#man if i had my dick burned off id be pissed off all the time too

[blueicequeen19]

Situationship

Warnings: toxic, fighting, unprotected sex, oral, jealousy, angst

I didn’t go to the bar tonight because I knew if I did I’d spend the night in a cell with Shoupe calling me every name under the sun. Hell, he’d probably put me next to my dad to try and teach me a lesson.

Instead, I’m pacing in my apartment while Kie sends me snaps of my “situationship” dancing and flirting with anything that buys her a drink. I told Kie I didn’t want to know but she doesn’t listen. Kie’s my best friend and wants me to cut Y/N off but I can’t. My head won’t let her go. Certainly not my dick either. There’s just something about the way she looks at me. Only me.

My phone buzzes with another notification but I don’t want to look. I don’t. But I do. It’s a video from her.

“Wish you were here. I need someone to lick up this vodka I just spilled down my top.” She blows a kiss and the video ends but not before showing her cleavage. I think I feel my teeth shatter with how hard I clench my jaw.

This fucking girl.

“Come over and I’ll lick whatever you want.” I text back. She immediately reads it.

“Why should I? There’s plenty of guys here willing to lick up whatever I want.”

“Because you like when I do that thing with my tongue.”

There’s a long pause after she reads it. I walk over to the fridge and grab my unopened bottle of Jack after sitting my phone on the counter. I watch my phone as I chug from the bottle, savoring the burn and the calm it brings my nerves. I was not getting through this night sober.

I sit the half empty bottle down as the three dots appear. Then they stop. Was I really going to let a girl get me caught up like this? I could have anyone on this island. But Y/N had my balls in a vice.

I look down at my phone just as a picture message from Kie appears. I click on it, my stomach in knots.

Sure enough it’s Y/N kissing some guy. Although it looks like he kissed her by the way she’s leaning away and her lips are pulled back. Still. Another man has his hands on her. His mouth on her. I throw the half empty bottle into the sink and glass flies everywhere. I’d keep going but I hear the sound of my door opening and shutting. Only one person has a key.

Y/N appears in the entry way of the kitchen, big doe eyes pleading with me along with a slight pout on her lips.

“You’re mad.” She says softly, eyes flicking to the mess Id made and back to me. She sits her purse and phone down on the counter, keeping her distance.

“You’re observant.” I dead pan, my hands balling into fists.

“Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t let other guys touch what’s mine.” Her eyes flash as it dawns on her that I know. She’s surprised for a moment but then she’s pissed.

“You’re having Kiarra spy on me? We aren’t in a relationship.”

“I’m aware of our situation. You like to remind me every time you go out and flirt with other dudes and I get pissed off about it.”

“You knew what this was from the beginning. I didn’t change. You did.”

“You’re right. Why am I only sticking my dick in one chick when I could have several? Do you want to see all the notifications I have on Snapchat?” I can’t hide my smirk as her cheeks flush red in anger. She grabs my phone off the counter and throws it at the wall with an angry yell.

“Whoa! Now who’s jealousy is showing?” I throw my head back with a laugh, not backing away when she rounds the counter after me and shoves me against it.

“Don’t talk to other bitches.” She snarls, yanking me closer by my belt loops

“I’ll think about it.” I whisper, gripping her hair at the nape and forcing her head back so I can kiss her. Hard.

She’s angry so she tries to dominate the kiss but I don’t let her. When her tongue forces it’s way into my mouth, I suck on it and she moans, melting against me. I scoop her up, her ass falling out of her skin tight dress as I sit her on the counter. I forced her down on her back, yanking the top of her dress down in the process as I glide my hands to her thong. Just when I’m about to rip it off, her phone lights up and a guys name flashes across it. Rafe fucking Cameron’s name.

“Don’t stop.” She pant, lifting her hips off the counter as my anger over powers my lust again. I snatch up her phone and read the text before it disappears.

“Will you be over later, baby?” It says. She tries to snatch it from me but I hold her at bay with one hand. She’s helpless against me. I click the text and hit FaceTime.

“JJ!” Y/N shrieks, too stunned to move. I prop the phone up on my right just as the call is answered and I yank her thong to the side then dive in. She moans loudly. Her pussy was practically dripping so I don’t hesitate in shoving three fingers knuckle deep. I hear a string of curses, turning my face to the camera just before the call ends.

That’ll teach him.

Her thighs shake uncontrollably as she rapidly approaches her peak with a squeal. I slap her clit a few times until she’s trying to clamp her legs shut and her pussy is quivering then I yank away. I grip her chin and force her to sit up right, dazed and confused. She spreads her legs like she’s ready for me to fuck her. Her hands find the rock hard bulge in my pants but I’m not giving in.

“We’re done. I don’t care how hard my dick gets for you. We’re done. Now get out.”

Days go by and I’ve finally had to block her number. I took her key back before kicking her out, all but kicking and screaming. It didn’t stop her from using everything else in her power to get my attention. Hell, she even went to Kie who promptly slapped her across the face.

Now, I’m hiding out in a Pogue bar she’s never been to just to get some peace and clear my head. It doesn’t last though.

“Look what the trash dragged in.” My hands ball into fists as Rafe Cameron sits a stool down from me, wearing a smug smile.

“Yea, the dumpster is out back. Go find it.” I don’t even look at him as I finish my beer.

“Funny. Still don’t see what she sees in you though.”

“And you won’t because I’m not fucking you.” His smile drops. So he is a jealous fucker.

“Word is she’s not fucking you either.” The bartender gives me a nervous look as he switches out my beers without a word and Rafe orders a scotch.

“What do you care, Rafe? Need another show?” I chirp, downing half my beer in one go. My body was so rigid it was making my back hurt. He slams his hand down on the bar and the bartender and I both look at him. Rafe points his finger at me.

“I don’t know what you’re holding over her but it stops now.” I smile at him while he loses his cool. He looks rough now that I finally get a good look at him. Like he’s losing sleep.

“You think I have to blackmail her to get her to fuck me?”

“Why else would a Kook be fucking with a Pogue? She’s way out of your league and you don’t have shit to offer her.” I laugh and Rafe bristles, downing his drink. He looks seconds away from smashing the glass against my head.

“I’m pretty sure she’s not looking for marriage, Rafe.” I down the last of my beer and stand to leave. If I stay any longer, I’m liable to hit him first.

“She doesn’t know what she wants so let her go.”

“I did,” I say as I take a step towards him, my lips tipping up into a smirk. “Maybe you just don’t do it for her the way I do.”

The words barely leave my lips before he hits me.

When I get back to my apartment, she’s there waiting for me. I roll my eyes but don’t say anything despite how fucking delicious she looks in her shortie shorts and crop top. Her navel ring was on display along with as much tan skin as possible. Hell, I don’t even think she’s wearing a bra. My dick hardens painfully at the thought of her nipples showing through the fabric.

I ignore her and all her pleads as I push past her and unlock my door. She follows me, grabbing my busted knuckles and pulling me to a stop in the kitchen.

“JJ, please don’t shut me out. I’m sorry about everything.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Things with Rafe are over. They’ve been over. He’s just not good at taking a hint.”

“Neither are you.”

“Wow. Dick much?”

I laugh as I grab a beer from the fridge and press it to the gash in my brow.

“I’m tired of the games, Y/N.”

“No games.” I track her movements as she slips off her sandals and purse then lets her hair down before sauntering over to me. I press the cold beer to my knuckles next as her hands land on my waist, big doe eyes looking up at me.

“Just you and me.” She whispers, setting my heart on fire again. Of course I want to give in. I want to purge this pent up aggression on her pussy but I have to resist. I can’t think when her hands are on my body.

She takes the beer from me and sits it on the counter before placing gentle kisses on each of my knuckles.

“I don’t trust you.” I bite out but my resolve is already fading as she pushes my shirt up and starts to kiss up my abs, trailing her tongue as she goes.

“I know.” She purrs, tugging my shirt off and running her hands down my chiseled front. I had to stay in shape to surf and it made me feel good that she liked what she saw. My cock also liked that she was so close and touching me.

Her hands slide around to my back, caressing the muscles as she presses her lips to my sternum, smashing her tits against me. I visibly shudder and I feel her smile against my skin. Like she’s won.

“I can’t keep doing this.” I sigh, attempting to pull her hands off me but she quickly cups me through my jeans and I bite back a moan. I was so hard it ached.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel something for me.” She murmurs, kissing my chin as she makes quick work of getting my jeans open. Fire runs through my veins as her hand wraps around my cock and she smears my precum down my shaft like lube.

“I feel too much. That’s why this will never work.” I pant as she cups the back of my neck so she can kiss me there. Chills breaks out across my skin.

“I feel it too, J.” She drops to her knees and tugs my jeans down to my ankles, those eyes looking up at me under her lashes as she kitten licks my shaft.

“You’re not the marrying type.” I growl, thinking of my conversation with Rafe again.

She bats her lashes at me as she sucks on my balls. I could cum just by seeing her like this.

“Neither are you.” Then she’s taking me to the back of her throat, gagging until her eyes water. I moan loudly, gripping the countertop to hold myself up.

This is what she does. She gets me worked up in knots until she’s the only one who can fix me.

I can’t take my eyes off hers as she sucks me down hard and deep, gagging and stroking me with her free hand. I was going to cum too fast. I grip her jaw and pull her off, spinning her around and shuffling forward with my pants still around my ankles as I bend her over the counter.

I tear her shorts and thong down eagerly before guiding my dick to her dripping wet pussy. I hold myself there at her entrance then grab a fist full of her hair, making her cry out.

“No more bullshit. No more Rafe.” I growl, not sliding in until she gives me what I want. She nods frantically then I slam inside, unable to hold back anymore.

Her cries/moans quickly fill the air of my apartment as I fuck her without mercy. I can’t control myself. Like burying myself inside her will erase all the images of her with Rafe or her flirting with strangers at the bar. I’m probably hurting her but she doesn’t tell me to stop so I don’t. I’m already leaving handprints behind by how tightly I’m holding on to her hips, pulling her back into every powerful thrust.

A dam breaks as she orgasms with a cry, hands stretched out in front of her as she grips the counter while her body shakes uncontrollably. It’s dripping down my thighs.

“Jesus, Fuck.” She rasps but I don’t slow down, slamming in over and over until she’s a whimpering mess.

I’m not ready to cum yet so I withdraw and spin her around then place her ass on the counter, tossing her shorts and panties. I bury my face in her pussy before she can say a word.

We had all night and I had a lot of anger.

