.” You blinked and licked your dry lips, at a loss for words. Allison smiled again, a little nervous but still kind, “They're on your desk.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly and reached for the pile of papers on your desk that you’d missed during your lengthy period of dissociation. You kept one and then held out the rest to Allison, mumbling, “Sorry,” under your breath.

Allison looked at you for a moment, and you didn’t like the discerning look in her doe eyes. “It’s okay. I zone-out all the time.” 

You could see why Lydia liked her; she was nice, overly so. You felt that ugly feeling slip into your mouth again, bitterness coating your tongue, and you wished that Allison was catty or at very least a vapid twit who was either too stupid or too self-involved to notice other people—like the rest of Lydia’s circle. 

“I like your necklace.” Allison nodded a little towards the black chain around your neck. 

A heavy pendant rested just over your sternum; the maze etched into the stone had eroded in places, like it had been left out in acid rain for decades. You weren’t sure exactly what it was made of; your mother never said when she gave it to you, and you never asked. It didn’t matter much now. 

“Thanks,” you finally said, because that was what normal people did when they were complimented, and you were a normal person. Mostly. You swallowed thickly and bit down on the scab in the center of your bottom lip before adding, “I like your jacket.” You did. It was simple, unadorned by gaudy zippers and lapels like so many of the other leather jackets on campus. You would wear it yourself if you didn’t break into a sweat in any temperature warmer than tepid. 

Allison’s cheeks dimpled when she smiled, and you quashed the sigh rising in your throat. Her smile was magnificent. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I could pull it off, but my friend convinced me to—” Allison let out a little breathy laugh, “Sorry, you definitely don’t want to hear my jacket’s tragic backstory.”

You didn’t, not if it included hearing about Lydia’s fashion tips second-hand. Still, you scraped up a little smile, “As long as it doesn’t begin with a cow, you’re golden.”

Allison laughed and held up her hands, “It’s faux; I promise.”

“Ladies,” Mr. Lyman called from across the classroom, “I wasn’t aware that existentialism was so amusing.” You felt a dizzying heat crawl up your neck to your ears once you realized that the only noise in the room, other than Allison’s tinkly laughter, was the scratch of pencils on paper as students worked on their tests. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled at the same time, and Allison mouthed another ‘Sorry’ just for you before you turned around. Damn. You liked her. How incredibly inconvenient. You almost wished that Stiles was still pestering you so that you had a real reason to be upset—until you finally got a good look at the mid-term, more specifically at the thickness of it. You flipped through the lengthy test and looked at the ceiling briefly: Six essay questions? 

Positive: At least, you found a legitimate excuse to sulk. 

Negative: You felt a migraine coming on. 

Blessedly, whatever Scott had said to Stiles at the beginning of class was distracting enough to keep his, frankly obsessive, focus on him for the rest of first-period. You were even able to finish the final essay question without interruption—which was plenty difficult without being interrogated about your ex-best friend. You almost scoffed when you read the prompt: Whom do you sympathize with more, Gregor or his family? Who in their right mind would side with a pathetic parasite who couldn’t love anyone more than he hated himself? An uncomfortable, undeniable pang of melancholy sliced through your throat, and you were actually grateful for the distraction when the bell rang for second period and you had to pack up for chemistry. 

The impending chemistry midterm, however, was evidently a touch too distracting because you didn’t notice that you’d regained your lanky shadow until you were in Mr. Harris’s classroom and he stole the flashcard in your hand. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned across the lab table and rocked onto your tiptoes. Your outstretched arm shook as you struggled to even brush your fingers against the cardstock, “I haven’t talked to her in years. Lurk elsewhere.”

Stiles opened his mouth and then shut it again, head bobbing helplessly for a moment, “I was just going to ask you about…Gregor. That last question was a real piece of work, huh.”

You plucked the card out of his grasp while he was distracted by his social ineptitude, “Uh huh.” 

“Scout’s honor,” Stiles placed his hand over his chest and somehow made his big eyes rounder. His pink bottom lip jutted out ever-so slightly, but the quivering at the edges of his mouth gave him away. Sighing, he leaned his weight onto his palm: flat against the tabletop, fingers spread, and far too close to your own. He gestured erratically with his other hand, and you jerked back to avoid being smacked in the face. “Personally, I’m on Grete’s side. I mean, you can only take care of your werebug brother for so long without some kind of recognition before you snap.” Stiles shot a pointed look over his shoulder at his friend from first-period, and you thought the glare Scott returned was well-deserved. You could be biased, but probably not. 

“He was a little preoccupied by being, y’know, a bug.” You shuffled your notecards and frowned pensively at the question that ended up on top of the stack: What is the formula for Calcium acetate?  

“He could’ve said thank you in Morse code.” Stiles looked over your shoulder and added, “C4H6CaO4.”

You flipped the card over and pursed your lips. He was right. “I actually said the same thing,” you admitted begrudgingly as you grabbed the next flashcard from the pile. “Not the Morse code bit, that’s objectively insane. I did say that the best thing he did for her was die.”

“Damn.” Stiles’s forehead wrinkled as he let out a puff of air, “A little harsh.”

You picked at your raw cuticles and wished you could pull your bottom lip over your head. “It’s like you said,” you muttered as you folded your arms firmly over your chest, ducking your chin towards the divot in your breastbone, “she could only deal with his depressed bullshit for so long before she got on with her life and made new, sane, non-insect friends who actually go outside, and have fun at parties, and respond to texts.” You paused and remembered that you needed air to function when your lungs started to burn. Exhaling shallowly, you pressed your calves against the stool’s frigid legs until it hurt. Maybe, if you crushed your limbs together tightly enough, curled in on yourself closely enough, you could disappear. “And don’t, y’know, crawl on the ceiling and projectile vomit Exorcist style,” you finished weakly.

Stiles studied you for a moment, and it was like he could see every painfully tender spot inside you. You felt ants crawling underneath your skin and him seeing you, and you wanted to bolt before you came completely unstitched at the seams. “Well,” he trailed off for a moment, rubbing the back of his head, “in all fairness, being there…that’s kind of the deal when you’re friends—even if they turn into a disgusting bug.” You didn’t know that someone so caustic could sound so gentle, like ink running across paper.

“Siblings.” You swallowed and looked away from his unyielding gaze, but you still saw amber and understanding every time you blinked. “You mean siblings.”

“Sure.” Stiles smiled a little and slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, “Siblings.”

You swallowed again, couldn’t even manage a ‘see'ya’ or an eyeroll when he saluted you goodbye, and watched him saunter towards his seat next to Scott through your lashes with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. You felt a little sick once you realized that you weren’t relieved by his absence. It was all you’d wanted at the beginning of his inquisition, and yet…you wanted him to sit next to you. The epiphany struck you right in the stomach, and you felt a bit like one of your dad’s rare butterflies—tissue paper wings pinned to paper, fervently yearning to fly away, even if it meant ripping yourself apart. 

Normally, you thoroughly enjoyed not having a lab partner. The class had an odd number of students, and Mr. Harris either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care that you never joined another pair during labs. It was a toss-up, considering he seemed to loathe his job as much as he loved devoting his undivided attention to mocking Stiles. Speak of the bifocal-ed Devil. 

“Mr. Stilinski,” the contempt in Mr. Harris’s voice was sickeningly viscous. You imagined mucus dripping from his thin lips; it helped quell some of the righteous anger in your gut. He continued, and now he was spitting up slugs and snot, “If that’s your idea of a hushed whisper, you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while. I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?”

“No–” Stiles’s jaw hung open as he shook his head violently. 

Mr. Harris silenced him with a glare, and your fingers curled into your palms as you watched the condescension gloss over his smirk when Stiles complied. Your jagged, bitten-down nails pinched your skin; you quickly flattened your hands on top of the table before you did something stupid like draw attention to yourself. It was none of your business, after all, and you had a test to prepare for. 

You stared at your notes, reread the same sentence over and over again without comprehending a single word, until you felt the uneasy sensation of someone sneaking up behind you.

“Hey,” Stiles sat down on the empty stool next to you and kicked at your shoe lightly under the table. You hummed in recognition and slid your textbook over to make room for his things. 

Stiles’s face scrunched as he flipped through his own notes. You couldn’t read most of it—not that you were looking; his hand-writing was just glaringly atrocious. Everything was smooshed together and most of the letters were partially incomplete, like his pencil couldn’t keep up with his brain. You looked back at your own notebook, at the meticulously symmetrical loops and compulsively straight lines, and the corner of your mouth curled into a brief smile. 

The quiet was nice, but you couldn’t shake the irritation sticking to your fingers. You tapped your pencil against your notebook a few times, bit down on the inside of your cheek, and then said, “He’s a dick.” You spoke quietly, but Stiles still flinched. The highlighter in his hand left a long yellow streak across his textbook, and you winced. Truthfully, you were equally startled that you’d voluntarily broken a perfect moment of silence. 

Stiles didn’t seem bothered by the new mark permanently defacing his book, most likely because a good portion of the glossy pages were already more yellow than they were white. He angled his chin towards you and smirked, “Are you legally allowed to call a teacher a dick? Y’know, as the resident teacher’s pet.” 

You grinned at your notes, “I have the utmost authority, actually.”

Stiles leaned forward onto his forearms and struggled to keep his mouth impassive, “Oh, yeah?”

A loud, grating squeal of metal on tile and an even louder yelp interrupted your reply. A girl near the front of the classroom shot up out of her seat, almost sending her stool toppling to the ground, and then bolted towards the window overlooking the parking lot, “I think they found something!” 

Mr. Harris quickly lost control of the classroom as the rest of the class surrounded her, practically pressing their stupefied faces against the glass to get a better look at what, or rather whom, the EMTs were wheeling out of the thicket of trees just beyond the school’s perimeter. You hesitated for a moment before joining the stragglers. Morbid fascination dwindled after you were confronted with the reality of it—you weren't in any rush to see another dead body. 

You weren't ever supposed to actually see the photos; they were strictly evidence for the potential arson investigation. The coroner didn’t even want your dad to see the body. There hadn’t been any point, after all; it was completely unidentifiable. At the time, you thought it would help. You thought peeking at the case file while the Sheriff was on the phone might remind you of some crucial detail, hidden in the depths of your blackout—and, well, you thought it might finally make it real. Maybe, if you saw the proof, you’d finally believe that your mom wasn’t coming back. 

You’d been wrong, of course. Seeing what was left of your mom, seeing her like…that, it’d just made you puke. Your whole body had trembled from the retching, and then you were paralyzed, held hostage by a glacial streak of terror. Sheriff Stilinski had been so terribly understanding about the whole thing, like it was nothing: vomit on his office floor, trembling hands invading his private files. He’d just wiped the corners of your mouth with a tissue and rubbed your upper back in slow circles, just like her your mom did when you were sick—which ultimately sent you into another round of dry-heaving. You never felt the temptation to look again. 

You let out a deep breath when you looked out the window and saw the man on the gurney twitch. His jacket and pants were black, and his shirt was charcoal gray, dark enough to hide any blood stains. The only injury you could make out was a large gash on his face; it was still bleeding sluggishly, leaving a sticky red trail from his jaw to his neck. Your grip on your forearms tightened as your stomach lurched. 

The paramedics began to load the gurney into the ambulance, and the man surged forward without a single warning. His screams were raw, like they’d been ripped from his throat along with the flesh on his cheek, and every single one of the students crowded against the windows recoiled from the wailing. You swallowed the bile burning your throat. It was like they were watching their own, personal horror movie and couldn’t decide if they were more exhilarated or horrified—just itching for the jump scare. 

You stumbled back towards the door and bumped into Stiles and Scott. Stiles gripped your arm gently until you regained your footing.

“That’s not a rabbit,” Scott said under his breath. He looked as queasy as you felt.

“Or a cat,” you added quietly.

“But he’s alive,” Stiles nudged Scott a little, “that’s good, right? Dead guys can’t do that.”

Scott still looked like he was going to hurl all over Stiles’s white Vans, and you felt a flutter of sympathy. The only thing worse than puking was doing it in front of other people. “You might want to take him somewhere,” you spoke softly to Stiles. “He looks like he’s going to pass out.”

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded a little and wrapped an arm around Scott’s rigid shoulders, “good call.” 

His eyes darted around the classroom: big, and brown, and frantic—like a lost fawn. You nodded towards the dark corner Mr. Harris was dissociating in, “I’ll cover for you.”

“Yeah?” Stiles smiled a little, but he looked weary down to his bones as he started shuffling Scott towards the door. 

“Yeah,” your smile was a bit wobbly at the edges, “but only ‘cause I get a sick thrill out of fucking with dicks.” 

Your weak attempt to ease some of the tension in the air was semi-successful; Scott was still staring into another dimension, but Stiles looked positively giddy at the prospect of such a perfect setup. “I have, just, so many thoughts on that, but I’ll save them for after Scott—” he gave Scott a long look and scratched the back of his buzzed head, “gets his blood sugar up.”

It was sweet, you thought as you watched Stiles guide Scott into the hallway, lying to spare Scott’s pride. You thought Stiles would be a better liar, but maybe that was the downfall of being raised by a police officer. It was either that or the general social impotence. Not that you had much room to talk; silence was your preferred method of social interaction. 

The classroom was far from silent now. Students were spread out across the room in little clumps. Some spoke in furious whispers. Others weren’t as discreet, and you could hear every single preposterous word that left their mouths. The amount of sophomores who didn’t know that the California grizzly bear went extinct almost a century ago was a very depressing glimpse into the public education system, but at least there were only two boys howling obnoxiously at a few giggling volleyball girls. Rolling your eyes, you pulled out your phone and typed ‘Beacon Hills bus attack’ into the search bar. 

You refreshed the webpage obsessively, all throughout chemistry and art class, until an article finally popped up on your screen at lunch. You bit into your slightly bruised apple and squinted at your phone, immensely grateful for the empty courtyard as you came across the grittier details. 

You always ate lunch outside; it was quieter without the echoes of gossip and laughter, and the heady scent of cut grass was far preferable to whatever monstrosity the cafeteria was serving that day. Today, the afternoon heat made the earthy warmth especially thick in the air. Normally, you loved that smell, the smell of summer. It reminded you of frenzied August afternoons, running through Lydia’s sprawling backyard and swinging into brisk lake water, but the smell was quickly becoming suffocating the more you read. 

The man who was attacked was a bus driver. He was smiling in the photo they’d chosen to include before pictures of the crime scene, like a warped ‘before and after’ ad. You dropped your half-eaten apple into your lunch sack and shoved it to the side when you got to the background bits. Garrison Myers had a family, a wife and two daughters; they were praying for his unlikely survival. Your throat hurt, and you wondered if there was an apple chunk lodged in your esophagus. Swallowing hard, you scrolled down to the police interview. The deputy they managed to get a quote from clearly knew next to nothing, though he did posit the possibility of a mountain lion attack. You rolled your eyes. Maybe on PCP. 

The only thing you were sure of was that whatever kind of beast ripped a woman in half and slashed a man to ribbons in the span of a week wasn’t going to stop. At least, not until it was killed.

[angellesword]

BAGGAGE | JJK (10)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, slow burn—really slow burn mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, cursing, blood, stabbing, loan sharks, OC cusses excessively so watch out.

Pairing: dad! Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

←Previous Chapter (09) | Next Chapter (11) →

Baggage Chapter List

*****

Present, 2023:

Your tensed shoulders indicated you were still angry after leaving Jungkook's apartment. You knew it would be unwise to meet Jang Min, especially Soobin, in this condition, so you decided to cool down by walking in a park.

According to Yoongi, your therapist, misplaced anger was something you were prone to doing. It was probably triggered when Jisoo encouraged you to vent your hurt to her after what the people in the club had done to you.

Your Jisoo-unnie was less threatening. You could hurt her, but she wouldn't budge. In fact, she'd tell you to hurt her more—this horrifying realization baffled Yoongi, though he had to remain calm, mainly because you seemed to be having a panic attack.

You will never forget that day. It was your third appointment with Dr. Yoongi. Verlaine accompanied you, but he stayed in the other room of the clinic as each session was exclusive for the doctor and patient only. Besides, Verlaine had to look after your nephew.

Soobin was a few months old at this time. It hadn't been long since his mother passed. You were mourning, but your quiet resentment was gnawing at you. You hated that you were grieving your traitor of a sister.

Yoongi tiptoed at first, validating your fury. Unfortunately, you were distraught. You were blind and deaf by any information that did not benefit you.

"She told me they were lonely." You reiterated to your therapist Jisoo's reason; the veins in your neck throbbed painfully. "She might as well just stabbed me in the fucking heart. How could she say that? How could they be so cruel to me!?"

