#CAT Exam Pattern

[gudforever]

CAT Exam Pattern 2024

CAT Exam pattern for 2024 is expected to be similar to the previous year. This year,  the exam is expected to be conducted on 24th November 2024. It is one of the most prestigious exams in India and a gateway to some of the top management institutes. The exam is conducted annually by the Indian Institutes of Management (IIMs) for admission into various postgraduate programs. Every year, lakhs of aspirants appear for this highly competitive exam, so it’s important to know all about the CAT Exam Pattern & Syllabus. In this article, we will discuss everything related to the CAT exam pattern including its marking scheme, sections and other important details that you need to know before appearing for the test. So keep reading!

[buttercupshands]

thought about this thing for a while

it was extremely interesting to just analyze myself and get like a tier list in my head

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Other Ghost Next Door.

Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader

next chapter | series mastelist | main masterlist

Summary: When you start avoiding Spencer in the hallway, he thinks it's the end. But maybe your cat can prove him wrong.

Words: 7,1k.

Warnings & Tags: this is part of a series, check the masterlist to make sure you are in the correct chapter. mention of anxiety attacks. angst. hurt/comfort. painter!reader. post prison reid with almost all his past traumas. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I'm so sensitive because THIS IS THE PENULTIMATE CHAPTER, and I can't believe it yet😭, but I hope I can post you the end of the series this week along with a couple of extras. I have an oral exam on Thursday (I'm a law student getting crazy), and after that I'll be more free.

Spencer Reid had grown used to the people he loved disappearing just when he needed them most. Always right after he’d let his guard down, when trust came naturally, and when things finally felt safe. That was when they left. Always.

But you don't.

It was a pattern he had identified throughout his life but stopped with you. Because you never left him.

You didn’t walk away the first time he told you about his work, when chilling details of old cases slipped out mid-sentence because his nerves got the better of him. You didn’t flinch when he recited gruesome facts with clinical precision, not realizing how heavy they sounded in a quiet kitchen at night. You didn’t leave the first time he launched into one of his long-winded explanations, full of theories and statistics you couldn’t quite follow but listened to anyway, because it mattered to him. You didn’t leave when he had to cancel dinner—for the third, fourth, fiftieth time—because the job called, because someone out there needed saving more urgently than he needed a warm meal or a quiet night with you. You stayed when he stood in your door with bloodshot eyes and trembling hands, crying for the first time as he told you about the parts of himself that made him feel broken. You stayed when he talked about his mother—her illness, her mind unraveling—and the helplessness he carried like a second skin. You didn’t leave, not even when he tried to push you away, when the fear of being loved and then left again made him cold and distant, when he tried to make you angry enough to walk out.

You stayed. Every time.

And yet, he didn’t love you simply because you were the only one who stayed. Spencer loved you for you.

For the way you were always willing to help others without hesitation, stepping into people’s pain like it was your nature to offer comfort. For how you could take the dullest palette—whether a room, a canvas, or a person—and breathe something vibrant into it, as you had quietly and irrevocably done with him. For the way your heart held space for everyone, no matter how broken or distant they were. For how gently you loved your cat, speaking to her like she was family.

And of course, for how you had fallen asleep on the couch this night, curled under a blanket beside his godson’s bed, trying to soothe his fevered restlessness. Spencer had found you there, half-lit by the dim nightlight in the room, your features softened in sleep, your hand still resting near the child’s arm like a silent guardian. You looked so peaceful, so entirely present even in rest, and it had struck him then—undeniably and with a quiet ache—how beautiful you were.

God, the smile on his face and the way his eyes sparkled at the image were impossible to ignore.

“Let her sleep a little longer,” JJ said softly at his side, her voice warm and quiet now that she was seeing Henry resting. Her eyes flicked to the couch where you lay curled up, the soft rise and fall of your breathing matching her son’s. A small smile touched her lips. “They look so peaceful, don’t they?”

He nodded, his gaze still lingering on you with a mix of relief and something softer, something like admiration. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice low. “They really do.”

After a moment of quiet watching, they both stepped softly into the living room, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet as the first light of dawn seeped gently through the curtains. The room felt warm and lived-in, wrapped in the hush that comes just before the world fully wakes. Spencer lowered himself into the familiar armchair with a slow, measured breath, a strange calm settling into his chest, like something held tightly for too long had finally begun to loosen. Across from him, Jennifer eased onto the couch, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp, studying his face and every subtle shift in his body, the way only someone who truly knew him could. Like a profiler, yes—but more than that, like a friend who already sensed his change.

“Now we can talk,” she said gently, folding her hands in her lap as she leaned back into the couch.

Spencer frowned, his brow furrowing as his gaze dropped briefly to his hands. “About what?” he asked, with his voice low and cautious.

JJ tilted her head slightly, her eyes warm but perceptive. “About you,” she said softly.

He shifted in the chair, uncomfortable beneath the weight of the question. “What about me?”

She gave him a small, knowing smile. “You look…happy, more relaxed than the last time I saw you.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came, or at least not at first. They caught somewhere in his throat, tangled in the mess of thoughts that always seemed to surface when he least wanted them to. His mind, unbidden, drifted back to you. To the quiet, undeniable way you had started to change things in him.

Because the last time his friend had seen him—just three days ago at his firearm requalification—he had been a different version of himself. More haunted. His eyes had been distant, unfocused, like he was staring through paper targets and into something he couldn’t quite name. He had lingered in the office afterward, pretending to be busy, shuffling files that didn’t need sorting, letting the clock drag so he could avoid returning to his apartment. Because going home meant walking past your door. It meant risking the possibility of seeing you in the hallway, of catching your eye and feeling like a soulless person.

But now, everything felt different. He had released those fears and allowed himself to be close to you again. Closer than he’d been in a long time, if he was being truly honest. And even though it had only been a few hours in your presence, something about being near you had already begun to dull the sharp edges of his worries, like a soothing balm on old wounds. For the first time in a while, he felt…almost numb to the weight he’d been carrying.

“I’m trying,” Spencer finally said, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“Trying?” JJ echoed, leaning in a little, her eyes soft but insistent. “Come on, Spence, give me the real story.”

His cheeks flushed a gentle shade of pink, and his voice softened, almost shy. “Something good happened,” he admitted quietly, like sharing a fragile secret. “She knows how I feel…and, well, it’s mutual.”

A full smile bloomed on JJ’s face, sincere and full of relief. “I always knew it,” she murmured, her hand reaching out to squeeze his arm, grounding him in the moment. “I’m really happy for you two.”

He smiled too. But then it faded, like the flicker of a candle disturbed by a sudden draft. He looked down again, shoulders contracted and his friend's full attention on him.

“But…?”

“She doesn’t know everything yet.” Spencer said it as if it physically pained him to do so.

JJ didn't speak right away. Her fingers intertwined again in her lap as she watched him, calm and steady without trying to get too much in the way. But the slight wrinkle between her brows said it all and more.

“Then she knows how you feel about her,” JJ said carefully, “but not everything that happened while you were gone?”

He nodded once. “No.”

The silence hung, but not heavily. Not accusingly. Just waiting for the voice of reason.

“You’re supposed to be honest if you want to build something real with someone, Spence,” she said gently. “You want that, don’t you? Something real?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes drifted toward the soft spill of morning light seeping through the curtains, casting long golden streaks across the living room floor.

He thought about the mornings when the scent of coffee lingered in the kitchen and your sleepy smile was the first thing he saw, framed by sunlight and messy hair. The quiet afternoons spent doing nothing and everything, folding laundry side by side, sharing half-finished books, the soft sound of your laughter carrying through his apartment. The nights when he came home late, tired and worn, and found you curled on the couch with a blanket ready for him, the lamp still on because you were waiting. Always waiting. How lovely it had become to return to that—to you—even in the middle of the night, when the world felt heavy on his shoulders. How grounding it was to know that when the sky turned gray with dawn, you’d be there, soft and warm, pulling him close like home was something he could hold forever.

That thought alone made his chest ache.

“I just want to do this right,” he said quietly, his voice nearly lost to the stillness of the room.

“Then be honest.” JJ leaned forward, her voice dropping even softer, almost like a secret. “Don’t keep shielding her from your past like it’s something she’s not strong enough to see.”

Spencer finally nodded, the movement slow and heavy, like it took effort just to admit the truth to himself. Her words settled deep in his chest, sinking into the hollow space he always felt when he thought of you: the ache of not being fully known and the fear of losing you if he ever was. His hands curled into fists in his lap, the skin stretched tight over his knuckles, trembling with the weight of everything he hadn’t said. It wasn’t just guilt. It was longing. Desperation. The quiet, aching hope that maybe honesty could still be enough.

“I want to be honest,” he finally whispered, his voice thick with something like resolve. “But it’s hard. I’m afraid—”

“Afraid she won’t understand,” JJ finished gently, her eyes never leaving his. “Afraid she’ll walk away.”

He met her gaze, vulnerability raw in his eyes. “I’m scared I’ll lose her.”

“Then don’t wait,” she said softly. “Be the man you want her to see, and that will be okay.”

A long breath escaped him. Somewhere deep inside, a flicker of hope stirred, fragile but undeniable.

Maybe he just needed to find the right moment to tell you everything.

It was hard, especially because it was all his fault, being locked in his apartment knowing that you were next door wishing with all your might to never see him again. It was hard, it was painful, and it was so frustrating. It felt worse than anything that had happened to him before, worse even than any of the abandonments he had suffered earlier in his life, because this time, he himself had caused you to leave.

His own home had lost its warmth and familiarity, feeling hollow and foreign without you there. Two weeks had passed since you left, but the absence hung heavy in every corner. Your scent, the faintest trace of it, clung stubbornly to the air, though he fought against admitting it was fading. The candles you used to light, their soft glow once comforting, now sat nearly burned down to stubs, consumed by the many times he’d lit them. His favorite mug, the one you always used, remained untouched and perched in the exact same spot on the kitchen cabinet, making fun of his misery. Even Mittens, your beloved cat who once curled up at his feet without hesitation, had stopped coming by so often. It was as if even she sensed the distance between you two, as if she, too, was quietly mourning the rift his mistakes had created.

Because he never found the right time.

Every night since the last time you’d spoken to him, Spencer found himself haunted by the quiet of his apartment: an unbearable, echoing silence that seemed to grow heavier with each passing hour. Without fail, he wandered aimlessly from room to room, his fingertips grazing the places your presence still lingered.

He’d run his hands along the worn armrest of the sofa where you’d fallen asleep countless times, your head resting against a pillow you’d claimed as yours. His eyes would linger on the small stack of books you’d half-finished, your place still marked by a folded receipt or a pressed flower. He hadn’t moved them. Couldn’t. The floral-embroidered blanket remained crumpled over the armchair, untouched since the day you left. The sight of it was like a punch to the chest. He could still remember how it looked draped over your shoulders, how it smelled faintly of your perfume. Because every inch of the space was saturated with you.

And from time to time, when the silence grew too loud and unbearable, Spencer would reach for the old records you used to play, the ones you’d eagerly recommended, full of warmth and nostalgia. He’d set them spinning on the turntable, letting the familiar crackle and soft melodies seep into the empty spaces of the apartment. But no matter how beautiful the songs were, they could never quite reach past the weight pressing down on his chest. The notes floated through the air like ghosts, brushing against memories instead of skin.

Even sometimes, in moments of weakness, he’d find himself picking up his phone without thinking, scrolling through your messages, staring at your name as if willing it to light up with something. Anything. Even a cold, angry “I hate you” would’ve been better than the aching silence. Or maybe a mistake, an accidental call you didn’t mean to make but hadn’t stopped because you missed him, too.

But the screen stayed still. Black. Lifeless.

A blank reflection of your absence.

And every time it didn’t ring, it was like losing you all over again.

Because he never found the right time.

With each memory dug deep into his ribs like glass, aching with the kind of pain that made him want to scream. But he never did.

Not even once. Not even after the first time he really saw you since that morning in his car.

When Spencer stepped out of his apartment at just the wrong moment, he found himself caught off guard. Across the hall, your door creaked open after two long days of silence, two days where you hadn’t even ventured out except to grab your food delivery. Time seemed to slow as he spotted you emerging, hair still damp from a recent shower, loose strands clinging softly to your face. Your skin was bare, save for the faintest touch of makeup that usually framed your features so gently, now barely there. You wore your favorite worn-in clothes—the ones you always claimed were your “comfy armor”—soft, faded, and unmistakably you.

He wanted to say something. Anything. But his mouth remained closed, his voice buried under the guilt and the sharp pain of watching you from afar. He needed to come closer, to say how sorry he was and beg for forgiveness until maybe you would understand.

But now you weren’t alone. Your best friend stood beside you, chatting softly, her eyes flicking knowingly toward him. She gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod, an unmistakable signal that he was there. Her presence made you seem even smaller, as if she were your shield, silently guarding you. The way she looked at him made it clear in an instant: she already knew everything. Because you had cried to her. Trusted her. She had picked up the pieces while he stood in the wreckage, unsure of how to fix what he’d broken.

You didn’t look at him.

Not even once.

Your gaze remained firmly ahead, like you’d trained yourself not to see him, like acknowledging him might unravel the hard-won peace you were barely holding onto. You didn’t rush, didn’t flinch, but you might as well have been walking past a stranger.

The elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and you both stepped inside. You never turned around.

But your friend did.

Just before the doors closed, she looked at him one last time: stern, protective, almost telling him it wasn't time.

Because he never found the right time.

And then the elevator was gone with all his happiness because you, finally, were avoiding him in the hallway.

“I’m just asking for the sake of asking,” Spencer lied, the words barely convincing even to his own ears. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, fingers threading through tangled thoughts, trying to smooth down the frustration that had built up again.

It was the third—no, fourth—time this week that he’d called his friend and boss, not to catch up, not to check in, but to ask the same question he’d asked again and again, dressed up in different words. He needed to work. He needed to get out of his head and out of his apartment before he went completely mad. The isolation, the guilt, the endless, suffocating silence…it was all too much. He needed the chaos of the job, the clarity of having a purpose, of being needed by someone, by anyone.

On the other end of the line, Emily sighed, heavy and audible through the speaker. He could almost hear her setting aside the file she’d been reviewing, its papers rustling softly like leaves in the wind.

“I want to have you back,” she said, her voice low but honest, carrying that familiar note of empathy only Emily could pull off while still sounding like a boss. “We all do. But I still don’t have an official answer yet.”

He knew what was coming before she even reached for it.

“I’ve been reviewing the return files,” she continued, flipping through something on her desk. “According to this report, you’re still missing your full psychological clearance.”

Spencer froze, jaw tightening.

Of course. The exam. The one he’d sat through half-awake, unshaven, raw with heartache, and haunted by too much truth. He had been too honest. Too transparent about how hollow he felt, how guilt clung to every inch of his skin like a second layer. He’d spoken as if he were still bleeding, and maybe he was. It hadn’t occurred to him then that honesty could work against him. He just needed to say the truth at least one time.

“I understand,” he muttered. “Maybe I should…do it again.”

“Again?” Emily asked, confused, before the implication landed. She went quiet for a beat. “Spencer…”

There was no judgment in her tone, just concern. And maybe a little sadness.

“I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready. You know that, right? You don’t have to prove anything, we can wait for you.”

“I’m ready,” he insisted, though even he heard the crack of uncertainty threading through his voice. “I need to be back.”

Emily didn’t reply right away. He imagined her studying his file, weighing the truth in his voice against the data on paper.

Finally, she exhaled. “Okay. If you say so…maybe I can talk to the Bureau psych team. Try to arrange something. A follow-up exam, maybe. We’ll see how it goes.”

Relief surged in his chest like a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Thank you,” he said, and meant it.

“It’s nothing,” she replied. “But Spencer?”

“Hm?”

Her voice softened, the way it always did when she was threading careful empathy between her words. “JJ mentioned something…and if you need to talk—”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Loud and frantic. His head whipped toward the front door of his place. The knocking came again, sharper this time, rapid like whoever was on the other side couldn’t afford to wait another second.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Someone’s at the door. I should check—”

“Of course,” Emily said at once. “Take care of it. And…take care of yourself.”

He ended the call and rose to his feet, heart already hammering again. Something about the knock, it wasn’t casual. It wasn’t someone delivering a package or a neighbor with a complaint. It was desperate, and that made his heart beat faster and imagine the worst scenarios.

And when he finally reached the door and opened it, what he saw on the other side stopped him in his tracks. It was bad, very bad.

You. Breathless. Eyes glassy with tears. And barely able to speak.

He was in shock, seeing you after an entire week apart. Seven long, aching days where he’d tried to convince himself that the idea of you showing up at his doorstep again was impossible. That whatever bridge had once connected the two of you had finally burned, quietly and without ceremony.

You stood there, framed by the dull glow of the hallway light, hair messy from what looked like hours of pacing or tossing in bed, and your eyes red-rimmed and glistening with fresh tears. You weren’t dressed to be out long; just slippers, soft sleep pants, and one of your worn-in shirts. The one you used to wear curled up beside him on his couch. The sight of it made Spencer’s stomach twist and made his fingers tighten around the edge of the door.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked instantly, his voice edged with panic as his eyes swept over you in a frantic scan, checking for blood, bruises, any sign of harm. His heart was already racing, thundering in his chest as his mind jumped to the worst-case scenarios. He stepped forward slightly, instinctively, as if ready to catch you should you collapse right there in the doorway.

But you shook your head quickly, breath stuttering. “Have you seen Mittens?” you asked, your voice cracking like it physically hurt to speak. “Tell me she’s with you.”

“No,” Spencer said, panic creeping into his own voice as he quickly scanned the hallway behind you, as if she might magically appear. “No, I—I haven’t seen her in a while. A couple of days maybe.”

“No?” you whispered again, like you couldn’t believe it, like the word itself might shatter you. Your shoulders shook as another tear slipped down your cheek, and you clutched your arms around yourself like you were barely holding together.

“She loves you,” you went on, the words tumbling out in a rush. “She always runs to your door. She likes your books and your blankets, and she sleeps on your couch sometimes when I’m gone. She feels safe with you.” You looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Please…please, tell me she’s with you.”

But she wasn’t.

And for a moment, Spencer wished more than anything that he could lie. That he could tell you what you needed to hear, just to take that pain off your face.

“Please.” You whispered, trying to calm the trembling of your hands. “Please tell me she is with you.”

He stepped forward instinctively, hands lifting halfway like he meant to take your shoulders to steady you, but stopped just shy of touching you, as if he wasn’t sure he still had the right.

“Hey, hey, slow down,” he said softly, his voice low and careful like he was trying not to scare you off. “Breathe. You’re shaking.”

His eyes searched yours, desperate to ease some of the panic etched across your face.

“Come inside, okay?” he said, stepping aside and holding the door open for you. “Sit down. Tell me everything, and I’ll help you. I swear I will.”

His tone held no hesitation, only quiet urgency: the kind of calm he used at crime scenes, the kind he only used when everything was falling apart and someone needed to hold it all together. Only this time, it wasn’t a stranger. It was you. And God, it wrecked him to see you like this.

You hesitated, but the weight of it all—the panic, the grief, the bone-deep exhaustion—was too much. Your knees were already starting to give, so you let him guide you in. The moment you stepped across the threshold, a familiar ache hit Spencer in the chest. You hadn’t been here in weeks, since that night you two kissed, and still it felt like you belonged more than he did.

You sat on the edge of the couch like the floor might give way beneath your feet if you leaned back too far, your whole frame tense and folded inward. Your hands wouldn’t stop moving, as if they were trying to keep your heart from spilling out of your chest.

“She’s gone,” you whispered, the words barely making it past your lips. Saying it out loud seemed to make it worse, like admitting it gave it more power. Your voice trembled, thin and raw. “I was staying at my best friend’s place for a few days, I couldn’t—”

You stopped yourself, but the silence that followed said more than your words could.

You couldn’t be in your own home because he was next door. And he knew it.

“I came back two nights ago, and she wasn’t there,” you went on, swallowing hard. “At first I thought she was hiding or maybe mad at me. That she was anxious or curled up somewhere weird like she does when she’s nervous. But I’ve looked. Everywhere. I’ve torn the whole apartment apart. I checked the windows, the closets, under the bed, and behind my paintings. I’ve walked the hallways and talked with our neighbors—”

Your breath caught, and you shook your head, eyes filling again.