[winderlylandchime]

2/2 He just saw Brian’s scar ‘HE HURT MY BOY! MY BOY IS HURT! HOW FUCKING DARE HE THAT MONSTER! YOUR STUPID BOYFRIEND HURT HIM!‘ Ethan is leaving and this man is now sitting and bouncing up and down ‘he’s leaving! He’s leaving! and please stay gone! HE NAMED HIS UKULELE?! just for that alone id break up with him. (Justin says Ethan will be back tomorrow) not if i have a say in it! WHY IS JUSTIN DUMBING HIMSELF DOWN FOR THIS DUDE? He just called himself an idiot because he didn’t know a quote or whatever. HEY! 1500 SAT! YOU GOT INTO DARTMOUTH! and you’re dumbing yourself down for the knock off version of Shaggy? Have some respect for yourself AND ME. (Ethan says you will be and shows his ring) I actually puked in my own mouth right now’ ‘BRIAN COME ON WHY WOULD YOU WORK WITH THIS HOMOPHOBIC PIECE OF SHIT?! Oh this dude for sure has a gay crush on Brian. I mean same but I’m better. BRIAN COME ON!’ WE ARE AT THE CONCERT SCENE! ‘Oh god here he go again, i cant esca- WHY ARE WE CLAPPING HIM? No stop that! You dont know him! You dont clap for terrible people! BLONDIE! BLONDIE IS THERE! HE SURPRIS-WHO IS THAT?…did you see how he looked back? OH HE IS CHEATING ISNT HE?! AND THE SAD VIOLIN MUSIC? OH FUCK YOU IF THIS IS THE CASE! PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT! JUSTIN BURN HIS HOUSE DOWN!’ Ted just got arrested ‘WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED? What the fuck? This is..what even? See! If you had stayed an accountant, we wouldnt be in this mess!..what’s that noise? Oh Benny Boy is puk- CAN YOU DO ANYTHING? MICHAEL HOW..lets me calm down so i dont say something rude…he has the spine of a gummy bear. He is a DRUG ADDICT! Why is he acting like he has the flu? Why does he keep throwing HIV into peoples faces? Dude, i get that he’s sick and this was before now so it’s different and scary but COME ON? At this point someone should smack him and tell him to get over himself..and i am willing to make the sacrifice to volunteer..i know what Ben is saying is serious but all i can think about is Brian saying that self pity makes his dick soft’ And we are finally at the Britin scene again ‘i really hate that ring. SEE BLONDIE! You miss the bars and the clubs! This *waves at him* pretentious behavior is not you. Wait i forgot he saw that fucker leave with that other fucker! Oh blondie, its gonna be okay, i know JUST the man who can mend that heart! (Camera shows Brian) *screams like a crazy person and pauses tv* AHHHH THERE HE IS!! LOOK AT HOW HES LOOKING AT HIM! He is trying so hard to pretend like he doesnt care (Brian watches Justin and then like closes his eyes for a second longer) *literally pulls his hair* AHHHHH FUCKING HELL! LOOK AT THAT! HE HAD TO CLOSE HIS EYES TO FORCE HIMSELF! He is so in love and still hurt and he wants to go to him but he also doesnt but he cant stay away. He didnt need to sit next to hi- YES BUY HIM ANOTHER ONE- NO THANKS?! JUSTIN WHY DO YOU FUCKING HATE ME SO MUCH? (Brian asks where’s your fiancé) RIGHT IN FUCKING FRONT OF HIM IF YALL WOULD JUST FOR ONE FUCKING SECOND STOP FUCKING PISSING ME THE FUCK OFF! (Justin answers and it shows Brian and he once again pauses tv and rewinds it) DID YOU SEE HOW HE CLOSES HIS EYES FOR A QUICK SECOND AGAIN?! DID YOU SEE THAT! HE HAD TO LITERALLY PULL HIMSELF TOGETHER FOR A SECOND! DID YOU SEE THAT SHIT! HE BLINK BLINK BLINK AND THEN CLOSES HIS EYES FOR A SECOND LONGER CAUSE THAT ANSWER HURT! (Brian points to the ring) seriously can we get rid of it- WHY ARE YOU LEAVING BRIAN! NO! COME BACK!!!…does that mean they broke up? Please say yes. I am begging you please say ye-ohhh cool trick’ Just so you know, he burned himself 3 times because he wanted to try to lit up a match the way Justin does it in the end of the ep.

Oh this dude for sure has a gay crush on Brian. I mean same but I’m better. I snorted so hard at this!

AHHHH THERE HE IS!! LOOK AT HOW HES LOOKING AT HIM! He is trying so hard to pretend like he doesnt care (Brian watches Justin and then like closes his eyes for a second longer) *literally pulls his hair* AHHHHH FUCKING HELL! LOOK AT THAT! HE HAD TO CLOSE HIS EYES TO FORCE HIMSELF! He is so in love and still hurt and he wants to go to him but he also doesnt but he cant stay away.

Your brother is alllll of us analyzing everything. Also he's right.

Just so you know, he burned himself 3 times because he wanted to try to lit up a match the way Justin does it in the end of the ep. I DIED AT THIS.

[blurrymango]

He can be fixed and made worse because of Luke Skywalker. He could and should get worse and more immoral I think depravity and obsession would be good for him. Vader, Anakin, Vaderkin (and that's such a hilarious name combo innit) whichever name you put to him he's so goddamn. Yeah I can't think of a word for it sadly.

[quokkacore]

phenomena | s.jn

summary: the majority of your adult life you’ve been practically married to logic and science. until your superiors at the FBI assign you to work with special agent johnny suh on the so-called x-files project—cases that were never solved due to unexplained phenomena. as time goes by, and you chase case after case, you find yourself drifting further from logic… and closer to johnny. (part of the 90s love collab)

pairing: conspiracytheorist!johnny x doctor!reader

genre: x-files!au (with johnny as fox mulder and reader as dana scully), fbiagents!au, coworkers-to-lovers, slow burn, sci-fi, angst, fluff, comedy, crack-ish at times, fakmarriage!au at the end

warnings: language, murder, eating, blood, general violence, police presence (txf is fbi level copaganda but oh well), johnny is a low key dick initially, sexual references, general american ignorance, implied sexual harrassment in the workplace, mental hospitals, reader witnesses a distressing panic attack, guns, body image, referenced child/animal abuse, repressed memories, mentions of anti-semitism & nazism, christian allusions, occultism, mild gore, slight body horror, some 90s pop culture references, i am not !!! an fbi agent so there may be some inconsistencies, suggestive content but no actual smut, Karens being thirsty for johnny, johnny is a Single Man and is Kind of Gross, both reader and johnny get knocked unconscious Several Times

song recs: gorillaz - dirty harry // john mellencamp - martha say // elton john - whitewash county // arctic monkeys - all my own stunts // kesha - spaceship // the cranberries - dreams // exo - oasis // the cure - friday, i'm in love // billy joel - we didn't start the fire // david bowie - starman // phoebe bridgers - chinese satellite // tom petty - wildflowers // selena - bidi bidi bom bom // soda stereo - persiana americana // bruce springsteen - dancing in the dark // the cranberries - linger // bruce springsteen - human touch // r.e.m - it's the end of the world as we know it (and i feel fine) // david bowie - heroes (or just listen to the playlist i made instead)

word count: 34.3k (YOWZA u should prob read this on a browser)

a/n: a fic this long......never again

X-FILE 62-J: THE PINEWOOD PATTERN

FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C—08:00 hours, Monday, March 16th, 1992

The morning you met Johnny Suh, his glasses were crooked. It was two years after you'd started working for the FBI, and you were 28 years old. 

You'd spoken to your Division Chief—an older, balding man named Carson Brooks—the afternoon prior, just before you left home. He, along with two other men had asked you about the man in question. 

"Agent L/N, tell me. What do you know about an agent named John Suh?” 

You had furrowed your eyebrow, staring up at him. “John Suh? He had quite the reputation at the academy. Let's see… Oxford educated psychologist. He wrote a monograph on serial killers and the occult… helped the FBI catch Ezekiel Braun in 1988. He’s generally considered to be the best analyst of the violent crimes division. I’ve never met him personally. There’s a nickname for him around the division, though. They called him that in the academy, too." You had to hold back a chuckle, "Spooky Suh."

One of the men next to him nodded—a senior officer whose name you couldn't quite remember—before leaning forward. “It has come to our attention that he’s devoted himself to a project outside of the bureau mainstream. Agent L/N, are you familiar with the so-called X-Files project?”

You looked down at your hands in your lap, trying to recall where you’d heard the name. “From what I understand,” You said, looking up at the man, “They’re cases that are related to unexplained phenomena.”

Your division chief straightened his glasses. “Agent L/N, we’d like for you to assist Suh on these files. You are to write field reports and assess the validity of his work.”

You blinked, not letting your face crack. “...Am I to understand you want me to debunk the X-Files project, sir?”

Your eyes scanned the room. So far, the third man, the one smoking the cigarette had been the only one to not speak.

“Agent L/N,” Your division chief replied with a pursed smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, “We expect you to make the proper scientific analyses required for these cases. We trust you won’t disappoint us and will be looking forward to seeing your reports. You are to meet with Agent Suh tomorrow morning.”

That had been the day before. Now, here you were, on your way down to the basement, which was apparently John Suh's natural habitat within the Bureau headquarters. The lighting was relatively low in the hallways, shelves upon shelves of cardboard archive boxes seemingly closing you in. When you finally reached the office door at the end of the hall, you rapped your knuckles against the wood twice.

“Sorry, no one down here except for the FBI’s most unwanted!” A deep, sardonic toned voice lamented. You made an amused face to yourself, before quickly composing yourself. 

Professionalism above all else, Y/N. First impressions matter.

So you took a deep breath before opening the door slowly. Your eyes scanned the room, widening slightly despite your mantras of professionalism. The man had his back to you, so he didn’t catch it, thankfully. He was too busy studying photographic slides on a lightbox on his desk, hunched over in concentration. 

But amongst those metal filing cabinets that were all that same atrocious shade of gray, the entire room was pretty much a mess—papers scattered across the desk and pictures tacked to the walls haphazardly to the point where it was hard to tell what color the wall he was sitting in front of was. Among other things, you caught newspaper clippings, pictures of bright beams of light igniting the night sky, a diagram of the human skeleton, and in the middle, a large poster. On it, a large UFO was hovering above a pine forest skyline, the words “I WANT TO BELIEVE” printed in bold, white letters across the bottom.

The man in question turned in his swivel chair to face you. You took note of the crooked glasses propped up onto his round nose, wide eyes studying you up and down. The sleeves of his white button up were rolled up to his elbows, and his tie, just like his glasses, was crooked. Still, you mustered a curt smile, urging yourself to remain professional in spite of how handsome he was.     

"Agent Suh," You declared, holding out your hand, "I’m Y/N L/N. I've been assigned to work with you."

John shook your hand, eyeing you somewhat skeptically. "Agent L/N. I've heard a lot of things. So, who did you piss off to get stuck with this old nut?"

"Actually, I’m looking forward to working with you. Division chief Brooks has asked me to do an evaluation of your work ethic and the overall project, I’m hoping we can work well together."

He pursed his lips, obviously trying to hold back a laugh. Finally, he broke into a grin. "So, they want you to babysit."

You bit back a huff as he turned to look back at his slides. Well, yes, he was right in a way, but you weren't going to admit it. Not with the slightly condescending tone he'd taken with you. Running your tongue against your front teeth in annoyance, you did your best to remain cordial. You plastered your polite smile back onto your face and crossed your arms.

"If you have any doubt about my credentials—”

“You’re a medical doctor,” He said, pulling out a folder with a clear plastic front, “You teach at the academy, did your undergraduate degree in physics…”

He looked at the blue folder in his hands. “Einstein’s Twin Paradox: A new interpretation. Y/N L/N’s senior thesis, now there’s a credential: rewriting Einstein.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you bother to read it?” Your tone had a dangerous roll to it. Already you were starting to doubt how much you would enjoy this. 

“I did!” He stood up from the swivel chair, revealing to you just how tall he was. As he walked to one of the gray filing cabinets on the other side of the room, he turned his head and flashed you a crooked smile. “I really liked it, actually. It’s just in my line of work, the laws of physics don’t seem to apply.”

John walked back over to his desk, picking up some of the slides on the lightbox and popping them into a slide projector a few feet away. You stepped out of his way as he made his way to the light switch next to the door, engulfing the room in darkness except for the lightbox, which gave the room a dim, industrial white glow. Turning back to the projector, he pressed the on button, before he looked back at you. His face had turned serious, wide eyes peering at you in the dark.

“Maybe I can get your medical opinion on this.”

Turning your head to the first slide, your eyes settled on the body of a young woman lying amongst old leaves. She was in a white nightgown smudged in dirt, and her arms were spread out as if she were waiting for someone to embrace her.

“Oregon female,” John said, “Aged 21. No known cause of death. Autopsy tells us jack.”

He changed slides, and the image projected on the wall changed to a close up of skin, two small red dots puckered up about a few centimeters away from each other. “However, these were found on her lower back. Doctor L/N, can you ID these marks?”

Walking closer to the projection on the wall, you sighed softly in thought. “Needle punctures, maybe?” You asked, “An animal bite? Electrocution?” 

“The coroner wasn’t able to ID them either.” He pressed a button on the projector, and it whirred as it changed slides. This time, it was a figure of a chemical composition. You furrowed your eyebrow. 

“This was found in the surrounding tissue. How’s your chemistry?” He asked, sounding amused. You glanced at him in dislike, then at the composition, racking your head at the sight of so many cyclohexanes. 