Yoongi sighed softly and stopped writing bullshit in his notebook. Ideals were what the therapist said he liked to write. He would give these 'ideals' to his patients so they could follow them. You thought it was bullshit, mainly because you felt like Yoongi was not on your side.

"You'll be surprised at how lonely people deal with things. Sometimes, they hurt people close to them."

"But why!" You kicked the chair. You were tired of asking these questions—none of them gave you the answer you needed. "Why would they hurt me? What did I ever do to them!?"

"Nothing." Yoongi looked at you, breathing in and out until he coaxed you to do the same. Your chest tightened as you inhaled. "You're not at fault here, but this isn't about you either. It's about them. Decisions are not always made to be justifiable or morally correct. Sometimes, they are simply made. It's a hard pill to swallow, but their choices are for what they want and feel— not for you."

Jisoo and Jungkook didn't have it in them to think about you in their most desperate and vulnerable moment. Lonely people just wanted to escape, and sometimes, they chose the easiest way because their hardening hearts and noisy minds were already challenging to deal with. The night of their betrayal was the easiest time to relieve their pain because Jisoo and Jungkook understood each other. What did you even know about fucked up decisions and sickness when all your life, you had been sailing the smoothest path?

"It's not fair, I agree with you. However, you cannot get better if you're constantly pinning the blame on them. They hurt you; it was their choice. Now, it's up to you if you want to heal or live in misery. But you can reclaim your power. You can decide for yourself—the decision they cannot and did not do for you."

But you shook your head, ears tightly shut.

"I don't care what you say. It's not an excuse to hurt me. Fuck them—and fuck you for defending them and putting the burden on me!" You wanted to slam Yoongi against the wall.

The wall—

Your eyes were wide. On the other side of the wall was Soobin.

"The kid..." You thought, voice grave. "He shouldn't be alive! He's proof of their betrayal to me! My sister chose him instead of chemotherapy! She wanted to die to relieve herself from the guilt of hurting me!"

You stood up, turning to face the door. Yoongi was alarmed. He seized your wrist.

"Where are you going?"

Soobin. Your eyes seemed to say. The kid was an extension of those who had hurt you--

"You're not planning to hurt your nephew, are you?"

You gasped, knees turning weak. You turned your head to look at your therapist, horror painting your face.

"No." You denied it, panicked. "No. No. Please, don't. I didn't mean to."

Yoongi read your mind. He knew your dark thoughts. No.

"Please, Doc. You have to believe me...” You hiccupped. “I...I wasn't thinking straight. I'm not actually going to hurt him. Please. I love Soobin. I am just lonely."

Lonely.

You felt like you were hit by a fast-moving track, dragging your bloody body until your heart stopped.

No. This wasn't how you were supposed to understand Yoongi's point. It was too cruel. 

'It's not about you.' Yoongi's words echoed in your mind. You felt as if someone put a pillow on your face, asphyxiating you.

"Hey, are you okay? Are you--!!" The therapist exclaimed, but you had no idea what happened next. You passed out because of stress. When you woke up, you were already back in your apartment. Verlaine remained by your side, waiting for you to return to your senses.

The first thing you did when you woke up was look for Soobin. You were hysterical, thinking that Yoongi diagnosed you as an insane person and, hence, not fit to care for Soobin. Your therapist had ideals, but he wasn’t mean. Verlaine told you that he and Yoongi made a deal.

"You have to get better and see your therapist regularly. You're too stressed. You can't take care of Soobin in this condition. I'll just stay with you for a while. Is that all right?"

You nodded vigorously. You didn't care what the conditions were. You only wanted Soobin to stay with you, so for years, you diligently took care of your mental health until you were deemed fit to be Soobin's guardian.

You thought you needed time alone before you saw Soobin today. You were afraid you’d had the thought of hurting your neph—son just like before. Jungkook brought out the worst in you, and confronting him today messed up your mind.

You stayed in the park for an hour before returning to your apartment. You flagged down a cab, calling Lee Sung on your way so he could bring Soobin back to your home. You couldn't stay with Jang Min forever. You know your boyfriend was a busy man, too.

Naturally, Soobin and Lee Sung reached your apartment first since Jang Min's home was only a few blocks away from yours. Soobin was already sleeping when you arrived.

"Sleeping again?" Your forehead creased, a frown etched on your lips. However, Lee Sung simply shrugged.

"I told you already. Your son loves boss a lot. He ran around while you were..." Lee Sung paused and eyed you from head to toe. There's a sly smirk on his face. "Out."

You disliked how Lee Sung looked at you but didn't comment. As Jang Min told him everything, Lee Sung probably knew where you went; he was Jang Min’s right hand, after all. In your defense, though, you didn't do anything wrong. Jungkook only pissed you off.

"Then you can go now." You ended the conversation at once. You were almost pushing Lee Sung out of the door. "I'll contact you if I need you. Please look after Jang Min-ssi for a while."

Jang Min had a business trip abroad. You wouldn't see him for weeks or months. You didn't mind, as you and Jang Min had been long-distance for the majority of your relationship. Jang Min frequented in Russia more.

You thought your life was okay as long as Soobin was by your side. Thankfully, Lee Sung didn't disgrace your home by staying too long.

It was still a bit early, yet your energy had been sucked up fully. You picked up Soobin, gently moving his tiny body into your room so you could sleep beside him.

Your son wasn't at risk of bed-sharing with you anymore. You used to be driven by paranoia; you took caring for Soobin seriously, and any danger for a child scared you senseless. It took you long before you started feeding your son solid food for fear of choking. Soobin was well-behaved, though. He listened to your advice to chew his food properly and slowly. (Save for when you had crab spring rolls because Soobin would inhale that food in seconds.)

Like father, like son.

You looked at Soobin's sleeping form. Your heart throbbed painfully in your chest. I love you like my own. Tears welled up in your eyes as you embraced your kid. Don't betray me like your parents did.

*** Jungkook was left in his shit hole of an apartment alone. The loud slam of the door rang in his ears, vibrating straight in his heart. Your retreating figure reminded him of what he couldn't have.

Jungkook mumbled your name pitifully. He knew. He knew he had long lost the right to cling to you. Gone were the days he could claim you with a choker and playfully call you mine.

Jungkook called your name again. His voice held a tremor as he desperately reached out his hand toward the door.

Jungkook felt tears trickling down his cheeks, ignoring his long streak of holding it together. His life had been so fucked up that he didn't dare wish for someone like you to stay with him.

But Jungkook can't. His heart felt as if there was a gaping hole that only you could fill.

“No…” Jungkook couldn't take it anymore. Despite his aching wound, he barged out of his home, running after you.

It didn't matter if you decided to fill the hole in Jungkook's heart with rough sand or a cold mix of asphalt. He wouldn't dare whine at your rough insult or stone-cold face—he would accept anything, but not you leaving.

Your encounter today was like a huge slap in Jungkook's face—how he made everything worse for you. It was a sudden realization. Jungkook wasn't even sure if he would think the same later, but one thing was for sure: Jungkook wanted to catch up to you now.

He did.

Jungkook watched you walk aimlessly at the park. It took you an hour—or maybe more—before you hailed a cab. Jungkook didn't mind, realizing how much he craved looking at you—even from afar.

Afar.

You got inside the cab, which, in just a few seconds, was already far from where Jungkook was.

Jungkook panicked, hand digging into his pants pocket to see if he had money left.

He did not.

Of course, he didn't have anything with him.

Jungkook mumbled your name again. The desperation colored his face once more. He ignored his wounds for the nth time, choosing to chase the cab instead. Unfortunately, Jungkook's speed was no match for a vehicle or a normal human being. But he didn't stop. He ran like a lunatic as his eyes darted on street signs.

"Imperial Gardens," Jungkook murmured as he picked up the speed. "26006..."

Jungkook shook his head violently, feeling the cold air hit his face. No. He memorized your address wrong.

"2200..." He recalled and smacked his head—as if doing so would make him remember.

"R-Royal Heights. Incheon...Ugh." Jungkook's body was still weak. His steps halted to check if his wounds were bleeding. Thankfully, they weren't. It gave Jungkook the dumb idea to continue running, praying to Gods he didn't believe in to make him remember your address right.

The Gods had been terrible to him before, but not this time. It took him a while, but he successfully reached your apartment. It had your surname on a signage plastered on your front door. The place was probably twenty times bigger than Jungkook's rented room, making his hand shake. The confidence he mustered earlier faded in the face of your big home.

She was doing so well. Jungkook licked his lips. What if I just ruin her?

The other part of his brain frowned at him, 'If she's doing well, then why would she come to you?'

For a while, two sides of Jungkook's brain argued. He didn't know where to listen. All he knew was his eyes were heavy and his wounds, despite not bleeding, hurt.

Jungkook blinked. Sweat cascaded his forehead down to his neck. It was hot, and he felt like throwing up.

He gently flopped down the ground, leaning against your massive front door.

It's okay. He told himself despite his clenching heart. It's not okay. He's afraid. He was so scared you would open the door and realize you didn't want him in your life anymore.

It's okay. Jungkook told himself, and the door opened just like in his imagination.

Jungkook heard a gasp, followed by a hand gripping his shoulder.

"Jungkook? What are you doing here? What the fuck—"

It was clearly your voice, but Jungkook was so out of it. He was awake, but he couldn't focus on anything other than his body pain.

"You're sweating." You helped him get to his feet. "What are you—" Then you snickered when you realized what had happened. "You—!! Did you run here!?"

You told me to go to you. Jungkook thought, but he only bit his quivering lip. You gave me a chance.

"Fuck. I don't know what I'm going to do with you!" You cursed, yet you anchored Jungkook's hand into your shoulder, gently guiding him inside your massive home.

You helped Jungkook sit on the couch. Jungkook groaned, eyes clamping shut. He was in too much pain. His wounds had been aggravated. Again.

You shook your head in disappointment as you fished your phone out of your pocket to call for help.

"Hold it." You said before carding your fingers through Jungkook's sweaty hair. "Help will be here in a while—Jungkook? Are you listening?"

Jungkook could only answer with a nod. You let out a breath. This is enough. At least he didn't pass out because of pain.

You were able to book an emergency appointment with a home doctor. He lived around the area, so it didn't take him long to arrive. He examined Jungkook, and contrary to what the nurses said, the doctor said it was okay to stay home as long as the patient didn't strain himself and followed a strict diet schedule.

The doctor cleaned Jungkook's wound and prescribed him medicine (which you immediately had someone deliver.) As usual, you took care of everything while Jungkook slept. He was barely making it while the doctor talked to him.

Doctor Ace had to turn to you instead. "You've listed what should and shouldn't be done with him, right? I trust you can follow it. I'll be back tomorrow to check up on him. For now, just let him rest."

"Thank you, Doc." You listened to some more of the doctor's advice before escorting him out of your home. Afterward, you returned to the living room to look at Jungkook resentfully.

You wanted to hit him, but in the end, you simply sighed and let Jungkook off.

Shitty bastard.

****

Jungkook felt like he was stuck in a nightmare. He felt his whole body ache after exhausting himself to get to you.

It seemed like Jungkook always had to run. Because if he didn't, those people would catch up to him—insistent on making him miserable by first dragging his body to the ground.

"Don't make trouble." Someone would press his face to the floor until he couldn't breathe properly, and then he'd feel that person grabbing his hand, his fingertips caressing Jungkook's wrist. "It'll hurt more if you resist."

It hurt at first— but soon, it only tickled. Jungkook thought the troubling memories would fade over time, yet they still haunt him while he was asleep. The nightmare persisted, making it hard for him to breathe.

The ticklish feeling from before could be felt even now. Jungkook struggled. He shook his head and forced himself to wake up.

It's a nightmare. He reminded himself. The feeling of someone grabbing his wrist and forcing him into something happened years before. It might haunt him in his sleep, but it couldn't—wouldn't hurt him if he woke up.

So he did.

"Nggh—!!" Jungkook jolted awake. The ticklish feeling was gone, yet he felt his body hurt. He blinked and looked at his wound, realizing that his stomach was covered in a bandage.

Right. He had been stabbed.

Jungkook rapidly became aware of his surroundings. He stupidly chased after you and made his barely healed wound worse.

Now he was—

Jungkook looked around.

—He was at your house.

Jungkook bit his lower lip, hands clammy. He was safe. He was at your house. Lee Sung didn't know this place. Those men in his nightmare couldn't reach him here.

It was going to be okay. Jungkook tried to convince himself. Sadly, his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

He grabbed his wrist, trying to steady it, when he felt a wet feeling in his hand.

Jungkook looked at the back of his palm. His eyes shrunk as he studied his hand. Through his peripheral vision, he saw a small figure sitting on the floor beside the couch where he sat.

Jungkook finally focused his gaze on that small figure.

Soobin.

Considering that he was in your house, it shouldn't come as a surprise. Nonetheless, Jungkook still felt as if the air had been robbed from his lungs the second he laid his eyes on the kid.

Soobin was sitting obediently on the floor while holding a paintbrush—this explained the wetness in Jungkook's hand and the ticklish feeling he thought was induced by his nightmare.

As it turned out, Soobin was painting something on the back of Jungkook's hand.

"Heart!" Soobin suddenly spoke and gently grasped Jungkook's hand to point at his painting there.

Jungkook's mouth parted slightly, heart skipping a beat when he felt Soobin's soft hand grazing his skin. Yeah. This is different from the touch of those men before.

Soobin was a harmless child who liked showing off his heart painting, which looked like a simple red-colored circle.

"D'ya like it?" The child asked innocently; his touch remained gentle as he remembered your reminder. You told Soobin not to bother Jungkook and just keep him company.

Usually, you would not impose such a task on a small child, especially on Soobin. However, Jungkook kept his hold on you even when he was asleep. He kept murmuring, ‘Do not leave me,’ so you had no choice but to turn to your son.

You had to cook dinner on the other side of the room while Jungkook slept, and Soobin silently held his hand and painted hearts on it.

There were two hearts. They were horribly painted, but Jungkook smiled—a genuine smile he hadn't made in years.

"Of course, I like it." His large hand moved to ruffle Soobin's hair. They were soft, partly because he was a kid, and the other reason was because you took good care of your son.

"Am happy!" Soobin giggled and attempted to paint another heart on his father's hand. Meanwhile, Jungkook fell into a stupor, his heart faintly aching from the memory that flooded his brain.

Back then, Jungkook excitedly ran toward your apartment. He knocked like usual, excitement whirling at the pit of his stomach as he waited for you to open the door.

You just swung the door open when Jungkook came near you. You two were chest to chest.

"Hey, look! I got these today!" Little Jungkook basically shoved the watercolor and paintbrush into your chest. "They're so cool!"

Your eyes glistened in awe. At this time, you weren't used to speaking to Jungkook yet. You simply allowed Jungkook to pester you. Luckily, you didn't have to force words out of your mouth. Jungkook willingly let you use the paint first.

You were shaking in anticipation, yet you painted a perfect heart shape on your wrist.

"Me too. Let me paint!" Jungkook gently grabbed the brush from your hand, though he didn't let go of your hand. He used it as a canvas and painted a heart on the back of your palm.

"Big," you observed softly, eyes narrowing to see the shape. It didn't look like a heart, just an ugly, drawn red circle.

But Jungkook was overly proud of his painting.

"It is big.” The brunet grinned. “I made it for you. It’s bigger than your heart because it’s my heart. I love you!”

Innocence always suited children. Jungkook was once a child who was never afraid to voice his feelings for you. He liked you. He told you he loved you on the first day you two met. Jungkook used to be simple-minded. He’d promised to hang out with you because he loved you.

But you weren’t children anymore. Heck. Jungkook had a child of his own now. He blinked back to reality to stare at Soobin. The kid was still busy painting hearts; his lips were puckered while his brows furrowed.

It’s my child. Jungkook thought, trying not to have a panic attack. He had heard worse news. This was just a child…

Just a child…

Jungkook’s heart violently trembled.

He had a child.

“You—” Soobin’s arched brows were higher. He let go of the brush upon noticing Jungkook’s weird expression. He was a perceptive child. “Not like Soobin's heart?”

Jungkook’s breathing was ragged, throat and mouth dry. But he knew he had to force himself to look okay. Honestly, he should give himself some credit for being able to pull himself together despite the shocking news that he unwillingly got to know of.

“I like it,” Jungkook smiled. It wasn’t as genuine as the first one. He scratched his throat before patting Soobin’s head. “Where’s your Ma?”

“Oh!” Soobin’s eyes were comically wide. They shone bright at the mention of his mother. Soobin had forgotten all about painting. “Mama!”

The little kid ran. Jungkook was shocked, but he immediately recovered and followed Soobin. He didn’t run, though. He really should stop abusing his body. Soobin didn’t run far. He just went to the kitchen where you cooked.