“She’s just…gone.”

Spencer’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. He knew exactly what Mittens meant to you. She wasn’t just a pet, not by a long shot. She was your comfort on sleepless nights, the quiet, steady presence that stayed when everything else felt too loud. You’d adopted her six years ago, during one of the darkest periods of your life, and from that moment on, she had been your anchor. She had curled up beside you through heartbreaks and anxiety attacks, padded softly after you through every apartment move, and greeted you at the door like you were the most important person in the world. She was your family. Your safest place. And the fear of losing her now, after everything, felt like the final thread pulling loose. He could see all of that in your eyes, and it made his chest ache.

He knelt in front of you, trying to meet your eyes. “Okay. Okay, listen to me. Cats, especially indoor cats…they get curious, they slip out through open windows, sneak down the hall, and hide in tiny spaces for hours. And sometimes they come back after two or three days like nothing happened.”

“But she’s never done this before,” you said, shaking your head furiously. “Never. She always waits at the door for me. Always.”

“I know,” he said softly, his voice gentle and steady. “But it doesn’t mean something bad has happened. Cats are incredibly smart. Remember that study I told you about? A cat traveled over two hundred miles just to find its way back home. They navigate using scent and memory, it’s amazing how strong their instincts are.”

You let out a shaky breath, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob, brushing your sleeve across your wet cheeks. “Please, not the migration theories right now…I can’t think,” you whispered, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

“I’m not trying to be clinical,” he said gently, his voice steady. “I just want you to hold onto hope.”

That was so him. Always trying to be your calm in the chaos.

Even when his own heart was breaking, even when you were the storm at his door, he’d steady his voice, soften his eyes, and make space for your pain like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He suddenly stood and moved to grab his phone. “I’ll call Garcia. She can help us make flyers and maybe put together a post for local missing pet pages online. I’ll print them myself. We’ll check every vet and shelter within ten miles, I swear. We can even look into pet tracking services or security footage from nearby buildings if she slipped outside. Whatever it takes.”

You stared at him, trembling, overwhelmed, but grateful. “You’d…you’d do that for her?”

Spencer met your gaze, and for a second, you both just looked at each other, everything unspoken thick in the air. “I’d do it for you.”

Silence.

Then, with your voice barely a whisper, you said, “I’m sorry for showing up out of nowhere…I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your words hung in the air, fragile and trembling, like they were afraid to exist. You weren’t just apologizing for the timing; you were apologizing for the heartbreak between you, for the silence that had stretched too long, for all the things you hadn’t said but had felt every day since you’d drifted apart.

“It’s okay,” he said gently, his voice warm and sure. “You don’t have to apologize.”

And for the first time in weeks, as you let your forehead fall into your hands and your shoulders shook in silent relief, Spencer felt something shift, something he hadn’t let himself believe in for far too long. Maybe he could still be someone who mattered. Someone you could lean on when everything else felt too heavy. Maybe, in all the quiet unraveling of the last few months, someone still needed him. And God, he needed that more than he could ever say.

He moved quietly through the kitchen, his every motion careful and deliberate, like he was afraid that even the clink of a spoon might shatter what little calm was left in the room. His long fingers reached for your favorite mug: the one with the faded constellation print he’d memorized long ago. He cradled it gently, thumb brushing over a tiny chip near the rim, as if the act of holding something so familiar might anchor him, too.

He busied himself with the tea, pretending his hands weren’t trembling ever so slightly, pretending he didn’t keep glancing back at you. You were curled in on yourself on the couch, your shoulders drawn tight, your hands trembling softly in your lap like you were holding something fragile, your hope, maybe. Spencer’s heart ached at the sight. He wanted to say something, to reach for you, but instead he turned back to the kettle and let the silence stretch, trying, so desperately, to be the calm you needed when everything else felt like it was falling apart.

Then, boom.

A sudden clap of thunder cracked the silence, and a second later, rain started tapping sharply against the windows. Not a light drizzle. Not a gentle mist. This was full, cold, heavy rain, washing over the street like it had something to prove.

Spencer paused, staring out the window at the downpour. And then he heard it: your breath catching behind him.

He turned just as you stood abruptly, already making for the door.

“No, no, no,” you said under your breath, panic spiking in your voice as you rushed toward your shoes, your arms fumbling into the sleeves of a hoodie that wasn’t even zipped. “She hates the rain, Spencer. She hates it. She’ll be terrified out there…what if she’s cold, or trapped, or trying to get back and—”

“Wait, hey,” he said quickly, abandoning the tea and moving toward you. “You can’t go out like that.”

“I have to!” You snapped, the fear laced in your voice so sharp it nearly broke him. “She’s alone. She’s out there, and it’s raining, and she doesn’t know how to be alone!”

“You’re in slippers and pajama pants,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “You’re not even zipped up. You’ll get sick. You’re shaking.”

You were already trying to pull open the front door, but he reached gently across and closed it with his palm, keeping it shut, not with force but with care. Your eyes flared with desperation, tears streaming freely again now, but you didn’t resist him. Not really. You just looked defeated.

“I can’t just sit here,” you whispered. “I’ll go insane. I keep thinking…what if she’s waiting for me to find her?”

“I know,” he said, softer this time, resting one hand lightly on the doorframe beside your head so you didn’t feel caged in. “I know. That’s why I’m coming with you.”

Your breath hitched. You blinked at him.

“I’ll get dressed, grab an umbrella and a flashlight, and I’ll drive,” he said, already mentally mapping out the search radius and already calculating the best routes and how many flyers they could distribute in the area in under an hour. “You can direct me to the places she might go: quiet spots, favorite windows, bushes where she hides. But you need to be warm. You need to stay safe too. I need you safe, okay?”

That last sentence slipped out before he could stop it, but he didn’t take it back. He meant it. You mattered to him. And he would search every alley, every corner of this city if it meant bringing Mittens home and easing that sorrow in your eyes.

Your lip trembled, and then, finally, you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay.”

Spencer squeezed your arm gently. “Go grab a coat and real shoes. I’ll bring the tea in a travel mug, and then we’ll go.”

And as you disappeared down the hallway toward his room, he turned back to the kettle, which had just started to hiss with steam. He poured the tea carefully, screwed the lid onto the mug, and looked out the window again, watching the rain streak down the glass in frantic lines.

He didn’t know where Mittens was yet.

But he did know one thing with absolute certainty: he wouldn’t stop searching until he brought her home to you.

The rain hammered relentlessly, a steady drum against the city’s darkened streets and the car’s thin windows. You’d searched every alley, every hidden nook you could think of, places where Mittens might have slipped away to hide. Your voice was raw from calling her name over and over, hoarse and cracked, fading into the night air with no reply. The cold crept into your bones, soaked through your damp coat, seeping into your sleeves and chilling your arms. Your pants clung uncomfortably to your legs, heavy and cold. Strands of your hair stuck to your forehead and cheeks, plastered down by the rain. Your fingers trembled, not just from the chill, but from the gnawing, desperate worry that tightened your chest like a vise.

Spencer sat quietly behind the wheel, his eyes flicking between the road and you in the passenger seat, worry carved deep into his features. He wanted to say something, something to ease the storm inside you, but all he could do was keep driving, letting you search, hoping somehow you’d find her.

Hours seemed to stretch and blur until your voice finally broke through the silence, shaky and fragile. “Let’s go back.”

The words were barely a whisper, and you didn’t mean to sound like you were about to break, but the tremor in your voice gave you away. Spencer reached over, gently resting his hand on your arm. You flinched for just a moment, overwhelmed by exhaustion, but didn’t pull away.

When you arrived back at your apartment, the heaviness settled in like a physical weight. The air inside felt colder somehow, emptier than it had before you left. Spencer stood beside you, still dripping wet, umbrella forgotten by the door, curls matted and clinging to his forehead. You peeled off your coat with numb fingers, the fabric clinging to you, soaked through. Water pooled quietly on the floor beneath your feet as you moved toward the bathroom, your movements slow and heavy.

“I’m just going to dry off,” you muttered, voice hoarse.

Spencer nodded, his expression gentle. “I’ll put the kettle on again.”

You barely acknowledged him and slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind you. You were ready to strip off your wet clothes, to let the warm water wash away the cold and the worry, to let the tears fall freely, maybe to sob like you hadn’t been able to before.

But then, something.

A low, soft purr drifted through the stillness.

Your breath caught in your throat. The bathroom was dark, but in the dim shadows, movement caught your eye.

There, nestled inside the bathtub, curled into a perfect little ball of gray fur, was Mittens. She was wrapped in something soft and achingly familiar, one of Spencer’s sweaters. Maybe he’d left it behind during one of his quiet visits, or maybe you had taken it for yourself long before things between you began to fall apart. Either way, it still carried the faint, comforting scent of him—books and soap and warmth—and somehow, that was what your cat had chosen to curl up in.

For a moment, you just stared, breath hitching in disbelief. The ache in your chest loosened just a little. “Mittens, my baby…”

You sank slowly to the tile floor, the chill of it bleeding through your soaked clothes, but the cold didn’t matter. Not now. Your hands trembled as you reached out, barely daring to believe she was real. But then your fingers sank into the soft, familiar fluff of her fur, and you let out a sound that was equal parts relief and disbelief.

You gathered her gently into your arms, cradling her against your chest like something sacred, your cheek pressing into the warmth of her tiny body. She was damp but purring: loud, steady, and unbothered. Her eyes blinked up at you lazily, like she hadn’t just broken your heart by vanishing. Like this was all just a nap to her. As if she’d been waiting here the whole time, perfectly content, wrapped in the one thing that still smelled like home.

Her purring vibrated through your bones. You clutched her tighter, your body beginning to shake as the weight of the last few days hit you all at once.

“Oh my God…” you whispered, voice cracking. Tears spilled freely now, hot and sudden as relief and love overwhelmed you.

She was okay.

She. Was. Okay.

“Spencer!” you called, your voice cracking sharply through the apartment. It wasn’t loud, but it was urgent, raw with emotion, with disbelief, with the kind of relief that made your lungs ache.

Footsteps echoed almost immediately, fast and worried. Spencer appeared in the doorway a second later, breath catching as he took in the sight of you: soaked, kneeling on the bathroom floor, cradling Mittens in your arms like something fragile and precious. His eyes darted from you to the bundle of gray fur, then back to your tear-streaked face.

“She was here,” you whispered, voice shaking. “The whole time. In the tub. With your sweater.”

Spencer blinked, and for a moment, his mouth parted like he didn’t know what to say. Then a soft, stunned smile tugged at his lips, the kind that made your chest squeeze.

“Of course she was,” he murmured, stepping inside slowly, crouching beside you. His eyes were warm, soft with understanding. “She missed you.”

You let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but not quite. “I tore this place apart,” you said, voice hoarse. “Twice. And she was just…here. Curled up like she never left.”

He reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair gently from your face, his fingertips barely grazing your skin. “Cats hide in the places we forget to check. They go where they feel safe,” he said, his voice quiet.

“I feel like such an idiot,” you whispered.

“No,�� Spencer murmured gently, his voice quiet but unwavering. “You’re not. You were scared. That doesn’t make you foolish.”

You exhaled shakily, your breath catching on the edge of another sob that didn’t quite make it out. Slowly, you sat back, your arms still wrapped protectively around Mittens. You looked up at him: eyes swollen, red-rimmed, but steady in the way that only comes when exhaustion has stripped away every layer of pretense.

“You can go now,” you said quietly. Your voice was soft, barely audible, but the words landed between you with surprising weight. “Thank you…for everything. Really. You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he cut in gently, but didn’t push further. He just nodded once, slowly, like he understood that you were done for tonight. That anything more would only stretch the fragile thread you were barely holding onto.

He moved toward the door, his steps hesitant. One hand found the frame as he lingered there, half in shadow, half in light, like he wasn’t sure which side he belonged on anymore. His eyes stayed on you, something unreadable flickering in their depth.

After a long pause, his voice broke the silence.

“I know this isn’t the right moment,” he said. “Maybe it never will be. But I have to say this before I go.”

Because he never found the right time.

You stayed quiet, watching him through the dim light.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer continued, the words quiet but cutting through the air like glass. “I really am. For all of it.”

He exhaled slowly and met your gaze again, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “You were right. About me shutting you out, about pushing you away. If I’d let you in…if I’d let you be there with me, maybe things would be easier for me to bear.” He shook his head slightly, a bitter smile ghosting his lips. “But I’m not sure it would have been better for you.”

Your throat tightened. Still, you didn’t speak.

He took a step back, then gave a small, almost defeated smile, like he was apologizing for all the mistakes you both had made. “I’m sorry for lying to you. Not for trying to protect you, because that’s who I am, I guess. Always trying to be the protector, even if it ends up hurting the people I care about most.”

You looked down at Mittens, who had settled quietly in your lap, utterly oblivious to the wreckage of hearts above her.

“Have a good night,” Spencer finished, and this time, he meant it like goodbye.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away. The gentle click of the door closing behind him was painfully final in the quiet room. You stayed sitting there, clutching your cat close, feeling the warmth of her small body against your chest and the weight of everything he had just said settling deep inside you, lingering like the fading echo of his footsteps down the hall.

For the first time since you had discovered the truth, you were no longer angry and hurt because he had just put a band-aid on your wound.

Because maybe he found the right time.

Sadly, what you didn’t know, what neither of you could have known, was that this moment, this moment together brought on by your cat's antics, would be the last time you would see him for what would feel like an eternity. At least for three more agonizing months.

Tag list ❤︎ ︎: @burningwitchprincess @withloverosse @fairiesofearth @pleasantwitchgarden @ximensitaa @lover-of-books-and-tea @cherryblossomfairyy @cherrygublersworld @i-need-to-be-put-down @dibidee @23moonjellies @lolnothx06 @nnab

Send me an ask or comment here if you would like to be added or removed!

[zeroseuniverse]

Folded Notes

Word Count: 875 Summary: When Jeongin wasn’t looking, she slipped a folded note into the side pocket of his backpack."I saw you smile at the little kid playing outside earlier. It made me smile too." Pairing: Jeongin X Fem Reader

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The sun filtered through the wide classroom windows, casting dappled patterns across the desks. Jeongin sat a few rows from the front, glancing discreetly to his left. There she was, perched near the window, her notebook open and pen in hand. He smiled faintly to himself as he watched her draw, her fingers gliding over the margins of her notes. The sketches were small but intricate—flowers, clouds, little animals that seemed to frolic across the page.

She didn’t know it, but Jeongin admired those tiny details more than she could imagine. He wasn’t brave enough to strike up a real conversation, even though she’d exchanged polite smiles and the occasional "Hi." Words always seemed to lodge in his throat when he thought about speaking to her. Instead, he channeled his thoughts into something simpler: little notes, left anonymously in her sketchbook.

It started on a whim.

One day, she’d stepped away from her desk, leaving her sketchbook open. Jeongin had noticed a drawing of a small bird perched on a tree branch. He scribbled a quick message on a sticky note: "Your art is beautiful. Keep going!" With his heart hammering, he tucked it between the pages and returned to his seat.

When she came back and found it, he saw her surprised smile from the corner of his eye. His chest warmed at the sight, and he knew he’d do it again.

Over the next few weeks, the notes became a ritual.

"Good luck on your exam today—you’ll do great!""The bunny you drew yesterday was adorable!""Your flowers make even the margins look like a garden."

Jeongin spent more time crafting those small, heartfelt messages than he ever spent on his own assignments. He would sneak them into her sketchbook during breaks, always careful not to get caught. The way her face lit up each time she found one made it worth the risk.

But what Jeongin didn’t know was that she had started to notice him, too.

At first, she was simply curious about her anonymous admirer. Who was kind enough to leave such sweet messages? But as the days passed, her attention drifted to Jeongin—the quiet boy who sat a few rows away. She noticed the way his pencil tapped rhythmically against his notebook when he was deep in thought. She caught the soft hums he let slip when he thought no one was listening. And that laugh of his—low, shy, but utterly infectious—it lingered in her mind long after class ended.

It didn’t take long to piece it together.

The timing of the notes, the proximity of his seat, the way he avoided her gaze whenever she caught him glancing her way—it all pointed to Jeongin.

The next day, she decided it was her turn.

When Jeongin wasn’t looking, she slipped a folded note into the side pocket of his backpack.

"I saw you smile at the little kid playing outside earlier. It made me smile too."

When he found it later, Jeongin froze. His heart raced as he read the message over and over, his mind spinning. Was it... her? He glanced in her direction, but she was focused on her notebook, as if nothing had happened.

The game had begun.

The following days were filled with small exchanges.

"You have a really nice laugh. I wish I could hear it more often.""I noticed you always lend people your extra pens. You're really thoughtful.""That doodle of the cat with sunglasses? Hilarious."

Jeongin couldn’t believe it. The person he’d admired from afar was now leaving notes for him. Each message felt like a gentle nudge, encouraging him to be a little braver. But still, neither of them made the first move.

The tension built with every exchange, a delightful mix of excitement and nervousness. She started leaving notes in his notebook. He began slipping messages under the edges of her sketchbook. The unspoken game pulled them closer and closer, like magnets drawn together.

One crisp afternoon, Jeongin finally decided he couldn’t wait any longer.

Class had just ended, and most students had filed out. Gathering his courage, Jeongin walked over to her desk. His hands trembled as he slid a folded note onto the corner of her sketchbook.

She looked up, startled, meeting his gaze. For the first time, he didn’t look away.

With a small smile, she unfolded the note.

"Can I take you out for coffee?"

Her heart fluttered. Without a word, she opened her bag and pulled out a bundle of folded papers. She placed them on the desk between them.

Jeongin’s eyes widened as he recognized the notes—his notes. But when she flipped through the stack, he realized something else: his notes were mixed with the ones she’d been leaving for him.

“I guess we’ve both been playing the same game,” she said softly, her cheeks tinted pink.

Jeongin stared at her, his lips parting in surprise. Then, a slow, radiant smile spread across his face.

“So... is that a yes?” he asked nervously, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, laughing lightly. “I’d love to.”

And just like that, the game of notes ended where it was always meant to—with two hearts finally meeting, no longer hidden behind words on paper.

[isaqlare]

art donaldonson x whimsical!

reader headcanons

art donaldson was the exact opposite of you but yet he loved you, he loved your funky outfits, your funky tights, and overall your personality. You weren’t like any of the other girls he’d been with. Lustful and dangerous, you were sweet and yet crazy in the most amazing way. The differences make you, you. And he loved that.

🍎 — Funky Tights Are Your Signature. Checkerboard, sparkly, fishnet, floral, star-patterned. you own tights in every print and texture imaginable. You even have ones with tiny frogs. You layer them under miniskirts, oversized sweaters, or petticoats like a fashion fever dream. Art calls them your “magic legs.” but he loved them, he loves your funky style.

🍎 — he does admit it, when he first met you..him and a Patrick had a bad habit of laughing at the things you wore or what you did but now he loves you and your crazy style.

🍎 — Art doesn’t know how to flirt with someone so unlike him, so he just starts showing up to your art show, your poetry reading, even the morning farmer’s market. He buys you a ridiculous gourd just because “you seem like someone who would love a gourd.” Eventually he asks you out in the dumbest way. “Wanna get food that isn’t, like… leaves?”

“You mean, non-fermented plant-based nourishment?” you replied, earning a groan from him. “Jesus Christ. Just say yes.”(You do.)

🍎 — You start drawing on his arms with glitter pens before parties. At first, it’s funny. Then he starts requesting it. “Give me that moon thing you do. The silver one.” He keeps a flower you pressed for him inside his wallet, doesn’t tell anyone. But he looks at it before exams. He thinks you might actually be magic.

🍎 — Art starts reading the weird little books you leave at his place. You catch him skimming “Astrology for Lovers” and pretend not to see. He insists he’s a Capricorn, but you’re like, “No, Art. You’re a Leo rising. That’s why you’re so loud.” He’s never dated someone who lives like you do. full of softness and strangeness. Sometimes he just watches you make tea and wonders how he ended up in a fairytale.