“It’s organic… Is it some kind of synthetic protein?”

He didn’t answer, and your mouth fell open in confusion, shaking your head. “I… don’t know, what is it?”

John laughed. “Beats me! I’ve never seen it either. But it’s also been found in Amaranth, South Dakota…” He clicked the button on the projector. It changed to an image of a middle aged man laying face down in a ditch. He did it again, and a younger man appeared strewn in the middle of the desert, eyes glazed open. “...And again, in Verona, Nevada.”

“Do you have any theories?” You asked, squinting as to avoid looking at the glare of the projector, and instead stare at him. He made his way closer to you. The light of the projection caused the image to warp and distort, projected onto the right side of his face. 

“Oh, I have plenty of theories. What I want to know is why it’s bureau policy to claim these as unexplained phenomena when there’s clearly a pattern here.”

He sighed, before stepping closer to you. He wasn’t necessarily invading your personal space. But from this proximity, caught in the light of the projector you could make out the soft flecks of amber in his brown eyes, the soft curve of his lips. “So, doc,” He murmured, voice low and raspy, “Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?”

Oh boy, you thought, here we go. 

“Logically, I would have to say no. The energy capabilities required to travel through space, as well as the technology you're implying would exceed a spacecraft's—”

"Conventional wisdom," He said, raising his eyebrows. He crossed his arms, pointing at the projection. "Do you know that this girl in Oregon is the fourth person in her graduating class to pass away under suspicious circumstances?" 

 He shifted his weight to lean on one leg. “When there’s no logic, and there’s no convention, is it such a crime to turn to the fantastic for explanations?”

 You frowned. “She had to have died from something. Whether it was natural, then it’s possible the medical examiner missed something. If she was murdered, then maybe it was a cover-up, or a sloppy investigation.” 

Leaning your head forward towards him, you put your hands on your hips. “What I find fantastic is the idea that you would be willing to look anywhere except the realm of science for answers. The answers are there, you just have to be willing to look for them.”

    “And that’s why they put the I in FBI,” He quipped, sounding quite amused at his joke. He turned on the overhead lights, then made his way to sit down at his swivel chair. He leaned back against the black cushion. “So, L/N. You, me, a flight to Pinewood, Oregon, bright and early tomorrow at eight AM. How’s that sound?”

 You bit back a smile. John Suh was… quite the character, that was for sure. Smug. Intelligent. Maybe just a tiny bit off his rocker.

But you didn't really have much of a choice, and you were growing curious as well. 

 "Alright,” You conceded, “I’ll bite.”

 John grinned. “Awesome.”

You set your purse down next to the projector, before turning it off. “I’ll be right back,” You told him, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

He nodded, turning back to the files next to the lightbox.

 “And John?” You leaned against the doorway, watching as he straightened his posture to look up at you, expectant of your words. His eyes, from behind those crooked, round rimmed glasses, were poised on your frame. 

“Yes?”

“Your glasses are crooked.” You turned to exit, smiling to yourself when you heard him move, and softly mumble, “Oh, shit.”

PINEWOOD, OREGON—11:32 hours, Tuesday, March 17th, 1992

The plane touched down with only the slightest bit of turbulence. John Suh was sitting right next to you, snoring softly as you pored over the four different medical reports. The reports of the first three victims—Kaya Tate, Jisung Park, and Alex Gallagher—were basically the same word for word, other than specific physical details of the victims, like hair color, height and weight. All of them were found in the woods and were estimated to have died somewhere between one and four in the morning. Possible causes of death included exposure and cardiac arrest, but there wasn’t enough evidence to list anything. The oddest part was that of the three of them, all of their pupils were shrunken. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

 When a person dies, what occurs next is called primary flaccidity. In this state, all of the muscles relax—their head might fall back as the neck loses strength, the jaw falls open, fingers loosen their grip. And the pupils should dilate. But here, they weren’t. Not in the slightest.

You frowned, looking over the first three reports again. There was no sign of red marks anywhere. At the end of all three medical reports, the same signature was seen: Aaron Choi, MD. 

Flicking through the medical report of the fourth victim—Kaya Tate—you looked over the similarities of the other autopsies, and the one unavoidable difference: those damned red markings John had shown you yesterday. With a sigh, you skimmed over the report one last time, before one final difference caught your eye at the very end. This report wasn’t signed by one Aaron Choi, MD. No, it was signed by Hank Rodrigo, MD.

You didn’t have time to think over it much as the pilot made the announcement that the plane would be landing soon. John jumped awake at the sound of his voice. His eyes cracked open, and he frowned as if he were upset at being woken up. 

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” You greeted when he gave you a sideways glance. 

“And here I was, hoping for a kiss to break the spell.” He laughed sleepily, but you frowned as you pulled the reports off of the tray. You didn’t answer as you put them away and put the tray back up in preparation for the landing.

John stretched his back, inhaling deeply before staring at you awkwardly. “...Sorry. I’m being inappropriate.”

You shook your head, but then smiled. “Thank you for apologizing. Some guys at the bureau can be real creeps.”

He frowned. “...You’re trained in self defense at the academy for a reason, y’know.”

Rolling your eyes, you zipped up your bag. Still, you couldn’t let go of the smile on your face. Still, you put some sarcasm into your tone when you next spoke. “Of course I am.”

When the plane landed, you picked up the rental car the bureau had provided, and put your suitcases in the trunk before getting in. John drove, popping in a cassette of his that played some rock song you didn’t know the name of. 

Martha say she don't need no stinking man making no decisions for her

She don't need his money, she don't need him between the sheets

She ain't gonna sleep on the edge of the bed for no stinking man...

“Kaya Tate’s medical report was signed by a different examiner,” You pointed out, even though you knew that he’d already realized that.

“And there it is,” He said, not taking his eyes off of the road. “Those marks are pretty hard to miss. If they all had similar circumstances in the autopsy, who’s to say the first three kids didn’t have the same markings? And why would Doctor Choi avoid putting that in the reports?”

For a moment, he looked at you, and raised an eyebrow. You mirrored his expression at his implication. “So, you think the medical examiner has something to do with the murders.”

“Maybe?” He glanced briefly in the rearview mirror. “He’s a person of interest. Not necessarily a suspect. I’ve arranged to exhume Alex Gallagher’s body. Maybe we can come to some conclusion of our own—”

He was interrupted by the sound of the song from his cassette distorting, static blaring in between the music and the sound of the vocalist’s voice.

At first, you thought it was something to do with the cassette… until the windows started rolling up and down of their own accord, and the lights on the dashboard started to flicker. You felt the car even swerve slightly, despite John’s firm hands on the wheel.

Within a matter of seconds he managed to pull over and put the car in park. As soon as it had started, it was over, but as John turned the motor off, he met your eyes. He looked just as perplexed as you did. 

“What just happened?”

He didn't answer, unbuckling his seat belt. As he got out of the car, you did the same thing, wondering what kind of failure could cause a car to go haywire like that. 

Wordlessly, you watched as John took a good, long look at his watch, before walking over to the trunk and popping it up. From his suitcase, he pulled out a can of spray paint. He pulled the cap off of it and leaned over, aiming at the asphalt. You raised your eyebrows.

"What are you—" 

The sound of the paint can interrupted your words. You watched as he sprayed a big X on the street, right in front of where he was standing. Your mouth remained slightly open, unsure of what to say. When he stood up straight, he placed the can back in his suitcase, and looked up at you. Slamming the trunk shut, the both of you exchanged stares: his blank as if vandalizing forest streets were a part of his day to day life, and yours somewhat perplexed. 

When the two of you got back into the car, it turned on with no issue. John's cassette started up again on the same song. Again, you exchanged a wordless stare, the both of you now equally unsure.

“Welcome to the Twilight Zone,” John muttered, putting the car in drive. You didn’t reply.

 Hi-de-hi-de-hi, brother,

Hi-de-hi-de-hey now, Martha...

Ten minutes later the two of you rolled into the cemetery. It was an uphill slope, a small field atop it, connecting to the woods. John drove until a small, yellow bulldozer caught your eye and you pointed it out. He parked as close as the road permitted, and the two of you exited the car, ready to head up the hill.

As the two of you pulled out your FBI badges, an officer came running up to you. He darted between tombstones and stopped in front of you, pursing his lips awkwardly. You both help up your badges. "Special agents Y/N L/N and John Suh," You said.

The officer nodded sheepishly. He seemed young and rather inexperienced. "Officer Mitch Swenson. The chief couldn't be here right now, ma'am."

"Oh?" John continued walking towards the grave, which was fully undug. A crew was in the process of using a pulley to lift the coffin out of the ground. "Couldn't, or didn't want to? He didn't seem very happy when I contacted him on the phone. Didn't even tell me his name."

Officer Swenson looked down. "I'm sorry to say that he's opposed to this intervention, sir."

"Unfortunately," You told him, "After so many unexplained deaths, we're obligated to involve ourselves. If he has an issue with our jurisdiction then he can take it up with—"

A loud snapping noise stopped you in your tracks, and your head turned just in time to see the ropes on the pulley snap, dropping the coffin. It quickly began tumbling downhill, towards you. You barely had time to step back. Before you could be trampled by a goddamn coffin on what was quickly becoming one of the strangest days of your life, you felt a strong hand grip your forearm and yank you back harshly. 

The coffin barrelled right into the back of a tombstone, cracking open ever so slightly. Your back collided with John's chest. Neck craning back to look at him, you realized both your chests were heaving in shock. He was staring at the small opening in the coffin.

You pulled away from him, charging towards the coffin. John and Officer Swenson did the same, as well as some from the lifting crew.

As soon as you got within five feet of the coffin, a putrid odor hit your nose and seemed to hit everyone else's. John's hand went to cover his nose. Officer Swenson turned green. You held back a gag.

Still, despite the heinous stench, you leaned forward, trying to get a good look inside. Fully expecting to see a decaying corpse, you squinted, trying to make out the shape of the face.

"Holy shit," You heard the young officer say off to your left. Your eyes widened, just as you made out some features of the cadaver.

"Make sure no one else sees this," John ordered someone, as you made out a snout and very thin arms. As your eyes widened, John turned to you. You turned your head to him, and he flashed you an awkward grin.

"...I'm guessing he was no student athlete," He joked, scratching the back of his head. You shook your head in disbelief, face frozen in shock.

"I… is that a—?"

CORONER'S OFFICE, PINEWOOD, OREGON — 14:48 hours, Tuesday, March 17th, 1992

"A chimpanzee."

You didn't give John's unsatisfied tone much of a second thought, continuing to ensure you had everything ready for your analysis.

"You think it's a chimpanzee," John said again a few seconds later, snapping a picture of the body, which was spread out on a metal table. 

"Or an orangutan," You replied, not looking up from your tools. Pulling out your tape recorder, you finally met his eyes. "I was thinking it might even be a bonobo, but it's too big. Mammalian, that's for sure."

"Y/N, we're in Oregon! Where would someone get a monkey—why would someone put a monkey in some dead kid's coffin?"

You shook your head. "John, you can't possibly think this is anything other than a sick joke, can you?"

He huffed, too engrossed in taking pictures of the body. He looked like he had just discovered sliced bread.

"This is amazing. It—it's unprecedented… I want a full report," He demanded, "Toxicology, x-rays, tissue samples, genetic testing, the works. We can get those tissue samples and x-rays done now, everything else we take back to DC." 

You laid a measuring tape next to the subject's body, before putting your hands on your hips. 

"You’re kidding," You said, glaring at him from the other side of the table, "Try telling Alex Gallagher's family that his body was replaced with an alien. You'd probably lose a few teeth doing it!" 

John lowered his camera, taking a deep breath. He thought for a few seconds before answering. "I'm not crazy, Y/N," He insisted, "I have the same doubts you do." 

Flexing your fingers to see if the surgical gloves fit adequately, you sighed. 

"Please leave for a moment," You mumbled, "I need to record my observations and I can't do that properly if you're flashing that camera in my face and talking about little green men." 

He frowned, not meeting your eyes. He looked like he wanted to protest, but he shook his head to himself as he turned around. Soon, he was out the door. 