The food aroma wafted through the room. Jungkook’s stomach grumbled; he focused on the smell before he realized you were looking at him with a creased forehead. You held a spoon in your right hand; your other hand supported Soobin’s weight. Soobin wrapped his arms around your neck, having no intention to let go.

“You’re awake.” You broke the silence, eyeing Jungkook from head to toe. The bastard looked fine. “Did Soobin wake you up?”

“No.” Jungkook shook his head, not sure how to continue the conversation.

“Okay. Sit.” You gestured toward the chair. “I’m almost done. Dinner will be ready soon.” There was a high chair beside the spot Jungkook chose to sit on. It was for Soobin, so you carefully settled your son there.

Jungkook watched the mother-son duo quietly. He was clueless as to how to approach this whole ordeal. He allowed himself to be impulsive, running after you just cause he was scared to see you retreating.

Now, though, he didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t like his circumstances had changed. Jungkook’s life was still utterly fucked.

“Have some of these first.” You came near the two boys to offer them some pudding. You were surprised when Soobin and Jungkook both reached for the strawberry-flavored one.

Time seemed to stop. Soobin and Jungkook looked at each other, seeing who’d let go first. Jungkook’s grip on the pudding tightened, making Soobin gasp.

“You two...” You were lost for words.

Jungkook’s instinct told him to grab the pudding tighter, but for once, logic sided with him. He instantly let go of the strawberry pudding when he realized he was competing with a child.

His child.

“Here you go, little one.” Jungkook smiled. He then turned to you; his face was unreadable when he wordlessly accepted the coconut-flavored pudding from your hand.

It made you sigh loudly. Damn Jungkook and Soobin for basically being the same person. They really were…

“Soobin ate all the strawberry-flavored ones. That’s the last one.” You explained, “Make do with that for now. I’ll buy more strawberry flavors next time.”

Next time. Jungkook’s heart swelled. There is a next time. You…You weren’t planning on kicking him out.

“T-Thanks.” Jungkook mumbled, voice barely above a whisper, yet you heard it loud and clear.

“Right.” You went back to preparing dinner. You made a crab soup and added purred vegetables to it. It was a simple meal that Doctor Ace approved. It was good for Soobin, too. Your son liked it so much that he asked for another bowl.

“Crab addict.” You clicked your tongue. Jungkook’s eyes flicked to you, thinking you were referring to him.

“It’s good.” Jungkook ladled another bowl for himself. “I haven’t had this in a long time.” He let himself slip off.

You stopped drinking your soup. You stared seriously at Jungkook. “Why not? Too busy to buy? Or to make one?” You hadn’t seen each other in years. You didn’t know if this bastard learned how to cook.

“No.” Jungkook blew on his soup, still high from the addicting taste that he forgot to lie. “I just couldn’t afford it.”

You weren’t surprised, considering the state of Jungkook’s home. But you couldn’t help your curiosity. You took advantage of Jungkook’s relaxed aura. “Why not? Aren’t you a billionaire? Where’d all your money go?”

“I lost in on—”

You swore you were close to finding out the truth. It was easy to bait Jungkook with food, specifically crab food. But Jungkook wasn’t the naïve boy he used to be. He couldn’t—wouldn’t give in.

The silence was deafening. Jungkook stopped drinking his soup, too.

Your mood soured, but you should have seen it coming. Jungkook would never trust you. How much more pain did you have to go through to realize that?

Jungkook called your name when he noticed your mood plummeted. You wouldn’t look at him anymore.

“Forget it.” You stood up, bringing your bowl with you. You poured its contents into the sink. You took your time washing that one piece of bowl and spoon. Thankfully, Soobin announced he was done with his soup, too.

Jungkook stood up and grabbed Soobin’s bowl before you could reach it. Your hands brushed. You pulled at once, though, not liking the electricity that pricked your skin just by simple skin contact with your former best friend.

Damn it.

“I’ll wash the dishes.”

You didn’t respond. You only carried your son in your arms. You started walking away. There were approximately fifty steps before one could exit the kitchen. You were twenty steps away from Jungkook when you paused.

“Your room is on the first floor. White door. Mine’s the one beside that, black door.” You didn’t look back. “You’re welcome to stay whenever. If you need something, just knock on my door--”

You suddenly stopped talking. Soobin yawned; he kissed your cheek before rubbing his head on your chest.

Your lip caught between your teeth. You exhaled, “—I will answer when you call.”

After that, you walked away. You didn’t have any helpers at home. If you needed anything, you just hired an hourly maid, and if Lee Sung was here, all mundane tasks fell on him. You didn’t like calling him, though. You preferred handling things independently, especially if the matter was about Soobin.

Soobin wasn’t difficult to deal with. You didn’t take long to clean him up and settle him to bed. Soobin liked bedtime stories, so you made up one. It was pretty short, though, as your mood was foul after dealing with Jungkook.

“I love you, mon bébé. Goodnight.”

Soobin’s response was a hum, relishing your soft kiss on his forehead. You watched Soobin sleep for a while before retreating to your room. Your mood did get a little better after a long shower. Honestly, you were confused and still afraid of what happened and what would happen next. Jungkook just showed up at your house, and while you shouldn’t have been surprised (you were the one who gave your address to him), you still were. But that’s the thing about Jungkook. He had always been unpredictable. You wouldn’t even blink if Jungkook left now. It was in his nature to run away, and you were the only one who insisted on things happening.

To talk was what you wanted to do, but Jungkook was evasive. Even if he wasn’t, the situation never seemed to be on your side. There was always an accident whenever you tried to face each other.

You didn’t know how long you could hold on any longer. You sighed and opened the door of your bedside drawer, picking up a framed picture of your departed sister there.

Should I just go back to France? Your hold on the frame was firm. I kept my promise. I told him about Soobin. What else can I do if he doesn’t want—

You couldn’t finish your train of thought. It hurt to think about what Jungkook thought about you and Soobin because after all this time, you still—

Your thoughts were once again interrupted. This time, by a knock on your door. You looked at the baby monitor. Soobin was sleeping soundly in the other room, so…

You swallowed thickly. The person outside your room could only be Jungkook. Your heart skipped a beat; you felt like floating when you opened the door for your former best friend.

As expected, Jungkook was there, hovering awkwardly at the door. His head snapped up to meet your gaze.

“Hi.” It's a classic greeting. You already knew this conversation wasn’t going anywhere. Talking never went well for the both of you.

“What do you want?” Your tone was more tired than biting. The rollercoaster emotion earlier got to you. You wanted to sleep now or maybe talk to your Jisoo-unnie, see if she stopped being a pain in the ass, and her burning spirit in hell would show up and tell you it’s okay to go back to France.

“I want to thank you for dinner and letting me stay here…”

You noticed Jungkook fidgeting. This was new. Jungkook was always teasing you. Now he just looked…embarrassed? And he wasn’t making a move to escape. Was this a miracle?

You didn’t dare rejoice early. The situation was still unpredictable. You needed to wait first.

“Is that all?” So you remained calm. You folded your arms across your chest.

“Yeah.” Jungkook nodded, seemingly unsatisfied. He paused before saying, “Good night.”

“Goodnight.” You were halfway through closing the door when Jungkook held the door, stopping you.

"What.”

Jungkook’s lips were pursed into a thin line. You waited for a while. However, you never claimed to be a patient person. You were going to slam the door now. Damn Jungkook and his stupid face.

“One question.”

“What?” You were more confused now. What was this shitty bastard up to!? Did he have a question? If so, why couldn’t he just go straight to the point?

“I don’t want to lie anymore…” Jungkook cleared his throat. He looked you in the eyes. “But I can’t promise to answer all your questions at once. I…”

There was ringing in your ears—as if you couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

" I will try my best to answer one of your questions each day.”

It was your turn to be quiet. You didn’t know what to say. Earlier, you were surprised that Jungkook followed you here, fidgeted around you, and stayed the night willingly. Was there a miracle? Was this a fucking joke? Or were you dreaming?

Jungkook called your name tentatively.

You pinched yourself. Aw. You thought. It was real—this was real.

“Is that okay for you?”

There was a slight buffer in your head, and then you realized Jungkook was enquiring about his proposal—how he was willing to answer your question every day.

It felt too good to be true, but you found yourself agreeing.

“It’s okay.” You sucked in a deep breath. “I’d like that.”

Good. Jungkook thought, but he didn’t say it out loud. He only smiled—a second genuine smile for this day. It felt odd, but not in a bad way. He liked smiling for you and Soobin, he realized.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You mimicked Jungkook.

You looked at each other for a while. No words were exchanged.

The silence lasted for a few minutes.

“I should go to bed.” As usual, it was you who broke it.

“Me too,” Jungkook said, but he made no effort to move. “Good night.”

“Good night,” you said, not moving either. You were looking at each other; no one dared to break eye contact.

“Good night,” Jungkook said again, voice much softer this time.

You couldn’t take it anymore. “Good night.” You said at last before slowly shutting the door.

Jungkook made no effort to stop you. He let you close the door; your calm eyes were the last thing he saw.

Jungkook let out a breath. Good night, he said, yet it took him an hour to stand in front of your door before retreating to his temporary room.

Good night, indeed.

****

A/N: Will Jungkook stop being an ass? We'll see...we'll see.

What do we think about this chapter? I'm pretty sure there are some typos here, but iamdeadandtired!!! i would probably die if i try to edit this chapter tonight (maybe tomorrow, but gosh i am so busy with work.) i try to update weekly, but :((( next week will be much more hectic for me. work sucks but we live in a capitalistic world...sighs.

As usual, if you have more tag suggestions, do not hesitate to reach out to me. Thanks ~~

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Baggage Chapter List

[miizuzu]

here is another one i did a while ago before the Xavier one... it got a bit... long haha.. n_n;;

“So, do you want to?”Tara asked hoping you would say yes.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” you reply to Tara.

“Come on! It will be fun! Besides, it would be so lonely spending Valentine’s Day at home all by yourself… Gasp! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it… it just slipped out!” Tara was trying to find every excuse she could to try and get you to go out with her. She didn’t mean to bring back any sad memories. 

“You know what? You’re right. Let's go and have fun this weekend.” you answered as you gently petted her head, knowing she didn’t mean what she said. 

It is the first Valentine’s day you are spending alone. You would go to your grandma’s house and spend the day with her and Caleb, but now that they are gone… Tara wanted to make sure you are not by yourself and recall sad memories.

“Really?!?! Hurray!! Since Valentine’s is on a Saturday, do you think we could have a girls night,  so we could both leave together?” she asks as her eyes are full of excitement. 

“Sure, let’s do that.” Still unsure of how this would even turn out. You have never been to a pub during Special events like these. What would you wear? Do you even have clothes that would fit the occasion? No point thinking about that now, since you’ve already agreed Tara you would go with her.

“I can’t wait till the weekend! Since we are off work now, would you like to go eat some dinner together?” Tara asked as she packed her things, ready to leave work. 

“Sorry! I have a doctor’s appointment, I’ve already missed the last two appointments… if I miss the appointment today…” You don't even want to think of the consequences that would follow. 

“Oh yeah… I guess Dr. Zayne would nag your ear off!” Tara says jokingly. We know that is exactly what would happen. “I guess I will just get a few things ready for Saturday then!” 

Tara waves goodbye and you leave the Hunters Association HQ for your doctor’s appointment.

At Asko Hospital, you checked in with the nurse at the front and they called Dr. Zayne to let him know you’ve arrived. “The doctor will see you now.” You gave her a nod of acknowledgment and started walking towards Zayne’s office. 

You knocked on the door, “come in” Zayne answered. You pushed the door open and entered. His eyes were still glued to his laptop while he tells you, “You actually showed up to your appointment this time, come have a seat.” 

“Sorry Zayne, I got caught up in a few messy missions the last few times.” You try to be apologetic. “I’ve tried to book the earliest appointment they could give me to make up for it. Forgive me, please?”

You tried to act cute while being playful, winking and smiling with your tongue sticking out.

Zayne lets out a sigh, “No injuries, I presume?” He asked as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Nope! Not a single scratch!” You declared confidently. You told Zayne stories about some of your missions as he went through your medical records. 

“Everything seems normal enough.” Zayne informs you. “I guess you did pay more attention to your health after all.” 

“Of course! Who dares to defy Doctor’s Orders.” 

Zayne looks at you with one of his eyebrows lifted slightly. He lets out another sigh. He tries to change the topic as he asks “ Do you have any plans for Saturday?” As your childhood friend and your Doctor and someone who has a secret crush on you, he knows who you used to spend your past Valentine's. He also seemed worried that you would be alone this year.

Not understanding what he was trying to hint at, you answered “As a matter of fact, I do have plans, going to hang out with my friend that day.” 

Zayne’s heart sank a little after hearing your answer, he asked with a serious voice “A friend?”

“Yup, Tara, from the Hunters Association.” Zayne had a small sigh of relief “She said she wants us to go to the Valentine's event they are hosting at the new pub in Azure Square.” Zayne's eyes twitched as he finished listening to what you told him. He didn't like the idea of other desperate men hovering around you, but he didn't tell you how he really felt. 

“Feel free to call me if you need a ride home. I do not have work that day.” What Zayne secretly means is that he doesn't want little pests to take you anywhere, away from him.

“Does this mean our good looking Dr. Zayne didn't get a date for Valentine's Day?” You said jokingly. Zayne’s expression froze, you thought you got in trouble for hitting a nerve for making fun of him being single. “Wow, would you look at the time! It's time for me to head out and let your next patient in!” You quickly ran out of Zayne's office thinking he would be upset with you, little did you know what was actually going through the back of his mind. Good looking Dr. Zayne was pretty much all he focused on. He let out a small grin to escape from his emotions and ears were a bit pink from blushing. “I guess I would have to go and be her pest repellent after all.” he said quietly to himself.

Leaving the hospital, you pulled your phone out just to notice that you had a few missed calls, all from the same person, Rafayel. Thinking it might be something important, you pressed the call back button. He picked up so quickly as if he knew you were going to call him right that second. 

“Did something happen? I just got out of my doctor’s appointment.” You can feel his incoming complaints and you were right.

“I’ve called you a thousand times, you are supposed to be my bodyguard but I can never get in hold of you! What if I got kidnapped???” Rafayel exaggerated his response, “I don't care, you have to make it up to me.” He demands. “You have to hang out with me this Saturday.” 

“Sorry, Can't. I already have plans.” You replied. You can actually hear him huffing and puffing on the other side of the call. 

“WHAT?” You had to pull the phone away from your ear since he actually yelled into his phone, “No! You can't. I won't allow it!” 

“Well too bad,” you answered, placing the phone on your other ear as the side of him screamed into still rings. “We are going to hang out at my place after work Friday and heading out together Saturday.” 

Rafayel was raging at this point, “You guys are even going to hang out at home??” He's so full of jealousy since HE himself has not been invited to your place before. 

Somehow you weren't able to tell that he's actually being jealous, you said “Well yeah, Tara said she wants to hang out. I didn't really have the heart to tell her no… Besides, we will just be going to the pub in Azure Square, I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you show up. That is, being how you are technically a celebrity in Linkon, I'm not sure if that would be a good idea after all.” 

After hearing confirmation from you that the person you will be hanging out with is not a male, and even asked him to join you, his angry temper has just dissipated into thin air. “Oh? Are you asking me out?” 

You paused, it was just a slip of your tongue when you said that he could just ‘show up’, “... On second thought, don't come. I don't want to work on a Saturday.”

“Too late and no backsies! I’ll see you Saturday, Miss bodyguard!” Rafayel hangs up before you can even put in another word. He is now very excited and humming to himself while trying to online shop for an outfit to stand out for Saturday. 

You on the other hand, still left with your mouth open trying to process how in the world did it turn out like this. It's much too late to regret now, you will just have to stick to it.

Finally arriving home, you face planted yourself into the bed, still trying to figure out how things seem to have derailed. You sat up thinking to yourself, do I even have an outfit for this occasion? You don't normally go to events like these and the only other time you would go to the pub is with your co-workers after a long day's work. You walked over to your closet, trying to see if there was anything you could wear. You see a cute white dress. But then you thought it would be easier to just wear your Hunters uniform instead.

Fast forward to Friday, just as we are about to leave work and head back to my place, Xavier comes walking towards your desk. “Hey, Y/N, do you want to walk home together?” He asked with a gentle smile on his face, “I’ve bought some of the snacks which we tried together, would you like me to give you some?” 