🍎 — You steal his hoodies and paint on them. stars, vines, tiny cats. He pretends to be annoyed but never washes them, even though they smell like patchouli and lavender. He gives you his old baseball hats. You wear them sideways or with butterfly clips. He texts you things like “idk what this moon thing means but it’s orange rn. thought you’d care.”

🍎 — You show up to his matches wearing leg warmers, fingerless gloves, and star stickers on your face. The other players’ girlfriends wear tennis skirts and polos. You look like a character from a children’s book and he loves it. He waves to you from the court every time. You wave back like you’re at a royal parade.

🍎 — His dorm was all tennis gear and protein powder before you. Now there are windchimes, mushroom-shaped lamps, and a poster that says “Kiss More Frogs.” he didn’t admit it but he enjoyed drinking your homemade rose tea from a mug shaped like a cat. He starts collecting things for you: pressed flowers, weird postcards, a rock that “kinda looks like a heart.”

🍎 — He starts letting you dress him. Not all the time ��� but enough that you’ll catch him at a party wearing a neon beanie and a vintage sweatshirt you picked out with pride. One time you draw a constellation on his jeans in silver Sharpie. He goes out in them. He wins that tournament. He asks you to do it again every finals week.

🍎 — You make him keychains with his initials in bead letters. He actually uses them. One has a tiny rubber duck on it. You sew patches onto his practice bag: mushrooms, smiley faces, one that says “TENNIS IS PUNK ROCK.”

🍎 — He doesn’t get fashion. But he gets you. And to him, your outfits are the language of your soul. You dress like dreams, like memories, like folklore and color and softness. And he loves watching you get dressed like it’s a performance just for him. His favorite thing is helping you zip up a velvet dress or clasping a necklace around your neck before a party. It makes him feel like the lucky boy in the fairy tale who got chosen by the whimsical witch princess.

[custardtartsfan]

You have a spending problem, and i love you - Jason Todd x reader short

helloooo so i still have two exams and cant write the stories id like to just yet. But i can edit and post my writers craft works. cuz like all i did in that class was write fan fiction. anywho i hope you enjoy yay

“Babe- okay. I love you. But also comma, we already have a candle for like every surface in the apartment.” Jason said with the tone of someone who is VERY used to his partner. He was met with a pouty face and a wistful sigh

“But…Jay..it's a tomato.”

y/n complained, cradling the tomato shaped candle in their hands and looking at it like it was their newborn they're being forced to give up. Jason sighed deeply. 

“Uh huh. It sure is. But we already have one in the basket that's a wiener dog. We don't need two novelty candles in one Winners trip, that's ridiculous.” Jason explained gently, patting her back. Irene didn't look convinced. “What if..we got one huh? Tomato or the dog, you pick”. y/n gasped, offended. 

“I can't get rid of the dog! He looks like Sprinkles.” y/n protested, removing one hand from the tomato candle so they could pick up and cradle the dog candle with it.

“Babe Sprinkles is a cat. He looks nothing like that.”

“Yeah but he's an animal.”  y/n protests, looking down at their candles. Jason rolled his eyes.

“Sweetheart, pick one. We're not getting them both.” he said firmly. He sighed again when they made a face like he was personally traumatizing them. “Babe, this isn't a Sophie's Choice, don't look at me like that.  One. Candle.” He reiterates rigidly. You can't always be fun boyfriend, that's a circus. 

“Don't say that. That's not funny.” y/n chastised him. Jason just snorted.

“Well you don't read books. You only know movies, I'm tailoring my references to you.” He said lightly, trying not to laugh at how pissy they looked. “If I said it's not a Daisy Buchanan’s choice you wouldn't have gotten it.” He snickered, y/n was less amused. 

“I know Gatsby, Jay, I finished highschool.” they murmured. “Unlike some of us.” Jason just laughed harder. 

“Yea I was preoccupied with being dead sweetheart.” He said with a smirk. “And i don't think you need a GED to fight crime illegally”. That actually got a snort out of y/n. they looked down at her candles again.

“mm..I guess it doesn't look like Sprinkles.” they said putting the wiener dog down. Jason let out a sigh of pure relief. 

“Great. Amazing. Now let's get the hell out of here.” Jason smiled, taking the basket and making a beeline for the checkout so they couldn't pick up any more sea life themed claw clips or pink patterned hand towels. He put an arm around her shoulder while they walked, putting the metaphorical horse blinders on her. “We need to stop coming here, this place exists to prey on recovering trinket addicts like yourself.” Jason said quietly to himself. But y/n heard, and it got a laugh out of them. 

“..Yea probably.” they giggled. “We should get froyo after this.” Jason rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it.  

“Should we now?” He asked, looking down at them. “Why’s that?” 

“You've denied me my candle, the least I deserve is mango yogurt.” they nodded. Jason sighed playfully a third time. 

“We're never gonna retire. You spend all my money, our future children will inherit nothing.” He joked, already pulling out his phone to see where the closest froyo place is.

This one was inspired by a conversation i overheard in a winners between a girl and her boyfriend who was trying, in the nicest way possible, to steer her away from buying a heart shaped dutch oven despite her not enjoying cooking at all. it made be giggle

[ducksido]

Hai hai! How are u? I hope great- evil idea, Idia shroud (wowza!) with a reader who owns a cat, like an emotional support cat, like a fluffy adorable black cat named “mister binoculars” (cause he has two white patches on his eyes)who helps reader with anxiety or what not, just a cat🤤🤤🤤 so Idia obviously loves the cat, but what happens when one day thé cat goes missing, and reader is like “WHERES MY KITTY AHHHHHHH” and Idia has to calm them down before they both realize the cat was under the bed napping (yay!) then Idia and reader are like “well who’s gonna wake up the cat cause it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me” and u can choose who has the wake up the cat (yay!)

[My day was bad today, i got results for a financial CAT and i got 35/100 😭]

It was supposed to be a chill evening. You, Idia, and a soft blanket cocoon on his room floor, wrapped up in the familiar hum of tablet screens, anime streaming in the background, and the occasional snack crinkle.

But peace? Oh, that traitor left the room the moment you looked over and said, in complete terror:

“Idia… where’s Mister Binoculars?”

He blinked, paused his game, and slowly turned toward you. “Wh-what do you mean where?! Isn’t he always on your lap like a demon familiar waiting to strike?” He darted his eyes around. “W-wait. Don’t tell me he used his teleport skill—!!”

You stood up, now full-on pacing. “No no no—he was just here! He was on my lap ten minutes ago! IDIA, HE'S GONE, WHAT IF—WHAT IF HE GOT STUCK IN A VENT?! OR TELEPORTED HIMSELF INTO THE NETHERWORLD—”

Idia was now matching your panic beat for beat, flailing slightly as his hair sparked and frizzed. “WH-WH-WHAT IF HE GLITCHED THROUGH A DOOR—OR GOT EATEN BY A RANDOM EVENT NPC?! I—THE FLOOR SYSTEM’S NOT EVEN UPDATED FOR PET AI!!”

Both of you: spiraling. Together. Loudly.

Mister Binoculars, your fluffy black emotional support cat with two white patches like tiny goggles, was not answering his name. No jingling bell. No telltale loaf formation on top of a game console.

You were practically in tears now, hugging your arms. “I-I can’t—what if something happened? He’s the only reason I didn’t full-on meltdown during exams—he helps me breathe—he always knows when I’m—”

Idia’s face twitched like your words physically stabbed him. He pulled you into a shaky, anxious hug—awkward and clumsy, but there. “H-hey, hey. Don’t—don’t cry, okay? We'll find him. I-I promise. I swear on my Level 99 SSR roll luck.”

You hiccuped into his shoulder.

Then—

Rustle.

You both froze.

Soft snore.

Heads turned, slowly… toward the bed.

Idia dropped to the floor like he was analyzing the pattern of a rare spawn. Peeked under the bed.

Then stared. “....Oh my god.”

You dropped beside him. Looked. Saw a furry loaf, perfectly nestled in the dustless spot under the bed, tail wrapped around his feet, vibrating with purrs.

You and Idia exchanged wide-eyed glances.

“...He was napping the whole time?” you whispered.

Idia nodded solemnly. “Like the final boss who watches you wipe on his minions for three hours.”

Then you both sat there in silence before quietly realizing:

“So… who’s gonna wake him up?”

You looked at Idia. He looked at you.

“Nope. Not me,” you said quickly. “He gets bitey when he’s cozy.”

Idia flailed his hands. “I’m not touching him!! He tried to murder my hoodie strings last time I sneezed too close!”

A moment of eye contact. Then in perfect sync:

“ORTHRO!"

[littlefoxwithbighat]

Details I noticed/ liked on my NPMD rewatch

[ ] In High School is Killing Me, Grace covers her mouth during the swears, Richie shakes and taps his pen while writing his exam and Ruth covers and uncovers her chest which is ironic considering what she later does to Max. Also, this isn't a detail, but Richie's (Jon's) wolf howl is astonishingly good.

[ ] I think someone else on here mentioned this a while back, but Pete's green and blue plaid bowtie and suspenders match Steph's flannel. However, it's not only those costumes. Later, he has a check diamond pattern on his jumper like the check on her flannel. Then, at homecoming, his red bowtie matches her dress. Stephs prom boots are also grey like Pete's waistcoat.

[ ] The blue white and green on Petes bowtie and suspenders also kind of match Richies hawaiian shirt. (They're friends and both losers). Then when Pete moves towards being popular he no longer matches Richie (hes no longer a loser anymore, or so he thinks).

[ ] Not a parallel but the dance moves Max (Will) does in Literal monster is SO on point for every awful jock i ever met in secondary school

[ ] People do pray for Max in literal Monster, like he implied he wishes they would after he died as he kills Richie, but not because they love him because they fear him and dont want him to hurt them. He later dies with his arms out like hes being crucified. hes the only one to break the 4th wall (stay in your seats) in this song. Lots of God imagery with this dude. Grace also tells him to "pray along" in Dirty Girl and then shes the one who takes over the god complex controlling murder role.

[ ] Jasons chestbump with Max sends him flying bc Max is so strong xD. Max also says he wont rest until he has sex with Grace which is what happens.

[ ] Richie hides behind another student before encountering Max in the hallway, and Stephanie before entering the bathroom (I think he also does at one point in the Waylon place but its hard to tell with so many super close ups). Anyway boy is a super scaredy cat at all times.

[ ] Ruth and Max both have the line "watch some porn! You'll see!" Cementing the idea that the nerd label is imposed by other people and not an inherent traits.

[ ] Grace's parents actors NAIL the awkward suburbian super christian vibe.

[ ] In the Waylon Place, Grace says the Waylons used "demonic rituals and SEX MAGIC" which sound like her being puritical but what does she do to banish Max?

[ ] There are a lot of fun mannerisms all of the cast inject into the characters. Pete scrunches his shoulders and puts his hands up, tends to point a lot or reach his hands out for emphasis, stands slightly bow-legged, often goes bug-eyed, and does a lot of small sarcastic or disbelieving "huh" laughs. Ruth spins a lot, crosses her arms, holds her arms slightly out from her body, rolls her eyes a lot, and usually stands at a lean. Richie is always nervous scratching, tucking his hands into his armpit, or scunching his fists close to his body, and when hes super stressed, putting his hands to his temples, grimacing with his teeth and shutting his eyes. Stephanie lifts her hand slightly in a "what?" gesture a lot, or puts her hands behind her back (she also moves and gestures a lot less than everyone else). Grace gestures a LOT, frowns really strongly with her eyebrows, clenches her jaw and tends to stick her chin up slightly (or in dramatic moments slightly down).

[ ] Ruth and Pete both make Star Wars references independently so theyre both fans :]] maybe they watched it together

[ ] Similarly, Richie is offered "tapes" (filming) and knows a lot about it and Ruth is a stage and lighting tech so they clearly have a shared interest in the technical aspects of media production.

[ ] Richie makes anime poses in both Bully the Bully and Literal Monster.

[ ] Ruth's backpack has a dino pattern on it :]] thats fun

[ ] Richies backpack has a wing on it and hes the bird mascot

[ ] Stephs backpack is black and white and Pete's is grey, matching monochromes.

[ ] Grace might know Ruth is bi (as she says when she declares Ruth is in hell) because she overhears Ruth telling Steph she might be in love with her

[ ] Richie keeps trying to set Ruth and Pete up because he thinks it would make them both happy to get laid lol

[ ] Pete says the costume he's wearing makes him look like Lin Manuel Miranda and then later had a bullet being shot at him in slow motion a la Hamilton

[ ] Pete reaches for Steph to make sure shes ok when Grace suddenly spins her around

[ ] Ruths little high pitch screech when Max shoves her away sounds exactly like Richies when Max uses his Ghostie Force Powers to throw him across the room the second time

[ ] Max bows to Ruth rather than vice versa: maybe because hes such a jock he doesnt understand theatre. Also hes spesifically complimenting her on acting, the opposite to before he kills her.

[ ] This one is maybe obvious bc Richie literally points it out but they actually do make Max piss his pants like they planned from the beginning. When Richie points this out, Pete gives him the universal "stop not the time" gesture, Ruth mouths "stop" at him and Grace makes a "no!" gesture.

[ ] Max emphasises his heart is beating fast RIGHT before he falls and it slows and then stops (we also see Steph take his pulse to double check)

[ ] Max's eyes actually roll back like when people really die before they close (Will is very good).

[ ] Richie is the only one who Grace doesnt ask to do something in Bury the Bully even though everyone gets a role in Bully the Bully (maybe because hes freaking out too much or maybe because he didnt film the fall and therefore screwed them over so she doesnt trust him)

[ ] Richie also says he has asthma and later dies after trying to run away for like at least half an hour and then drowning, ouch.

[ ] Grace is an UNBELIEVABLY smart and quick planner to think to use the plastic from the camera film straight away to cover the body and bury it in the floor. How does she know to do all this. She is SO scary.

[ ] Cannot be overstated how big of a freak Ruth is 😭 she is unbelievably enthuiastic about stripping Max's corpse and cutting his nipples after they've just killed him and is immedietly certain nobody will find him. No hesitation. No regret. Only concern with Max dying is not having sex in jail. We know Grace is unhinged but its causing us to underestimate Ruth's power.

[ ] Grace also seems to cheer when Ruth cuts off his nipples, whereas Richie groans in disgust and Richie, Pete and Steph all look away.

[ ] Pete and Steph should have advovated for saying he slipped more strongly, they might not have even got jail time, they had a pretty strong case for it. They presumably had audio from the camera of all him falling even if Richie didnt capture the fall visually and there was a giant hole in the floor where he fell and wood planks in his chest. Even if the police thought they set him up to fall the audio would prove they didnt ask him to stand anywhere. But then the Hatchetfield police do seem crazy. Pete is also the one who advocates most strongly for them to turn themselves in.

[ ] Richie seems to be the most enthusiastic about pranking Max and yet one of the most disgusted/ horrified by his death.

[ ] Richie and Pete have very differing views on nerddom: Rich believes the social order is immutable and theres no point trying to mess with it and any attempt would just bring more grief whereas Pete wants to climb the social ladder. This then changes in Go Go Nighthawks when Max is gone and the nerds are more accepted by their peers and Richie says he wants to social climb, so presumably fear of Max was holding him back.

[ ] Similarly, in Go Go Nighthawks, Richie is mentioned to be finally be on time and making an effort to be on time which might mean the reason he was chronically late before was because he was trying to avoid seeing Max or the other bullies in passing period. His lateness is probably also the reason the nerds didnt notice his abscence on Monday morning

[ ] This ones obvious but they mention they are free of the fear of swirlies... right before Richie is tortured and then drowned in a toilet

[ ] Richie is offered to join the swim team... before he is murdered by drowning. He's also dressed consistently in blues (his socks, backpack and parts of his shirt and sweatshirt) and I believe Jon said he wanted him to have blue hair.

[ ] Richies fall from when Max holds him up in the air and then suddenly drops him is INSANE physical acting from Jon HOLY SHIT. To hold all that tension in your tippy toes and then suddenly collapse that suddenly and smoothly.

[ ] Ghost Max can shut and lock doors, throw people and things telekenetically and also apparantly later split people jn half, slow down time and snatch bullets. Richie and Ruth had no chance.

[ ] (Richies death is really awful Vil N. Melling has a great video on it )

[ ] Stephanie is reading back over her test results sitting on the bleachers in the scene immediately following Max's death, probably because she's in disbelief that she got a passing grade

[ ] Bryces range between the cheerleader, the nerd and Det. Sharpiro is INSANE im so glad she got a leading role after this

[ ] Grace's relief after it turns out Richie was dead, so Max's body hasnt been discovered makes her looks SO cold she bursts out grinning. She also only seems to care about Ruths death in that it means she might be next and it undoes her plans. No regard for human life, this girl!

[ ] Grace's theme (the one you can hear at the start of Bully the Bully just before and and as she spins) gets faster and more uneven melodically as the play progresses and you can hear it everytime she comes up with ideas

[ ] You can also hear the Nightmare Time theme before Richie and Ruth die and the Show Me Your Hands theme whenver the police are involved

[ ] In Hatchet Town they call Hatchetfield hallowed ground... which as we learn from the black book, it kind of is

[ ] Ruths character in the BBQ monologues ends with them giving away their tap shoes and Pete later mentions he took 4 years of tap so he can dance with Steph... he almost fulfills that wish for her. Its also possible they took tap together and that "I used to dance" was literal for Ruth

[ ] Paul and Richie both tend to "uhm ackshually" people and assume they know better than others (Richie with Petes date and the physics joke, Paul with the neighbourhood watch and perp line) so maybe there is a family connection there.

[ ] Pete mimes swinging a bat... for the football team. Hes such a nerd he gets baseball and football mixed up.

[ ] Steph hides behind Pete for a moment during the summoning

[ ] Although Graces favourite colour is probably pink (her hairpins, backpack, shoes and duvet are all pink) both her prom and school outfits are blue and white... white for purity and blue like Mother Mary she is a Christian girl through and through. The blue and white also parallels Max who she desires and eventually turns into. Her hairclips after Max is banished are blue: she has fully embraced this part of herself. Also Jason has a blue tie to match her outfit when she goes with him to prom ;^;

[ ] Max says he knew high school would be his peak and used to worry his life would be over after high school, and then he lives suspended in his highschool state forever.

[ ] Also although Max sucks he offers to carry Graces books when he hits on her (thats far nicer than most mean jock flirting) and doesnt force himself on her and when he thinks the house is haunted his immediete instinct is to protect Steph and his immediete reacts to the nerds prank is being flattered and pleased by the attention and effort. Like, hes still obviously a person who has done awful things but its also clear his dad messed him up.

[ ] Grace puts her hair up in a ponytail just to take it down dramatically to flirt with Max... was she spending the 5 minutes she disappeared considering how best to approach him and what to say because shes never flirted before? Grace's hairdo also evolves throughout the show from bunches and hairpins, to a half ponytail with hair pins, just a half ponytail, a ponytail and then fully loose: her hair unravels with her.

[ ] The spins they all do after "and you believe in me" are SO clean they got MOVES

[ ] Jons other school character and Wills other school character in prom go together DIVERSITY WIN

[ ] Also laurens wig and dress are so pretty in this scene

[ ] Fencecollapsed made a fantastic video on this, but this ending is so sad for Grace in a way? The thing she values most is her chastity, not a person like Steph or Pete; she doesn't have that kind of external bond or trust. Shes clearly the outlier within the nerds themselves. She busts into most conversations unwanted, and she wins no new respect for saving the whole world from Max. She has to betray her religion (a religion she recently discovered isnt even true because there are actual other real terrible gods that have appeared before her and talked to her) and give up what she most valued having sex with a guy who kept hitting on her unwantedly (yes she has fantasies about him but fantasies doesn't mean its something she actually wants in reality) and she has to hide it from her parents and community in order to maintain any of their respect or love. Do Graces parents like her because shes their daughter, or because she behaves like a perfect christian girl? If they found out about it, would they still love her? Her ending parallels Max, yes, she did awful things already, yes, but like Max with his dad and death, she's acting out to regain a sense of control and purpose that she has lost.

[lunareths]

Spring Water

‧₊˚✩彡 ── ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: named!MC x Caleb

‧₊˚✩彡 ── sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs: An afternoon of sweeping fallen petals is interrupted by the teasing of one childhood friend until an unexpected injury forces them closer, noticing things about the other they hadn't before.