During your analysis, you made several observations: the subject was 157 centimeters in length, and weighed 56 pounds. Long limbs and fingers, and large ocular caverns that suggested it belonged to the ape family, as you'd told John minutes ago. It was in an advanced state of decay and desiccation. 

When you turned the subject over, you couldn't help but look at the lower back. Lo and behold, there and ready to give you a headache, were two bumps. They were no longer red, tinged gray, same as the rest of the body, but they were there.

Only when the x-rays finally developed two hours later did you discover the cherry on top: a small metallic implant in the subject's nasal cavity, embedded in the skin, which was extracted and placed in a small glass vial. The vial was placed in your blazer pocket, which you'd removed to put on the PPE gown. 

When you were finally finished with the report, you put your blazer back on and discarded the PPE and surgical gloves. All you'd managed to do was give yourself a migraine at all of the oddities piling up in this case. When you got back to DC? A bubble bath was in order. With a very, very large glass of wine.

As you approached the door to the lobby, the voices of two men arguing got louder and louder. Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the feeling of your head pounding. One sounded angrier, the other significantly calmer. When your hand was on the knob, you realized who the calmer voice belonged to.

"Shit," You whispered to yourself, flinging open the door. A middle aged man yelling at John—who looked very blasé about the whole situation—was waving his finger in his face. Behind him stood Officer Swenson, another officer, and a young girl dressed in an oversized windbreaker and jeans, who looked like she wanted to evaporate into thin air. 

"You people think you can march in here and do whatever you want," The man growled, "I don't see why—"

"What's going on here?" You asked, stepping between the man and John. The man scoffed at you, eyeing you up and down. 

“Who are you?”

You pulled out your badge and flashed it to him. His scowl deepened. “Special Agent Y/N L/N, FBI. I’m Agent Suh's partner for this investigation. Now, what is going on? And who are you?”

The man’s face twisted in disdain at your authoritative tone. “I’m Doctor Aaron Choi, the county medical examiner. Now, the audacity of you and your partner—”

“Dad, please,” The girl exclaimed, sounding embarrassed, “Let’s just go home!”

 The man waved a hand in her direction, tone dismissive and angry. “Lia, be quiet. I’m talking. The audacity you two have to come here and interrupt our procedures—”

“Doctor Choi, this is the fourth unexplained death of a student from the Pinewood High class of ‘89,” John pointed out, “After the county was unable to come up with any conclusive evidence, the FBI was forced to become involved. I take it you weren’t informed of the exhumation and the analysis of Alex Gallagher’s body?”

Doctor Choi shook his head. “I’ve been away with my family. We just got back.”

That explains the different medical examiner on the latest autopsy, you realized. 

“Doctor Choi, I’m sorry you feel that way,” You said, “But it’s our obligation to come and investigate. Now, I’m sorry, but it’s getting late, and we have to get going. I can give you my cell phone number if it were to make you more comfortable, but—”

“No. That’s quite enough,” He snapped. He turned to the young girl, nodding his head at the door. “Lia, let’s go.”

The girl sighed, and met your eyes before she turned to follow after him. She looked desperate; you assumed it was because of the scene her father had caused. The two officers followed after them.

As the two of you watched them leave, you turned to John. He simply shrugged, looking done with the whole situation. “Talk about a warm welcome,” He grumbled. You glared at him. 

“Let’s just go,” You huffed, rubbing at a spot above your eyebrow, “I still need to get started on this report.”

The two of you exited the building, and John explained that tomorrow, he’d arranged a visit to a mental institution in the town over. That there were two more students of the class of ‘89 were staying. Both of them were reportedly a part of Alex Gallagher’s circle of friends.

 In your pocket, the vial holding the metal implant seemed heavier than it had been when you first extracted it.

ALOYSIUS GRANT MENTAL INSTITUTION, CRESTHILL, OREGON—10:47 hours, Wednesday, March 18th, 1992

The wing where Chenle Zhong and Nancy Goldstein were staying was relatively quiet. As the nurse explained their circumstances, Nancy remained glued to a book in her wheelchair. Next to her in his bed, Chenle lay perfectly still, lips parted slightly, eyes wide and unmoving. 

You were informed that Nancy had developed delusions and become extremely paranoid as a result of post-traumatic stress. Chenle was living through something called a living coma. He never moved, never spoke. The only indication you saw that he was still alive was the constant rise and fall of his chest. Both of them had been in an automotive crash in the autumn of 1989, and had been like this ever since. 

“Nancy,” The nurse said softly, “You have guests, can they speak with you?”

Nancy lifted her head, “I can’t,” She answered, shaking her head. “I’m reading to Lele right now.”

“Does… does he like it when you read to him?” John asked, and she nodded.

“It calms him down,” She said, “It distracts him from everything.”

You looked down, thinking about her words and what she must have gone through—Chenle as well. At the feet of Chenle’s bed, you noticed odd specks of… ash? It was sprinkled sparsely in front of the bed, on what was a seemingly pristine floor.

You wanted to pick it up, but didn’t want the nurse looking at you strangely. So you turned your attention back to the conversation between John and the nurse. He lowered his voice and leaned in towards her, as if he didn’t want Nancy to hear. “Would it be possible for us to run some medical tests on Ms. Goldstein?”

The thing was that Nancy did hear, and at the mention of medical tests, her large eyes nearly popped out of her head, and she started to tremble in the wheelchair. “N-no tests,” She pleaded, before throwing her book to the side and raising her voice, "No tests! You can't take me there again!"

She began to thrash in the wheelchair, hyperventilating and begging in between breaths to not go anywhere. She threw herself out of the wheelchair but was unable to stand, and instead remained on the floor, crying. 

"Nancy, sweetie, you're going to be fine," The nurse said gently, leaning down to placate the poor girl who was shaking her head. She looked up at the both of you. "Can you help me please?" 

John leaned down to gently assist the nurse in helping Nancy up, and you picked up the wheelchair, which had fallen onto its side. You gripped one of the back handles of the chair to steady it. Your other hand smudged along the ground to try and pick up some of the powder. As the pair helped her sit down, your eyes caught something. 

Nancy's shirt had ridden up during the ordeal, and there, along the small of her back, you saw them. The same marks that Kaya Tate, Jisung Park, and Alex Gallagher had. 

When Nancy refused to calm down, wailing and begging not to be taken back to wherever she thought you and John wanted to take her, the nurse ushered you out.

 "I'm sorry," She told you, "But you're upsetting my patients. If you absolutely need to come back, then do it some other day when she's calmed down." 

The two of you set off towards the exit down the stairs, your heels click-clacking quickly along the floor as you walked in front of John. 

He held open the exit door for you, and as soon as you were out the door and headed toward the parking lot, you whirled on him. 

"How did you know she would have those marks?" You asked, almost angry at him. John shrugged. 

"A hunch," Was all he answered.

"Dammit, Suh, cut the crap. What the hell is going on here?"

"What, so you can go off and write it in your little reports?" He fired back, raising his voice at you for the first time. Your head snapped back at the sudden disdain in his voice.

"I'm here to solve this case just the same as you are," You growled, "Now tell me the truth. I think I'm entitled to it."

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, scowling at you. He leaned closer to you and lowered his voice. "You want my honest opinion? Fine. I think those kids have been abducted by an alien force. I think that they run tests on those kids, which is why Nancy Goldstein freaked out, and why Alex's body and hers have those markings. That's what I think."

You tapped your heel along the sidewalk in frustration and thought. "John, do you realize how insane that sounds? I—Why, there's nothing to substantiate—"

"Nothing scientific to substantiate," He corrected.

"Science is all there is, John!" You shook your head. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. The  both of you knew that this conversation would lead nowhere. Looking down, you remembered the ash smudged onto the palm of your hand. 

"Look," You said, quieter now. "This was on the floor around Chenle Zhong's bed."

"'S that… ash?"

You nodded. "I know what you think, John. Let me tell you what I think. I think those kids might be involved in some sort of sacrifice of some sort. Think about it, they're always called into the woods. The medical examiner doesn't want us looking at the bodies. And now, ash."

John's eyes darted back and forth, considering the options. He walked over to the car, unlocking it so the both of you could enter. 

"We can head into the woods tonight," He offered finally. "That way, we can both look into our own hypotheses."

"Sounds good to me," You answered, "Tonight."

THE WOODS, PINEWOOD, OREGON—20:26 hours, Wednesday, March 18th, 1992

A few hours after sundown, the two of you drove to the edge of the woods, armed with flashlights and your handguns. You'd tied your hair back and changed into a dark blue windbreaker, along with sweatpants and running shoes. It was a bit windy, and you could see storm clouds rolling in.

"Stay close by," You'd told John. "And be quiet."

"Yes, mom," He sighed. You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to punch him in the arm. 

Once the two of you were out of the car, you split up, trying to stay within earshot of his footsteps. You spent about ten minutes wandering around, flashing your light around, taking slow steps as you scrounged for any hints. 

Above you, thunder rumbled, the occasional strike of lightning lighting up the sky for milliseconds. Leaning your head forward, you squinted in the dark. No way. 

The whole ground around you was covered in ash. If not the exact same ash as what was in front of Chenle's bed, it was very similar—sprinkled on top of the leaves and dirt. As you kneeled down to pick some up, your eyes widened at the same texture and pigment as the one of today. 

"What the fuck," You muttered under your breath, mind racing a mile a minute. These woods were creepy enough without the implication of a ritualistic cult, or close encounters of the third kind, or whatever John believed was happening. But now you had the possibility of a connection between these woods and two seriously disturbed kids.

A sudden mechanical rumbling made you snap your head up. You squinted, lifting your other hand to shield your eyes from the sudden brightness that lit up the trees. 

"John?" You asked when you heard footsteps. Your heart rate began to speed up, hand reaching for the gun tucked into your waistband. 

When you realized that the sound was coming from the direction of the light, you called his name out again. "John?"

A tall figure emerged from the light, and you soon realized what was pointed at you—a shotgun. Definitely not John Suh.

Not hesitating, you pulled out your gun. "Special agent Y/N L/N, FBI! Identify yourself!"

The figure only stopped until it was about ten feet away. You squinted, making out some familiar features. Surprisingly, you realized it was the officer who had been at the coroner's office with Doctor Choi. 

John came stumbling up to you, chest heaving. "Chief!" He sounded strangely enthusiastic. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?"

"You're trespassing on private property," He announced, seemingly unamused by John's tone. 

"We are conducting an investigation," You countered, lowering your gun. 

"You are trespassing," He said adamantly, "Now get out, before I have you both arrested."

John glanced at you momentarily. You frowned as he shrugged, obviously wanting you to stand down. The staredown continued for a solid ten seconds before you groaned softly. Tucking your gun back into your waistband, you followed the chief out of the woods, right back to your car, which was right next to his.

As John drove away, you watched as the flashing police lights faded into the distance. "What's he doing out here when he's got a whole town to take care of?"

John shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows. "I don't know," He hummed in that deep voice of his, "But I don't like him one bit."

The two of you drove in relative silence after that. The storm finally came down, drops of rain cascading angrily onto the windshield. Thunder rolled overhead, and the lightning grew bright.

In the dim light, your eyes turned to watch John, hoping he wouldn't take notice. You watched him alternate his eyes between the road ahead and the rearview mirror every few seconds. Your eyes raked over his features—a strong brow bone, a round nose, lips that seemed to curve upwards in a natural smirk.

You looked back up at his eyes, and his own gaze glanced at the watch on his wrist before returning to the road.

"You're staring," He said, sounding like he’d caught you with a hand in the cookie jar. You felt the scoff leave your lips before you could catch it, your cheeks heating up.

"I am not—"

A flash of lightning lit up the sky, far brighter than any of the other strikes. Then, an odd sensation filled your body: for the briefest of moments you felt absolutely weightless, unable to feel the carseat beneath you. Then a moment later when the light faded, and the feeling disappeared.

The car rolled to a stop, the engine’s rumble dying. You frowned even though you were glad that you’d have a chance to change the subject. “What happened?”