Tara, who was witnessing all that is going on, can see the plans going in Xavier’s mind. Actually, everyone in the headquarters knows he has feelings for you, but for some reason you never seem to catch the most subtle hints. HE is the reason why no one has tried to make a move on you. Both of you don’t know this, but Tara secretly roots for the both of you to be hitched. “Only if there are enough snacks for me as well! I will be spending the night with Y/N tonight and going to the pub tomorrow. You should really come along!”

“I would love to come along, and don't worry, I've got enough snacks to last us all a few days.” He smiles so ever sweetly at Tara for suggesting that. You, on the other hand, felt a pinch on your heart, you somehow thought Tara and Xavier were interested in each other not knowing Tara was actually trying to set you up. 

“Great! Let's get going shall we?” Tara asked with a big grin on her face. “Xavier can help hold our stuff!” She says as she hooks her arm around yours and starts dragging you out the door. 

“You sure brought a lot of things with you today, Tara. You even brought a suitcase… How many days are you planning to stay at my place?” You jokingly asked. 

“You never know what you are going to need! I even brought extra for you!” She winks. “Come on, let's get moving! Times a wastin!” 

The 3 of you starting to walk home with Xavier following close behind while carrying everything. He said he wouldn't mind. You let your mind run wild for a bit while Tara and Xavier chats and giggles. You know you have some feelings for him but you are way too shy and do not ever want to ruin your friendship right now. You thought it would be enough to just be around him. Well, there were also other reasons too… he is not the only one you have feelings for right now. You liked Zayne for a long time but never got the courage to tell him. You also have feelings for Rafayel, even though he drives you mad most times.

While you were spacing out, Tara and Xavier kept whispering to each other. Tara was hinting to Xavier that he should really make his moves more clear for you, since you are so dense and doesn't seem like you would understand unless he says it straight to your face. Xavier also thought it was about time to ask you out and with Tara’s help, there is no better opportunity. 

You finally arrive at the apartment and Xavier helps drop everything inside. “I will go get changed and bring the snacks down in a bit.” he says as he walks out the door and goes back to his own apartment above yours. 

Tara thought he was just being nice and walking you 2 back but he actually lives upstairs. She pulls her suitcase close to the sofa and unleashes the contents around the area. “Y/N! Come take a look at what I brought over!” 

You were in the bathroom getting changed and came out and saw she had laid out a bunch of different outfits, make up and accessories around the place. It was actually difficult to navigate around with how much stuff she has laying there. “Did you invite more people to come with us?” You tilted your head and asked dumbfounded. There were at least 10 different outfits just for the 2 of you. 

“No, I kinda lost control while shopping… all these dresses are sooooooo cute! I couldn't just not get them!” You could almost see glitters in her eyes as she adores the cute dresses she got. “I bet all of these would look beautiful on you.” 

“Wait… don't tell me you got all these for me to choose from??” You widened your eyes and looked at Tara. “Yessss I did~ knowing you, I would swear you thought wearing your Hunters uniform would be a good idea.” She says while staring coldly at you. You turned your head away from her gaze as that idea DID come across your mind. “No, I won't allow it.” she proclaims. “I will do everything in my power to make you be the spotlight tomorrow!” 

Now you’ve done it, you unleashed something in Tara that should really be locked up. It's not like she will let you back out now, everything has been set on motion according to her plans. 

Knock knock knock, you hear the door. It must be Xavier coming back with the snacks, you tried clearing out a path to get to the door. Once you got there and opened the door, you see Xavier also changed into his casual clothes and carrying an enormous bag of snacks. 

“Come in, be careful where you step, Tara is just trying to claim my place as her own by covering my house with her things.” You jest. Xavier comes in and makes his way to the kitchen, he walks past all the cute dresses Tara had laying out.

An idea strikes Tara, she asks Xavier, “Hey Xavier, which dress do you think Y/N should wear tomorrow? She has a hard time deciding so help us out!” 

He stood up and walked closer to the outfits lay about, he took a very serious look and thought to himself. He was so serious that at one point he had his head tilted and he had a finger pointing at his totem. There was this one outfit that Tara sees his eyes keep backtracking to, and sees that his ears got a little pink while looking at it. Yes, he was picturing you wearing the dress already and you look absolutely dazzling. Tara took the hint and pulled that one dress out and said “Ok, it's been decided, you are wearing this piece tomorrow!” She winks at Xavier but you didn't see it. Xavier gave her a nod of approval. 

We cleaned up the place a bit and ate the snacks and chatted about work for a while. It was starting to get late as we lost track of time chatting away. Xavier stood up and said “it's getting late, I better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow?” It was like he wanted to make sure it was truly invited and not just Tara saying it at the heat of the moment. 

“See you tomorrow.” You said to him. “I’ll get the door.” You also get up from your seat and walk Xavier to the door. “Well then, good night Xavier.” You said with a sweet smile on your face as you opened the door to let him out. “Good night, Y/N.” He smiles back as he waits for you to close the door. 

He was getting very tired but he claps both his hands onto his cheeks and walks quickly back up to his own apartment, goes through his own closet to try and match one with the one he picked for you to wear tomorrow. He lays his choice on his sofa and plops on his bed and drifts into dreamland in a matter of seconds. He knows he would have a wonderful dream tonight since he got to hear you say good night.

Back at your apartment, Tara pulls out her trusty tarot cards and wants to see tomorrow's fortune for you before heading to bed. You told her you would go to the bathroom and get ready for bed. She starts doing her fortune telling. She flips card after card as her eyes get wider and wider, full of excitement. It would no doubt be an eventful day tomorrow. She doesn't tell you the results of what she was told, she just wants you to find out tomorrow.

Laying in bed, with Tara already fast asleep beside you, you let your mind wonder. Is Rafayel actually going to come out tomorrow? He really hates crowded places. But he is always willing to go wherever you tell him to go. After whining about it for at least an hour. He is very adorable sometimes and looks gorgeous. You also wondered if Zayne would really come pick you up, since he always has a busy schedule even on his days off. You like how he always takes care of you, even though he looks cold, you know he is a very caring person. You also thought of Xavier, who has a lot of common hobbies with you, taking care of you when the two of you go out on missions, making your safety the first priority at all times. You can't help but always feel safe when he is around. You also drifted into dreamland while reminiscing from his last smile while telling you good night.

You wake up to Tara's humming, a gentle melody that you swear you have heard somewhere before, but can't seem to remember where. “Oh, sorry Y/N, did I wake you?” She asked as she sorted out the dresses again, this time for herself. 

“No” you sit up and stretch, one hand trying to rub the sleepy out of your eyes. “It was about time I should get up anyways.” you looked at the clock and it's already 10:30am, you got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to brush up. “What should we do about lunch?” You asked Tara right before you entered the bathroom.

“Can we order some delivery? I want to stay here and get ready for tonight. If that's ok with you?” She looks at you, head tilted to the side and hands locked, fingers intertwined, as if she was begging if you could take home an abandoned puppy. “How can I say no to that face?” You let out a playful sigh as you answered. “Alright then! I’ll find us something delish to eat, my treat of course!” She excitedly grabs her phone to look for some food delivery apps. There was a message, her eyes widened, she squealed with uncontrollable excitement. She cannot hold her giggles in. You tried to pop your head out of the room and see what is actually going on, you see her texting. Never have you seen someone typed that fast on a phone's keyboard. You were actually afraid to ask what had just happened, you slowly entered the room as she didn't even notice you checking on her. 

Tara orders the food and it gets delivered here. We both ate and enjoyed the food. Now that our bellies were filled, I offered Tara to go shower and wash up first while I cleaned up the table. She took up the offer and hopped her way into the bathroom and into the showers. 

After putting everything away, you walked over to the sofa, staring down on the dress that you’re about to wear for this evening. You do admit that the dress is super cute, but never have you worn something this style before, you wouldn't. You like to move around freely and sometimes your gestures get out of control. The dress is strapless and has heavy padding where a bra is not needed, almost as if your chest can pop out from just small movements. You got embarrassed and told yourself you better calm yourself tonight.

Tara gets out of the bath and told you it was your turn, she asks you for the hair dryer and goes to get herself dressed. By the short 10 minutes time of your shower, Tara has already finished with her look for tonight. She looks so gorgeous, her hair is curled and looks wavy. Her makeup makes her look so cute and adorable that even your heart skipped a beat when you saw her. 

She tells you to change into your dress as well, you were a bit nervous, since you've never changed in front of anyone before, even if they were female, you felt a little uncomfortable. You sucked it up anyways and started getting dressed. Tara stops you. “Huh? What?” You question, Tara had this look on her face like you've committed a crime. “Take those off, you are NOT wearing those.” She demands. She was talking about your panties, they were just some plain panties you randomly picked from your drawer since you really didn't think about it. Tara goes through your drawers and finds you another pair. “You have to at least wear something like this!” she hands you the only laced panties you owned. “This actually matches the dress too!” She explains. “It shouldn't really matter since no nobody would look up my dress…” you sigh. “You will never know~” Tara whispers to herself.

Now that she is satisfied with what you are wearing, she sat you down on the couch to help you with makeup. You don't really use a lot of makeup normally and usually only apply lipstick if needed. But tonight she is going all out. Applying eyeliner and a shiny eyeshadow to make your beautiful eyes stand out even more. She spritz a very sweet strawberry scent perfume onto your neck and wrist, applying some shiny pink lip gloss to your lips. She tied your hair up in a bun, leaving just 2 long strands by your ears. 

She is finished with her masterpiece. You were perfect. Not a single guy can retain themselves after glancing at you, even for a second. You looked in the mirror, even you blushed after staring at your reflection. Tara has, without a doubt, outdone herself just to make you the most irresistible. 

You both hear a similar knocking at the door, it was Xavier right on cue to take you girls to the pub. Tara opens the door while you sit at the edge of the couch. Xavier, wearing his white jacket with the black lined pockets with a black shirt inside and his white slacks, you’ve seen him wear this before but something looks different. He looks hot. You tried to turn your face away so you could hide your blushing face. Xavier on the other hand, was stunned by how beautiful you looked and you could tell his face was bright red. He tried to look away to calm down but his eyes disobeyed him and just couldn't stop staring and running his eyes from your hair to your toes. 

You unintentionally put your hand in the middle of your chest, trying to cover yourself from his burning gaze. Xavier finally turns his head and takes deep breaths to try and calm down. With your hand close to where your collar bone is, you feel kind of bare and though a necklace would help make it feel less exposed. Just as you start searching your accessories box, Tara nugs Xavier. He was nervous but walked towards you.

“If you don't mind, I would like you to have this.” He is holding on to a box that looks like it contains jewelry. He opens the box and inside was a necklace, 2 stars overlapping, one white and one light yellow, the same color or the dress you are wearing. The yellow star has a light glow almost as if he infused some of his Evol into it.

“That looks really pretty, it also looks expensive, I can't accept it.” He made a sad pout, “It’s actually not expensive, I won it at the arcade when they had an event going, I always thought it would match you.” almost as if he was trying to brainstorm a scenario so I would accept.

“It's perfect! Just what we need, just accept it Y/N!” Demands Tara. 

“... Fine, thank you Xaiver, for the thoughtful gift.” you answered as you could feel burns on your face from blushing. Just as you reach out for the box, Tara suggests “Xavier you should help her put it on!” she has this grin on her face and you glare her down as if you were throwing daggers at her. 

“Please turn around.” Xavier said as he pulled the necklace out of its container. “Hold still.” you turned with your back facing him and stared into the mirror. You could see his hands being a little shaky from nervousness, his face was red. His pinky accidentally grazed your shoulder and you let out a tiniest moan. Shocked by the sound that came out of my mouth, you quickly covered your mouth with both hands hoping that, somehow, Xavier who was directly behind you did not hear you. But oh he heard you alright, as he finished hooking the necklace together he also quickly covered his mouth and tried to direct his gaze somewhere, anywhere to cool off. 

Tara, reading the situation in the room, “well since we are all ready, let's get going!” She says as she grabs our purse and puts her heels on. You shot yourself up from your seat and raced to the door, Xavier let out a quiet giggle and followed after you.

You slipped on one of your heels and as you attempted to do the same for the second, you lost your balance when Xavier lent you his forearm and you grabbed him to balance yourself. Through the arm of his jacket, you both can feel each other's body temperature raising. You quickly let go and head out the door. Xaiver is no longer blushing. He walks out and helps you shut your door shut and is just observing you, almost as if he made it his mission to watch and catch you if you stumble again. 

The 3 of you venture in the direction of the pub, Xaiver who would normally follow behind you and Tara, decide to take the spot beside you instead. There was literally no room for anyone to walk past your company if they were to speed past on the sidewalk. Seeing this, Tara took a few quicker steps to lead in front of you and Xavier, letting him have all the space he needs. Even with Tara leaving you more space, Xaiver kept himself close to you. His hand had grazed yours a few times already from how close he was to you, your heart would skip a beat but you did not move away, almost as if you're trying to ask for more, or even hope he would do more than just accidentally brush your hand. 

Arriving at the pub, the 3 of you entered the door, for a split second, all eyes were on you. You tried to follow Tara, Xavier inches behind you, as if he was ready to fend off all the predators any given second. You 3 managed to find a table, Tara and you sat down on one side and Xavier across from you.  “I didn't think there would be this many people here!” Tara said, surprised. It seems like everyone who is single in Linkon city has gathered together here. Xavier, feeling uncomfortable about the idea of stepping away even for a second, asked if the 2 of you would like to get something to drink. “Just get us a bunch of candy shots!” Tara answered, he moves slowly as if he still doesn't want to leave your side as Tara shoos him away. As he walked towards the bar, you could hear girls squalling from different areas of the pub. Some from them eyeing Xavier, some from the person who just walked in the door.

You were chatting with Tara while waiting for Xavier's return when you heard a familiar voice, “So this is where you’re hiding!” You tilt your head and look up, it was Rafayel. This explains the screaming earlier, you thought to yourself. Rafayel, dressed in one of his many fancy suits, looks down and examines your attire for this evening. He couldn't help but feel flushed and had to sit down beside you right away and cross his legs as if he was scared someone would notice something growing in his pants. 

Tara couldn't even register what happened as he sat down so quickly, she glanced over and saw that he's the famous artist Rafayel. Her expression was a mix of confusion and excitement, she wanted to ask how the 2 of you know each other but no words can come out of her mouth. “You must be Tara, my name is Rafayel, it's nice to finally meet you. Miss bodyguard here talks about you a lot.” Rafayel reached his hand out for a hand shake. Tara nervously complied. 

Rafayel sits back and gives his attention back to you, “You look so beautiful I had a hard time recognizing you.” He runs his hand through the strand of hair that was left hanging by your ear. “That's a cute necklace.” His hand was about to reach for it but was grabbed in the forearm by Xavier, who just happens to return from getting the drinks, which he carried on his other hand. “I gave that to her. You shouldn't get too close.” Xavier warned Rafayel. The two of them glared at each other, you could almost see the sparks fly as they were having a duel just from staring at each other so intensely. Tara interrupts and says, “Here, hand me the drinks.” 

Xavier sat back down across from you, but keeping a close eye on Rafayel and twitches at every motion Rafayel makes no matter how small it may be.

Rafayel, annoyed by the thought that he gave you the necklace first, pulls out the one he also had prepared for you. “Well there's enough room for this.” Not even confirming if you would accept it or not, he took the choker and wrapped it around your neck. 

Unlike the guys who have the two accessories, they actually complemented each other. The stars that Xavier gave hangs a little above your chest and the black choker, which had a fine silver chain, with a small purple fish, hangs just above your collarbone. Rafayel gives a satisfied smirk to Xavier, as if he was taunting him that they are both on the same level. 

You sighed and accepted the fact that you will not be able to remove any of the necklaces without offending either of them. You look defeated and just when you thought the conflict was over, you see a blue snowflake, attached to a long chain, hanging in front of your eyes as the chain slowly lowers and rests on top of your cleavage. You jolted your head to confirm if it was who you suspected to be. 

You were correct, Zayne stands towering over you, he placed the necklace down so gently and made sure your hair would not get caught in it. “A lively party you have going on here, mind if I join in?” He asks but sits himself down beside Xavier before an answer is even given. 

“The more the merrier I guess!” Tara says, very much overwhelmed by the fact that every single person in the club has eyes on your table. The best looking guys and gals are all gathered here. The death glares from the other ladies feels so sharp as if you were getting pierced. “You must be Dr. Zayne, is it a crazy coincidence to see you here?” Zayne turned his head to you and smiled. “Y/N mentioned that you 2 would be here, so I decided to come along since I got some free time.”

There is this look on Tara's face, like has already seen all the events unfold. The. You remembered. Her fortune reading from last night that refused to tell you. You tried to confront her but she just smiles and smirks at you. She stands up, “I think we need more shots! I’ll be right back~” You secretly scream ‘don’t leave me!’ but she already vanished into the crowd.