Giselle isn't a kid anymore and neither is he...

‧₊˚✩彡 ── ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ:6,424

‧₊˚✩彡 ── 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: vanilla spice, but still 18+ mdni, cunnilingus, female orgasm.

‧₊˚✩彡 ── 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This takes place before his 'disappearance' but not so far back that they're in high-school, MC is either almost done with the entrance exam or has just started being a hunter. I also got the idea for this during the scene in the main storyline where Caleb holds her still while treating her wound and tells the cat and the bell story, I wanted this particular event to be on his mind during that, just to make it extra tense.

*Doubly so; this is my first bit of fic for this fandom; so I try not to read too many other fics on the first pass as to not be influenced, so if there's any similarities to another work that you see here it's purely coincidental. With that said please enjoy.

It was late spring, and the first hints of summer clung to the shifting breeze as warm sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting flickering patterns across the courtyard. The branches of the surrounding trees sagged under the weight of blossoms, their petals drifting in lazy spirals to the ground. A fusion of floral fragrance and the distant hum of the forest permeated the air, imbuing the space with an almost hypnotic tranquility. Standing amidst the afternoon glow, Giselle Valentine surveyed the mess of scattered petals carpeting the courtyard of her childhood home.

With an audible sigh, she dragged her broom across the stone path, pushing yet another pile of pink and white petals aside. The trees, while undoubtedly breathtaking in their seasonal bloom, left a perpetual mess in their wake—one she was charged with managing.

Just as she cleared a section, another gust of wind swept through, undoing her efforts as fresh petals rained down. Muttering under her breath, she swept a few stray strands of hair from her face, barely suppressing her irritation.

Caleb, her childhood friend, hadn’t initially intended to stop and watch. But there he was, casually leaning against the courtyard gate, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the determined furrow of her brow as she waged an unwinnable war against nature.

She had been at it for some time, her broom scraping across the stone in rhythmic frustration. Each time she made progress, nature effortlessly countered her efforts, sending another cascade of petals to reclaim the space she had just cleared.

Caleb smirked. Some things never changed.

Giselle, ever persistent, muttered in defiance, refusing to surrender to the inevitability of the elements.

His lips twitched in amusement. He supposed he should make his presence known, but watching her battle the petals was far too entertaining to interrupt.

She let out an exasperated sigh, blowing a loose strand of hair from her face. That was his cue. Pushing off the gate, he strolled into the courtyard with deliberate ease.

"You know," he drawled, tucking his hands into his pockets, "they invented leaf blowers for this very reason."

Giselle startled, whirling around at the unexpected voice. A few petals fluttered loose from her hair, and Caleb fought to suppress his grin.

She narrowed her eyes. "Great. The peanut gallery has arrived. How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to see you struggling with inanimate objects," he responded smoothly, nodding at the ever-growing collection of petals swirling around her feet.

A faint flush crept onto her cheeks as she gripped the broom tighter. "I am not struggling. The wind is cheating."

Caleb arched a brow. "Right. And next you'll tell me the petals have formed a conspiracy against you."

“I wouldn’t put it past them," she grumbled, shoving the broom at a particularly stubborn pile. "They look delicate and harmless, but they’re relentless."

Caleb snorted, rocking back on his heels. "So, what you’re saying is, the great huntress-in-training, Giselle, has been bested by springtime flora?"

Giselle pointed the broom at him, her expression dead serious. "Say that again, and I will sweep you into next week."

He grinned, stepping just out of reach. "I’d love to see you try, Gigi."

Her eye twitched. Caleb knew exactly what he was doing.

"You know I hate that name."

"It’s either that or pipsqueak, and I know how much you love that one," he teased, his smirk unrepentant.

Giselle exhaled slowly, clearly choosing restraint—for now. Resuming her sweeping, she muttered, "So, I imagine you finally found time to visit us simple folk, Flyboy?"

Caleb smirked at the retaliatory nickname, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Here to offer moral support… and inhale some good ol childhood nostalgia."

Giselle rolled her eyes. "Yeah? Smell familiar?"

He tilted his head, inhaling dramatically. "Mmm. Smells like hard work… and failure."

She whipped around, aiming the broom at him.

Caleb dodged effortlessly, laughing.

"More like unhelpful commentary," she muttered. "A leaf blower? Seriously? Do you see an outlet anywhere in the countryside, Caleb? Or should I just conjure one from thin air?"

"You could find a battery-powered one if you really wanted to," he quipped.

She scoffed and turned back to her task. "It’s fine. It's just... annoying."

Caleb watched her, the smirk softening on his lips. The scene felt familiar—comfortably so. As if nothing had changed. He liked that.

The way the late afternoon light filtered through the branches, catching in her hair. The way her expression set with the same stubborn determination she’d had as a kid when she insisted she could beat him in races up the tallest tree.

He was struck suddenly by the memory of her younger self—wild, free, scraped knees and bright brown eyes, completely unaware of how she had embedded herself into the foundation of his life.

Now, years later, she was still here. Still stubborn. Still beautiful.

And it was getting harder to pretend that she was still just the girl he grew up with.

He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, shaking off the thought.

"Hey, so. You’re not even sweeping right," he teased, grasping at something lighthearted to clear his mind.

"Oh, I’m sorry,  Mr. Expert Sweeper, would you like to take over?"

"I’m just saying—"

He didn’t get to finish. In that moment, Giselle stepped back, her foot catching on something beneath the petals.

Everything happened so fast.

Her body lurched, the broom slipping from her grasp as she stumbled over a hidden tree root. Caleb moved on instinct, his reflexes sharp. He barely had time to react before she yelped and went down, landing hard on one knee.

Caleb was beside her in an instant.

"Geez—Giselle?" The teasing edge in his voice had vanished, replaced by sharp concern as he crouched beside her.

She grimaced, shifting to sit properly. "I’m fine—" She tried to stand but inhaled sharply, her ankle buckling beneath her weight.

Caleb caught her before she could fall again, one arm looping around her waist. "Yeah, that definitely looks fine," he muttered dryly.

She groaned and sighed in irritation. "Obviously, I didn’t see the root."

"No kidding."

Without waiting for an argument, he hooked his arm under her knees and lifted her effortlessly.

"Caleb—!"

Ignoring her protests, he adjusted her weight. "If you’re going to yell directly into my ear, at least try to sound more grateful."

Carrying her to the porch, he set her down gently.

Giselle hissed, her hands gripping the edge of the porch as she tested her weight again.

Caleb exhaled sharply through his nose. “Yeah, okay. Stop moving,” he muttered, already lowering himself into a crouch before her.

She huffed, crossing her arms, but refrained from arguing as he positioned himself between her knees, his gaze narrowing with concentration.

His hands were steady and gentle as he carefully reached for her foot, his fingertips brushing the bare skin of her calf before they curled around her ankle.

"Just let me look at it," he said, his voice quieter now—measured, controlled. Yet something in the way he touched her—so careful, so deliberate—sent a slow, uncertain warmth coiling in her stomach.

Caleb exhaled through his nose and took his time, loosening the laces of her shoe before carefully sliding it off.

Giselle flinched, a sharp inhale slipping past her lips as a fresh wave of pain flared when he inadvertently moved her foot too much.

"Sorry," Caleb murmured, genuine in his apology, his brows knitting together as his jaw tensed slightly. He adjusted his grip with greater care.

He continued, gentler now, his fingertips grazing over her sock before slowly peeling it away, revealing the delicate curve of her ankle—already beginning to swell, the skin tinged red from the strain.

Neither of them spoke as he pressed lightly against the swelling, his touch steady and methodical. The warmth of his fingers against her skin sent a ripple of awareness through her—one she wasn’t sure she was ready to acknowledge.

He gazed over the soft slope of her foot, the warmth of her skin pressing against his palms.

For a fleeting second, he, too, became acutely aware of everything—the way her leg rested against his thigh, the subtle heat radiating from her, and a delicate scent clinging to her. It was faint but unmistakable, a blend of crushed strawberry leaves and something sun-warmed and clean, like ripe fruit kissed by the afternoon air. It lingered in the space between them, deceptively light yet impossible to ignore this close.

He shook himself out of it, forcing his focus back onto her injury.

"Well...It’s not broken," he finally said, his voice lower. "But you’re not walking on it for a while."

She shifted, leaning back slightly. “Thank you, Doctor Caleb, you’re clearly in the wrong profession.” she teased, but her voice was softer, her breathing a little shallower now.

He didn’t answer.

Not right away.

Because his hands were still on her, still resting against her skin, and she wasn’t pulling away.

Caleb exhaled slowly, trying—failing—to ignore how warm her skin felt beneath his hands. His fingers lingered, pressing lightly against the curve of her ankle, feeling the soft thrum of her pulse beneath his thumb.

“I, uh—” He cleared his throat, his hands reluctantly sliding away from her skin.

Giselle raised an eyebrow, a perplexed expression flashing across her face at his sudden hesitation.

Caleb rubbed the back of his neck, forcing out a lopsided smirk to cover whatever the hell that moment had just been. “Let’s, uh—let’s leave that career path to Zayne, shall we?”

Her lips twitched, her eyes glinting. “Caleb? Mr. Popularity, Ace Flyboy is yielding?”

Caleb scoffed, shaking his head. “Please. Patching you up was something I did all the time when we were kids. I’d be a terrible doctor for like... anybody else.”

“Mm, yeah,” she mused, leaning back onto her hands. “You did have a habit of slapping a bandage on me and calling it a day.”

“Worked, didn’t it?” he shot back, regaining his footing, slipping easily into that familiar teasing territory.

“Only because I didn’t know better,” she smirked. “Zayne would’ve had me in a full-body cast if he saw how you handled first aid.”

Caleb rolled his eyes, but the warmth clinging in his chest was undeniable. The teasing, the banter, the way she looked at him just now—it was so them, so effortlessly natural. And yet…

His gaze drifted downward again—to her leg, the faint sheen of sweat on her skin, the way her dress still rode just a little high. He forced himself to refocus.

Clearing his throat, he stood with more purpose than necessary.

“We need to get you inside,” he muttered, extending a hand toward her. “Before you do something else dumb, like try to walk on that.”

Giselle shot him a glare, crossing her arms. “Oh, come on. I’m not that stupid,” she huffed. “I wasn’t about to just  stand up and start walking on a busted ankle.”

Caleb lifted his hands in mock surrender, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Okay. Okay.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “I won’t surprise you this time. Here’s me, officially asking for your consent to carry you inside to the couch, Miss.” He met her gaze, arching a brow. “Do I have it?”

Giselle blinked, momentarily caught off guard. The way he said it—half teasing, half exasperated—shouldn’t have made her stomach do a little flip. And yet, her face was flushing despite herself.

She cleared her throat, rolling her eyes for good measure. “Hmm. You do.”

Without another word, Caleb bent down and effortlessly scooped her up, hooking one arm under her legs and the other behind her back. The movement was smooth, practiced—like it took no effort at all.

Giselle stiffened slightly, caught off guard by just how easily he lifted her. He smelled nice—clean, like fresh linen, and something subtly spiced, warm, and grounding. It was a small detail, but it lingered, distracting her almost as much as the quiet strength in his arms.

She had known he was stronger now—had seen the way his frame had filled out with each visit, the way he moved with more power, more certainty—but feeling it was something else entirely. Had he always been this strong? Or had she just never noticed before?

For a moment, adult emotions complicated the familiar, simplistic image she had of him, shifting the way she saw him in a way she still wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

Before she could dwell on it, he was already lowering her onto the couch, his touch steady but brief, pulling her out of her thoughts as he straightened up.

Caleb lingered for a moment, standing over her, his gaze half-lidded as he took her in.

She was still catching her breath, her chest rising and falling in slow, measured beats. Loose strands of dark hair framed her face, a touch tousled from the movement, her skin still carrying the faintest flush—not just from exertion, but something else. His eyes drifted lower, over the way her dress settled around her thighs, the curve of her leg now resting against the couch.

There was something disarming about seeing her like this—unguarded, caught in the space between irritation and something softer. For a moment, the teasing, the familiarity, the easy banter between them faded into something quieter...heavy.

"I'll, uh, get you some ice to bring the swelling down."

Giselle hummed in acknowledgment, reclining slightly against the couch, her fingers absently toying with the hem of her dress. There was no discernible expression on her face, no teasing remark—just a quiet, unreadable stillness.

Caleb hesitated for a fraction of a second, the odd tension clinging to his skin like static. He wasn’t sure what to make of it—the silence, the way she wasn’t meeting his eyes. Brushing it off, he turned toward the kitchen, willing himself to focus on the task at hand.

As he disappeared around the corner, Giselle exhaled, releasing the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. The warmth of his hands still lingered on her skin, the ghost of his touch refusing to fade.

She glanced down at her ankle, then at the empty space where he'd stood just moments ago.

The boy she had grown up with was still there, beneath the teasing quips and exasperated sighs. But there was something else now—something unspoken, something neither of them seemed quite prepared to confront.

"Here," he said quietly, his voice steadier than he felt. "Keep this on it for a while."

"Thanks."

Her fingers brushed against his—just a second too long.

The contact was brief but charged, her gaze steady and unreadable. For a moment, something unspoken hovered between them, fragile and uncertain.

Then Caleb stepped back, clearing his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets as if that would somehow ground him.

“You’re lucky I was here,” he said, his usual smirk settling back into place, though there was a stiffness in his posture that hadn’t been there before. “Otherwise, who knows how you’d have gotten inside?”

“I would’ve managed,” Giselle countered, though her voice was softer now, almost teasing.

“Sure you would’ve,” he murmured, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. But even as his smirk remained, the playful glint in his eyes did little to disguise the way his jaw clenched—the way his gaze flickered, just briefly, back to her legs before he forced himself to look away.

Giselle shifted on the couch, reaching forward to adjust the ice pack. The strain from sweeping earlier had left her muscles tense, and even the simple movement felt more cumbersome than expected. As she leaned in, the fabric of her dress slid higher against her thigh, baring just a little more skin to the dim light of the room.

And then—for the briefest moment—Caleb saw the most precious part of her.

The faintest trace of soft, white cotton.

His breath stalled. A flicker of something unsteady passed through him, quick as a spark but impossible to ignore. He snapped his gaze away, jaw tightening as he willed himself to think about anything else—her injury, the ice pack, the fact that he really, really didn’t need to be noticing that.

Heat coiled at the base of his spine, his body betraying him in a way that was both unfamiliar and entirely unwanted. His gaze tore away instantly, his jaw tightening as though sheer willpower alone could erase the image from his memory.

But it was too late.

The imprint lingered. The way her skin looked against the fabric, the sheer intimacy of it.

This was Giselle. His Giselle.

He had no business noticing things like that—but the realization hit him all at once, crashing over him like a wave he hadn’t seen coming. For the first time, he wasn’t just seeing Giselle as his best friend.

It wasn’t as though he had never noticed her beauty before. That awareness had crept up on him gradually, in ways that were easy to dismiss—a passing thought, a flicker of admiration, something harmless and fleeting.

But this?

This was different.

This wasn’t distant admiration. It was a gut-punch of attraction, startling and unrelenting, settling somewhere low and dangerous in his stomach.

And he hated it.

He hated how effortless it was, how easily his body reacted before his mind could reason its way out of it.

He had to say something—anything—to shatter the thought before it took root.

“Hold on—let me help. "Geez, Giselle...” he muttered, his tone sharper than necessary, almost scolding.

Not because she had done anything wrong.

But because he needed the distraction.

She blinked, momentarily startled by his abrupt shift in demeanor, her eyes searching his face. If she had noticed why he was suddenly tense, she didn’t say so.

Still, there was that shift again—no matter how many jokes he tried to hide behind, it just kept coming back, creeping between them, demanding to be dealt with.

Before she could respond, he was kneeling before her again, reaching for the ice pack, hyper-focused on the one task that didn’t require acknowledging the torrent of emotions racing through his skull.

His fingers brushed against hers as he adjusted the pack, the cool condensation dripping against his skin, but his own body ran too warm now, his pulse unsteady, uneven.

He forced his grip to remain steady, willing his mind back to neutral territory.

This was just Gigi.

Gigi, who had scraped her knees a hundred times as a kid. Gigi, who had always been just a little reckless, a little too stubborn for her own good.

But she wasn’t just Gigi…

No.

Giselle.

An unfamiliar weight settled in his chest, the realization creeping in before he could stop it and that realization unnerved him more than anything else.

“You don’t have to—” she started.

“Gigi just-” Caleb interrupted, his focus locked onto her ankle as if it were the most critical thing in the world. “Just let me do it.”

Giselle narrowed her eyes, sensing something different in his tone. Instead, she leaned back against the couch, watching him work, noting the quiet tension in his shoulders—tight, deliberate, restrained.

“Thanks...for taking care of me Caleb,” she murmured after a moment, her voice softer now.

Caleb nodded, but he still didn’t look at her. His fingers lingered, adjusting the ice pack with meticulous care; his jaw locked tight, his movements betraying a deliberation that hinted at something simmering beneath the surface.

The room felt smaller, the silence heavier. Outside, the wind rustled faintly, a quiet whisper against the walls. The only sounds between them were the steady rhythm of their breathing; the only light was the fading glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows that stretched across the floor.

Finally, Caleb glanced up, his gaze locking onto hers.

“You’re overdoing it, Gigi,” he said, his voice low, edged with something almost scolding. “All this—pushing yourself, trying to do everything on your own—you’re going to hurt more than just your ankle if you keep this up.”

Giselle arched a brow, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips despite the unspoken tension curling between them. “Why are you wigging out, Caleb? It’s just a little sprain.”

“This time.”

Caleb exhaled sharply, frustration threading through his words. But this wasn’t really about her ankle, and he knew that.

Giselle’s smirk wavered, her expression shifting into something more uncertain.

Caleb shook his head, running a hand through his hair, tousling it further, his mind caught in the dissonance of who he was supposed to be—

The responsible Caleb. The one who looked out for his best friend.

And this Caleb—the one battling emotions that had grown too large, too real, for a friend who, somewhere along the way, had become a woman he could barely think straight around.

"Sorry. Sorry for making it weird," he muttered, his voice gruff, his gaze skittering away as he rubbed the back of his neck. "It’s hard to turn that off." It was a pitiful excuse, but she bought it.

Giselle laughed softly, leaning further into the couch. "You’re the one who came rushing back like I was dying."

"Because you’re hopeless," he shot back, the usual sarcasm returning—though his voice still carried the weight of something unsettled.

It wouldn't be for long, but his walls were back in place, yet he remained kneeling by the couch, fingers absently pressing into the edge of the ice pack, adjusting it once more. He hadn’t moved since placing it there, his hands hovering near her ankle, reluctant to let go.

The silence stretched, fragile, punctuated only by the gentle rustling of petals against the window, the distant hum of the spring breeze.

Then—

“Gigi…?”

The nickname fell from his lips with a gentleness that caught even him off guard, the sharpened edge from moments ago all but vanished. There was something else in his voice now—something hesitant, unguarded. A quiet mix of anxiety and nervousness, like he was teetering on the edge of saying something he wasn’t sure he should.

She blinked, tilting her head to look at him. “Hmm?”

He didn’t respond right away.

Instead, his hand moved—trailing up, fingers brushing lightly along her calf as he turned to face her. His movements were slow and deliberate, as though he wasn’t entirely aware of what he was doing, his hand warm on her leg, his thumb tracing soft circles just above her knee. The weight of his gaze on her made Giselle’s pulse quicken, the charged silence between them thick enough to drown in.

“Can I…” His fingers flexed against her thigh, the words catching in his throat. For the first time in a long time, his nerves got the better of him. “Let me…”

He trailed off again, and Giselle’s breath hitched. She had never seen him fumble for words like this.

"Let me make you feel better."

His tone was steady now—completely fixed—but the way his fingers trembled, just slightly against her skin betrayed him. Not hesitation. Not doubt. Just the weight of this moment.

She blinked, startled by the low, almost pleading quality in his voice. “Caleb, you’ve already—”

“Just… let me,” he interrupted, his hand sliding just a little higher, his grip still sure, still confident, even as the faintest quiver ran through his fingertips. His thumb brushed along the sensitive skin above her knee, his focus utterly locked onto her, his own nerves an afterthought compared to the anticipation thrumming between them.