Johnny looked at the lights on the dashboard, and pressed on the accelerator tentatively a few times. He raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical. “Uh… we lost power.”

He seemed calm enough. Until he glanced at his watch again. Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he let out a single, excited laugh. “No fucking way,” He murmured, rushing to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“Uh, John, where are you g—”

He was out of the car before you could finish your sentence, heading into the downpour. You groaned, unbuckling hastily and following him. Already, he was drenched, and within seconds you were too. He was walking towards something on the road, a few feet in front of the car. When he turned to look back at you, he looked like a preschooler who had just discovered Sesame Street. His fists pumped into the air, his eyes squeezed shut and he began to jump up and down.

“Fuckin’—I—WOO! WOO HOO!”

“For the love of god,” You grumbled, standing right next to him despite his loud cheering, you tried your hardest to make out what had gotten him so excited. When the next flash of lightning lit up the street, plus the lights of the car helping illuminate the road, you saw it: a big, bright, neon X. Almost the exact same place the car had started acting strange yesterday.

“We lost time!” He yelled over the sound of the downpour. "I looked at my watch before the flash! It was 9:02 then, now it’s 9:13! That’s eleven minutes—GONE!”

You shook your head, stepping away. You threw up your hands in confusion. “What—John, that’s not possible! You’re saying time disappeared, time can’t—it can’t just disappear! That’s not just crazy, it’s—i-it’s a universal invariant! It’s impossible!”

John shook his head at you, eyes wide in wonder. Right before he started walking back to the car, he let out one last gleeful laugh. “Not in this zip code!”

Much to your displeasure, your headache returned soon after. You were more than content to let John ramble on while you zoned out, rubbing your forehead. What little you picked up was that people who claimed to be abductees always mentioned a bright flash of light and losing time, anywhere from five minutes to several hours.

You weren’t sure what to think at this point. You had half a mind to drive John to the Aloysius Grant Mental Institution and leave him there with Chenle and Nancy.

When you got back to the hotel, you ran straight to your room. When you tried flickering on the light, you found that it wouldn’t turn on. With a sigh, you realized the storm had to have blown the power out. Peeling off your wet clothes before you did anything else, you stripped to your underwear before pulling on your bathrobe. Shivering, you scrounged in the darkness of the room for anything, a flashlight, some candles.

Surprisingly, they did have a candle, a holder and some matches. As you lit it, and went over your bedtime routine (yes, you were a grown woman going to bed at 9:30 PM, you were tired), you couldn’t shake the eerie feeling settling in your stomach. Everything felt so off here, and there were so many things you couldn’t explain.

As much as John wanted to convince you, he couldn’t explain them either. The whole situation felt bizarre in a dreadful way. As you marched into the bathroom for a quick shower, you tried to reassure yourself everything would connect eventually.

When you took off the bathrobe, your hand went to rub at your lower back. The stiff mattress wasn’t doing you any favors. You let your eyes flutter shut, fingers rubbing at the muscle below your skin.

Until your fingers brushed over something that you knew hadn’t been there before. Your eyes snapped open, and you turned your back to the mirror, craning your neck to see. Your fingers ached to touch the spot again, but in your sudden alarm, your fingers began to shake.

There. At the small of your back, just above the waistband of your underwear, there they were. Two bumps. Just like Nancy’s. Just like Alex’s. Just like Kaya’s.

You didn’t know what overtook you. All of a sudden, you were putting your bathrobe back on and strutting stiffly out of your room. Before you knew it, you were knocking insistently on John’s door.

You didn’t stop until a very confused looking John opened up, holding a candle. “I—”

“I need to show you something,” You said shakily. His demeanor changed instantly when he saw your frantic state. He nodded wordlessly, widening the door and stepping to the side. Once the door was closed, you faced him, before untying the robe. His eyes widened slightly despite your shaking hands, and the tips of his ears turned red.

“Woah, at least take me out to dinner first—”

“Johnny, shut up!”

He froze at your tone, your slip up—calling him Johnny instead of John. You were too distressed to care, tossing the robe to the floor before turning, trying to poke at the marks on your back.

“What are they?” You asked, and John reached out a hand as if to placate you.

“Hey, hey,” He murmured, “Deep breaths. Can I get a closer look?”

Nodding, and trying to do what he said, you let him step closer, before kneeling. Tentatively, he ghosted a hand over the marks. You tried to ignore the goosebumps, shivering from what you assumed was the cold.

“What are they?” You repeated. “John—”

He spun you around, putting a gentle hand on your hip. You peered down at him, panting softly. “It’s okay,” He said softly, “They’re just mosquito bites.”

Your eyes fluttered shut in relief, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady your wobbling knees. “You’re sure?” You asked, looking down at him.

He nodded, amber eyes staring up at you. You were suddenly hyper aware of his hand on your hip, unable to break his gaze. He cleared his throat, standing up but not stepping away from you. “Yeah, I got some out there too. I’m positive.”

You put the bathrobe back on, then crossed your arms. “I need to sit down,” You mumbled. He gestured to his bed, sitting on the chair next to it. You raised an eyebrow, not wanting to impose. He shook his head, setting down the candle on the table.

“You’re shaking,” He said, “Go ahead.”

Inhaling deeply, you tried to compose yourself. Your hand rubbed at the back of your neck, suddenly feeling tense. You chewed on your lip, wondering if you should ask the question itching to come out.

“John?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. He nodded, eyes earnest.

“Yeah?”

“How did you… Why are you so interested in this stuff?”

His eyes lowered, rubbing his palms together slowly. He took a deep breath, resting his elbows on his thighs. Finally, he sighed.

“I was twelve when it happened,” He whispered. His gaze turned solemn, almost angry. “My little sister, Maggie, went missing in the middle of the night. Just… disappeared, like she vanished into thin air. No note, no phone calls, no discernible trail or evidence at all. Gone, just like that. How does an eight year old girl disappear without a trace?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, not answering. Outside, the rain had stopped, but John’s eyes were a storm of their own, several emotions swimming around in pools of golden brown.

“It tore my family apart. My parents got divorced, everyone else refused to talk about it. There weren’t any facts to confront, nothing to give anyone closure, and the search just stopped.”

“What did you do?” You asked softly. He shrugged, pursing his lips.

“Eventually, I ran away to England. Came back, got recruited by the bureau.” He offered a sardonic smile, no joy behind it. “Apparently, I have a natural aptitude for applying behavioral models to criminal cases. My success allowed me a certain amount of freedom to pursue my own interests. That’s when I found the x-files.”

“On accident?” You leaned to lay down on your side, propping your head up with one hand. He nodded.

“At first, it looked like a dump for UFO sightings, cryptids, alien abductions. Real Hollywood kind of stuff. But… I was fascinated by it all, I read all the cases I could get my hands on. Hundreds of them, Y/N. All the paranormal phenomena, the occult, and then…” He sighed, lowering his head.

“What?” You leaned toward him, trying to read his face in the dark.

“There’s… classified government information I’ve been trying to get my hands on. Someone keeps blocking my access.” He looked to the side, palms still rubbing together. “The only reason I’ve been allowed to continue my work is because I've made connections in congress.”

You shook your head, “I don’t understand, are they afraid you’ll leak this information?”

When he met your gaze, the anger had returned, now far less subdued. “You’re a part of that agenda,” He murmured, “You would know.”

Your mouth dropped open slightly, and you shook your head before scooching closer to him. “I’m not a part of any agenda,” You answered. “You need to trust me.”

He sighed, before standing up to move onto your bed, leaning very close to you. The usually playful glow in his eyes was nowhere to be seen. “I’m telling you this, Y/N, because you need to know. In my... research, I’ve worked very closely with a man named Hans Kruger. He’s taken me through deep regression hypnosis, and through my repressed memories I’ve been able to return to that night my sister disappeared. I remember a very bright light outside and a presence in the room, and the sensation of being paralyzed, unable to answer her cries for help. Listen to me, Y/N, this thing exists.”

“But how do you know—”

“The government knows! And I gotta know what they’re protecting.” He leaned even closer to you, face inches away from yours. “Nothing else matters to me, and this is as close as I’ve ever—”

   The ringing of the telephone made the both of you jump away from each other, and John stood to pick up the phone. “Hello?”

   He made a face as the person on the other side answered. “What? Who is this? Who is—”

   Pulling the phone away from his ear, he looked at you. He seemed confused, alarmed. “That was a woman,” He said, putting the phone back on the housing, “Who told me that Nancy Goldstein is dead.”

 You frowned. “The girl in the wheelchair?”

 HIGHWAY 227, PINEWOOD, OREGON—23:11 hours, Wednesday, March 18th, 1992

 Quickly, the two of you dressed. The crash wasn’t hard to find in such a small town. Surrounded by witnesses and two police cars, a large semi truck was stopped in the middle of the road. Once there you produced your badges to get past the police cars. John went off to ask one of the cops questions about the accident, and you walked over to the body, which was draped over with a white cloth.

 Right next to it, a man, who you assumed was the driver, was being questioned. Showing the officer next to the body your badge, you crouched down to peel back the cloth covering the body.     

Poor Nancy Goldstein, wet with rain and blood, lay strewn in the road. A dribble of drying blood was running down her mouth. Her once white and purple polka dotted hospital gown was tinged with red, brown and gray. You sighed in sympathy. But your eyes travelled down at the watch she had on, and the sympathy made way into confusion. The hands had stopped, right at 9:02.

You took a deep breath when you recognized the coincidence. That's all it had to be, right? A coincidence?

 "You said she just ran out in front of you?" The officer speaking to the man asked.

"Yes, officer," He answered, "Just came charging out from the trees and right into the truck."

Nancy Goldstein, running. Not even walking, no, full on running. You stared at the body, eyes travelling to her legs. Somehow, they were specked with flecks of dirt, mud and small wood chips. It was consistent with someone moving through a wet, muddy area while barefoot. You swallowed anxiously, trying to figure out what was going on in this town.

 When you got into the car with John, you raised an eyebrow at him, getting ready to speak. Before you could, however, his cell phone rang. He pulled out the device and answered the call with a tired, "Suh. Who am I speaking to?"

You watched as his face turned confused. "What?"

 You couldn't hear what he was told, but when his face twisted into disbelief, and then anger, you knew it couldn't be anything good. "Of course. We'll be there as soon as possible," He said, tight-lipped.

 When he hung up, he immediately started the car. He didn't meet your eyes. "Fuck!" He growled, causing you to jump.

 "What?" Your eyes widened at his sudden outburst, barely having time to buckle your seatbelt before he sped away. "John, what happened—"

"Fuck if I know!" He snapped at you, before shaking his head and sighing.

 "There was a fire at the hotel." His tone was softer now. Your stomach sank. "Our rooms were the ones that were most affected."

"You've gotta be kidding," You sighed. He didn't answer, simply kept his eyes on the road.Only when the two of you got there did you realize just how bad the situation was. The fire department was there, hosing down the inside of your room. A crowd had come to watch the firemen work.

"There goes my computer!" You groaned. John kicked the car door.

"Fuck! The x-rays and pictures!" He seemed just about ready to explode.

Your eyes drifted back to the blinding, orange glow of the fire, crossing your arms in frustration, exhaustion.

Suddenly, a tap on your shoulder caused you to turn. You were met face to face with a familiar looking young girl in a bright blue denim jacket. She looked just about on the verge of tears.

 "John," You called, not looking away from her. When he saw the girl, he came up to the two of you.

 He raised a finger at her. "You're Do—"

 "My name is Lia Choi," She declared, voice wobbly, "You have to protect me."

 You quickly ushered Lia into the back of the car. When you closed the door, John raised an eyebrow at you. "She might know something," He murmured.

 "I know," You answered. "She seems terrified."

 He nodded. "You hungry?"

  "Um… yeah, why?"

  "I'm starving," He admitted, gnawing on his lips. "Let's get something to eat and question her there."

 "How the hell are you thinking about food at a time like this?"

He raised an eyebrow, making a face. "What, and you aren't?"

You rolled your eyes, but didn't disagree.