The 3 beautiful men sitting with you, all knew of each other's existence but had never met face to face. They started to eye each other down from head to toe. All thought they were superior compared to the other 2.

You sat there awkwardly, looking down at your hands and twirled your thumbs as you waited for Tara to come back. You can feel the guys looking at you, like they can see through everything. You felt bare though you were naked and was just there for them to watch. You said “Fuck it” then grabbed a shot and swallowed it in one big gulp. You grabbed another and another, by the time Zayne grabs your hand to stop you, you jump as he grabs you and notices that you have drunk 5 of them.

“You need to slow down, pace yourself.” He has a serious look on his face, you put the shot down and try to pull your hand away but it won't budge. He will not let go unless you acknowledge what he just said. You gave him a nod “Use your words.” He demands. “I will…” He finally lets go, almost unwillingly. “They are just candy shots anyways, even a kid can't get drunk on those.” You said as you gave him a pout. Looking at how childish you just act, he scoffs. “Behave.”

Feeling a bit angry at Zayne’s remark, you started looking for Tara. “What is taking Tara so long… I better go help her.” You shot up from your seat, so quick that you got a little light headed and was about to collapse back down, Rafayel caught you and you ended up sitting on his lap. Xaiver grits his teeth and Zayne's tongue clicks. Both of their brows are so squashed together they could kill a fly. Rafayel took this opportunity to boost as he put his arms around your waist and gave you a hug, “Carefully now princess, you won't want to get yourself hurt.” As he smirks, the other two men glare at him to let go of you. “I'm perfectly fine!” As you try to get up and Rafayel lets you go as if he's won. 

Trying to change the topic, you encouraged the 3 of them to take a shot each. “Why am I the only one drinking? You guys should try some too!” You picked up a shot as if you were about to feed Rafayel. Rafayel sitting with his hands clutching onto the seat beside his legs, opens his mouth slightly as if he wants you to feed him. You were complying and as the glass gets closer to Rafayel’s lips, a hand grabs yours and pulls you over as he sips the glass, his lips touching your finger, “It does taste like candy, very sweet.” Xavier licked his lips and smiled as he celebrated his small victory. Rafayel was furious, you could see flames in his eyes as if his Evol was activated. “Stop.” A cold stern voice called out and made all 3 of you freeze. Zayne shocked all of you. The area almost felt like it got colder all of a sudden. Everyone sad back down nicely like well behaved children. 

He reached and distributed a shot to Rafayel and one to Xaiver. He held a glass for himself, raised it in the middle as if he was waiting for the other 2 to meet his glass. “Here's to Y/N, may she find someone she deserves.” Rafayel and Xavier took it as a challenge and clinged his glass. They all took the shot together. You were starting to get a light buzz so you were kind of out of it and didn't understand what they were doing. “Hey, I want to drink too!” You grabbed the last glass on the table and gobbled it down. 

It's clear that you are getting drunk. Out of the 10 shots ordered, you downed 6. Of course you were drunk. “I think it's time for you to go home.” Zayne said. “But how about Tara?” You asked. Zayne then points to a corner, you see Tara hitting it off with a cute looking guy, so into him that she's already forgotten you guys were waiting for her. You were about to walk over to her to let her know you are about to leave as you feel a light tug on your arm, “Read the room, won't you? She clearly doesn't want to be bothered right now.” says Rafayel.

“I could just give her a text and let her know we will be leaving soon?” Xavier suggests. The 2 others nod of approval, he pulls his phone out and starts texting. “Done. Shall we get going then?” Xavier extended his hand to help you get up from your seat. “Wait a damn minute.” Rafayel interrupts and yanks your hand away from him. “I was planning to walk her home.” 

Xavier looks coldly at Rafayel, he just lets out a grunt.

“In any case, let's just get out of here first” Zayne suggests, “She is starting to attract unwanted  attention.” Rafayel and Xaiver did not notice you while they were arguing… You are feeling warm from all the alcohol you drank, and start to fan yourself. Your hand clutches the dress, almost as if you were about to pull on it a bit so you could get some cold air inside your dress. Zayne takes off his coat and plops it on you to shield you from the unwelcome gaze. 

Rafayel and Xaiver stand up, Zayne is now in front of you, pulls you up and turns you facing the door, holding onto one of your hands and the other resting on your waist. The ladies all glared in jealousy as if it looked like you were a princess, and your knights were escorting you to where you needed to be. You were too out of it to notice how much attention the lot of you were attracting. 

Once you got outside, Zayne was walking you to his car, opened the door and was about to get you inside the passenger seat when Rafayel slammed the door shut. “Excuse me, where do you think you are taking her?” he asked furiously. “I’m taking her home. Now move aside.” Zayne answered. “Are you serious? You had alcohol! I wont allow her to be in your car if you're under the influence.” It was obviously an dumb excuse just to have you not go with Zayne. “Fine, I guess you have a point.” Zayne actually agreed with Rafayel, he would not be able to live with himself if anything were to happen to you, even if there was a slight chance of putting you in danger, he will avoid it. “I will just walk her home. You two can leave.” he demands. “Oh Hell no. I’m coming with, who knows what you would do to her while she is drunk.” Rafayal argued. 

“I’m not drunk,” you interrupt, “And Zayne is not that type of person.” Zayne looks at you with such a gentle smile, if you weren’t so drunk, you would have melted by the sight of that. “He will never do anything to me.” Zayne twitched for a second, as if he felt guilty like he had indecent thoughts on his mind. “Can we please get going? I want to change out of this dress…” you start tugging the top again. Zayne covers you up and turns his head away from you so you could not see him blush. 

“Let's get going then.” Zayne was trying to walk you to the direction of your place. “Hey, don’t leave me here!” Rafayel whines and follows closely on your other side. Xavier was quiet but he followed behind. “Stop following us.” as Rafayel demands Xavier. “... I live in the same building, this is how I get home.” “Tsk” Rafayel was annoyed how close the two of you live, he is jealous of Xavier that he always gets to see you, anytime he wants.

The 4 of you all walked together, Zayne on your left and Rafayel to your right and Xavier following closely behind. You thought the best way to break the long silence is for you to hum a song, you're not sure what song it was but you were able to put a gentle smile on all their faces. They all enjoyed the sweet melody as the group got closer and closer to their destination. 

As you're arriving, Xavier speeds up from behind to get the door open. And to help you inside. Zayne and Rafayel are still following as everyone follows you and Xavier back to your apartment. You got to your door, tried grabbing the door handle as you stumbled around, Xavier took your hand and helped guide your thumb to the fingerprint scanner to get the door unlocked. 

Rafayel rushes inside and explores your apartment, Zayne follows after him and sits himself down at the couch. Xaiver didn't want to leave the two of them alone with you and decided to invite himself in as well. You were too drunk to argue so you just let all of them inside. Rafayel thought your place was neat and tidy and liked that you've placed the plushies that he won for you on your bed. Looking at how dazed you look, while being in your beautiful dress and make up, he pulled his phone out and snapped a few pictures of you. Zayne saw him and decided that was actually a good idea, he doesn't get to see you dressed up often and wants to freeze this moment. Xavier also pulled his phone out to take pictures of you, you looking a bit confused but didn't have enough energy to fight back, you just let them do their thing. It was like a photoshoot just for you, they would ask you to do certain poses and you would just comply. 

They had fun and were able to take a lot of good shots of you. They have enough material to do whatever they need. With everyone finished taking photos of you, Rafayel changed to a more serious tone. “Do you guys mind leaving? There is something I've been wanting to tell her, Alone.” “Well you are not the only one.” Zayne said calmly. “We all know, no one will back down from this matter.” Xavier agrees. 

Rafayel grabs you by your shoulder, and asks you wholeheartedly, “Y/N, do you like me?” You, still in your drunken state, put one hand on his beautiful face, look him in the eyes and nodded. Rafayel was overwhelmed with happiness and turned to Zayne and Xavier, “See! She likes me too, now please leave us. I want to spend time alone with my darling.” Zayne disagreed, he took your hand and asked “Well then, Y/N, do you like me?” you looked at Zayne, and you nodded your head again. “And how about Xavier over there, do you like him too?” Zayne asks. You look over to the direction of where Xavier is standing and give him a sweet smile and nod your head once again. 

You are slowly sobering up and realize that you have just confessed to all three of them. You feel so embarrassed, you tried to hide behind your arms and was wishing that this is all just a dream. Tears started rolling down your eyes, as you felt you have betrayed their love for you and you cannot decide who you like the most. You started sobbing. The lads' hearts were aching from watching you cry, you thought you did the one thing you said you would never do. Ruin the current relationships with all three of them. And you felt you did exactly that. 

You said quietly under your breath, “please leave.” They all weren't sure who you were referring to and told each other to leave so they, themselves, could stay and watch over you. “All of you.” They are now frozen to their spot. All staring at you. All wanting to cheer you up. You looked up with a painful smile on your face and said, “I'm sorry, I've ruined everything, please leave me. I don't know how I should face the 3 of you.” 

You were trying to reject your feelings for all 3 of them. Since you thought it unfair for them to have feelings for you while you can't even decide who you loved most. You know if the situation were too flip, you would not be happy with them not being able to tell which girl they love more.

“What if we said we didn't care who you love more, as long as you don't push me away, I would rather share you than not have you at all…” Xavier said Sadly as he walked over and grabbed your hand and put it to his cheeks. “I… I can't do that! That is not fair for you guys!” You claimed. “Xavier is right, I cannot imagine my life without you. Not anymore. I need you and if I have to share you then so be it.” Rafayel said it very seriously. His deep voice was the confirmation. “But it is not right!” Zayne tries to Sheesh you. “As long as we know that we are in your heart and that is enough. Or is the idea of not being able to see us anymore fine for you?” You flinched, staring at them with a half blanked face, your tears started to burst out uncontrollably. “No! I don't ever want that!” You yelled. 

The 3 men surround you, trying to calm you down. Seeing you cry like this breaks their hearts. They are used to you being happy all the time, make silly faces, laugh at the most silly jokes. Not like this, they don't know what to do. 

Unable to control his own emotions anymore, Xavier pulled you into his chest, both arms wrapped tightly around you. For a second you felt peaceful. In one swift movement he had your head up and landed a deep passionate kiss on your lips. The others could only watch as they could not have predicted what he was about to do. Xavier, still holding you tightly and kissing you, you let out a soft moan as you were feeling dazed and trying to catch your breath. When he finally gets his senses back, he slowly lets go of you. He used the back of his hand to wipe the drool that slipped out the corner of his mouth. “You taste much sweeter than the candy shot just now.”

You turned your head away from him after hearing such embarrassed words and the exchange of your kiss. You felt flushed and tried to hide your face in your arms. “Th-that was my first kiss!” You claimed. Rafayel is now looking down at your semi concealed face, as when you turned away from Xaiver, you are now facing him. “I guess second is better than none at all.” He scoffs and grabs your wrist and pulls your arms away from your face and leans in to give you a kiss on your lips.

You tried to push yourself away from him, but with his hands pulling you back and whispering without leaving your lips. “Don’t resist.” His blue-pink eyes stare so wantonly into yours’, you twitched and stopped resisting. Once he felt you were no longer pulling away, he tried something more daring. He slowly slips his tongue into your mouth. The weird sensation shocked you and you opened your eyes wide. You are flustered but you did not pull away, you even respond to Rafayel with your tongue swirling harmoniously with his. He releases your wrists and puts his hands on your cheeks, and slowly pushes you away. You almost didn't want him to stop. He looked straight into your dreamy eyes and said. “Now that's a good girl.”

You've been kissed twice the same night, not to mention from different men. But you can't feel but want more. As if something lustful was released from within you without your knowing. Zayne sees this, he walks behind you, puts his one hand on your shoulder and the other on your neck, slowly raising to tilt your chin up. He doesn't say or do anything, other than moving his thumb up and down gently as if he was waiting for you to tell him what he should do next. 

You were panting lightly and called out, “Zayne……” he looks down at your wanting eyes and replies “Yes princess? If you need something, you have to tell me.” “I wa-want you to kiss me…” you felt so embarrassed asking Zayne when you've been passionately kissing other guys just now. You feel your eyes getting teary, overflowing as the tears roll out the corner of your eyes. “As you wish, my love.” He bends down, his palm is now resting on your cheek and his long fingers still under your chin. He plants his lips onto yours, his nose brushing your chin, he bites your lower lip gently then sucks with enough pressure to get moaning and panting.

You were sitting but could feel your legs giving in. When Zayne's lips finally left you, you felt fulfilled, satisfied. You fall to your side and Xavier catches you in his arms. Everything feels hazy and you feel the sleepiness catching up to you. You want to open your eyes but you just can't no matter how hard you try. Xavier carried you to your bed. You have already drifted into dreamland while the 3 of them sit close by and just watched you sleep peacefully, they could see you smiling. Maybe you are having a good dream with them being by your side as well. The 3 of them each find a comfortable spot close to you and to spend the night. Rafayel lay in front of you and whispered, “Good night my princess, we have a long road ahead of us. You better be prepared.” As he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

[adachimoe]

A long and meandering post about Adachi and the Investigation Team

I have no idea what to title or describe this as. This is a long ass rambling 2.5k+ word post that consists of like 5 drafts I had sitting around that all felt somewhat related. It starts with the part where the Investigation Team tells Adachi to get over himself, then devolves into talking about Adachi punching himself in the face repeatedly (metaphorically), before ending by exploring the idea of Adachi as the Investigation Team's collective Shadow. it rly is tl;dr.

Adachi will remember that

At one point in Magatsu Inaba, the Investigation Team takes turns responding to Adachi in verbal turn-based combat. They all have varying responses and levels of understanding of him.

Chie doesn't understand why Adachi even became a cop, Rise thinks he's full of shit, Kanji tells him a 2008 version of "go kys" (tbf, he's never been eloquent with words), Yukiko tells Adachi that he sounds like a kid, Naoto calls him out for finding life annoying while being a damn annoyance, and Yosuke tells him he's just a criminal.

What Yukiko says to him in particular appears to sting Adachi, evident by how he "!" emotes in reaction to her. Or idk maybe he's secretly into getting bullied by women. I think Yukiko has Adachi's number here, and he knows that. After all, part of his schtick is that, "Oh, you stupid fuckin' kids, you don't know what I've been through or how I feel! Get off my dungeon lawn!!!" And yet, one of those stupid kids is able to tl;dr his life, and even says, "no u -- you're the stupid kid" back at him. He later even repeats what she said back at Sho during Ultimax.

What Yukiko says here, I think, stands out in particular not just because of Adachi's reaction but also because it resembles a sentiment found in other media: The contradiction of being alive while not "truly" being alive. This often goes like so: A character can be alive in that they are most certainly physically living and breathing, but they are largely closed off from the rest of the world and going through the motions. Thus they are said to not truly "be alive".

In the context of Persona 4, I believe Adachi fits in with this trope. As Yukiko has assessed, life sucks, but it's not like he's in any hurry to die. From what we see of Adachi in the plot, he's going through the motions. He wakes up, goes to his job, goes to Junes to bum free air conditioning, and sometimes gets dragged over to Dojima's house.

I don't think it's bad that people fall into these routines by default. Some find them comforting, some appreciate the simplicity, and some make up for the monotony of adult life with the more fascinating things they do outside of work.

But this doesn't feel like it applies to Adachi because he openly groans about his life and job. He seems to want to live and fit in with society, but he wants to do so with more than what he has right now, yet he also seems unwilling or unable to get what he wants. He also seems unwilling to put in the effort - he tells us he's lonely and wants a girlfriend, but when the old woman from his Social Link tries to hook him up with a girl, he finds it all annoying. He thinks of himself as an elite detective who is above Inaba, but he is regularly made out to be incompetent, sloppy, and careless.

It's like he's stuck but not doing anything to become unstuck. Following the tropes, Adachi would move from being a character who is "alive without really being alive" to "Truly Living" once he figures out how to get himself un-stuck. If he truly wants to be a hotshot detective in the big city with a smokin' hot wife, then something needs to change because he won't get those things as he is now. But how does Adachi approach the subject of "change"?

Maybe the world really is just a shitshow?

Adachi being exposed as the murderer is a major turning point for the murder investigation. And after the Investigation Team chases him into the TV, one of the many things he talks about is "change", or rather a lack of change.

As far as Adachi is concerned, the world can't / won't / doesn't change. He criticizes the world and its inability to change, how society works, and how people will latch to whatever you tell them as the truth.