“You’re always trying to do everything yourself, Gigi,” he murmured. “You never let anyone… me, take care of you.”

Her heart pounded, heat curling deep in her chest at the weight of his words—the care behind them. This wasn’t about her ankle anymore.

And still, he wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pushing.

He was just waiting.

“Caleb…” she started, but the hesitation in her voice melted away when he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss just above her knee.

Her breath stilled, her body tensing slightly at the unexpected sensation. But his touch was so gentle, so deliberate, that she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

“Say yes,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin as he kissed higher, slow and reverent. “That’s all you have to do.”

She stared down at him, her chest tightening with emotion. The boy she had grown up with, the one who had teased her endlessly, climbed trees with her, and always made her feel safe, was now kneeling in front of her like she was the center of his world.

Despite the surge of so many different emotions welling inside her, one feeling cut through the rest—her trust in him.

Caleb did make her feel safe. He always had.

And though she was stumbling through this, awkward and uncertain, there was a quiet, steady comfort in the fact that it was him.

Her hand slid down to rest lightly on his shoulder, her fingers trembling just slightly as she nodded, meekly, the weight of the moment stealing her voice.

A tinge of coyness bloomed in her chest, warm and unfamiliar, leaving her unable to say yes—so instead, she let the simple movement speak for her.

Caleb exhaled, a shaky breath of relief, and for a moment, he paused, his forehead resting lightly against her thigh. Then he looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of nervousness and longing.

“I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, his voice soft but sure.

Caleb exhaled, a shaky breath of relief, and for a moment, he paused, his forehead resting lightly against her thigh. The weight of her silent consent settled over him, grounding him, steadying him.

Then he looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of nervousness and longing

"I'll take care of you," he murmured, his voice soft but sure.

Giselle nodded again, unable to meet his gaze. She wouldn’t dare. A blush burned high on her cheeks now, making it painfully clear how out of her depth she was. And yet, her body relaxed under his touch, tension melting away with every slow, deliberate press of his lips against her skin.

He moved carefully, patiently, his warmth lingering with each reverent kiss. There was no rush, no urgency—only quiet devotion, a silent reassurance that she had every opportunity to stop him.

But she didn’t.

Because she trusted him.

His hands slid gently along her legs, parting them slightly as he shifted closer, his movements careful and deliberate. There was no urgency, no demand—just quiet intent.

Each kiss he placed on her skin felt like a promise, like something deeper than words could ever convey. Devotion. Reverence. A quiet, unspoken need. The tenderness of it made her heart ache in the best way, warmth pooling deep in her chest.

"Caleb…" she whispered, her voice trembling. She wasn’t sure what to do with it—what to do with herself.

Every sensation was new and unfamiliar in a way that left her breathless.

He paused, glancing up at her, searching her face for any sign of doubt.

"I'm okay," she breathed, her voice unsteady, laced with something soft and aching.

A stifled moan caught in her throat as her fingers—delicate, uncertain—instinctively found their way into his hair, threading through the strands as if seeking something to hold onto.

His lips curved into the faintest smile before he leaned in again, his kisses trailing higher until they reached the hem of her dress. He hesitated there, his breath warm against her skin, his fingers hovering at the edge of the fabric as if giving her a final moment to stop him.

When she didn’t, his hands moved with quiet reverence, gently sliding the fabric up just enough to continue.

What followed wasn’t rushed or clumsy. Caleb’s touch was careful, deliberate. His movements unpracticed but instinctive, guided more by the overwhelming need to make her feel good than any kind of experience.

His heart pounded in his chest, nerves fraying with every second. This wasn’t something he’d ever done before.

Wasn’t something he’d even imagined he would be doing—especially not like this.

Not with Giselle.

Not on some lazy spring afternoon, with sunlight spilling across her skin, her scent—warm, faintly sweet—wrapping around him, making it impossible to think straight.

But now that he was here, so close to her, his focus narrowed—drawn to the small, tender details he hadn’t noticed before.

The faint tremble in her thighs as his hands brushed against them. The soft, nervous rhythm of her breaths. The warmth of her skin beneath his lips.

He tilted his head slightly, the somewhat rough denim of her dress grazing his cheek as he pressed another kiss higher up her thigh. Her scent—something faintly floral, something undeniably hers—wrapped around him, pulling him deeper into the moment.

And then, just like that, the same shyness that had enveloped Giselle crept into him.

The weight of the moment settled in his chest, filling it with the flutter of something unfamiliar. Something delicate. Something real.

But it didn’t feel overwhelming.

It felt right.

He was exactly where he wanted to be.

He pressed a kiss to the soft curve of her inner thigh, his lips lingering there as he let himself breathe her in.

There was something intoxicating about the way she enveloped his senses—like warmth and something delicate, mixed with the faintest trace of spring air from being outside. It was subtle, but it wrapped around him like a thread, drawing him closer.

Then, as his lips brushed against the edge of her underwear, the cotton soft against his mouth, a breath caught in his chest.

He hesitated.

His fingers tightened slightly on her legs as he glanced up at her, something deep and searching in his gaze.

Her eyes—half-lidded, flickering, uncertain yet steady—met his. Her cheeks were flushed, warmth rising to the surface, but there was no fear there.

Only trust.

And then—her fingers, which had been hovering uncertainly at her sides, found their way into his hair again, tangling lightly as if to tell him, wordlessly, that it was okay.

That was all he needed.

Caleb slid her underwear aside carefully, his breathing going ragged despite himself. The sight of her—bare and vulnerable before him—was almost enough to make him stop, not because he didn’t want this, but because it felt like too much. Too intimate. Too important.

He took a steadying breath, his lips slowly brushing against her again, this time lower. The heat of her skin, the faint taste of her—salty, sweet, utterly unique—sent a shiver through him.

His grip on her thighs tightened slightly as he leaned in further, his tongue darting out tentatively at first, unsure but curious. The texture of her, the softness of her, the warmth—it was intense in the best way.

She gasped softly above him, her fingers tightening in his hair, and the sound sent a thrill down his spine.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the way she felt beneath him, the way her body responded to his touch. Each sigh, each subtle shift of her hips, guided him, building his confidence as he moved with more fervor.

Pulling back a bit tentatively, a deft finger slid into her wetness, yielding an arch to her back, his tongue drawing towards the bundle of nerves at her apex.

He pressed his lips against her again, this time more firmly, his tongue moving with slow, deliberate strokes that earned him another soft, breathless moan.

"Gigi... you taste so good…"

He’d whispered it, almost to himself, unsure if she’d even heard him. But it didn’t matter—this moment had consumed him, like a man lost in something he had no desire to escape from.

Just like he always had when it came to her, he subconsciously committed everything to memory—the motions that made her tremble, the rhythms that had her gasping, the way she writhed beneath him, utterly undone.

The way his fingers came away slick, drenched in her, it was hypnotically visceral.

This is Giselle, he thought, the realization hitting him with a force that almost made him falter. The girl he’d grown up with. The person he’d always cared about, always looked out for. The one he could never seem to get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried.

And now, she was here, her body trembling beneath his, her trust in him so complete that it made his heart flutter.

He lifted his gaze for a moment, watching the way her head tilted back, her lips parted as she breathed heavily. The sight of her—flushed, utterly unguarded—threatened to unravel him, the blood rushing away from his good common sense.

Then she whispered his name, her voice trembling, and something inside him shifted.

This wasn’t just about her body, her taste, her response—this was about her, about showing her how much she meant to him, even if he couldn’t quite put it into words.

His movements softened, his kisses slower, more deliberate, as if he were trying to tell her everything he couldn’t say aloud, and when she gasped again, her fingers tugging at his hair, he knew—he would give her everything.

A searing white heat tore through her.

Her body reacted instinctively, an involuntary push downward as a rhythmic climax built, crashing over her in waves.

She hadn’t known it before, had never felt anything like it, but in that moment, everything around her shut off.

Caleb followed her through it, riding each pulse, each tremor, not certain if he was doing the right thing—only knowing that he never wanted to stop.

When her body stilled, Caleb exhaled, his breath unsteady, his body still thrumming with residual heat. His pulse hadn’t quite settled, and neither had his thoughts. The familiar tension that had plagued him the whole afternoon began to rear its ugly head again now—charged with something deeper.

Giselle's chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, her skin flushed, dewy in the fading light. The tension that had once gripped her was gone, however, replaced by an almost ethereal softness. She looked utterly at peace, and for a moment, Caleb just watched her.

His gaze drifted downward, lingering over the gentle curve of her thighs, the way the last traces of her pleasure still clung to her skin. His throat tightened, that familiar trance-like state still clinging to his mind like a persistent fog. She was beautiful like this—unguarded, undone, and something deep within him ached.

He forced himself to move, to shift his focus. Slowly, with a quiet reverence, he reached for the hem of her dress, carefully pulling it back down, covering her with the same care one might handle something fragile. There was no urgency now, no teasing quip to fill the silence—only the quiet weight of the moment settling into his bones.

She needed rest.

With a reluctant sigh, Caleb pushed himself to his feet and disappeared for a moment, returning with a blanket. By the time he'd come back, she was already asleep.

His eyes welled slightly at the sight—the way she had curled into herself, her fingers lightly grazing the couch, her expression soft, peaceful.

A quiet chuckle barely left his lips as he shook his head.

“Not fair, Gigi. You’re always wandering off on your own,” he murmured, though the words held no bite. Maybe it was for the best.

Carefully, he crouched down and draped the blanket over her, his fingers brushing against her arm in the process. She barely stirred, only shifting slightly, nestling deeper into the warmth.

For what felt like an eternity, he simply stayed there, crouched beside her, taking her in.

Then, finally, he let out an exhale, rubbing a hand over his face as exhaustion began to creep into his own limbs. With a quiet sigh, he shifted back, settling onto the floor a small distance away.

Caleb exhaled slowly, leaning against the couch, but even as his eyes threatened to close, his mind refused to settle.

The weight of what had just happened began setting over him like a second skin—clinging, inescapable.

So what now? he mused inwardly.

Would they talk about this? Would they even acknowledge it?

A part of him—the part still intoxicated by the feel of her, by the way she had trusted him so completely—wanted to believe this meant something more. That it wasn’t just a passing moment, a fleeting indulgence, but something real. Something that changed things between them in a way he wasn’t sure he could come back from.

But that was selfish.

He had offered her this, and she had accepted—but she owed him nothing in return. No promises, no confessions, no neatly wrapped resolution. He wouldn’t let himself expect anything from her.

And then, there was the other part.

The rational part. The one that reminded him who they were to one another.

Giselle was still his best friend.

They had spent a lifetime in easy companionship, in teasing, in trust. They had never—not once—crossed this line before.

And now, they couldn’t uncross it.

Would she regret it? Would she pretend it never happened?

Would she want him to?

His fingers curled slightly against his knee, tension creeping back into his jaw. If she wanted to forget this, he wouldn’t fight her on it. He wouldn’t push, wouldn’t hold onto something she didn’t want to keep.

Even if he already knew—deep down—that forgetting was impossible.

But if that was what she wanted, she would have it.

And he would still be there for her.

No matter what.

Leaning his head against the couch, he let his eyes drift shut.

His resolve was absolute, as steady as the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath.

Outside, the lazy spring afternoon carried on with no care for the weight in his chest, no concern for the quiet war waging in his mind. The wind whispered against the walls, the golden light of the setting sun stretched across the floor, and beside him, Giselle slept—peaceful, untouched by the turmoil threading through him.

And so, with only the sound of their breathing and the faint rustling of the wind outside, he let himself doze off, too.

[lizardsfromspace]

Always remember: somewhere, right now, a old stray cat is being adopted. Someone is having warm coffee, and wearing fresh, warm clothes. Somewhere a student has just aced all their exams and gotten into their favorite college; a small business owner got the loan they needed for their French bakery; a stargazer has discovered a star that isn't a star, that is moving in patterns too organic to be the result of physics, and that is sending signals to Earth in the form of light in colors the human eye cannot perceive. The world is so wide and wonderful 💖

[what-was-that-pipsqueak]

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────

EXAM SEASON

The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional scratch of your pen across your apple-themed notebook and the low, ambient hum of your calming study playlist drifting from your monitor. On your second screen, Pinterest was open to a board of motivational quotes and dreamy workspaces that felt galaxies away from the chaos inside your mind. The overhead light cast a sterile, white glare across your desk, turning the once-helpful to-do list for university into something far more ominous, a looming death wish masquerading as productivity.

Your eyes burned, the sting of screen fatigue and exhaustion blurring the ink on the page. It was all just... too much.

You didn’t hear the door open, but you felt it.

Caleb’s presence always felt like gravity itself, an invisible pull, warm and grounding, bringing you back to earth when everything else felt like freefall. He didn’t speak right away. He just stood there in the doorway for a moment, quiet and observant, reading the stress etched into your posture: the slope of your shoulders, the way your fingers gripped the edge of your notebook like it might somehow hold the key to surviving exam season with your sanity intact.

Then, wordlessly, he crossed the room, warm hands brushing against your back with featherlight reassurance. He bent down, pressing a slow, steady kiss to the top of your head, grounding you further. Without needing to ask, he turned around and returned with the soft, cat-patterned weighted blanket you kept folded neatly at the foot of your bed.

“Arms up, Pips,” he said gently. You lifted your arms instantly and without question, as if your body already knew to trust his words.

He draped the blanket around you carefully, making sure it sat snug over your shoulders and head. You let out a shaky breath as the weight started to slowly soothe your anxiety. Caleb let out a quiet, satisfied hum and walked back to the kitchen. Soon, the comforting sounds of a kettle and the soft rustle of ceramic cups floated over the low swell of your music.

When he returned, he carried your favourite mug, the one with a faded photo of the two of you at summer camp, grinning with marshmallow-smeared faces—now filled with something warm and green. The soft, creamy scent of vanilla and matcha drifted over to you. He knelt beside you, cradling the mug in both hands before offering it to you.

“How did you know that's exactly what I needed right now?” you murmured, taking the cup.

“You didn’t need to say anything” he said simply, brushing a stray lock of hair from your cheek. “I know that look.”

You took a slow sip, the warmth spreading through your chest, unspooling the knot of tension in your stomach. Caleb reached over to your bedside caddy and, with a practised familiarity that made you blink through the haze, began pulling out your skincare routine. The gesture was so unexpected it made you laugh, breathy and soft, despite the weight of the day still pressing down on you.

He took a wipe and gently cleaned your face, holding your chin steady with the kind of reverence one might reserve for their lover. Then came the serum. He warmed a few drops between his palms and pressed them into your skin, slow and patient. Next were the star shaped pimple patches, stuck on with clinical care and maybe a bit too much pride in his "accuracy". Lastly, moisturiser, smoothed along your cheeks with gentle thumbs and a quiet, “There we go.”

You leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. It was better than any spa treatment—more intimate, more personal. Each motion was a love letter in silence.

Then, without a word, he stood and retrieved your hairbrush, drawing it through your hair in long, slow strokes. The rhythm of it was hypnotic. Your eyes slipped closed again, and you felt yourself begin to unravel.

“Braids tonight?” he asked softly, already parting your hair. You nodded.

He braided with care, his fingers sure and patient, each weave precise, like the intricate styles he used to do when I sat at his feet before school, pleading with sleepy eyes. When he finished, he tied it off with a practised flick and pressed a kiss to your temple. Then he paused and tilted his head, reading your mood like a seasoned pilot charting stormy skies.

“Do you want your comfort movie on?”

You looked at him. “You’ve seen it a million times.”

“I’d watch it a million more times if it helps you feel better,” he said, giving you that crooked smile that always made something in your chest ache and soften at once. “Or I could just recite it for you. I probably could at this point.”

You gave him a small, grateful laugh. “Let’s put it on.” He knew exactly what you needed in that moment, and you were grateful to have someone who understood you so well.

Without protest, he cued it up, dimming the fairy lights until the room was cast in a warm, golden glow. He settled beside you on the bed, pulling you gently against him, one arm wrapped securely around your shoulders as the familiar opening scene flickered to life on the screen.

You sank into him, the weight of the blanket and his steady presence lulling your senses into calm. Warm. Held. Safe. Home.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the movie’s gentle score.

Caleb squeezed you gently, his own silent way of saying he was always there for you.

As the movie played on, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that no matter what happened, Caleb would always be there for you. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting glow of the screen and his presence, you realised that maybe everything was going to be okay after all.

[gudforever]

The CAT Exam pattern for 2024 is expected to be similar to the previous year. The exam is set to be conducted on November 24, 2024. It is one of the most prestigious exams in India and serves as a gateway to some of the top management institutes in the country. The Indian Institutes of Management (IIMs) conduct this exam annually to admit students into various postgraduate programs. Every year, lakhs of aspirants appear for this highly competitive exam, making it crucial to know all about the CAT Exam Pattern and Syllabus for 2024.

[yanderederee]

CaughtOffGuard!

ctw: BajixFem!Reader , nsfw/smut , timeskip/college

Disclaimer!: I don’t feel I m very good at writing active smut, so I apologize if this seems off!

It has been one fucking HELL of a day. Baji swore to Chifuyu he could handle opening the pet store all on his own.

Yes, even though he had an exam an hour before the store opened.

Baji had been up and literally running since four in the morning. And now, just after getting off his shift at the shop, head heavy with doubt about just how shitty he probably did on his exam—- he realized he forgot to leave out food for Peke.

“I’m so sorry buddy.” Baji sighed, tenderly petting the scarred cat while he ate. “Kei?~ are you home?” You could be heard just a wall over. “Yeaaah. Forgot to stop by the store after work though. I‘ll run by the corner shop in a sec, you need anything?”

Circling your way into the same room as your long term boyfriend, you took note of his frazzled mannerisms. As though adrenaline was pushing his husk to do everything at once.

“I fed Peke earlier babe,” you swiveled Baji’s moving form from going for his discarded wallet and jacket. “C’mere! Ain’t seen your cute face all day.”

Before he could wrestle his way free from your tangled limbs, you had succeeded in disorienting him into tripping over his own feet to fall back onto the couch:

Step 1: Complete

“Babbbeeeee,” Baji whined deeply, masked as a powerless growl. “Ain’t got time for this right now. I’m meeting Dranken an’ Mikey down at SS Motor in—-!! aah..”

It was painful. Watching the one you love overwork themselves to a point such as this. You gave your fearsome lover a pouting look, while pressing your body against his with just enough pressure to melt his sore muscles into your own.

“Oh, baby, no you’re not.” You looped your hands under Baji’s loose work shirt, grazing your slightly overgrown nails in detailed patterns over the skin of his back.

A relieved moan escaped past Baji’s ego, his eyebrows knitting together as chills ran down his entire body. Fuckk.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, was better than the feeling of you against his body like this.

Not one to object his queen, Baji batted his glazed over, tired eyes. He opened his mouth, seconds passing, but the words seemed to escape him. Too obsessed with the helplessly lost look in Baji Keisuke’s eyes, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Stay,” you ordered, so, so sweetly.

Taking advantage of his condition, you quickly snaked your kiss into his mouth.

This was the first kiss the two of you had shared in perhaps two days, what with all the late shifts, classes and obligations.

As experienced as you were in kissing Baji for years, your kiss practically emitted steam. Humid in a way that sent the both of you rutting into each-other every way physically possible. Your tongues weld into a mass of muscle and slick, mixing saliva to create an intoxicating cocktail. You only shifted your lips apart enough for the both of you to gasp against each others skin, teeth clattering once by accident but soon felt his bite down against the hollow of your neck. Pressing his canines deeper— until he was sucking your soft skin harshly.

The lazy roll of his tongue teased your thin layer of skin, gently biting you closer. You sighed in content across Keisuke’s ear. Neither of you needed words to understand the other.

Melting even closer against his body, a delicious warmth wrapped tightly across Baji’s hips. Clad only in a pair of shorts, every roll of your hips was genuinely intoxicating. “G-gatta…” Baji made one last pass in protesting against you. To be a responsible adult.

But you purred at his pathetic form, red faced and cross eyed. All for you. You slid your tongue back into Kei’s mouth, swiveling your hips so as to rub your clit as best you can against the outline of his already hardened erection.