 The car ride took about ten minutes, and you pulled into the small diner with little to no issue. By then, it was a little past midnight, so it was starting to empty out. It had started raining again. You sat next to Lia, as she seemed somewhat more intimidated by John. He paid for some burgers and fries for the three of you, and then Lia finally spoke.

"I… There's something in the woods."

You exchanged glances with John, who rested his elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers. "What do you mean, something in the woods, Miss Choi?"

 The young girl shook her head, looking sheepish. "Please, just call me Lia," She said.

 Taking a deep breath, you flashed him a look that said let me try. "Lia, do you know that there's something in the woods, or is it just a feeling?"

 She stared at the table, looking for words. "I've never actually… seen anything. Not really. But I… I have these dreams. They're not like normal dreams, I-I have no idea how to explain it, but they just feel so… wrong. It's like my body's vibrating the entire time, a-and when I wake up, I'm there. In the woods. Every time. They—they've started happening more and more, and I don't know what to do, I-I'm just so—"

 "Woah, slow down there, kid," John said, holding up his hands. She'd started rambling, and it didn't take a genius to say that she was on the verge of tears. His dark eyes looked gentle, sympathetic. "Deep breath, Lia."

She let her eyes close, breathing slowly. "I'm sorry," She mumbled. "I just don't know what to do anymore."

Looking at John again, you spoke up. "We understand," You answered softly, "Can we ask you some more questions?"

 As she nodded, the one waitress working the place, who looked one strong gust of wind from falling over, set down your three plates. Sticking a fry into your mouth once the waitress left, you met eyes with the young girl.

"You said, 'I've never seen anything, not really.' What do you mean by that?"

Lia poked at her fries, not seeming that interested in the food. She pursed her lips, before sighing. "I… We saw something, once. I think. My friends were all out there—celebrating graduation. It was… maybe 11:30? I-I can't really remember. But we saw a bright light, and then this huge thing flew over us. When it was gone… Kaya checked her watch. It couldn't have been more than ten seconds after, but her watch said it was almost 2 AM, and then Chenle checked his watch, and so did Jisung, and… they all said the same thing.

"I didn't think much of it. I tried not to. I thought we just missed the time going by, somehow. But then Nancy and Chenle got into the crash, and then Kaya turned up dead in the woods… Then Jisung, and now Alex…" She shook her head, blinking back tears. "It can't all be a coincidence."

"How old were you when that happened, Lia?"

 "I was 17. I'm turning 21 in June."

John stared at her for a long time. "...And why did you decide to call me when you heard about Nancy's death?"

Oh?

You raised an eyebrow to look at Lia, who looked down. "They called my dad about it, and I know that Nancy's death has to do with whatever's in the woods. M-my dad, he… He keeps telling me he can keep me safe. But I don't think he can."

"So you called us?"

She nodded, not looking up at either of you. John and you exchanged a glance.

"Lia," You asked lowly, "Do you think your father—"

Your words died when blood began to spew from the girl's nose, your eyes widening and John's expression growing alarmed. He reached for the napkins, handing them to you to hand her quickly. Her eyes shut and her brow furrowed, obviously distressed. John pursed his lips.

  "Does this normally h—"

 "Lia Choi."

The three of you turned your heads to see Aaron Choi and the police chief standing next to each other, glaring at you and John.

Dr. Choi walked over to Lia, handing her another napkin. "Sweetheart, come on, let's go home."

John narrowed his eyes. "I don't think she wants to leave."

"I don't give a shit about what you think," The man snapped. He turned back to Lia, "Let's go home. You'll be safe there. Remember, I said that Chief Zhong and I would keep you safe—"

You exchanged a glance with John. You could see the gears turning in his head. Skywalker moment. "You’re Chenle Zhong's father?"

The chief scowled at him. "You stay away from my boy. He has no business in any of this."

Dr. Choi managed to pull away, with minimal protest from Lia. She managed to give the two of you one last apologetic glance before being pushed out the front door by your father.

"You gotta love this place," John grumbled, reaching for Lia's plate, "Every day's like Halloween."

"They know." You were sure of it. "Choi's been hiding evidence from those medical reports, and Zhong might just have enough authority around here to get access to our rooms to set them on fire."

"Why would they want to destroy evidence?" John asked, but it wasn't really a question. It sounded more like a parent trying to get their child to figure out something obvious on a math problem. "What could they possibly want with that corpse?"

You looked down at the table, heart pounding suddenly. When you met his eyes again, they were burning with curiosity and determination.

"Makes you wonder what's in those other two graves, huh?"

PINEWOOD MEMORIAL CEMETERY, PINEWOOD, OREGON—01:26 hours, Thursday, March 19th, 1992

Getting into the cemetery was easy. Finding the graves, with only your flashlights in the pouring rain, was a lot harder. You pored over different headstones for almost forty minutes, until John called your name.

"Did you find them?" You asked, turning to him. He was scowling down at the headstones. You didn't understand why… until you looked down to see the dirt piled up, and the two holes in the ground.

"Empty," He groaned.

"What is going on here?" You cried. John stared at the hole in the ground, before a look of epiphany dawned on his face. He turned to you, slowly.

"I think I know who did it."

You looked to the sides in thought. "Who? The chief?"

John shook his head, mouth tipping open. You leaned forward, hoping to hear his words better over the rain.

He chewed nervously on his bottom lip. "The chief's son."

When the words registered, you leaned away. All the fight in you seemed to deflate, and your face twisted into a confused mess.

"What?"

He nodded, and you raised your eyebrows. "Chenle Zhong? The boy in the hospital. The boy who's been in a goddamn coma since 1989. That Chenle Zhong? He somehow got here, dug up these graves, and is somehow responsible for the murders of four different kids?"

John's eyes fell shut, and he took a deep breath. "Nancy Goldstein was wheelchair bound but ran in front of a car, it's not entirely impossible. All of this fits a profile of alien abduction. She was killed around 9—the same time we lost time in the car."

"A profile." You crossed your arms, trying to stop the shivering racking your body. March showers in the Pacific Northwest—you wouldn’t be surprised if all of this was just a delusion induced by hypothermia.

"Look, something happened during those 10 minutes," He insisted, "Time, as we know it, stopped, and it has something to do with the forest."

You shook your head in disbelief, unable to hold back your shocked sigh. All you could do was stare, watching as John's expression hardened.

"You think I'm crazy," He murmured defeatedly, "Just like everyone else does."

He turned on his heel, starting to walk away, when a soft scoff caused him to turn back. "What?"

You wore a smile of disbelief. "The hands of Nancy Goldstein's watch stopped at 9:02," You admitted, looking up at the sky before meeting his gaze. "I made a mental note of it because of how insane the coincidence was. But…"

"The forest is controlling the kids," John said with a nod. He sounded more hopeful now, as he took a step closer. "It summons them here!"

"A-and the marks are…"

"The remainders of some sort of experiment. They put that weird chemical into the bodies—"

"Which leads to genetic mutations, like the one we saw in Alex Gallagher’s body!"

John nodded, a hopeful grin spreading across his features, the rain causing his hair to fall into his eyes. "And the woods summoned Nancy Goldstein here tonight, but the one who brought her was—"

"Chenle Zhong," You gasped. Meeting eyes with John, the two of you exchanged surprised, awed, slack jawed smiles, before promptly bursting into giggles at how silly it all sounded, the sheer absurdity of it all. Like the plot of some crappy Fox TV show.

"This—Johnny, this is insane!"

"That’s just how all the x-files work!" He exclaimed between laughter, "This isn't even half of it!"

That did it for you. The idea that there had to be something even stranger, something that paled in comparison to this. You had to reach out for his shoulder to stop yourself from falling, bending over and clutching your stomach to the point of tears. John’s laughter never let up either, not until the two of you were panting, out of breath from cackling so hard.

"I can't believe any of this," You sighed, shaking your head once more.

"It doesn't matter. As long as we're on the same page," John said with a shrug, "It'll make things a whole lot easier. Now, let's get back to the car—"

A high pitched scream filled the air, and the two of you locked eyes before darting in its direction.

Right into the forest.

Mud squelched beneath your shoes as the two of you ran. It was damn near impossible to see anything with the rain and the darkness of night, the way your flashlights swung back and forth with your running.

Your light reflected onto a piece of black metal, causing the two of you to slow down. John flashed his own light side to side, before landing on the white door of the car, the crest emblazoned on it: PINEWOOD POLICE DEPARTMENT. You sighed at the revelation, turning slightly.

"Shit," He muttered, "Do you think—?"

"John." You took a step to the side, focusing your light onto something on the ground. "Look."

When he turned his head to look at what you were seeing, you heard him inhale sharply.

Dr. Choi's body lay strewn on the muddy ground, blood streaking down his temple. You couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not.

Another scream pierced the air, the sound distinctly female. You exchanged a brief glance with John, before nodding in the direction the noise came from. "You go! I'll check his vitals."

"Be careful," He warned before darting off. You knelt on the ground, reaching out to feel for a pulse over the carotid artery. You let your eyes fall shut in relief when you found one a few seconds later. All you needed to do now was assess his injury.

But they snapped open when the mud squelched behind you, and when you turned your head, you saw a flash of black and beige. A loud thwack! cracked against the side of your head, and you fell to the ground, vision turning dark.

When you came to, you weren't sure how much time had passed, but it couldn't have been too long. It was still dark, and while the rain had calmed, it wasn't over yet. Sluggishly,  you reached for the flashlight, and struggled to stand.

Stumbling, you tried to surmise where the noise was coming from, but the world felt like it was spinning. You were confused, disoriented, that the sudden brightness knocked you on your ass, quite literally.

Brightness?

White, seemingly industrial light lit up the forest so suddenly that you reeled back in surprise, falling into the mud. You blinked dazedly. If this were a Loony Tunes short, there would be little Tweety birds flying around your head right about now.

Still, you knew you needed to get up. So you did, still stumbling as if someone had spun you around to hit a piñata, and carried forward. The shouting had stopped now.

In the distance, where the light was the brightest, you could hear the shouting. One of the voices was distinctly John's, but as you got closer, it stopped.

And by the time you got into the clearing? The light disappeared, and so did the rain. Gone at the same time.

There were three men standing in the clearing, seemingly in a triangle. John's back was turned to you. In front of him? Someone was lying on the floor (had you not been so dizzy, you would have recognized her as Lia), and…

"Chenle?" The police chief asked, voice shaking. Your eyes turned to the young man, whose dark eyes were wide in confusion and fear. He was barefoot, clad only in a pair of gray sweatpants.

"...Dad?" He asked as Chief Zhong walked to him, before crushing the young man in a hug.

"J-John?" Your voice was small. The man in question turned to you, eyes widening at your state. He stepped towards you, face full of concern. When you buckled, he gripped you by your forearms.

"Y/N, are you alright?"

"Th-there was a light," You murmured, "It was so…"

He nodded, smiling sympathetically. "I know," He said, "But I think you have a concussion."

"Uh…" You stared at him blearily. "...You're really strong."

He held back a snicker. "Am I now?"

FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C—10:04 hours, Wednesday, March 25th, 1992

After a stop to the emergency room, a minor concussion diagnosis, a flight home, a few days of bed rest and finally that bubble bath (sans the wine, unfortunately), you were finally allowed to present your findings to your superiors, in the report you'd written in the past few days (you were advised to rest over the weekend, and you did just that and wrote the report all Tuesday).

You marched into that office, John already sitting in one of the two seats in front of the desk. He didn't speak while you presented your findings. Again, Chief Brooks was accompanied by the same two men.

"And what of the boy?" Division Chief Brooks asked, "Chenle… Zhang, you said?"

"Zhong," You and John corrected in unison, exchanging a sheepish glance when you both realized what happened.

"He's in custody. So are his father and Doctor Aaron Choi. He claims to not have remembered anything."

"I understand you and Chief Zhong had an exchange in the woods?" The older man asked, staring at John.

He nodded. "Yes, sir. I asked him what the need was to take the Chois to the woods, he seemed desperate—said that if it got his son back, then he'd do it."