Some things he says might resonate with us, especially nowadays with the spread of social media and misinformation. However, despite these criticisms, it sounds like he still desires to be part of society. (Yes, I know, this sounds like that one "We should improve society somewhat" comic, but Adachi did not want to "improve society" lbr LOL.) He has been trying to blend in as a normal guy since April despite being a murderer. I think it's worth reiterating that his complaints about his life weren't anarchist but more like, "I don't have a cute girlfriend who cooks for me." Furthermore, he was trying to take advantage of misinformation to get away with murder by pinning it on Namatame.

Adachi doesn't like the current world and doesn't think it will change. Thus, he is forcing it to change in a completely catastrophic way. He really is throwing a tantrum: Like, what, you can't get away with murder? All right, throw the whole world away. With this approach, it is not Adachi who must change to fit in with the world, but rather the world that must change to fit Adachi.

Change isn't a good subject with him, which, honestly, is relatable. Change is easier said than done. Even within Persona 4 itself, after getting Magical TV Powers, an event that feasibly might add spice to one's life!!, the same old routine still runs Adachi's life. What has changed is that he's now waiting for Namatame to kill someone. Showing up looking for a dead body in the shopping district is simply a new part of his routine.

This topic of Adachi and change gets wrapped up after the fight against Amenosagiri. Adachi challenges the Investigation Team: >>>If<<< they think they have the power to change the future, then do it.

After entering the TV World, Amenosagiri responds to Adachi's wish and makes his wish come true as the dungeon deadline bad ending shows. That was Adachi's own so-called power to change the future. So what is the Investigation Team's?

Yosuke then replies that everyone has the power to change their future. As in, you don't need special powers from a gigantic disco eyeball inside of a TV to do that. In context, Yosuke is telling Adachi, "This is a 'you' problem," or "Skill issue." And tbh, I think Yosuke is more or less correct here.

In which we revisit the topic of "dumbass" and effort

In some ways, this topic might seem odd to approach. Everyone on the Investigation Team - besides Chie - seems to have a better life situation than Adachi had when he was their age. Are they punching down? Perhaps it feels like a hollow reflection of the collectivist culture that the solution to these antagonists who go "BUT SOCIETY IS WHAT IS WRONG" is always to beat them up and force them to conform--

…..but hold on. That line of thought would be giving in to what Adachi says before his boss battle. And, based on how he quits talking about how "waaah society is unfair" afterward, I find it difficult to think that is what he genuinely believes about his situation.

When I suggest that Yosuke is correct, I don't mean this in a "You aren't special, Adachi, everyone else's life sucks too, just deal with it" kind of way. What I have in mind is how the game seems to support that this is an Adachi problem, not an everyone else problem. Throughout Adachi's Social Link, his other interactions, and what Atlus has said as meta / Word of God answers, you get the idea that people were trying with Adachi, but he wasn't meeting them halfway.

For example:

This entire post is about the effort the MC puts in just to get called a dumbass (though I'd bet that the protag considers Adachi calling him a dumbass to be like a Badge of Honor). Even their gay ass Fever Time in P4D tells the story of Yu trying to reach out and Adachi going, "No!!!"

The old woman in his Social Link is trying to wingwoman for him and hook him up with women in Inaba, but Adachi seems unwilling. Instead, he tells Nanako and the protagonist that he's never getting married. Despite his loneliness, he justifies himself by saying, "Marriage is the graveyard of a man's life."

The Dojima family and Adachi interact briefly throughout the game, both in the story scenes and in his Social Link. As his letter at the end of the game shows, Adachi felt lukewarm about their interactions because he wasn't quite aware of what he had with them until he no longer has their company.

The way I see it, when Adachi rants about the world not changing, he is not actually bitching about the world. Rather, this feels more like a form of projection. He says the world doesn't change, but perhaps he is talking about himself and his own inability to change. Which would reframe it as more like… He knows he's the issue that holds himself back - his own worst enemy, perhaps - but he says the world is wrong to justify himself.

You learn a bit about Adachi through his Social Link. During rank 6, in dialogue that can tragically be missed, Adachi will admit that he is lonely, but he also thinks it's easier that way. And really, easier is just another way of saying "less effort".

On one hand, this might show Adachi's annoyance with other people. But at the same time, for him to call the protagonist a dumbass for investing so much in him and their relationship, for him to pass up the matchmaking from the older woman at Junes while complaining about being single....... I think the unspoken bit here is that Adachi does not think he is worth the time or effort to begin with. His lack of effort isn't just him being annoyed with people or not giving a shit about things, it's a lack of effort into himself. I'm no expert, but I think the majority of us would wager that this is depression.

As the game's timeline unfolds, we really only know Adachi as the pathetic, silly murder guy. Did he start distancing himself from people and quit caring about the effort he puts into himself because of the "oops, I murdered someone" part? Or was he like this even before then?

When he talks more about his past, he doesn't go into a great amount of detail. But, going with my gut here, I get the feeling that Adachi's obsession with Mayumi - something from before he became a murderer - suggests his distance from people is not a new thing for him.

Consider: Meeting people? Forming relationships? Possibly getting rejected? Having to make someone else happy? Wh-What if he has to ch-change something about himself? Like, even before we talk about romance, how the hell do you even make friends as an adult? (The answer is BL btw. Go find some girlies who ship the same pairing.) I think Adachi said fuck it to all that bullshit. It'd be easier - less effort - for him to just be alone and not have to change anything about himself.

But… What if the magical TV just tells you exactly who your soulmate is? Well, shit, that's easy. For the lonely guy who just got transferred to Inaba and generally keeps his distance from people, I imagine it would be quite convenient to just be told, "This is who your soulmate is; the person you're meant to be with".

And that wouldn't be the last time Adachi gets a freebie from the TV. It happens again in December, as Adachi finds an again "easy" solution that does not involve changing himself or doing something annoying that requires effort from him. Having been enabled by the magical TV, Adachi is something of a static character.

Adachi is the Investigation Team's Shadow

In the P4G Premium Fan/Fun/Fsomething book, Atlus defines the Shadow by the Jungian definition, then talks about how the Shadows in-game represent "alternate possibilities" for the characters. The specific example it gives is how Chie's Shadow holds a great deal of animosity towards Yukiko. The real Chie doesn't feel this way towards Yukiko; in fact, she treasures her. Thus, Chie's Shadow is an alternate possibility.

When you look at Chie and what she says about accepting her Shadow, her Shadow seems to be born from a real insecurity (her jealousy of Yukiko) and part of it really does resemble Chie. But part of her Shadow is also this… caricature-esque thing. Hence why Atlus calls it the "alternate possibility". In turn, Chie accepts that she is jealous of Yukiko, but she does not accept the Banana Hat Dominatrix trying to exert control over Yukiko. She even realizes that rather than Yukiko needing her, it was actually her who needed Yukiko.

(I refuse to carry on with this train of thought further than talking about Atlus's own example with Chie because it would inevitably mean having to talk about how Atlus sees Kanji and Naoto's issues/Shadows/dungeons, and I'd need like bottles of wine to get in the mood to even type a paragraph of that.)

During her P4G winter Social Link scene, where her Persona evolves, Chie brings up Adachi and how she could have become him. She continues that anyone could have turned out like him.

Indeed, Adachi very much feels like a, "this could happen to anyone" character. He is an everyday normal guy who accidentally gets involved in something beyond him: a Like a Dragon side story NPC stuck in a game about high schoolers and friendship. Based on how you see these characters, you can correlate many of their issues to Adachi's own issues.

Really, in some ways, he feels like he was written to be the sum of the Investigation Team's insecurities, all bundled into one guy. As Chie's Shadow twisted her jealousy of Yukiko into a desire to control Yukiko and showed an alternate possibility for who Chie could have become if she had let jealousy consume her, perhaps Adachi shows an alternate possibility for who all of them could become.

As Amenosagiri later reveals, the truth torments the Shadows. Your party identifies that is what causes the Shadows to attack people.

When we consider how the game has gone until now, then those moments where the Investigation Team told their Shadows, "You're not me!" must be the moment that Amenosagiri was describing. The members of the Investigation Team come face to face with a being who claims to be them and seems aware of the same issues that gnaw at them. But these beings pervert their issues issues in a direction that doesn't reflect who the Investigation Team really are. And so they challenge that this being is truly them. They, sigh, "reach out to the truth", and it causes their Shadows to go nutso and attack.

And, of course, these repeated scenes where they tell their Shadows all lead up to the last time we see this kind of sequence...

Just as the Investigation Team had to face themselves and pick apart the truths from the caricature, they, too, come to face Adachi and can cut through the bullshit, rejecting his attempts to justify why it's okay for him to merge the TV World into reality and screw everyone over.

That said, though, if we are to compare him to their Shadows, then we must acknowledge that, much like how the Investigation Team's Shadows come from their own real insecurities, Adachi's frustrations with the Investigation Team and with the world at large must also come from something real.

On this screenshotted line in particular, he even uses the more masculine "ore" as his pronoun in Japanese. He usually uses the more boyish "boku", but he seems to swap to "ore" to indicate that he is speaking quite genuinely--or perhaps speaking from the heart.

While he is a whiny murderer throwing an apocalyptic tantrum, I'm sure there are circumstances that made him the person that he is as an adult. Tbh, I've already made a lot of posts talking about the factors that might have contributed to *why* he feels like this, so I won't drag this out further.

By Arena Ultimax, Adachi has come to accept the murder case as the inciting incident that causes him to change as he finds himself finally owning up to his actions from the previous year. He's no role model lol, but life now has more meaning to him than just something you go through every day. Perhaps it's at this moment that he can be said to have gone from merely being alive to living.

(Let's be real tho, jail gives you 3 non-cup noodle meals per day? Damn. It's like he's living his best life. Speaking of which, food feels like such a fitting metaphor for his emotional nourishment.)

In the aftermath of the dungeon and the almost-end-of-the-world, Adachi agreed to start playing by the rules, and became more of a dynamic character. At the beginning of Ultimax, Adachi's commitment to this gets questioned as Yu, Yosuke, and Chie find him allied with Sho (like 5 cutscenes after Yu is so confidant he's behaving himself too, tsk tsk). But Yu reaches the roof, hears Adachi's cringe ass dialogue (I'm pretty sure that Adachi would not have said half that shit if he had known Yu was standing around the corner), and reaffirms his belief that Adachi was genuine about his promise to play by the rules.

The Investigation Team are not on the best of terms with Adachi. Regardless, they went into his dungeon, called him out on his bullshit that had been mixed in with his own real shortcomings and insecurities, punched him, and as we can tell by Ultimax, came to accept him in their own ways as they did their individual Shadows. As Yu says, perhaps they have strangely enough decided to trust in Adachi.

[kynimdraws]

Top lane diff standoff TFW my obsession with an au pairing spills over to the main Runeterra hc-verse despite these characters not having actual interaction voicelines LOL

If you actually wanna read about this hc of Yone and K'sante meeting please read the TL;DR under the cut

The defeat of the Cobra-Lion and his meetup with Tope (in "Everything We Should Have Said") closed an important chapter in K'sante's life. Despite this, he still desires to further improve himself as Nazumah's greatest warrior-hunter. After all, he always is open for learning.

His brief conversations with nomadic tribes/merchants that pass through Nazumah and tales of the wandering Icathian weaponmaster (Jax) motivates him. With the blessing of the leaders of his homeland, he sets out on his journey.

He travels past the familiar sands/oases of the desert and the fringes of the remains of Icathia. This is how he meets other champion characters like Jax, Sivir, Akshan, and specifically Taliyah.

Taliyah tells about her mentor Yasuo, who had hailed from a distant land called Ionia and had recently separated from him. K'sante had been fairly directionless with his travels, so this suggestion is taken to heart.

This journey to Ionia of course was very fruitful as he sees other lands and their cultures. He passes through the dense forests of Ixtal (Rengar), the technological marvels of Piltover/Zaun (Jayce, Camille), the wild streets of Bilgewater (Nilah)…and finally Ionia.

K'sante luckily is able to get audience with Sett by just boldly participating in his fighting pit just a few days after reaching Navori. The two strike a friendship after their fight ends in a tie (K'sante still thinks Sett is an immature boy but that's another conversation). After hearing K'sante's purpose of his trip, Sett suggests visiting the Ionian temples/monasteries, the centers of martial arts.

It is a given that through this entire trip, K'sante always stops to help anyone that is in trouble. His trek in Ionia doesn't change any of this, but he does notice that some of the things he is fighting are more…spiritual/ephemeral, a contrast to the more physical monsters/vagabonds he has known for so long. Due to the Shuriman Empire's history of rejecting spiritual beliefs, Nazumah was still slowly trying to regain that school of thought. K'sante cherishes this oppurtunity.

In one of the Ionian villages he stopped by, K'sante volunteers to help hunt down some demons. The chieftain of the village briefs him on what he can do, and remarks about how a mysterious masked man had been stalking around the area when these demons started appearing.

"We do not know much about this figure, but he has always appeared with the presence of the demons and azakana…it is possible he is the cause of it all. His masks may be summoning the malevolent spirits to make us suffer. Beware of lone man with many masks, stranger."

K'sante accepts this precaution well enough. After all, he was an experienced warrior. If needed, he will just fight and defeat this masked man. That night, he goes on patrol as he planned. Suddenly he senses another presence following him.

Turning around sharply, K'sante sees what he assumes is the supposed masked man that had control over demons. The man had a red mask with glowing eyes, and exuded a strange aura. Before K'sante can move, the mysterious figure runs his crimson sword through him. K'sante gasps and thinks he is dead, but feels no pain or sees blood....just coldness. He hears the masked man murmur something before withdrawing the sword. Soon a mask materializes from the masked man's hand.

"A small azakana, significantly weakend over time." the masked man simply speaks before he starts to walk away. Confused but wanting to know what the hell happened, K'sante grabs the masked man's arm, demanding what that was about.

"I simply am purging this land from azakana. Your spirit had actually mostly overcome the nightmare that had threatened to overwhelm you...but I thought it would be good to finish the job for you myself."

Hearing this, K'sante demands the masked man to teach his technique of hunting down this...supposed "azakana." The masked man tries to pull away saying this is a task only he can do, but K'sante is more stubborn and refuses to let go. Yone could have disassociated from the situation by having his spirit be unbound, but a part of him is intrigued by this stranger's strong will...a will that could weaken azakana without his help.

"I suppose I can teach you a few things. What is your name?"

"K'sante, a warrior-hunter of Nazumah."

"...Yone. Just Yone."

To be contd... here

[tr1ck5]

It's so funny how some people think that Quistis should've been Squall's love interest instead of Rinoa either because they think Quistis is prettier and/or because she's known Squall longer. Yet they conveniently ignore the facts, from the game itself, that:

1) Squall literally never liked Quistis in any way whatsoever, not when they were kids in the orphanage and not at Garden. He literally said that when they were kids, Quistis was "difficult to deal with." She annoyed him as a kid. Even after they forgot their childhood, he still didn't like her during all those years at Garden.

2) Then he himself pointed out how inappropriate she was being towards him because she's his teacher. It doesn't matter that she's only a year older than him; she was still in a position of power and authority over him for at least a year. If he actually reciprocated her feelings, their relationship would've been extremely inappropriate and she could've gotten in trouble for it.

Also, these same people like to claim that Rinoa forced him to become her Knight, or really forced him to do whatever she wanted him to do, when he literally made that decision of his own free will. He chose to be Rinoa's Knight because he wanted to. He chose to take Rinoa to Esthar and free her from her coma because he wanted to. He chose to rescue Rinoa from space because he wanted to. No one forced him to do any of that shit.

I swear, these certain people make me scratch my head and wonder if they even played FF8 at all 🤦‍♀️ @angelosearch @doortotomorrow @ethernalium

Listen dear anon, while I totally agree with you on all of this; I've learned a long time ago that people will ship who they wanna ship regardless of canon so I just let them do their thing (and that's part of the beauty of fandom!!) and honestly I've actually read some interesting Squall/Quistis fics in the past that made it work! While it's not my preferred ship *by far*, there's always room for imagination.

That being said, one of the big reason that I personally think Squall/Quistis doesn't really work is that they are simply *too alike*. Both of them have this independent, serious, lone wolf type personality, not to mention we can assume both of them were pretty much prodigies (Squall being looked up to despite everything and being top of his classes + Quistis becoming instructor at friggin' *eighteen*).

Squall thinking Quistis was "annoying" and "difficult to deal with" actually tells us a lot about how Squall also views himself, consciously or not, I think. Tl;dr: Squall doesn't like himself very much -> he and Quistis are pretty alike personality-wise -> ergo: Squall doesn't like Quistis very much. At least that's my reasoning! Now, I do think their relationship gets less tense as the game progresses (though I don't buy her whole 'oh I thought it was love but it was really sisterly love'. Girl was still crushing on Squall, but decided to put a stop to this awkward situation between them in her own way so they could both move on... Maturity!~)

And yes, her pursuing him rather aggressively while being his direct superior is of course one hundred percent inappropriate, but we have to remind ourselves that... She's a teenager. They're all teenagers. Despite the training and the weapons and powerful guardian forces they're still all a bunch of kids on the cusp of becoming adults, with the maturity and wacky hormones that go with it. Of course they're gonna make mistakes.