“Gotta what, baby?” You asked in an innocent voice, giving his bottom lip a gentle pull in between your teeth. “If you can’t use your words properly, I’ll have to put this mouth to better use,”

And just as quickly, Baji lost all control. He always seemed to lose these damned encounters. Never one to submit, yet never could lift a finger to defy you.

Rubbing gently against him, you slid your hand just far enough under his pants to coat your finger with the bead of precum. Trailing said finger back up and between lips, you moaned softly. You batted your eyelashes down at Baji, kissing him deeply once more. “Let me make you feel better~” you ordered between kisses.

Baji could never deny you.

In skilled strokes, you rid Baji of the clothes on his lower half.

You were guiding Baji’s hands across your body, caressing the skin of your curves with his rough calloused touch, using them like a tool to discard every bit of clothing you had on.

“You’re so beautiful…” Baji breathed gently, never missing your stare. Once your hands let go in guiding his touch, he immediately tangled your hair into his fingers gently, feverishly pulling you down to kiss you deeper.

You may have started this night off with the upper hand, it was simply a fact that Baji was stronger than you. That Baji Keisuke was a true beast that would eventually snap and swallow you whole.

You smiled widely into his bruising kiss, letting your body relax as he took control entirely. “So.. fucking soft.” he bit the opposite side of your neck, allowing the exploration of one hand to gingerly graze over you once more;

from shoulder,

to butterfly bone,

along the rim of your rib cage,

up, to gently brush his thumb over your budded nipple.

“So perfect.” He smiles when looking into your increasingly lustful gaze.

Without further distraction, the tips of his fingers honed straight for your slick sex. “Just so excited to see me, weren’t you?”

He was soon answered by the feeling of your pulsating clit, eager to be touched. Baji chuckled, circling the bud quickly against his middle finger. “You know just how to build me back up again doll,” he moaned, the leaking juices you produced slowly began dripping on his neglected length.

“How bout I fill you up as thanks?”

Baji smirked when you practically cried. “Please?” You pleaded, softly kissing him one more time.

“Anything for you.”

God, and he did not waste any time in doing so. Swirling what juices he had coating his fingers across his leaking tip, he made quick work sinking you down onto it.

It was just the tip, yet neither of you could suppress the overwhelming feeling of finally being with one another. It was so easy to get drunk off of eachother. Impatiently, you pulled him deeper into you.

“Shitshitshit— c-calm down..! You’re gonna make me-“ Baji’s eyes rolled back at the feeling. How long had it been? Since you fucked him like this?

“You’re always running around these days… can’t be mad at me for wanting you all to myself.”

Well, he couldn’t argue that. Still, at this pace, sinking himself to the deepest part of you he could in one slow motion… it was too much. A shiver ran down his spine when the seal of your pussy lips met the juncture of his navel. Locking him inside of you for only a few seconds.

“I’ll take care of you, so try to relax for me, ‘Kay?” You breathed hard. It always took a few seconds for your to adjust to his size, but the added intensity helped. Drunk from it all, he finally let himself become dominated. Baji rested his head against the back of the couch, and laid his hands flat against your thighs, allowing them to do their will.

“Fuck,” he moaned, feeling you clench down on him in praise. “You win.”

“Good boy.” You whispered in his ear, pulling your hips up slowly, and sinking back down at an agonizingly slow pace.

You wanted him to feel everything. Feel his veins trace your insides. How your muscles contracted against his tip. The warmth of your insides stroking him in perfect stride. Everything.

Knowing you could only bare this pace for a few more strokes, you began humping faster. It was instinctive. You craved the act of taking what was yours for so long now, it became impossible to hold back.

“Kei…” only part of his name escaped your lips, begging so sweetly.

Both of you starred down, enthralled by the sight below. Faster, til you couldn’t anymore.

It was harder than it looked. Your legs began to shake, maybe from pleasure, but definitely because it was tiresome work.

Yet still you prevailed. Letting your legs rest at last, you sat in his lap with added weight. The deepest he could possibly be, given the position.

Just as he had thought you were ready to call it quits, your hips began go swivel quickly.

“Oh fuck-“ he gasped. This was it, the pleasure he had been building up this entire time was beginning to unravel.

And you knew it. You smirked at Baji’s agape expression, his eyes rolling back once more.

“Such a good boy,” now clenching your abdomen repeatedly, it was only a matter of seconds. Devilish, he thought. He didn’t need to warn you of his oncoming release, you already knew. You could feel him twitching inside you.

Pairing the intoxicating swirl of your hips and clench of your muscles, with the last bit of strength your thighs could muster, you teased Baji’s dick into pulling out and sinking back into you impossibly fast.

With this amount of work, you knew you wouldn’t finish, but he would, and ultimately that was your goal in all this.

And finally, finally, the tension he’d been trying to prolong finally snapped. With a deep, guttural moan, Baji let himself be heard as you pumped him for all he was worth.

His hands couldn’t stop his rougher hands from forcing your hips closer, furthering himself into you deeply. He clenched his own hips upwards in reply, shuddering as his cum began filling you up.

He didn’t intend to, but it was impossible not to have. The overwhelming urge to be burried inside you was too great. Especially after not participating for so long, this was heaven.

Baji breathed heavily. He didn’t do much work, but he was spent. Resting back into the couch below, he slowly began regaining eyesight.

Your face was front view, beautiful and equally as spent. “Submission looks good on you,” you commented cheerily.

Baji laughed. “Don’t get used to it,” he slapped your ass, harsh, warning a loud yip from you. “You’re mine now.”

[jymwahuwu]

I said I'm not interested in AU but this is what popped into my head… HSR retro AU. No more space technology.

Basically you are a college student 🙈🙈🙈 Depending on whether you are an extrovert or an introvert, you may go shopping and play with your friends during the holidays, have a party, or stay comfortably at home listening to music with MP3 and cassette tapes, or reading novels on the subway.

You use a bulky computer to click on the Windows XP system, and spend hours downloading music and opening chat software. Your MSN friends list is as follows:

Jing Yuan:

Your mysterious neighbor is much older than you. You have never understood what the Xianzhou Alliance is. It is said that he kept a lion named Mimi in the yard, but every time you passed by, you thought it was just a cute cat. He'll stuff you with sweets and prepare you milk and afternoon tea, giving you advice. Well, he can also write ancient poetry. You shamelessly gave this old man your homework.

(You lie on his lap and sleep, breathing quietly.)

Aventurine & Ratio:

These two live together, are also your neighbors, professors, friends... You are not sure what their relationship is, but they quarrel every day. Aventurine is a high-level executive in IPC. Every time you visit a department store, you will whisper in your heart that this is also an IPC. He takes the bill in your mailbox every month and pays it off, very weird. His car is the most talked about in the community.

Ratio is your college professor...he is very strict about grades and academic performance. You cursed him one time and he heard you and he took you back to the office for an OTK spanking...unfortunately, it was legal. You have since become his target in class...

Sunday & Robin:

They still have halos and wings, share the same MSN account, and even the same pager. They have no privacy from each other. They are well-known brothers and sisters of the Xipe Church. They are very popular and eye-catching, attracting people's attention wherever they go. So if you are an introvert, the difference is even more pronounced haha. But both of them will approach you, in the name of kindness, with a look of concern on their face. Robin picks out clothes for you and lends you homework to copy. In return, you agree to go to church on the weekend… and help her sell cookies at the church charity sale.

Sunday provides insight into your life and schedule in the name of "for your own good". You don't know why you wrote your schedule in a notebook for him… He shows up in front of your house and listens to music with you (using the same MP3 player). You share with him a few things you learned in the sex education class, and he says that he has signed the commitment card (you: ? what is this). Promise to remain chaste until marriage… That card has an inexplicable printed pattern, with a photo of a couple holding hands, leaving you speechless. But you don’t know why you signed this commitment card under his supervision…

Dan Heng:

Your nerdy college classmate, with dragon horns (don't ask me why). He reminds you of class and exam times and lends you notes, leaving you with the last piece of cake. You always tease him until he blushes and gets angry.

Dan Feng:

Dan Heng's brother. He seems to be very traditional. You haven't seen him much and you only added him as an MSN friend.

Blade:

The mysterious old man. He seems to have a grudge against Dan Feng and Dan Heng. One time you were playing cards with Yanqing and Dan Heng. He suddenly broke into the yard, said something incomprehensible and then started fighting with Dan Feng. This scared you to death. Kafka appeared to stop him. You added Kafka friends to avoid being attacked by Blade.

Kafka:

The mysterious woman who can control Blade. You don't know who she is, but she seems to know you well and be gentle to you.

Silver Wolf:

Your college classmate has designed several computer games and won many awards at a young age, and occasionally plays cards with you. For some reason, she is very close to Blade and Kafka.

[applecrumb]

゜★｡ hey,  is  that  radcliff's  very  own  AWKWARD WORM  ? yup,  i'd  recognize  MATILDA APPLE’s  face  anywhere.  if  you  twisted  my  arm  and  asked  me  to  describe  them,  i’d  say  they’re  incredibly  QUICK-WITTED,   GRACELESS,   GOOD NATURED,  JUMPY,  and  they  always  seem  to  be  carrying  around  a  DOODLING NOTEBOOK  for  some  reason.  kind  of  weird,  right  ? when  they  hit  play  on  their  walkman,  you  just  know  it’s  SHE’S A RAINBOW  by  THE ROLLING STONES  tickling  their  eardrums  ———  a  creature  of  habit,  maybe  ?  they  have  the  same  peculiar  energy  as  HANDS ALWAYS COVERED IN FRESH DOODLES - A FRANTIC HEART, RESULT OF BRIEF EYE-CONTACT WITH AN ENEMY OR CRUSH - BOOKS ALL AROUND HER PLACE, LOVED AND WORN OUT - A HIDDEN AND DESPERATE LONGING FOR FRIENDSHIP AND CONNECTION  and  work  at  scratch  that  with  all  the  other  losers.  shit  !  that’s  them  …  i  guess  they’re  about  to  clock  in  for  their  dreadfully  long  shift.  well,  good  luck  to  ‘em.

————————————

stats ! ------ • name: matilda apple • nicknames: besides tilly (lovingly by tate) and maggot, given to her by an elementary school bully, she doesn’t have a lot. but if u give her one it will make her the happiest person alive • gender & sexuality: bisexual cisgender woman • age: twenty6 • birthday: july 10 • likes: mystery novels, horror night at the cinema, black cats, bright colored bugs, baking sweets, stargazing, knitting, crochet patterns, hot chocolate, smile lines and wrinkles around the eyes, cornflower-blue paint, handwritten letters, reading books in a big-and-sturdy tree branch, big sweaters, red licorice • dislikes: snakes, public speaking, people who smile with their mouths but not their eyes, 3am thinking, starless nights, mathematics, feeling lonely around people, exams and quizzes, big surprises, the terrifying thought of being stuck in radcliff forever, black licorice • character parallels: amy (booksmart), michael scott (the office), jonathan byers (stranger things), nadine (the edge of seventeen), harold (stranger than fiction).

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

backstory blurb ! ------ • as an only child of two sibling-less parents, matilda is no stranger to loneliness. ( she has wondered more than once if her lack of social skills is thanks to that, or if she was simply born absolutely graceless ). a quiet girl since birth, her first word was uttered at three years old. almost immediately after that she began speaking in full sentences, so her parents assumed she had been able to talk for a while, but simply preferred not to ( matilda cannot say for sure, but believes that theory ). now, deandrea and terrence apple are nice enough people who absolutely adore their daughter, but they are also low-earning geologists who need full time jobs to support their little family, so matilda quickly learned how to be alone ( and as a loneliness expert, her social skills suffered ). instead of people, her early-age companions were the characters in books and movies. • school wasn’t the greatest help either. as a lonely girl of few a words, she was already an easy target for bullys, but her strange knowledge of rocks and magical worlds made her the perfect victim for more than a few ill-meaning kids, and as a surprise to no one, teachers would turn a blind eye to this behavior. all but one, her art teacher, who seeing matilda hiding behind some bushes one day, told her that she could spend her recess in the art classroom. this changed everything. even though the bullying didn’t stop, matilda found a safe haven in that place, where she also discovered her adoration for all things art. her recesses now were full of paint, yarn and multi-colored buttons; she knew from that moment that art was what she wanted to do with her life. hiding in that classroom was another probable detriment to her social skills though. • so art was her passion now, and as the seasons changed, she began to dream. this dream became a fantasy, the fantasy of leaving everything behind and going to a big art university on the other side of the country, and…. maybe, just maybe, finally making a name out of herself. of course, all that stayed in her head, since she didn’t have the money or the courage to actually make it a reality. matilda settled for a small art college close enough to radcliff for her to still live with her parents while attending. oh, but she absolutely loved it there! and even though she didn’t stop being the quiet girl, she found the closest thing to a voice she ever had. after graduating she felt on top of the world, only to be aggressively tumbled down by reality. as you might already know, there is not a lot of demand for a so-called artist in a town like this, and since geologists can only earn enough, matilda had to leave her fantasies behind and find an actual job. even though working at ‘ scratch that ’ doesn’t look like most people’s dream careers, it definitely is the only real life option that would have her and is also somehow related to what she loves. and of course selling records isn’t exactly like painting, or similar at all, but matilda believes that the store is the only place she would be able to find that wouldn’t make her go absolutely insane. and again, she is probably right.

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

headcanons & fun facts ! ------ • ever since she was a child, she has suffered from stage fright. or simply talking-in-front-of-any-kind-of-audience fright. • matilda managed to get into a small and really good college close to radcliff with a full scholarship, and she graduated with a fine arts degree ! which so far has not been of much help in anything at all. but here is to hoping ! • her favorite movie is " the cabinet of dr caligari ", which she owns in VHS and watches repeatedly. • at seven years old, she had her first crush ever. it was a boy close to her age who lived in the same building as her. the girl´s way of dealing with these new feelings was a very peculiar one: almost daily she would knock on his door, then run and hide, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. eventually his family ended up moving because of these "pranks" ( which they never learned the actual truth about). • her first celebrity crush, matilda later realized, was lynda carter as wonder woman. • she hates the taste of olives. • her favorite candy are twizzlers.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Fixer Upper

Part 11

Perv!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

part 10

part 12

warning: reader is kinda in a bad place 😭 so if that seems like it could be triggering for you, you may not want to stick around for future chapters. because there are some sad reveals later on :(

taglist: @fabitheraven @tsukilover11 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @lemonslut @homeinmydreams @superweeniehutjrsblog @bugmomwrites @heartsforseo @lixiawinter @altaircc @itszenava @fiightforlovee @mimi-sanisanidiot @monainanuttshell @wow-im-gay @whorermoviestar @lightshowerrr @mama-m1na

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BEFORE THE HUNTER EXAM

(Name) pulled her cover off and placed her sock covered feet on the cold floor. It was another sleepy Tuesday morning, the sun shining onto her messy bed.

Her legs were still tired from her long walk from her campus yesterday. She yawned into her hand as she poured her coffee into the cat paw patterned cup her little brothers gave her for her birthday.

(Name) sipped slowly. The cheap store brand coffee wasn’t amazing, but it was better than nothing. She glanced at her phone to see a missed call from her mother.

‘She never calls. Must of heard of the news from school…’

She pressed call, waiting a few seconds before her mother picked up.

“You idiot, I can’t believe you dropped out! After all the money your dad and I-“

“I’ve already sent a check reimbursing you for the classes you paid for.”

Her mother gasped. “You disrespectful little… I hope you know we’ll be cutting you off for this. We already had low expectations for you, and you couldn’t even meet those. What a useless girl you are.”

(Name) sighed. ‘Cut me off? Not like you were supporting me much anyways.’

She looked around her crappy apartment with a sigh.

“And you’re taking the Hunter Exam. Well good for you. You gave up being a nurse to take the most dangerous test in the world. How smart of you.”

Sarcasm and hate dripped off of her voice like venom. (Name) didn’t respond. She was used to this by now, only sighing.

“Is that all you wanted to say?”

Her mother was quiet for a moment.

“No. In fact, I wanted to let you know that any further contact from you will be considered harassment. You will not be contacting any members of our family after this call.”

(Name)’s eyes widened, her cup slipping to the floor. “Wait, you don’t mean-“

“Yes. You will not be able to see your brothers. Ever again.”

She hung up the phone. (Name) stared down at the shattered cup before quickly trying to call her mother back.

“Please, pick up mom… not my brothers. You can’t take them from me!!”

But she didn’t answer, and soon she wasn’t able to call her at all.

‘Must of blocked me…’

She sat down, not caring about the coffee that had splashed on her legs and began to burn her skin. (Name) could only stare down at the shards of the only gift she had from her brothers.

(Name) glanced at the Hunter Exam application, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

‘Why not, not like I have anything to lose.’

The next few months (Name) went about life in a blur. She trained for the exam, slowly distancing herself from the small acquaintances she had from college, and breaking her lease.

She packed her backpack the night before the exam, placing several pairs of outfits, some canteens of water, food, other various items, and a dagger.

It was enough to be a good weight against her back, but not too heavy to make running or climbing difficult.

The last thing she packed into her bag was an envelope, carrying a letter.

“…”

She stared at the letter for a moment before stuffing it into the bottom of her bag, where it would be safe. It was the most important item in there, after all.

And she didn’t want anyone to read it until the time came.

———————

The first few trials of the exam had been hard, but she’d managed to scrape through and finally arrive where the First Phase would be held.

(Name) held onto one strap of her backpack quietly. Her navigator had been a bit worried for her, asking if she was okay.

“Yes, I’m alright. Just nervous I guess.”

The navigator nodded slowly. “I see. I think you’ll do well, dear, and if you don’t there’s always next year! I’ll see you then, yeah?”

(Name) looked down at her feet, not answering the woman. The navigator sighed before smiling.

“Good luck, I hope you pass!”

(Name) gave her a small smile back, waving as the doors closed and she began to descend. Her heart began to race. So far, she’d only met a few other Hunter applicants, all of them unkind. She was beginning to lose hope that she’d be able to make any type of alliances.

Not that she cared all that much. She didn’t think she’d be passing anyways.

Or surviving.

She looked down at the badge the navigator had given her.

‘#406. That must mean there are over 400 other applicants. Great.’

The doors opened up and (Name) walked out. Heads turned to stare at her, a few whistles and nods of approval could he heard and seen.

It wasn’t unexpected to (Name). After all, she was wearing a short white tennis skirt, and a pink cardigan over a white undershirt. Out of everyone else in sight, she seemed to be the only one dressed in such a way.

(Name) sighed as she joined the crowd. She looked around, her eyes glancing between each applicant before she spotted someone.

‘Oh thank god.’

She ran forward and grabbed onto a blonde woman’s sleeve, tugging it lightly.

“Hey there! I’m so glad I’m not the only woman here. Would you like to team up? Girls supporting girls and all?”

The blonde turned to her and blinked, tilting her head.

“Oh, um… you can join us, but…”

She blushed lightly, obviously embarrassed.

“I’m not a girl.”

(Name) tilted her head as the person next to the blonde bursted into laughter.

The blonde scowled and turned to the man. “And what is so funny, Leorio?”

The man, supposedly named Leorio, continued laughing. “Th-the first girl we meet and she thinks you’re a girl too! This is priceless!”

(Name) tightened her grip on the straps of her backpack. “I apologize. You’re just so pretty, I thought you were a girl.”

Yet again, the blonde blushed. “It’s alright, I promise. You said you were looking for someone to team up with, correct?”

She nodded as Leorio’s laughter died down. “Well you can stay with us. I’m not sure if we’ll be together the entire exam, but you’re welcome to tag along.”

“I sure wouldn’t mind a pretty little lady like you being on my t-“

The blonde hit him over the head with some sheathed weapon. “Ouch, Kurapika what was that for?”

The boy called Kurapika huffed. “I won’t have you being a creep to our new comrade. It’s disgraceful.”

“New comrade?”

A boy, who looked no older than twelve approached the group. “Oh, Gon! This girl asked to join up with us.”

(Name) waved at him. “Hello, I’m (Name).”

“That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

Leorio grabbed her hand with both of his and shook it. “Welcome to the team!”

She shook hands with the others as well, looking away shyly when her hand touched Kurapika’s.