"So, what, are we to believe all of this—the abductions and the mutations and the mind control without any concrete evidence?" The second officer asked.

"There was an x-ray of Chenle’s that revealed a small piece of metal lodged in his nose, just like Agent L/N's report mentioned with—"

"The Gallagher boy's implant, yes. But that could be anything, Agent Suh. It hasn't been surgically removed so we can't verify what it is."

John clenched his jaw. "But—"

"Agent Suh, with no evidence of the implant existing we simply cannot continue to waste bureau resources," The chief explained, "The fact of the matter is the original implant, as well as your other evidence, was destroyed in that fire and—"

"What if it wasn't, though?" You asked.

It was as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room. All four men's eyes snapped up to look at you. John’s eyes were wide in shock.

You met eyes with him briefly as you reached into your blazer pocket, placing the small vial holding the implant onto the table.

"None of the tests I ran on the implant were able to reveal what kind of metal it is," You sighed, "It all came back as inconclusive."

"I—" For the first time, the third agent spoke for the first time. "How did you manage to salvage it?"

Tilting your head back and forth, you tried to sound professional. "I kept it… on my person at all times after I extracted it. I felt it was too important to lose."

The three men exchanged a silent conversation with their eyes. You looked at John, whose expression towards you had shifted from shock to awe. You offered him a sly smile.

"Well, then." Division Chief Brooks sounded frustrated—like a father allowing his children ice cream after being worn down by them. "Considering this… new piece of evidence, I—I suppose I could authorize the continuation of the project."

You breathed a sigh of relief. John’s shoulders sagged.

"However, Agent L/N, I will expect your reports on every single one of these cases within three days of them being closed, unless medically justified. Failure to do so will result in the termination of the project."

"Understood, sir," You said.

The third man lit a cigarette, before pointing to the vial on the table. "That implant will be kept with us, it's evidence now. Any and all evidence will be handed over to us," He ordered, taking a drag.

You nodded, but something told you John wouldn't approve. He didn't say anything, but you knew he'd have something to say sooner or later.

"You're both dismissed," Division Chief Brooks told you both.

Once you were out of the office and out of earshot, John stopped in the middle of the hallway. He put his hands on his hips and stared at you.

"I—That was… Wow. Y/N, how did you even do that?"

"Honestly?" You bit back a grin before lowering your voice. "...I hid it in my sports bra."

He broke out into a shocked smile. "In your—amazing. Y/N, you’re a genius."

"Am I now?" You asked, raising your eyebrows. You started down the hallway again, and he followed. "Thank you," He mumbled.

With a wave of your hand, you shook your head. "I'm just doing my job, y’know? Plus, I enjoyed working with you, John. I think we make a... decent team."

He looked down at his feet, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Well," He said, "If we are going to keep working together, can I ask you to do something?"

"Sure," You replied. By now, you were headed down the basement steps.

"Just… call me Johnny. John feels too… formal."

"Johnny," You sounded the name out, before smiling. "Yeah, it suits you better."

X-FILE 144-A: THE BELDAM'S GLENN BLOOD RITUALS

SOMEWHERE ALONG THE EVERETT TURNPIKE, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—07:32 hours, Thursday, February 11th, 1993

"Brief me again on this case?" Johnny sighed as he drove ahead, "I was too tired when you explained on the flight here."

You nodded, rubbing your eyes and putting on your glasses. Outside, rain hit the roof of the car, and the sky was that bluish gray tinge of an early morning drizzle. That, paired with the soft guitar from the radio along with Robert Smith's voice made for gentle ambience.

I don't care if Monday's blue

Tuesday's gray and Wednesday too

Thursday, I don't care about you

It's Friday, I'm in love...

 Pulling out the folder from your bag. Truth be told, you were tired too—you'd been called just before 3 in the morning by someone at the bureau telling you you'd been assigned to work a murder case in Beldam's Glenn, New Hampshire. A fairly small town, less than 10,000 people.

You'd had an hour to pack some clothes, then take a taxi to the bureau to grab some things from the office and pick up the file briefing the incident. Then, just before four you arrived at Reagan International, where you met a seemingly bedraggled Johnny. His suit was a bit wrinkly and there were dark circles rimming his eyes.

By now, you'd been working with Johnny for almost a year. You'd learned in that time that he did not enjoy waking up before 5 AM. 

"Good morning," You'd greeted, and he shook his head.

"It's not morning yet, and it certainly isn't gonna be a good one," He'd grumbled in response. 

"Okay, Oscar the Grouch." 

Now, in the car, flicking through the folder, you read out loud the information. A fifteen year old boy identified as Mark Lee had been found dead in the woods, near an area rumored to be where satanic cults practiced blood magic. His eyes and heart missing, torn clean out.

"...Ouch," Johnny muttered, stifling a yawn.

You raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Ouch."

"Any witnesses or anything?" 

"No," You mumbled, reading over more details. One in particular caught in your eye. "Huh… Additionally, animal tracks in the form of hooves, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, were found leading to Lee’s body."

Johnny tilted his head. "Hooves?"

You hummed in confirmation.

He raised his eyebrows, facing you for a second before turning his attention back to the road. His eyes were wide. Somehow, you already knew what he was going to say. "Do you think there's a small possibility—"

"No." 

Johnny huffed. "Oh, come on! Y/N, humans are innately spiritual beings. Is it so crazy to think that just maybe a creature akin to a demon could exist?"

"I don't know, Johnny. Maybe there is. But I think now that the middle ages are over and we have more logical explanations for things like this, we shouldn't immediately jump to conclusions."

For a long time, he didn’t speak. Another thing you learned during your time with Johnny was that while it was relatively easy to smother his wild conclusions during calmer discussions, it was damn near impossible to get him to let go of them completely. You knew he'd mention it again later, but for now, you were content to just drive like this with him. You were… comfortable with Johnny. 

He had a sort of dry wit that, paired with his suave persona, made him incredibly charismatic. Once you got to know him better, it surprised you that no one around your department of the bureau really liked him.

Dressed up to the eyes

It's a wonderful surprise

To see your shoes and your spirits rise...

He shrugged. "Maybe you're right. Look, there are the cop cars."

Johnny pulled over on the side of the road, one man holding an umbrella seemingly waiting for you both. You looked at the man in the driver's seat, and he nodded toward the back seat. "There's an umbrella in the back."

"Thanks," You said, grabbing the thing. You both stepped out of the car, tugging the vinyl umbrella open. You did a once over of the officer—sheriff, actually, once you saw the badge on his chest. Johnny stood behind you and grabbed the small umbrella from you, so that he could fit under it.

"You're the FBI guys?" The sheriff asked. The two of you pulled out your badges, presenting yourselves. He offered a smile, but it was obvious the middle-aged man was shaken up.

"My name is Bill McNamara," He said, beginning to walk towards the trees. The two of you followed. "Thank you for coming on such short notice." 

He led you to a spot crowded by a few more officers scattered across the space, a white sheet hiding the body, a few feet away from a large, mossy cracked tree stump, so wide it was probably older than 100 years when it fell.

"Is this Mark Lee?" Johnny asked, and Sheriff McNamara nodded. Another officer peeled the sheet back. The poor boy was, in fact, missing his eyes, and there was a large hole in his chest. Even after several years as an MD and an FBI agent, corpses still filled you with dread.

Johnny, in his proximity from behind, nudged you slightly and pointed to the ground next to the boy. 

"So," You said, turning your attention back to the officer once you noticed the hoof tracks, "Have there been any reports of missing animals in the area? Cows, sheep?"

"...Goats?" Johnny added. You nodded stiffly. Sheriff McNamara shook his head. When he spoke, he seemed resolute.

"They say this area is popular for blood rituals, witch's magic. Now, these rumors have been around for years—since I was a kid, actually."

"Any basis to those rumors?" You asked. The Sheriff gave you a look. 

"Agent L/N, just look at the body!"

"Lots of homicides involve victim desecration," You pointed out, "Is there anything else that might point to that?"

The sheriff put his free hand on his hip. "I know he and his friends listen to that disgusting devil's music."

"I didn't like Madonna's latest album either, but I don’t think it's bad enough to call it that," Johnny mumbled sarcastically. You gave him a subtle elbow in the ribs, flashing him a dirty look. The sheriff didn't seem to notice his banter.

"No, I'm talking about that heavy metal stuff. It takes root in our children, poisoning their minds."

He led you over towards the tree stump. Johnny took a more serious approach. "Have Mark Lee or any of his friends ever been spotted at any of these supposed rituals?"

"More rumors," You muttered. The sheriff shook his head, stopping in front of the stump. 

"Not that I know of," He said, before gesturing at the stump, "This is allegedly their altar. What do you think?"

Johnny's seriousness seemed to only last in short bursts, because he fired back with, "Honestly? With a few rounds of sandpaper and some cans of shellac, it'd make a pretty nice coffee table."

The sheriff replied, "Oh… Uh… Well, from the looks of this wax on it, it was probably being used when he died."

You rolled your eyes, turning your head to the side in embarrassment. But then a flash of white, and translucent pale yellow on the ground caught your eyes.

"Do you know if Lee was out here with anyone?" Johnny asked, not saying anything as you stepped out from under the umbrella. You heard the sheriff say, "We presume he was alone."

"You sure?" You asked, picking up the library card, and the piece of wet paper. "This Franklin Pierce High library card belongs to… Haechan Lee. And the paper here is torn at the stamp so that it doesn't say which library it's from, but it's safe to say that it's from there. The title at the top is torn, too, but it says '...In America'."

You stepped back under the umbrella, raising an eyebrow as you handed them to him. "I'm surprised your people missed this."

The sheriff balked, mouth opening and closing like a fish. "I'm sorry, Agent L/N," He murmured, "I'll admit, we're all a bit… shaken up here. This isn't something that we've ever dealt with, which is why I called the FBI. I'll have my men escort you to Franklin Pierce. That kid, Donghyuck Lee… He's Mark’s best friend. He's most likely there."

The sheriff stalked off, and you raised an eyebrow at Johnny before lowering your voice. "Better hide your Metallica albums… I could barely take him seriously."

He shrugged. "Well, the body's clearly displayed in a ceremonial manner. Plus, those goat tracks are highly unusual, Y/N." 

"I was under the impression he made you skeptical once he started speaking," You hummed, crossing your arms. He shook his head.

"I didn't wanna feed his imagination. Poor guy's clearly overwhelmed."

"I think he fed your imagination, Johnny. This is nothing but some murderer taking advantage of local folklore. I mean, there's nothing that odd about—"

The sound of slapping and bouncing against the vinyl of the umbrella caused you to jump back, crashing into Johnny's chest. Your shoulders tensed up as Johnny dropped the umbrella and let out a startled, "What the—"

You caught the umbrella as it fell from his hands, but it was too late for him. Something large, wet and brownish green hit him in the forehead before landing on the ground and flopping away. 

Your mouth dropped open and you met Johnny's equally shocked expression as you both registered the multitude of toads raining down on you. 

A few seconds later and it stopped, but now the ground was covered in toads, now jumping away in different directions. Neither you nor Johnny spoke for a good fifteen seconds, until he wiped his forehead free of… mucus. Your shoulders dropped slowly when he finally spoke.

"So… wanna get coffee before we head over to the school?"

Your face dropped from confusion to disbelief. "Johnny, toads just fell from the sky."

"Yeah, but I still want coffee."

PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—09:04 hours, Thursday February 11th, 1993

Coffee on the table, you sat at a desk situated in the school office. Your laptop, the case file and a copy of today's newspaper were laying on top of it. A few feet away from you, the school psychologist and the secretary you'd borrowed the desk from were speaking to each other. You paid them no mind, looking over the file as you typed up your preliminary report.

You continued typing until the door opened, Johnny stomping in tugging a scrawny looking teenage boy—who was most likely Haechan Lee—by the upper arm. Two girls followed meekly behind, as well as a middle-aged woman, who you assumed was a teacher. All three of the kids seemed to be on the verge of tears. You raised an eyebrow at the sight. Johnny looked pissed off, and he asked the psychologist in a clipped tone, "Hey, Doyoung, could Agent L/N and I use your office to talk to the kids?"