Look at me going off again oop lol

The whole "Rinoa forced him to become her knight" angle is new (and quite baffling) to me, I must admit. The iconic line ("Even if you become the world's enemy, I'll be your knight") wasn't even said out loud, the idiot said it in his head lmao. But again, fandom gonna fandom, whatcha gonna do!

[covid-safer-hotties]

Old News (Published Sept, 2022)

Also preserved in our archive

It's disgusting how little movement has been made since this article was published. Biden declared a victory only to be forced to step down by a covid infection this summer. We're done being ignored.

By Jamie Ducharme

Dr. Ezekiel Emanuel is used to feeling like the only person in the country who still cares about COVID-19. He ignores the side-eye he gets for wearing an N95 mask at parties—a self-imposed policy that makes him “look odd” but kept him safe after a recent work dinner turned into a superspreader event. The oncologist, bioethicist, and professor at the University of Pennsylvania provides each of his students with an N95 and runs four HEPA air filters during lectures. He rolls down the windows when he gets in an Uber and goes hungry on planes so he can wear his mask the whole time. He’s given up one of his favorite pastimes—dining at restaurants—even now that many people don’t think twice about eating indoors.

Emanuel, 65, takes these precautions even though he’s vaccinated and boosted and thus well protected against severe COVID-19. The acute disease doesn’t scare him much—but what could come after does. “The only thing that’s preventing me from leading a normal life is the risk that I’ll get Long COVID,” Emanuel says. “I can’t say why people aren’t [reacting like] their hair’s on fire. This is a serious, serious illness.”

Emanuel’s not totally alone. In a July Axios-Ipsos poll, 17% of people said their biggest fear related to COVID-19 is the possibility of getting Long COVID, a potentially disabling condition in which symptoms linger or emerge well after an acute infection. But at a time when the majority of U.S. adults think there’s little risk in returning to normal, mask wearers, test takers, and social distancers walk a lonely road.

Even public-health agencies seem over it. Throughout 2022, the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) has rolled back many of its recommended COVID-19 precautions. CDC guidance no longer recommends social distancing, mask-wearing, or screening tests for most people who don’t have symptoms, and unvaccinated people don’t need to quarantine if they’re exposed to the virus. In a 60 Minutes interview that aired Sept. 18, President Joe Biden said “the pandemic is over,” even though “we still have a problem with COVID.”

The following day, chronic disease advocates protested in front of the White House, arguing that Long COVID and the related condition myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome constitute a public-health emergency and demanding that the Biden Administration improve its public-education campaigns, financial support for patients, and research efforts.

The CDC says its COVID-19 guidance is meant to prevent “medically significant COVID-19 illness,” which includes both severe acute disease and Long COVID. The agency contends its lighter touch is warranted now that the vast majority of the U.S. population has good protection against severe disease from being vaccinated, contracting COVID-19, or both. “Our emphasis on preventing severe disease will also help prevent cases of post-COVID conditions, as post-COVID conditions are found more often in people who had severe COVID-19 illness,” Dr. Barbara Mahon, who oversees work on coronaviruses and other respiratory diseases at the CDC, said in response to questions from TIME about the agency’s Long COVID guidance.

But even with high levels of population immunity, Long COVID cases continue to pile up. By the CDC’s own estimate from June, one in five U.S. adults with a known prior case of COVID-19 had symptoms of Long COVID. Having COVID-19 also raises a person’s risk of developing chronic conditions including heart disease, asthma, and diabetes, according to CDC research.

Long COVID can take many forms, including exhaustion, cognitive dysfunction, neurological issues, and chronic pain. People can develop it whether they’re young or old, sick or healthy, vaccinated or not. And while some people get better in a matter of months, recent studies and many patient experiences show symptoms can last years. There is no known cure for Long COVID, and the only way to prevent it is not to get infected at all.

That, a vocal group of experts and advocates say, is why people should resist the U.S.’ collective shrug to the unchecked spread of COVID-19. The virus may not kill or hospitalize as many people as it once did, but it still upends lives every day. Around 1.2 million people in the U.S. became disabled as a result of the virus by the end of 2021, according to the Center for American Progress, a progressive think tank. Up to 4 million people in the U.S. are out of work because of Long COVID. Specialists who treat Long COVID report months-long waitlists. And in the current “let it rip” phase of the pandemic, all of that may get worse.

“We’re in the middle of the greatest mass-disabling event in human history,” says Long COVID patient and advocate Charlie McCone. And unless people wake up to the long-term consequences of COVID-19, it is “going to continue taking folks out like fish in a barrel.”

President Joe Biden ran on a promise to defeat COVID-19. And for a while, it looked like he would deliver. In the spring and early summer of 2021, the U.S. was recording about 12,000 cases per day. Vaccines were working. Masks were coming off. Life was good.

Then Delta hit, followed by the tsunami of Omicron, and the path out of the pandemic no longer looked clear. The messaging began to shift: the U.S. would learn to live with COVID-19, rather than defeating it. We couldn’t stop all infections, but we could defang them through vaccines, boosters, and treatments like the antiviral Paxlovid. The masks could stay off, even if the virus wasn’t gone.

Many Americans welcomed the return to normalcy. But to McCone, 32, that approach is “a crime against humanity,” given what we now know about Long COVID.

McCone got sick in March 2020. COVID-19 knocked him flat. He almost went to his local emergency room because he was so short of breath, and it took weeks for his respiratory symptoms to improve. After about a month, he finally felt well enough to ride his bike. “I just fell apart,” McCone remembers. The 15-minute ride left him with unshakeable exhaustion—and a sign that this would be no ordinary recovery.

More than two years later, McCone barely leaves the house, except for medical appointments. He still has severe fatigue, chest pain, shortness of breath, and nervous system dysfunction. He can’t work because of his symptoms, and his partner has become his caretaker. His symptoms got even worse after catching COVID-19 again in September 2021, so he’s “petrified” of getting reinfected—a fear he wishes more people shared.

“We’re letting millions of Americans and people across the globe walk, unwittingly, straight into this pit,” he says.

Hannah Davis, a machine learning expert who began researching Long COVID after her own diagnosis, also got sick in March 2020. Davis has testified about Long COVID before Congress and advised federal health officials about the condition. She says those experiences have shown her that health officials understand that Long COVID is a substantial problem, and that, while vaccines reduce the risk of developing it—by some amount between 15% and 50%, studies suggest—they are not failsafe. The U.K.’s Office for National Statistics recently reported that roughly 4.5% of triple-vaccinated adults developed Long COVID after being infected by Omicron. But the government doesn’t seem to want to dwell on these scary stats, Davis says. “It really looks like it’s being hidden intentionally,” she says.

Davis believes that’s because the Biden Administration leaned heavily on vaccines as a ticket out of the pandemic and is wary of walking back that messaging now, even as fully vaccinated and boosted people contract Long COVID. A representative for the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) did not directly respond to that allegation when asked by TIME, but emphasized the importance of vaccination and said the department is still working “to understand this new post-infectious landscape.”

“Individuals, communities, and organizations must make decisions that create the right balance between the need to protect themselves and others from the effects of COVID-19 and the need to stay healthy in every sense of the word—such as mental health, getting an education, preventive and chronic disease care, and social interaction,” the CDC’s Mahon said in a statement.

Health officials are not doing enough to prevent transmission of the virus and help people understand its risks, says Kristin Urquiza, who founded the advocacy group Marked By COVID after her father died from the virus in 2020. “Leaders have thrown their hands up in the air and basically said, ‘You do you,’” she says.

The federal government has taken some action on Long COVID. In late 2020, Congress gave the National Institutes of Health (NIH) more than $1 billion to study it. But so far, this funding has yielded no treatments, no preventative tools, and little research that is immediately useful to patients. The NIH’s cornerstone Long COVID research project aimed to enroll 40,000 people; as of August, it had enrolled only about 8,000. That’s in large part because of the complexity and scope of the trial, according to the NIH.

Lawmakers have introduced bills meant to improve research and support for Long COVID, but they’ve reportedly stalled due to a lack of support in Congress. And in August, HHS released two highly anticipated reports on Long COVID—one describing resources available to patients, the other outlining the government’s research agenda—that were largely panned by Long COVID advocates as more symbolic than substantive.

“Many of the resources provided in the reports seem like cold comforts and temporary Band-Aids when a tourniquet and emergency surgery is needed,” Urquiza said in a statement to Rolling Stone about the reports.

The HHS representative told TIME the reports are just the beginning, and the Administration’s work on Long COVID is ongoing. For people with Long COVID, “It can feel like the world is moving on, while leaving them behind,” the spokesperson wrote in the statement. “The Administration’s message to them is that, ‘We see you, we hear you, and we are taking action to help.'”

Some Long COVID advocates and scientists have called for an initiative like Operation Warp Speed—the Trump Administration program that quickly yielded multiple effective COVID-19 vaccines—for Long COVID treatments. But the NIH hasn’t built anything of the sort, says David Putrino, a Long COVID researcher at New York’s Mount Sinai health system. Despite its $1 billion budget for Long COVID research, “There’s been no process change between how they fund things outside of a health emergency and how they’re funding things in the midst of a health crisis,” he says. “We’re still following the same grant application procedures, the administrative load is the same if not more, and they have not hired additional people to program manage the grants.” In a statement, the NIH said application review is handled by an “ample and diverse set of experts.”

Dr. Eric Topol, founder of the Scripps Research Translational Institute and a prolific parser of COVID-19 research on Twitter, says the NIH is doing good research on the underlying science of Long COVID, but he’d like to see more trials focused on treatments. “You need to do both, because we can’t wait another year or two for the biology to be better defined,” Topol says. (The NIH says it will begin treatment-focused trials this fall. Mahon says the CDC also continues to research Long COVID symptoms, prevalence, and risk factors.)

Research delays are not for lack of intriguing leads. A tremendous amount of Long COVID research has been published in the last two years, most coming out of independent laboratories, Putrino says. From this work, scientists have found multiple possible explanations for Long COVID symptoms: SARS-CoV-2 virus lingering in the body, abnormal immune system activity, reactivation of other viruses previously lying dormant, tiny blood clots throughout the body, and more. These disparate findings suggest that there may be different root causes or subtypes of Long COVID, which means all patients might not respond to the same therapy. But each one suggests a possible path to treatment worth testing sooner rather than later, Topol says.

Nobody knows exactly how prevalent Long COVID is, and some researchers argue that the CDC’s estimate of one patient per five COVID-19 cases is high. But, even using more conservative prevalence estimates, the volume of infections in the U.S. means the scale of the problem is massive. About 60,000 people in the U.S. currently test positive for COVID-19 daily. Even by more modest estimates, that means the seeds for a possibly debilitating condition are planted in thousands of people every day. During just the first two years of the pandemic, at least 17 million people in Europe developed Long COVID, according to a Sept. 13 report commissioned by the World Health Organization.

“If we have millions of people being infected, we’re going to have millions of people getting Long COVID,” Emanuel says. “That’s going to be an ongoing, serious national problem that is going to weigh down the economy, weigh down the disability insurance system, and be tragic for people.”

Journalist and author Katie Hafner, 64, was one of the unlucky people to develop Long COVID after being vaccinated and boosted. She got infected in May and was left with significant fatigue and brain fog. Her Long COVID symptoms were on the milder end of the spectrum and have improved with time, but Hafner says she can still manage only a few hours of work per day and has to carefully monitor her physical and mental energy levels. Her anxiety has also escalated since getting sick.

Hafner’s husband is Dr. Robert Wachter, chair of the department of medicine at the University of California, San Francisco. Between his wife’s experience and his close monitoring of COVID-19 research, Wachter is concerned enough about Long COVID to avoid indoor dining and wear a good mask in crowded areas. For people who aren’t immersed in the research, though, “the cognitive load of doing all this three-dimensional chess [around risk calculation] is too much,” he says. “To me, the CDC hasn’t been very vigorous on Long COVID,” providing less guidance about prevention and risks than it did for acute infections.

Those risks are substantial. Wachter says he’s worried about Long COVID’s impact on the health care system—not just in already overloaded Long COVID clinics, but system-wide. “If it turns out that it markedly increases the rates of some of the biggest medical hazards we have in life”—including organ failure, heart disease, and dementia, as research currently suggests— “the toll of that over years and years will be tremendous,” Wachter says. “I don’t think [the CDC has] done a good job explaining that at all.”

The economic toll could also be massive. Up to 4 million adults in the U.S. are out of work because of Long COVID, costing the economy at least $170 billion in annual lost wages alone, according to a Brookings Institution report published in August. A Kaiser Family Foundation analysis suggests just 44% of people who worked before they got Long COVID are now fully employed, with the remainder either out of a job or working reduced hours.

Many long-haulers who are unable to work have turned to the disability system. But, anecdotally, many have had trouble getting their claims approved, either because they’re outright denied or forced to jump through hoops to prove they’re truly unable to work. A representative for the Social Security Administration said in a statement that, as of August, it had received about 38,000 applications that mention COVID-19, representing about 1% of recent claims—but since decisions are based on functional limitations, not diagnoses, it’s difficult to say how many people have sought support due to Long COVID.

Experts say there is more that can be done, even before new therapies are discovered or developed. To slow transmission and thus lower rates of Long COVID, Topol says the CDC should tell people to isolate for longer than five days after getting infected and campaign harder for people to get booster shots. Emanuel, meanwhile, would like to see better communication about which masks protect wearers from infection; respirators like N95s are more effective than surgical or cloth masks, but many people still walk around in droopy blue surgical masks. Public indoor spaces, like restaurants and schools, should also have enforceable requirements for ventilation and air filtration, given the virus’ ability to spread in the air.

A return to mask mandates would also be a good step, Davis says. But even if none of those changes are enacted, she says the government should at least emphasize how common Long COVID appears to be and that it can affect vaccinated people. She fears many vaccinated people think they’re in the clear and can’t get Long COVID, because the Administration has sung the shots’ praises so much. “We’re just drowning in this sea of misinformation that is not only causing people to poorly think about their own risk, but also putting other people at risk,” Davis says.

Those with Long COVID often say they feel like they’re screaming into the void, trying to get through to people who either aren’t aware of or don’t care about the condition and the possibility it could affect them, too. In grocery stores, Hafner marvels—and seethes—at the bare faces she sees. Sometimes, when she’s the only person wearing a mask, “I think, ‘Am I a pariah?’” Hafner says. “We’re at that point where the people in masks are the outliers.”

For many people who are done with the pandemic and the caution that came with it, a maskless supermarket may seem like a sign of progress. But for those with an intimate understanding of Long COVID, it feels like a bad omen.

“It’s no way to live,” McCone says of his day-to-day existence since developing Long COVID. His worst fear, and one that looks like it may come true if progress isn’t made soon, is that millions more people will have to learn that the hard way.

[ballroomfitz]

Build Me Up Buttercup- A Fallout New Vegas One-Shot

Dr. Alex Richards/Male Courier 6

On a quiet night at Camp Forlorn Hope, Dean joins Dr. Alex Richards for a cigarette

Camp Forlorn Hope was quiet for once that night (or as quiet as anywhere in the Mojave could get) and Dean couldn’t sleep. Boone was sleeping for once, and Dean couldn’t shake the paranoia that came without at least one of them having their guard up. He could stand to be more trusting, he supposed, but then again, the last time he relied on the kindness of strangers, it got him a bullet in the brain. 

He wandered lethargically through the camp, whistling a song from long before the war he’d caught on some morning radio show or another.

“What’re you doing up so late, handsome?”

Dean turned around. Dr. Richards was sitting on a rough wooden plank, his face lit only by a lit cigarette. Dean shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Tell me about it.”

Dean sat down. “Spare a cig?”

Richards handed Dean a cigarette. “C’mere.” He carefully leaned in, with a lit cigarette in his mouth, and touched the tip of his cigarette to Dean’s. Dean closed his eyes, trying to take a moment

Richards pulled back and laughed. “Chrisssakes, are you wearing cologne?”

Dean laughed, a little embarrassed. “Found some herbs growing by the highway on my way from Primm. Keep ‘em in my coat pocket.”

“Unbelievable,” Richards shook his head with a smile. “Well, just wait it out. Believe me, you spend enough time out here, vanity goes out the window fast.”

“Guess so,” said Dean. “But I gotta hold on to the little things, just so I don’t lose myself.”