‘He really is pretty…’

Kurapika smiled. “I bet the exam has been full of trials, did you come here alone?”

“Yes, the only other applicants I’ve met have tried tricking or hurting me into failing. I’m glad I’ve finally met some nice people.”

Kurapika’s face shifted into a grimace. “That’s deplorable. But I guess it’s to be expected. The applicants could be anyone, meaning there’s bound to be bad people.��

(Name) sighed, pulling out a water canteen from her bag and sipping on it. “Any idea on what the first phase will be?”

When she caught Gon staring at the canteen, she offered it to him. He took it with a smile. Everyone took a sip before handing it back to (Name).

“I see you’ve come prepared. If you don’t mind me asking, what else do you have in your backpack?”

She frowned slightly but pulled it over her shoulder and into her hands. “Not a ton of things, but I have some snacks and water, along with a few different outfits.”

Kurapika blinked. ‘Oh, I guess different outfits would be important to a woman.’

She offered the three some hard candy, which Gon and Kurapika took. As they waited for the phase to begin, they chatted amongst themselves to get to know each other.

“You dropped out of medical school!?”

Leorio seemed almost angry, but was calmed down when he saw the sad look on her face.

“Yes, I did. It’s not that I don’t want to go, I just… I didn’t really have a choice in what I was studying. I decided to take the Hunter Exam on a whim, really. I…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, quickly smiling to hide that she almost let her secret spill.

“I’m excited to succeed!”

Leorio’s eyes softened. She was hiding something, but he could tell it wasn’t sinister. It was more for their sake then her’s.

“I hope you do.”

———————

A sharp ringing sounded throughout the large room. A man named Tonpa had walked over and talked to the group a bit, (Name) not paying him much attention. She was much too busy chatting with Kurapika, who seemed happy to share his experience with the exam with her.

The group looked up to see a man with short purple hair and a curly mustache standing before them, holding the ringing alarm. He stopped it before speaking.

“As of this moment the exam is closed to any further applicants. I would like to officially welcome everyone here to the Hunter Exam.”

Gon grinned. “Alright, finally, it’s gonna get started!”

“Aw man, I can’t believe I’m getting nervous.” Leorio said, loosening his tie.

“Come with me. Let me take a moment to remind you all that the Hunter Exam is extremely demanding. If you’re unprepared or unlucky, you may well be injured or killed. If you are alright with accepting those risks, then you may continue following me.”

The group followed after him, (Name) sticking by Kurapika. He may not be a girl, but out of all of them he seemed the most trustworthy and reliable.

“Very well then. The number of applicants is 405. At least for now.”

(Name) thought back to when Hisoka had taken one of the applicants out, holding the straps to her backpack a little tighter as she walked.

Leorio glanced around the crowd. “I guess I should have expected it, but no one’s backed out yet. I hoped there might be a few.”

(Name) hummed. “If they’ve made it this far, I doubt they’ll be backing out anytime soon.”

Kurapika nodded. “Yes, I agree. Just the path to the Hunter exam is full of trials and tribulations that would make ordinary men- oh and women, give up.”

(Name) suppressed a giggle. “Mhm.”

The people in the front began to speed up. “Hey, he’s picking up the pace!” Kurapika said with a frown.

“Sorry for the delay, but allow me to introduce myself. I’m Satotz, the examiner for the First Phase. I’m also the one that’s leading you to the sight for the Second Phase. Some of you may have already realized that keeping up with me until we reach the Second Phase is in fact, the First Phase.”

Their light jog turned into a run, and thirty minutes passed with no change in pace.

(Name) sighed lightly as she kept pace with the group, having to hold a hand over her chest to keep it from bouncing too much. ‘Went through the trouble of wearing two sports bras for no change in the outcome. Annoying.’

(Name) paid no attention to Tonpa explaining that this phase was not only a physical test, but a psychological one. She didn’t really care, (Name) was too busy focusing on her breathing and heavy backpack.

A boy came racing in between them riding a skateboard. (Name) glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

“Wow, that’s cool!” Gon called with a smile.

“Hey, kid on the skateboard, that’s not fair! You’re cheating!”

(Name) hummed and ran a bit ahead. She didn’t really feel like hearing Leorio harass a random kid. Kurapika watched her for a moment before following behind her.

“Sorry, he can be a bit annoying sometimes.”

Kurapika gave her a small smile, running beside her. (Name) shook her head. “No reason to be sorry. I’m just… not in the mood to hear someone yelling right now.”

“Hmm, that’s fair. Leorio can be pretty loud and obnoxious.”

(Name) hummed. “I happen to usually like loud and obnoxious people I’ll have you know. It’s just hard to to tolerate when I’m already tired from running.”

They both laughed. (Name) reached into her backpack and pulled out her canteen. “You thirsty? It’s been thirty minutes.”

He nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Kurapika took a drink before he handed it back. The girl immediately shoved it back into her bag, Kurapika raising an eyebrow.

‘Why did she take it out if not to take a sip for herself?’

He didn’t voice this question, instead focusing on his legs, willing them forward.

“So, Kurapika, how old are you?”

The blonde tilted his head. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, shouldering her backpack again. “Just curious. If you want to know, I’m 18 myself.”

“17, 18 in April.”

(Name) nodded. ‘So we’re about the same age. Interesting…’

“And apparently Leorio is 19.”

“19!? He certainly doesn’t look the part.”

The two laughed again, (Name) nearly tripping, but quickly being steadied by Kurapika.

“Woah there, watch where you step. It is dark in here.”

(Name) nodded, lightly flustered from his grasp on her wrist. He let go quickly, seemingly unfazed by the physical contact.

3 hours pass by, and (Name) was beginning to get tired. The group stopped when Leorio collapsed, (Name) immediately rushing to his side. She dropped next to him, patting his back and offering him some water.

“Leorio!” Gon began running to join Leorio when the white haired boy, Killua called out to him.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing? He’s finished, so just leave him behind.”

Gon frowned. “Come on, you don’t know that! Besides I can’t just leave him here, he’s my friend!”

“Friend?”

“Uh huh. That’s what I said.”

After chugging the rest of the water from one of her canteens, Leorio began to stand. “I’m not giving up… I came here to become a Hunter and that’s what I’m gonna do!”

(Name) watched as he rushed forward, Tonpa sighing.

“Hey take it easy, you need a break.”

“Shut up! If you’re just gonna stand around here, I’ll leave you… in my dust… hah hah… aww great, my legs won’t move.”

(Name) walked forward and handed him a handkerchief to wipe his sweat away with. Kurapika watched this interaction, his eyes watching her face twist into concern for a man she’d just met.

“So you’re not just in it for the money.”

Leorio huffed. “No, it’s all about money. There’s no other reason…”

“We don’t have time to argue about this. What do you think we should do now, Tonpa?”

(Name) stood up straight again, stretching lightly.

“Hmmm, wait a sec, that smell! Do ya remember? There was a sweet smell from that tunnel. Hey, I think it might help you recuperate!”

“What?”

“I thought I recognize that smell, I think it’s the sap of the healing cedar tree!” Tonpa exclaimed.

“Healing cedar?”

“Yeah! The sap is used by Hunters who often become exhausted in the forest. All you have to do is smell the aroma for a while and you can recover and keep on going.”

Kurapika stopped Tonpa from carrying Leorio away. “Wait a minute, it could be a trap.”

“Maybe, but we can’t just leave him behind now, can we? It’s a chance we’re gonna have to take.”

The blonde frowned. “Yes, but…”

“I’m king of the flunkies. You wanna know why I failed the exam 34 times? I’m a sucker for anyone that needs my help.”

(Name) raised an eyebrow at this. She glanced between Leorio and Tonpa.

“It’s okay. As soon as Leorio recovers, we’ll catch up to you, I promise.”

“I’m sorry, Tonpa… Gon, Kurapika, (Name), don’t worry about me. Go for it!”

(Name) crouched down and rearranged her backpack as the others spoke, then stood as they began to leave, watching Leorio carry him away with a suspicious look.

‘Don’t trust him one bit.’ She thought.

“What are you doing, are you coming or not?”

“Oh yeah, sorry to keep you waiting. You can go on ahead.”

Killua tilted his head. “You mean you’re not going to keep going?”

“Yeah, not unless it’s with Leorio.”

(Name) nodded. “Me either. I’m still worried for him, he wasn’t doing too hot…”

Both Gon and Kurapika noticed her staring into the distance, clutching her cardigan tightly.

“Kurapika, I’m going to see how they’re doing. Tonpa said they’d be okay, but I’m still worried.”

“I’ll come with you. We can always catch up to the group later on.”

Gon nodded towards Killua. “Alright, we’ll be back. Then, if you want, you can tell me your name. Because I still don’t know what it is.”

Kurapika glanced at (Name). “Will you be coming as well?”

She gave him a quick nod. “Of course. I can’t just abandon someone in need.”

He didn’t respond, racing after Gon towards where they had last seen Leorio and Tonpa heading.

But he did feel something stir in his chest when his eyes met hers.

‘She’s kind. It’s… nice to see that in such a place.’

The three stopped when they spotted Tonpa lying on the ground.

“Tonpa! What’s wrong?”

He groaned and lifted himself up slowly. “Oh, it’s you. Hurry, they need your help!”

“What happened back there?” Kurapika asked, glancing between Tonpa and the hallway he pointed to.

“It was a trap. Worst I’ve seen. Hurry!”

(Name) turned and ran towards where Tonpa had been pointing, the two following behind her.

The three continued to run until they came across Nicholas, one of the applicants.

“Nicholas! What’s wrong?”

The boy slowly moved so he was on his hands and knees, looking back at them with a delirious expression. Kurapika subconsciously pushed (Name) behind him.

The man began to walk away while laughing to himself. Kurapika watched him for a minute before speaking.

“Let’s go, we have to find Leorio.”

Gon and (Name) nodded. “Yeah.”

——————

“Leorio, can you hear me? Leorio!!!”

Gon continued to call out Leorio’s name as they ran, (Name) noticing Kurapika beginning to slow down.

“Kurapika?”

She stopped next to him, Gon circling back when he noticed they were no longer running. “What’s wrong?”

Kurapika eyes became hazy, the blonde holding up his weapons to defend himself. “The Phantom Troupe…”

His breath came out in short pants as his eyes began to turn a deep shade of scarlet.

“Oh no…please, don’t do it…”

He collapsed onto the ground, (Name) quick to kneel by his side. “Kurapika, what’s going on? Are you alright?”

“Can you hear me?” Gon asked, concern lacing his voice.

Kurapika stared at the ground as sweat beaded down his forehead.

He fell, lying against the ground. “Make… them stop… please…”

He stared off into the distance, unable to move. (Name) wasn’t sure what to do, so she rubbed soothing circles into his back. “Kurapika, no one’s here. It’s just us.”

He didn’t relax though. His eyes remained that same scarlet color. “We have to get going. I’ll carry him.”

(Name) hoisted Kurapika up and over her shoulder. Gon blinked. “Wow, you’re strong.”

She nodded, a small smile on her lips. “I grew up with two younger brothers who looooved piggy back rides.”

“Can I get one too? Later, I mean.”

(Name) laughed. “Sure, after we find Leorio.”

They continued, now slowed down because of Kurapika’s weight. She didn’t seem to have much trouble carrying him, only occasionally grunting and rearranging him on her shoulder.

“So, Gon, why do you want to be a Hunter?”

The young boy hummed, adjusting the line on his fishing pole. “Mmm, I’m not sure yet, but I want to find my dad. He’s a Hunter too.”

‘Find? Did his dad abandon him?’

(Name) nodded slowly. “I see.”

“What about you?”

The girl paused, her grip on Kurapika’s thigh tightening ever so slightly. “Well… I didn’t have many options.”

Gon tilted his head. “Really?”

“Yeah. I… just thought it would be fun to try out.”

She sighed. (Name) didn’t enjoy lying, especially to an honest boy like him, but the truth about the situation wasn’t something a child should know. Gon didn’t respond.

The hallway was quiet for a bit, until Kurapika grunted loudly. (Name) turned her head a bit to see if he’d woken up, only for him to begin struggling against her and cry out.

“Kurapika! Are you alright?”

He wiggled out of her grasp, and just as she was about to lean over and help him back up, the white haired boy from before appeared, kicking the blonde in the face.

“Kurapika!”

She rushed over to his side, crouching down as he lifted his upper half onto his forearms to look up.

She helped him into a sitting position, the blonde leaning against her for support.

“Kurapika?”

Gon ran over, Killua standing in front of (Name) and Kurapika. The red had left his eyes, leaving them the pretty brown color she had noticed when she first met him.

“Oh good, you’re finally back to normal!” Gon said, smiling.

“But, uh…”

Killua watched Kurapika and (Name) with his blue eyes. “There is no healing cedar tree.”

“Huh!?”

“The sap comes from the tree of hallucination, it’s been used by assassins for a long time. It’s victims re-experience the worst events of their lives, and it eventually drives them insane.”

Kurapika blinked slowly, realizing he’d been leaning against (Name). He pulled back, the girl reaching out to make sure he didn’t fall.

“How do you know that?” Gon asked.

“So that means Tonpa must of…”

Killua nodded at the blonde. “Yeah, that’s right, he set you guys up.”

Kurapika growled in anger, gripping onto (Name)’s sleeve.

“We should go.”

“Sure, I think I know a way we can save the old guy you were with, and catch up with the group again with a single move.”

(Name) helped Kurapika stand, the blonde grateful for her help. She’d only known him for an hour but was risking failing the exam to make sure him and Leorio were okay.

“A games no fun unless there’s some risks.”

“I’m glad we met up again! Are you going to tell me your name?”

The boy smiled at Gon. “It’s Killua.”

———————

“Okay Killua, tell us your idea.”

He pulled out a small object from his pocket. “It’s a bomb, small but effective.”

(Name) pulled Gon back by his shoulders a bit by instinct. He didn’t react, only glancing at her hands before responding.

“That’s a bomb?”

“Let’s blow up this wall and all the disgusting sap covering it.”

He placed the bombs all over the wall, (Name) stepping a few feet back. Kurapika watched as she carefully maneuvered Gon to a safe distance, the dark haired boy not seeming to mind at all.

The explosion began, the four leaping through the opening created by the bomb to grab Leorio.

They all fell onto the ground, (Name) being caught before she face planted by Kurapika. He pulled her up slightly before letting go.

“It worked! Not the easiest way to travel but it is fast! I guess there’s no turning back now.”

Kurapika blinked as (Name) knelt next to Leorio. “You alright?”

“Gon? (Name)? Kurapika? … Pietro?”

She patted his back gently. “It’s just us, Leorio.”

“You were hallucinating as a result of inhaling the sap. Tonpa fooled us all.”

Leorio gave (Name) a smile, accepting her hand when she offered to pull him to her feet.

“So that’s what that was. Guess I owe you guys one for saving my butt. But how did you manage to avoid it?”

Kurapika shook his head. “It was a close call for me.”

“(Name) and I were fine!”

“I guess it wouldn’t work on Gon cuz he’s still a kid, so he doesn’t have any problems yet.”

‘But why wouldn’t it work for (Name)?’

Leorio and Kurapika glanced at the girl, who was pulling out a bandaid to place on Gon’s knee. The two seemed to already be friendly with each other, laughing when Gon nearly tripped again.

“Hey old man, we don’t have time to sit around chatting.”

“OLD MAN!? What are you-“

“His names Killua!”

“Ready for the next round?”

Killua threw more bombs past Leorio’s head. “What was that, I heard a click.”

(Name) covered Gon and Killua with her cardigan, then shielded her ears.

“THEY’RE BOMBS!?”

The group of five jumped through the hole the bombs left, Gon handing (Name) her cardigan after they landed. “Thanks (Name)!”

Killua watched her with narrow eyes. ‘What does she get out of protecting us with that flimsy cardigan? What is she after..?’

A plume of smoke dispersed through the hallway, the sound of the other applicants coughing echoing on the walls.

“What exactly is going on here?” Satotz asked.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry, but we had to break through the walls.” Gon said apologetically.

“I never said you couldn’t destroy the walls, but tell me, how is it that you survived after wondering through the tunnels of hallucinations? I’m quite impressed.”

(Name) pulled some debris from her hair, sighing. Leorio spotted Tonpa and rushed forward, grabbing him by the collar. “How dare you! I have a score to settle with you!”

“Stop, Leorio!”

(Name) pulled out a piece of hard candy and began to suck on it as her new comrades argued. Killua watched her do this and crouched down next to her.

“You got candy?”

She tilted her head then smiled. “Yes, would you like a piece?”

She offered him a piece of butterscotch candy, which he took. ‘… maybe she’s not so bad after all. I’ll still keep my distance but…’

He didn’t sense any malicious intent from her, just… something. Something that honestly unnerved him a little.

——————

(Name) and Kurapika kept pace with each other, eventually reaching Leorio who had taken off his shirt.

“I see, so you were lying to us before.”

“Didn’t lie! My objective has always been to make a lot of money! And whatever happened in the past, happened in the past! I have no interest in doing anything that won’t make me any money!”

Kurapika sighed. “I wish you luck.”

“I don’t need luck, I’m going to become a hunter or die trying!”

“No, a doctor.”

(Name) giggled next to them.

“Could you please not look at me like that, Kurapika? It makes me a little nervous. Now come on, let’s go!”

The blonde smiled. “You alright now, Leorio?”

“Yeah I’m fine, check it out! I don’t care how stupid I look! I’d keep running even if I was naked! Pretend you don’t know me if you want!”

(Name) gasped when Kurapika threw off his tabard and stuffed it into his bag. Kurapika glanced at her. “Maybe we should follow his example.”

She pulled off her cardigan and stuffed it into her backpack.

It didn’t take long for her to catch up to Leorio, who instantly noticed she was no longer covered by her thick cardigan.

“WOAH! You’ve got a nice figure. Plump and soft, just how I like th-“

Kurapika kicked the back of his legs, causing him to crumple before getting back up and running behind them.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR!?”

The blonde shrugged. “Sorry, pervert senses were tingling.”

———————

They reached the outside, (Name) instantly unbuttoning her undershirt so she could fan herself. It was hot, and even with just her skirt and top she was sweating. “Yeesh, I’m burning up.”

She crouched down and fanned herself with her hand, ignoring what was going on. They seemed to be distracted by some kind of “impersonator”, but she didn’t care all that much.

The magician disposed of the impersonator and they began to run again.

‘Ah, maybe I should have listened a little…’ she thought, watching as the people around her began to be attacked by mysterious beasts.

She glanced around to see she’d already lost her group, sighing to herself.

“You lost, little girl?”

(Name) blinked before turning her head to the left to see Hisoka leaning against a tree. He smiled at her, holding a card in his hand.

“Dunno, maybe.”

She shrugged nonchalantly, giving Hisoka a bored look. “Hmm…”

Hisoka stepped forward, looking her over. “Not bad… you certainly have some potential.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Potential? What do you mean by that?”

The magician tossed a card in her direction, the girl not even flinching when it sliced her cheek. She continued to stare at him, the look in her eyes making him shiver.

It was the look of someone prepared to die.

“I see… so that’s why you’ve peaked my interest…”

He pointed behind him. “You pass. If you continue that way, you’ll catch up to the group in no time.”

He began to walk in the opposite direction, quickly passing her by.

“Wait, if that way is the right direction, then why are you going that way?”

He only chuckled. “I have some… business to take care of.”

She sighed and took out her dagger. “Whatever.”

She continued running in the direction he pointed to, the man barely restraining himself from letting out a moan.

“God, I can’t wait until she’s ready to fight.”

He chuckled to himself before continuing on his run.

“(Name)!”

Gon yelled out, nearly crashing into the girl. She paused, catching him in her arms. “Gon, you’re okay!”

She squeezed him lightly before noticing Kurapika as well. “(Name)…”

He stopped for a moment to catch his breath. “Your cheek…”

She blinked before swiping at her cheek with her sleeve. “Oh, this? You can thank Hisoka for it. He attacked me, then said I passed and pointed to where I could find the group. Still haven’t found them, though.”

Kurapika gripped his weapons tightly. “He’d even hurt a woman? That sick bastard…”

(Name) sighed. “It doesn’t hurt that much, and once we get to the sight of the second phase I’ll put a bandaid on it. I guess I’m just lucky to have survived this long, considering I’ve been alone these past thirty minutes.”