Richards looked out at the sky, thick with smog. “I used to wear cologne. Real stuff, from the bottle. I used to get my suits tailored. Used to go out dancing, even.”

“You still dance?”

“Maybe when the war’s over, honey.”

“I’ve heard Cali’s good for that,” said Dean. “Dancing.”

Richards smirked. “God, has the cruising dried up around here. No pun intended.”

“Do you have anyone waiting for you back home?” said Dean.  

Richards smiled bitterly. “I did. He used to write every week. Silly little love notes I’d hide in my cot to look at when I got lonely. After a few months, though, they dried up,” Richards flicked some ash off his cigarette. “I like to think he’s moved on, for his sake. How about you, handsome?” 

“I could never hold on to anyone for long,” said Dean. “Boyfriends, girlfriends- somehow we always seemed to drift apart once the novelty wore off,” Dean paused. “But it gets lonely out here, don’t it?”

“You have no idea,” sighed Richards. 

“Heard through the grapevine the NCR isn’t the most accommodating,” said Dean. “For boys like us.”

“You heard right, more or less. Though it depends where they stick you. Out here? Not a chance.”

“Don’t your superiors mind?” said Dean. “Let’s call a spade a spade, you’re not exactly discreet.”

“What are they going to do?” said Richards. “Discharge their only halfway competent medic? Maybe if I stop being useful.”

“You ever wish you’d stay behind?”

Richards stopped and blew out a puff of smoke. “I won’t put on some kind of show of self-sacrifice for you,” said Richards. “Every goddamn day. I thought I was here to serve my country. To defend glorious democracy. What a joke, what a sick fucking joke. But if it wasn’t me, it’d have to be someone else. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” 

Richards took a drag of his cigarette and closed his eyes. “But I try not to dwell on it. Sounds awful, but they all melt together at a certain point. But God, some things . . . Two years ago, I had to amputate the leg of this kid, Christ, he couldn’t’ve been a day older than nineteen. I had to use the last of the morphine to knock him out, he wouldn’t stop bawling,” Richards sighed. “And they posted him up in the watchtower, figured he was still good for something if he could hold a gun. I told them they’d be crazy not to send him home, they said he wasn’t on the front lines so he’d be fine,” Richards kept his gunpowder green eyes fixed on the horizon. “They killed him, they killed that kid. They told his girlfriend and his parents that he’d died in combat, they let them imagine he’d gone down in some big heroic stand. Kid died for nothing, he got shot by a Legion sniper before he even had the chance to see him,” Richards rubbed his temples. “God. Yeah, I do, I do wish I’d stayed behind.”

Dean leaned over to touch Richards’ hand. Richards looked at him and took a long drag of what was left of his cigarette, before he flicked the butt on the ground. Richards grabbed the back of Dean’s head and pulled him in hard for a kiss. Dean leaned forward hungrily, feeling his rough, stubbly chin, keeping an iron grip on the neck of Richards’ shirt. Richards slowly pulled away and gently ran his calloused thumb along Dean’s cheek. “In another life, buttercup. In another life.”

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

illicit affiars | five

*Ellie’s POV* “Do you really not have any Dr. Pepper?” I looked up at Matt, who was digging through my fridge and laughed. We got Chinese takeout on the way back to my place and decided to watch a movie as we ate our food. I couldn’t get Noah off my mind since I left the venue. The whole car ride home I debated texting him, constantly closing and opening our text chain I never bothered to delete. I just wanted to know how he felt, and why he was still wearing the one gift I gave him.

“I guess these will do.” He replied sitting beside me and putting two beers down on the coffee table. “Are you okay after seeing Noah?” “Yeah, I think so.” I lied as I sat crossed legged on my couch, digging into my food. “It was just weird to see him again, especially in his environment.” “I know.” Matt sighed, “I’m sorry if I put you in an awkward position.” “Don’t be. I was there for you, not him.” I said as he passed me my beer. I took a long swig before looking over at him again. I had to smile, we picked up right where we left off. “So are you seeing anyone special?” “Nah.” He picked at his food before pushing it away, “I went on a couple dates but it hasn’t been easy finding someone who will understand my schedule. Either that or girls try to get with me to get closer to the band. It’s been hard.” “I’m sorry.” I pouted at him. “I feel like I have to say the best friend thing here and tell you that you’ll find someone eventually.” “I guess it’s not my main focus right now.” He shrugged before drawing his attention back to his food. I watched him for a second, I felt like he was holding back on something. Matt decided to put on some awful romantic comedy as we ate our food to try and forget what happened tonight. We drank more beers and just laughed the entire time as we both made snide remarks. “Why did you make me watch this?” I said as I took a sip of my beer, definitely feeling the buzz since it was my fourth one.

“Because it’s cheesy as hell and it makes me feel like I’d rather be lonely.”

��True, but this shit definitely doesn’t happen in real life. You don’t just live happy ever after and that’s it.” I muttered, also wondering if I’d ever be in love again.

“El, you’re focusing on yourself and Liam, that’s more important than finding someone.” He replies as he grabs my knee. My breath hitched slightly, it had been a while since a man touched me like that.

“I know…I just miss …” I stopped myself before I said something stupid. 

“What?”

I shook my head, taking another sip of my beer, “It’s nothing.” 

“Tell me.” He pleaded, turning his head towards me. 

Looking down at my bottle, I started to pick off the label to avoid Matt’s gaze, “I just miss having sex. I wish I could have it to get it out of my system without all the other bullshit.”

“Like what?”

“I just don’t know if I could actually hook up with someone, it’s not really me. I worry about getting attached, worrying if they’re gonna call me the next day, wondering how many girls they’re talking to. It’s just so tiring.” I stopped and looked at him, his eyes were so intense it was almost intimidating. “I’m sorry I think these beers are catching up to me.”

“Don’t be.” He softly said. “Do you ever think…never mind. 

“What?” 

He took a deep breath, making me scared about what was next. “Would it be weird if we tried the whole friends with benefits thing?” 

“That never works Matthew.” I replied, my nerves got to me and I shot up, walking towards the kitchen to get myself a glass of water. 

“It could, with us.” He says getting off the couch and coming up to me in the kitchen. He was so close to me that I could feel his breath, making me grip the counter behind me. ”We have such good chemistry…so why not add that into the mix?”

“I..uh…I don’t know.” 

“If it’s weird, we can stop and never talk about it again.” he replied cupping the side of my face. I felt my heart beating rapidly in my chest as I looked up at him. His backwards baseball cap was doing something to me, I felt my face getting hot. Actually my whole body was burning up.

“Just one thing.” He nods to let me continue, easily distracting me as he tilted my chin up to him. “Don’t you dare fall in love with me.”

“Don’t count on it, babe” he said before crashing his lips onto mine. It didn’t take much, I was putty in his hands as his tongue begged for an entrance into my mouth. My head was spinning and I forgot about Noah completely. Matt picked me up and put me on my kitchen counter, his hands gripped onto my thighs as the kiss deepened. He pulled away for a moment, studying my face as a soft smile appeared on his face. 

“What?”

“I can’t believe I’m kissing you.” 

I just rolled my eyes, pulling on his shirt to kiss him again. His hands were in my hair, gripping harder the more he kissed me. We stayed like that for a few minutes before I got off the counter and lead him back into my bedroom. Fuck it, maybe he’d make a good rebound, and it’s not like I wasn’t attracted to him. When I first met him I thought he was pretty hot, and with the way he protected me in LA, the attraction came back like a freight train. When we got into my room, he pressed me against the wall as he kissed me with such desperation. He started to get more confident and dominant with me as his hand reached up and clasped my throat, driving me wild. I felt myself getting weaker from his touch and started to guide him towards my bed. I pushed him gently and he fell into a heap onto my bed.

“Come here.” He whispered, offering me his hand. I grabbed it and sat down on his lap. He pushed my hair out of my face and just stared into my eyes. I couldn’t look away either, my thumb grazed his lips, begging for them to be on me again. 

“What is it?”

“You know, since the first day I met you, I wanted to tell you how beautiful you were.” he said as he wrapped his arms around my waist to keep me up. I felt my heart melt from everything, the way he touched me, his words, his sweet smile, all of it. 

“I wonder what would’ve happened if I met you first.” I confessed, catching myself being surprised at my own words. “Maybe I wouldn’t have suffered so much this year.”

“I would’ve never treated you like that…”

I looked at him, placing my hands on his chest, not believing what I was about to say next, “maybe we can get our chance now.”

“So much for friends with benefits.” 

“So much for not falling in love with me.”

“That was probably the biggest lie I’ve ever told.” 

[demonsandmischief]

-Chapter 8: The Avengers' Therapist-

Bisexual Female Reader x The Avengers

Rated M for eventual sexual themes

600 Words

My Masterlist for previous chapters. Please read disclaimer in Ch. 1

"This weekend went by so fast," you said to Steve as you filled a travel mug full of coffee. You took a mug from the cabinet and filled it for him.

It was already Monday, and you were going straight to work. You had a great weekend that you didn't want it to end. You were supposed to go home yesterday, but you decided to extend your stay.

"I know," he said. "I'm glad you decided to spend one more night. I hope you won't be too late."

"Luckily, some borrowed clothes from Nat were all I needed," you smiled.

You picked up your bag, soaking in Steve's warm features.

"Just a few more weeks," you said gently.

He nodded. "A few weeks too long. Let me carry that out for you." He reached for your bag, but you stopped him.

"I know you're supposed to be training right now, and you need to go because you also meet with your therapist today."

Steve ultimately agreed and you said your goodbyes.

It was a long stretch through the compound to the parking garage.

"Hi, YN," someone said to your left, and you looked up from the window you had been looking out at while you walked.

You glanced over at the tall blonde dressed to impress. She was older, and familiar. You realized she was an old supervisor for some observations you completed during school.

"Hi," you said with a polite smile. "How are you?"

"I'm great." Her smile changed from polite to something else. "I've heard a lot of things about you lately."

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused by her change in demeanor.

She shrugged, adjusting her briefcase on her shoulder.

"You know, I think doctor patient relationships are entirely inappropriate, especially when they involve criminals."

You frowned. "Criminals?" Was she calling the Avengers criminals?

"I'm sending a complaint to the board to have your license revoked," she said simply.

Your heart was pounding viciously in your chest. You felt like you were floundering, like a fish out of water. She couldn't do that. Why would she do that?

"After everything I have done for you," she scoffed. "This behavior is disgusting-"

"Dr. Reynolds," Bucky said. He stepped up behind you, preventing her from continuing. His hand gently skimmed your back before he dropped it. "You're late. Natasha hates to be kept waiting."

"Of course." Her polite smile returned, and she walked away, heels clicking on the floor.

Bucky ushered you into a dead end hallway, out of view of the main corridor.

"Buck," you whispered, gripping his soft t-shirt. You struggled to suck in a breath. You were certain your heart or lungs were going to burst in your chest from each labored inhale.

He soothed you. "Match me. I'm going to count to five."

You matched your breaths to the rise and fall of his chest until you could do it on your own. You dropped your head to his chest.

"She can't do that, can she?" you whispered. "Try to take away my licenses? I wouldn't be able to practice anymore, and-"

"Easy," he soothed. "Relax. We wouldn't let that happen."

"You can't control something like that," you looked up. He thumbed away a lone tear.

"Neither can you. I'm sure she was just bluffing to get under your skin. Honestly, everyone has been bragging about how differently you do things, I'm sure it was getting on her nerves."

He wrapped his arms around you, kissing your forehead.

------------------Author's Note-------------------------

"Come on," he said, picking up your bag. "I'll walk you to your car."

Here's Chapter 9

Merry Christmas Eve Eve! 💕 and a very happy holiday season to everyone. hope you're staying dry and warm during this freezing time!!

•updates are MWF

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[raphaelesbian]

Absolutely tickled by your Shredder/Splinter swap AU. Uh. Long ask warning. Like. Thinking about how in Lone Rat and Cubs Splinter's like, validly, "What did I do to deserve this? :(". Cinder meanwhile-- "What did I do-- oh wait yeah. What did the turtles do though?"

Young Raph and Leo getting super into training (taught for self-defense, I'm guessing), and Cinder just. Begging them to get a different hobby. Please. He'll even give the children noisy toys (the bane of many a parent) if they would just. Stop.

Michelangelo, already manipulative as a younger brother, being an absolute MENACE under this new parentage-- Cinder may not be a great manipulator, but he certainly had enough charisma to inspire a coup.

Cinder would probably be like, "Absolutely NOT," in regards to Donnie and April. (Romance is DANGEROUS, kids!!!) Which, since it'd probably be a harsh, instinctive reaction... would not be great for Donnie's character development.

Miwa meanwhile... her choices in teenage rebellion are either 1. be laidback in response to her father's seriousness, or 2. be murderhobo in response to her father's values. Since Saki's alive, #2 is looking really appealing... (Kinda reminds me of a crack AU of mine-- TL;DR Shredder realizes after killing Shen that he Done Fucked Up and wants to be better. Somehow this doesn't stop S1 from happening.

Point is, they share this vibe:

Saki: Look Yoshi, I understand you wanting me dead but could you stop sending teenager(s) to try and kill me? It's not good for their mental development!

Yoshi, who does not want Saki dead: My kid(s) are WHAT?)

oh my goddd I'm literally OBSESSED with this omfg???? you took that thought and RAN with it and I love it so much fhfashglk.

EXCELLENT point about the way lone rat and cubs would play out differently. Like, Cinder ABSOLUTELY believes he deserves his fate to be mutated and outcast from society, but his boys? They didn't deserve any of that. They don't deserve to have HIM as a father. But they do, so he does his best to care for them and not make them feel ashamed of what they are

(though, now that I think about it, I think he would do a much worse job of it than Splinter. Though Splinter ALSO is not a huge fan of being mutated into a giant rat lmao, he wouldn't have Cinder's belief that it's, like, a punishment. He talks positively about being a human, AND his life as a rat with his sons, and though they can tell he misses being human, I don't think he really gives much of an impression that his whole being-a-rat is a bad thing. Plus, Splinter leans into it a lot with his cheese phone and his cheesesicles and the rat wheel fhdaksghkasghlk.

Cinder would be different, I think. He may not outright state it, because he's not dumb lol, but I think it would come through more that he views his mutation as an overall negative thing (that he deserves), and he would not be one to encourage the rat jokes. So the turtles may be a bit less positive and comfortable with their status as turtles. Idk, sidebar fhadshksdglk)

FHALSGHKDSG, Cinder literally trying EVERYTHING to get them to stop being so interested in fighting. he gives them finger paint. he gives them loud toys (where raph gets his drum set fhdkasghkds). he scrounges up an old video game console. they still like sparring the most. what remains of his fur is going grey

oh man, Mikey would be DANGEROUS. which also, just another tangent, I do think it's so interesting that what we see of Shredder in 2012.... is NOT particularly charming or manipulative! which, like you said, he had to be charismatic and convincing enough to inspire a whole coup. What we see of his strategy seems to be mostly threats, which yeah, works NOW that he's super powerful, but in the beginning? nah. we see SOME charm in the tale of the yokai episode, where he tries to convince Shen to leave Yoshi, but that's p much it. So like, idk, it's interesting to think about. My interpretation (mostly) has been that, like, he just kind of loses control at the start of the show with the re-emergence of Yoshi, and the super-aggressive Shredder we see is kind of out-of-the-ordinary. Like, that's him when he's enraged beyond belief. but idk hfashgklskdgl I think it's very ambiguous...

ANYWAYS, omg the Donnie angst angle??? Literally that never even crossed my MIND but you're so fucking right. idk if you read my father/daughter one-shot but the description you gave of a harsh, instinctive reaction called to mind how he snaps at Karai in that one, which, idk. I like that thought a lot. it would absolutely drive a bit of a rift between Donnie and Cinder, that's for sure.

omg yes that's literally EXACTLY the vibe I had in mind for Miwa. To Yoshi she's like "I'm just here to support you, I really don't want anything to do with Uncle Saki" and Yoshi is like "I understand <3"

Meanwhile Miwa is sneaking out at night to attack the turtles and try to hunt down (and kill) Cinder. Meaning the turtles are EXTRA convinced this Hamato clan is up to no good, Cinder is SURE that Yoshi wants him dead, and Yoshi is just like ":(((( why won't my brother talk to me.... I just want to move forward and find a way to be a family again...."

Miwa: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk dad maybe he just sucks and we should go home

ALSO I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR ABOUT THAT CRACK AU IF YOU EVER WANNA SHARE FHKASGHKSDGLK. literally I am obsessed with any potential for Saki to like, Try and Improve, bc it's something we really don't see ANY of in canon, but he's SUCH an interesting character.