She offered the two a drink from her canteen, which they took. After that they continued, Kurapika keeping a close eye on the girl.

Killua was waiting near the edge of the crowd, and was the first one to see the three arrive.

“Gon, (Name)!”

He smiled, putting his hands in his pockets.

(Name) bent over to catch her breath before rushing over to the still unconscious Leorio.

Hisoka had pointed him out seconds before, winking at the girl. Kurapika scowled when he noticed Hisoka watching her every movement.

‘That creep. I’ll need to stick by her so he doesn’t get any weird ideas.’

Leorio didn’t remember anything, but seemed happy to have (Name) taking care of his injuries. Kurapika pulled her back to gently wipe her cheek.

“Leorio can wait a second, you need to tend to yourself first.”

She looked to the ground, nodding. ‘But I don’t really care about my own injuries…’

Nonetheless, she cleaned the cut and applied a hello kitty bandaid before going back to Leorio.

Satotz left shortly after wishing them all luck. Killua watched her tend to Leorio before walking off and chatting with Gon.

“Alright, you should be okay. It’s going to take a while for the swelling in your cheek to go down, though.”

She helped pull him to his feet before pulling her backpack over her shoulders. “Thank you, beautiful. If I had you to tend to me, I’d get hurt all the time.”

Kurapika narrowed his eyes. “I think I’ll be taking care of your injuries after this.”

(Name) chuckled, poking Leorio’s good cheek. “Don’t get hurt on purpose, big guy.”

———————

“It’s almost time!” Gon said.

“I’m getting a little nervous.” Kurapika replied, holding onto his satchel tightly.

“I think you’ll do fine.” she patted his shoulder gently, a smile on her lips.

“Just about anything could be waiting for us behind those doors…”

The clock rang soon after Leorio finished his sentence. The doors to the building opened, a loud growling sound making (Name) jump and hide behind Kurapika and Leorio.

“Thanks for waiting. Buhara, how are you feeling now, hungry?”

A woman with greenish blue hair sat in front of a giant of a man, who’s stomach had been causing the loud noise.

“Yeah Menchi, I think anyone who has ears can hear that I’m starving!”

She smiled shyly at the group in front of her. “As you might have guessed, us two Gourmet Hunters are in charge of judging the Second Phase.”

“Gourmet Hunters?”

“What’s that?”

“Gourmet Hunters travel around the world collecting all sorts of exotic ingredients. They then use them to create new innovative dishes that have never been tasted. Before becoming Hunters, most of them were gourmet chefs.” Kurapika answered

‘Hmm, he’s smart.’ (Name) thought, watching the blonde.

“Hmm, so then this phase…”

“Right! So the subject for this phase, is cooking!”

“COOKING!?”

(Name) smiled. ‘This is actually something I can do!’

She listened to the two examiners, nodding along.

“Man, I’ve never cooked anything before in my life!” Leorio said with a sigh. (Name) was taken aback by this.

“Never? How are you still alive?”

Kurapika looked away from the girl. ‘I’ve never cooked either, but I’ll keep that to myself,’ he thought, not wanting to embarrass himself.

Gon smiled. “I know how to cook!”

The three turned towards the boy. “You serious? What can you make?” Leorio asked.

“I can make a lot of different stuff, but my specialty is macaroni and cheese!”

“Macaroni… and cheese?”

(Name) giggled. “Oh, Gon, that’s great for your age.”

“Well, I guess you could call that cooking.”

Kurapika gave the boy a smile as Leorio laughed. “Come on, it doesn’t take much of a chef to make a simple dish like macaroni and cheese.”

“Hey, that’s not true! Aunt Mito always said no one makes it like me!”

(Name) nodded along, patting his head.

“I’m sure she’s right. Maybe you can make it for me sometime.” Leorio said, snickering.

“Met too.” Kurapika agreed, seemingly amused by the innocent boy.

(Name) gave him a piece of candy, quickly grabbing a piece for Killua as well. “Here, I’ll want some of that macaroni and cheese as well. Is this payment good enough?”

She winked, the boy laughing. “Yes, this will do!”

“Listen up! My order is…”

(Name) quieted down, glancing back to the large man known as Buhara.

“A whole roasted pig! It’s my absolute favorite, and living in the forest is the great stamp! The most ferocious and delicious pig of them all!”

“The great stamp?” The entire group asked in unison.

The ground began to shake underneath them, a herd of pigs barreling towards them. Kurapika pulled (Name) out of the way just in time, the girl letting out a gasp as her skirt flew up from the gust of wind accompanying the stampede.

She was thankful she had worn a pair of shorts underneath, but other people weren’t.

“Aww, there’s shorts.”

(Name) and Kurapika turned to look at Leorio at the same time.

“Why do you sound so disappointed?”

Kurapika shook his head at (Name). “You don’t want to know what goes through that pervert’s mind.”

He ushered her away, glaring back at Leorio as he did.

They continued running away from the giant pigs, (Name) and Kurapika teaming up.

“It’s snout is tough, did you see how it launched all those grown men?”

Kurapika nodded. “Yes, but it should have some sort of weakness. Perhaps…”

From the corner of his eye, Kurapika watched Gon hit the stamp over the head, causing it to fall over dead.

“(Name), I have a plan, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

They hid behind a tree so he could explain. “You’re going to grab a thick tree branch, and I’m going to throw you onto the pigs back. Then, you’ll hit it over the head. We’ll repeat this twice.”

She seemed a bit uncomfortable with this plan, glancing to the pig sniffing around for them. “Oh um… are you sure you can pick me up?”

He tilted his head, looking her up and down. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be able to?”

Too embarrassed to answer that, she agreed to the plan.

“Okay, on the count of three, we’ll rush out to attack.” Kurapika said, grabbing her hand. (Name) looked down, her face heating up ever so slightly.

“One!”

“Two!”

“THREE!”

They rushed out, causing the pig to run towards them. Kurapika grabbed (Name) by the waist and threw her into the air. “AHHH!”

She landed with a huff onto the pig’s back, groaning.

“You’ve got it, (Name)! Hit it now!”

She recovered quickly, bringing the stick down with as much force as she could manage. The pig collapsed, (Name) barely moving out of the way before she was crushed.

“You did it!”

Kurapika rushed over to help her up, smiling. The girl rubbed her bottom. “That landing hurt, I’m not excited to do that again.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, it’s just the safest way to do it.”

The two repeated the action, Kurapika helping her off the second time.

“Owie…”

Kurapika could only gently pat her shoulder. “You alright?”

She nodded slowly. “As alright as I can be, after being thrown in the air and landing on a pig.”

Kurapika laughed at this, the girl joining him.

————————

Buhara ended up passing everyone that entered a roasted pig.

Menchi scolded him for passing everyone, but (Name) wasn’t listening. She was busy staring at Kurapika’s hand, that was placed on her shoulder.

“I’m not an armrest, ya know.”

Kurapika pulled his hand back, cheeks going pink. “Oh, sorry! I meant to say thank you for your help, but I got distracted by Buhara and Menchi.”

She giggled. “Well thank you for coming up with the plan. Now we’ve both passed half of the second phase!”

He relaxed, returning her smile.

“For the next part of this phase you’ll be filling my order, which is… sushi.”

Leorio tilted his head. “Sushi?”

“Sushi? Wonder what that is…” killua thought aloud.

“Any ideas?” Kurapika asked (Name), turning to her. She shook her head.

“No, unfortunately I’ve never heard of that dish before.” The two sighed.

“You guys look pretty stressed out! But I don’t blame you for not knowing what it is. Sushi is an ethnic dish from a small island country. I’ll give you a little hint. Inside you’ll find your work stations!”

(Name) tilted her head. “Work station?”

The applicants walked inside, seeing various kitchen work stations.

“Here’s where you’ll prepare the dish. Each station has all the essential tools and ingredients. I’ve even prepared the rice for you, which is necessary to make sushi. And now for one final hint! I’m particularly fond of hand molded nigiri sushi!”

(Name) stood at her station, between Kurapika and Leorio.

“Alright then, you guys can get started! This test will conclude as soon as I’m full. Until then you can serve me as many pieces as you want.”

(Name) watched Leorio stare at the barrel of rice. “Hmm… hand molded? That should give me some sort of indication of what it’s supposed to look like. But that still doesn’t tell me what other things I need to use.”

Kurapika hummed. “Nigiri sushi… I’m not sure exactly how this food is supposed to be made, but I think I’ve read about it somewhere.”

“Really?”

“Let’s see, if I recall, it’s made mostly of rice, mixed with vinegar and some type of raw fish.”

“RAW FISH!?”

(Name) jumped at the sound of his voice, Kurapika’s eyebrow twitching in annoyance.

“We’re stuck out here in the middle of a forest!”

Kurapika threw his spoon at Leorio, hitting his forehead.

“Would you be quiet? There are rivers in forests you know and we could fish in them!”

“Hmph.”

The two looked around, seeing all the other applicants staring at them. Menacingly.

They raced out of the building, leaving the three alone. (Name) set her bag down and began running after them, Kurapika and Leorio following her lead.

“It’s no fair! They were eavesdropping!”

Kurapika sighed. “It’s not their fault, I was the one who shot my mouth off.”

“This sucks! Now everyone knows what’s in it!”

(Name) patted Kurapika on the shoulder. “I’m sure they would have figured it out anyways. Considering we were about to leave and return with fish.”

He gave her a small smile. “Thanks.”

———————

The three returned with fish of varying types. (Name) traded Gon a few pieces of candy in exchange for a few fish.

“Well, all that’s left is to cook. Good luck boys!”

She gave them both a reassuring pat on the back before beginning her cooking process.

(Name) thought back to what Menchi had said, along with Kurapika’s limited information.

‘Does that mean the fish is supposed to be molded into the rice? Or the rice covers it?’

She tilted her head as she began to clean the fish. ‘Well, I assume I’ll at least need to cut it into fillets. After all, no one is dumb enough to serve her a whole, raw fish, right?”

Wrong.

(Name) watched with an incredulous expression as Leorio served Menchi an entire fish, still flipping around, halfway covered in rice.

Of course, Menchi rightly knocked the plate away. Leorio sulked back to his station.

“She didn’t like it…”

(Name) raised an eyebrow, but stayed quiet. ‘So he wasn’t kidding when he said he’s never cooked before…’

“What are you making?”

(Name) looked up to see Kurapika peeking over her shoulder. “Hey, no peeking!”

She bumped him with her hip, scolding him. “No cheating off of me!”

He pouted. “I wasn’t trying to… I was just curious.”

“Well be curious in that direction.”

“No, because you’re pointing at Leorio.”

“HEY!”

(Name) giggled to herself as she finished her dish, beaming. “I’m done!”

She carried her plate to Menchi, setting it down in front of her. “Here’s my entry!”

Menchi hummed, seemingly interested from the smell alone.

“It’s sushi! I um… think!”

Menchi looked down at the dish. It definitely wasn’t sushi, but the girl had obviously tried, and if Menchi appreciated anything, it was effort.

The blue haired woman took a bite. “Hmm… too salty, but good try. It’s not quite sushi, but it tastes good. Go back and try again.”

(Name) blinked, then nodded. She felt dejected, she’d tried her hardest!

She walked back to her station, grabbing her bag. “(Name), what are you doing?”

“I give up.”

The two stared at her. “You give up? Why??”

“I’m a failure, I couldn’t make sushi.”

“(Name).”

Kurapika patted her head. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Your dish is the only one Menchi has even taken a bite of so far. Why don’t you try again?”

(Name) pouted. “… I’m going to go sit by the river.”

The two watched her walk away, her head hung low.

“Drama queen.” Leorio said, before getting back to his work.

“Well…” Kurapika stared in her direction for a moment. “She’s certainly… dramatic.”

But the blonde couldn’t help following her with his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Hey Kurapika, come try this! (Name) had some leftovers!”

Kurapika sighed. “You shouldn’t just eat the food she prepared…”

But he did join Leorio, taking a bite. “Oh wow, it is really good.”

The two snacked on her leftover food before getting back to work.

(Name)’s eyebrow twitched when she noticed Hisoka already sitting by the river. ‘Fuck it. Yolo.’

(Name) sat down a few feet away from him, tossing rocks into the water. She wasn’t even attempting to skip them, just throwing them into the river.

“… (Name).”

She hesitantly looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“What are you doing here?”

She huffed. “Sulking.”

“Hmm.”

(Name) went back to her rock throwing, Hisoka now watching her. “Gave up that easily, huh?”

She paused. “As if you didn’t as well?”

He smirked. “Touché.”

The two sat in silence for a bit, before (Name) heard someone running up behind her. “(Name)- oh.”

The person paused a good distance away from her. “Can you come here? Away from…”

Hisoka raised his hand. “I’m not going to hurt her. We were just… talking.”

‘Oh now people are going to think I’m friendly with the murder clown.’

(Name) stood up, and stuck out her tongue at Hisoka for good measure. ‘There, now people will think I hate him! Orrr that I have a death wish. Which isn’t exactly wrong but-‘

“(Name), we know what sushi is now!”

It was Kurapika, and he was smiling at her. “Come on, now we’ve got a real chance to pass!”

Her pulled her back to the building by her hand, smiling widely. She couldn’t help but smile too.

‘He thought of me.’

———————

Though they all tried their hardest, even after figuring out how to make sushi, none of them could satisfy Menchi.

She poured herself a cup of green tea, sipping slowly. “Ah..”

(Name) had just given her the last piece of sushi, and had been rejected yet again.

“Sorry, but I’m completely stuffed!”

Hanzo blinked. “So then, what happens now?”

“Like I said, the test is over and this time no one passed. Thank you, come again.”

The air grew tense, (Name) too busy pouting to really care. ‘But I tried so hard…’

She only looked up when Gon stole Menchi’s phone.

“Oh dear.”

She turned her head when she heard someone destroy one of the cooking stations. ‘Sore loser.’ (Name) thought, munching on piece of candy.

“Alright, I’ll show you what it means to be a Gourmet Hunter.”

Menchi left, saying she’d be back in about an hour. (Name) took this as an opportunity to chat with Buhara.

“Sorry that people are being disrespectful. I’m actually a chef myself, but not on any level close to you two.”

Buhara seemed a bit surprised by her comment. “Ah, that makes sense. Menchi seemed to enjoy your dishes the best. If she hadn’t been so picky today, I’m sure she would have passed you.”

(Name) nodded. “Yeah, but that’s not how things went.”

She sat down next to him, taking out a piece of candy and handing it to the man. “Here, I know after I’ve eaten a savory meal I like to have something a little sweet to balance it out.”

‘This girl…’

He took the candy. ‘I’m starting to understand Menchi’s interest in her.’

(Name) and Buhara chatted, exchanging recipes and laughing over stories about cooking gone wrong.

“Is she becoming friends with the examiner?”

Kurapika watched her, eyes wide. Leorio cheered. “Yeah, butter him up (Name)! Use your womanly charm and get us a passing grade!”

Kurapika smacked him over the head. “First of all, she’s not doing that. Secondly, if she was, you screaming out her plans would foil them.”

“Oh.”

Menchi returned, momentarily glancing at (Name) and Buhara with a raised eyebrow before showing off her finds.

(Name) watched as the brute from before kicked the table Menchi had served the plate on over, nearly hitting (Name) in the face.

To her surprise, Buhara extended a hand to shield her. “Oh, thank you!”

He gave her a nod. “No problem.”

A few applicants attempted to get near Machi, but Buhara hit them with surprising strength. “Ooo get ‘em!!” (Name) called, cheering him on.

The wrestler Todo ended up pushing Buhara over, but the man seemed unfazed. “Ooo, you’re pretty strong. Guess it’s time to get serious. Think you can handle it?”

Menchi stepped in. “I can take care of him by myself.”

(Name) stared wide eyed as Menchi beat the absolute SHIT out of Todo, only using her legs.

‘That’s kind of hot.’ (Name) thought.

Kurapika pulled (Name) to safety. “Come here, it’s not safe over there.”

“Oh.”

She hadn’t realized, but it had become kind of a fighting zone. Kurapika noticed she kept staring at Menchi, but didn’t think much. Her and Satotz were arguing, (Name) only catching the end of it.

“I was trying to see how resourceful these guys were. Could they face a challenge for which they had little or no experience?”

“That may be true, Menchi, but since no one passed that test, don’t you think it may have been a bit too difficult?”

‘Oh god the sky is talking.’

“It’s an airship with the Hunter Association’s logo!”

‘Oh. That makes more sense.’ (Name) thought, being pulled outside by Kurapika.

“Oh shit an old guy!” (Name) gasped, pointing at an old man falling from the sky. “I was not expecting to see an old man die today.”

The man landed, seemingly unfazed. ‘Oh so he’s some sort of wizard. Wait did she say chairman?’

Killua and Gon seemed surprised he hadn’t broken his legs. “I’m surprised he isn’t a chairman pancake.” (Name) said, patting Gon on the head.

Apparently, he was the highest authority in the Hunter Association.

(Name) stood near Menchi, glancing at her at her as Netero talked. ‘She’s cute.’

“I have an idea. We’re going to give them all a second chance at the test, and I would like for you to continue being the examiner for this. But this time around I want you to demonstrate how it’s done before the applicants make an attempt. Does that sound reasonable? I think this will go a long way for everyone to accept your ruling.”

The group of five were relieved that they would be getting a second chance.

“The test is, a boiled egg.”

———————

The group rode on the airship to a large mountain.

“So, this is the spot.” Menchi said, standing before a cliff.

“What is this place?”

“How deep is it, I can’t see the bottom?”

Menchi smiled. “Not to worry, at the bottom is a deep river. Now, watch and learn boys.”

She fell backwards down the cliff.

“This deep ravine happens to be home of the spider eagle. And she’s gone down to retrieve one of its eggs.” Netero informed the group. (Name) peeked over the cliff.

“Wow!”

Menchi climbed back up with ease, pulling the egg from her bra. “You might want to be a little careful, the river runs very fast so if you fall you’ll be whisked out to sea before you know what hit ya!”

(Name) handed her bag to Buhara. “Could you watch this for me, please?”

He nodded, the group gasping when she rushed forward and jumped. “(Name)!”

They all followed after her, (Name) holding onto one of the strings and swinging up to stand on one. “Whew, I’m awful at the balancing act!”

Kurapika stared at her, blinking. “(Name), please be careful.”

She blinked. “Oh, sorry. I’ll try.”

Killua glanced at her from his spot, already finding an egg. ‘She should be alright…’ he thought, before going back to his task.

The boy furrowed his eyebrows. ‘Why am I concerned for her safety? She’s just some woman…’

Eagles began attacking the contestants, (Name) managing to climb up to Kurapika. The boy held onto her, keeping her steady. “Did you get an egg?”

(Name) nodded, pointing to her chest. “I’m following Menchi’s example!”

The blonde blushed, quickly changing the subject. “… let’s climb up before the eagles come back.

———————

Menchi had them drop all of their eggs into a large pot. “Don’t think the test is over yet! You still have to boil them. Over cooking or under cooking will fail you!”

Buhara began to sweat, staring at the pot. (Name) placed a hand on his arm. “You alright, Buhara?”

“I think he knows something we don’t!”

The group began pulling their eggs out, (Name) patting his arm after. Menchi seemed pissed. “You couldn’t have made it anymore obvious!”

Menchi glanced at (Name) yet again, calming slightly. “This is an ordinary chicken egg, and this is a spider eagle egg. Now go ahead and compare how they taste!”

(Name) glanced at Menchi, before halving her egg and handing it to her. “Here!”

The woman blushed, taking it. “Oh, um… thank you, applicant 406.”

“My name is (Name).” She said with a sweet smile.

“Thank you, (Name).”

The women smiled, eating together. “Menchi, this is delicious! Wow, gourmet hunters sure know their stuff!”

The woman seemed to become flustered from (Name)’s praise. “I appreciate you taking the time to speak with us. Buhara told me how kind you were to him earlier. I…”

She shook her head, turning her attention to the group. “Listen up, for the second phase, 43 pass! Menchi’s Menu is over!”

The all cheered, (Name) pulling in her four friends in for a hug. “Hehe!”

The group boarded the airship, on their way to the next phase.