Doyoung looked at the boy in Johnny's grip, then at the secretary, then you, before he nodded. Johnny opened the door and made a motion for the kids to go inside. "Sit down at that table. Don't speak unless spoken to," He ordered, tone stern. You gnawed on the inside of your cheek at his voice as you stood. What had gotten into him?

You pulled him away from the doorway, lowering your voice. "You good?"

Johnny sent the boy a glare before sighing. "Kid tried jumping out the window in front of the entire class to escape. I'll calm down. Just pisses me off that he thought something that stupid would work."

You bit back a smile, patting him on the shoulder. "Pull it together, Suh. He can't get away like this."

Johnny nodded, looking down at you warmly. "Ooh, last name. I'm in trouble."

"Shut up," You huffed, only half-joking. You were about to turn when you remembered something you'd read from the cover of the newspaper.

"By the way," You murmured, "National Weather Service reported tornadoes in northern Massachusetts early this morning. The toads probably got picked up from the winds."

Johnny sighed, before walking into the psychologist's office.

He turned to the woman. "Mrs. Walker, we'll take it from here, go on back to the other kids in your class."

"Are you sure?" She asked, pushing a black, stray hair back into her tight bun. Johnny nodded.

"The one day I'm called in to sub and all of this happens," She muttered to herself. 

You spared a glance at the middle-aged woman, giving her a polite smile. She did the same, and you followed behind Johnny, pulling out your tape recorder from your pocket and closing the door behind you. 

Johnny crossed his arms and leaned against the door, you standing in front of the table and setting the tape recorder on the table. 

"This is going to be recorded," You told them. None of them protested, so you hit the record button.

"So, let's get this out of the way," Johnny began, "None of you are under arrest. We just want to ask you some questions. First, I want you to state your names for the record. Understood?" 

They all nodded, and they introduced themselves: the dark haired, tan boy was in fact Donghyuck Lee, the shorter curly haired girl was named Amy Espinoza, and the taller redheaded girl was named Phoebe Howard. 

The questions were basic and thus, so were the answers. Donghyuck and Mark were childhood best friends, but not related. Mark introduced Amy to him with Phoebe's help. Donghyuck took the book Witch Hunt: A History of The Occult in America out because he and Mark wanted to make the whole thing seem legit. When asked why they really wanted to go out there, Donghyuck looked down. He held his hands together between his thighs.

"We wanted to… you know."

"We really don't," You said, raising an eyebrow. He looked like he wanted to sink into the earth then and there.

"Mark and I had a bet that whoever got past second base with the girlsfirst  would do the other's biology homework for the rest of the year."

Amy nudged Phoebe. "Told you," She grumbled quietly. Phoebe glared at her. 

You continued the interrogation. The incantation taken from the book was apparently one meant to summon Azazel. They'd gone out there just before midnight because the book said that was the best time. 

Donghyuck insisted they didn't kill him. "I'll let you search my car and everything, that's how we got there."

"Did you see what happened?"

Phoebe took a shaky breath, before burying her face in her hands. Amy nodded. "...We did. We ran but it had already… gotten to Martin."

You and Johnny exchanged a glance. "It?" You asked. 

Donghyuck nodded. "Lady, you're gonna think we're bullshitting you—"

"Language," You and Johnny scolded in unison. Donghyuck at least had the audacity to look embarrassed. 

"We got out there," Amy continued, "Martin lit a candle on the stump and did the incantation. The wind… changed. It suddenly got a lot colder and we started hearing… I don't even know."

"It sounded like, I guess what you would call speaking in tongues," Donghyuck said. "And then suddenly, there was this thing a few feet away from us. Maybe over six feet tall, and at first I thought it was a goat, but… it wasn't."

"What did it look like?"

Phoebe cried even harder, and the other two exchanged a weary glance. "It had… glowing orange eyes, and long dark hair." Amy shuddered. "It looked like it had goat legs, but a human torso. It was like…"

"It had a… a woman’s chest," Donghyuck mumbled. Your eyes landed on Phoebe, who seemed to be extremely upset. You exchanged a glance with Johnny. He seemed to understand what you were saying, and nodded wordlessly.

"Phoebe, are you alright?" You asked, feeling that something was up. She was shaking like a leaf. With a sigh, you turned the recorder off, and pointed at Amy and Donghyuck. "Both of you, wait outside on that chair. Don't move."

The two of them left, and you nodded at Johnny to sit next to you. 

"Phoebe," Johnny said softly, "Is there something going on that the other two don't know?"

She wiped her eyes, lip wobbling. You put a hand on his shoulder, taking over. "No, there isn't," She mumbled, "I'm just… this whole thing's freaked me out."

Johnny raised an eyebrow, and you sighed. She didn't sound very convincing. Something wasn't right here. Still, you knew it would be hard to get anything out of her when she was so upset.

"Alright. You—you're free to go." You took a deep breath, hesitating before you spoke again. 

"...But if you do want to tell us anything, you can come to us and we can—we'll speak off the record, if it makes you feel better."

Johnny frowned. "I think maybe—"

You flashed him a strong glare, cutting him off, before turning back to Phoebe. She sniffled, eyes darting between the two of you. When she settled on you, she allowed herself to relax a little bit more than when she'd been looking at Johnny. She nodded wordlessly, fiddling with a silver charm bracelet on her left wrist, and you gestured towards the door. "Go wash your face, drink some water. Tell your friends they're free to go. 'Kay?"

She gave a small smile at your gentler tone. Once she was gone, Johnny was on you. "We could have pressed her further. Why did you even offer to go off the record if we haven't ruled her off as a suspect, that's breaking bureau protocol—" 

"We'll talk about this later," You answered as you stood. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched the three teenagers leave.

He lowered his voice as you opened the door. "Y/N, I can't believe—"

"You're letting them go?" The secretary—Beatrice, you believed was her name—asked, glaring at you. Her coiffed blonde bob bounced as she shook her head disapprovingly. Immediately, Johnny straightened. 

"There's not enough evidence to keep them here," He said, "Besides, they're minors. It's always tricky with them."

"It's so obvious that they did it." Doyoung crossed his arms, "They've clearly been influenced by all that stuff on MTV."

You sighed. "The FBI recently concluded a years long study researching any correlation between homicides and media consumption and found that it only occurs in 0.01% of cases. If there were any it would mean thousands of people murdering tens of thousands of other people. It'd be the biggest conspiracy in human history."

Doyoung scoffed, giving you a mocking glance. "Yeah, and J. Edgar Hoover never admitted the existence of the mafia. Really trustworthy source, the FBI."

Johnny barely contained his scoff. He glowered at Doyoung as he gently pushed your upper back towards the door. 

"Our investigation is ongoing."

ROSE GARDEN HOTEL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—19:57 hours, Thursday, February 11th, 1993

Johnny's door opened to a sight of you, no makeup, in sweatpants and hair tied up. You took in his appearance. He had on a similar pair of sweatpants, and a white t-shirt. His hair was pushed back, and he was wearing his reading glasses. 

"What's up?" He asked, letting you in. 

"I found something," You murmured, holding up your laptop as he closed the door. You sat at the foot of the bed, and he sat next to you. You opened the laptop, green text flashing onto the screen. His shoulder brushed yours due to the proximity. 

"'The grisly discovery of a young boy's mutilated body in the woods in the early morning has local law enforcement worried about the organization of conspiratorial dark forces.'"

He nodded. "Okay, is that from this morning's newspaper?"

You didn't answer, but rather read another quote from the article. "'The Jew is known to sacrifice teenagers and remove their organs during their religious rituals.' This is from a Nazi newspaper, from 1934. I found another similar case from 1967, where they pinned it on LSD users. The details are always the same, they just fill in the blanks with whoever was being persecuted at the time."

Johnny met your eyes. "And this time, it's occultists."

"Maybe this is some hidden organization, but I'm not sure. But something's just… not right. I have a bad feeling." 

"Something to do with that girl?"

You nodded. "Is there anything you picked up? Something I might not have noticed?"

He chewed on his lip. "Now that you mention it, I did notice something a few minutes ago, but it doesn't have to do with her. Come on."

He stood, and you set the laptop down on the bed before following him to the bathroom door, where he flicked the light on.

"So, we're in the northern hemisphere." He marched to the sink, leaning over it.

You leaned against the doorframe. "Last time I checked, yes."

He pressed the plug into the sink drain, before turning on the faucet. "The Coriolis Effect dictates that due to the Earth's rotation, water should swirl clockwise, right?"

You nodded, having an idea of where this is going. He motioned for you to come closer. He turned off the faucet. By now, some water had filled the sink just enough. He removed the plug, and you watched as the water went down, whirlpool swirling counterclockwise. 

"Johnny—"

"Something is here, Y/N. It's strong enough to affect this, then who knows—"

"Johnny, the Coriolis Effect works on storms and large bodies of water. Sinks and bathtubs usually don't fall under—"

He groaned, tipping his head back. "Of course," He grumbled, "It's been like this since day one."

You squeezed your eyes shut in frustration. Yes, in your time working with Johnny, you'd seen some truly unexplainable things. A pyromaniac that could light things on fire with his mind, a prehistoric parasite that turned its host violent, a serial killer that entered houses by squeezing his body through impossibly small spaces like an octopus. 

But still, you always had your doubts. "Johnny, once cases are over and we have our explanations, and I've seen things for myself, have I ever not believed you—"

"You don't trust me during these cases, Y/N, that's what matters! It's always been like this, I'm always right, but you never believe me, you go off and write your little notes about me like I'm some field experiment—"

You frowned and crossed your arms. "Johnny—"

"Have I ever gotten anything wrong? 90% of the time, my conclusions are the correct ones—"

"We come to those conclusions together! Don't start taking credit for them now."

"Oh, so you believe it only when your name is also on the report, huh?"

"Don't twist my words, Johnny. You know what I mean. I believe my conclusions first, and then I listen to yours and based on circumstantial evidence and once I discard all logical scientific explanations, then I turn to the extraordinary. I don't jump to conclusions like you do!"

"Why can't you be a good friend for once and fucking listen to me—"

"Because I'm not your friend, Johnny! I'm your fucking coworker!"

The silence that filled the room once you were done was deafening. It was only then that you realized how loud you'd gotten. The shocked disappointment in Johnny's eyes seemed to be even louder, though. 

Immediately, you realized your mistake. Yes, you'd grown close to him, but that was necessary for working well on these assignments. Keeping your work life and your personal life separate was paramount for you. Evidently, Johnny didn't feel the same, and as a result, you'd hurt him.

For a long time, no one said anything. Simply staring at each other, small space ripe with tension. Your eyes softened when he looked away from you, leaning his back against the counter. You took a step closer, until he was right in front of you.

"Johnny, I—"

"Can you get out, please?"

You stared at him for a few moments, trying to think of something to say. 

Ultimately, you didn't. You took a deep sigh, and grabbed your laptop on the way out.

Being an FBI meant you had little to no personal time, working pretty much 7 days a week and being on call for anything at any time, in any part of the country. You knew that when you started your training.

You'd entered with a statement and left with a question. Could you really call Johnny a friend? You really only saw him during work. You didn’t meet outside of it—but considering how much you worked, always on call and spending nights holed up with him in hotel rooms or in your office going over evidence of different cases, at what point did you start spending more time at work than at your day to day life?

PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—10:11 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

You were looking between the notes you’d scribbled down on a small notepad using a pen you’d stolen from Johnny the day before. It was while you were transferring them to the report on your computer that you jumped in your seat when the office door burst open. Mrs. Walker guided a sniffling Phoebe Howard into the room. Johnny, who had been speaking to Doyoung to ask him about other students, turned his head. 

Doyoung held up a hand, to which Johnny nodded, and the shorter man walked over to the two of them. "Phoebe, are you alright?"

She shook her head, breaking into tears again, unable to speak. Doyoung turned to Mrs. Walker, who simply patted her head. "Lab project," She murmured, "They had to dissect pig embryos. She just… broke down. I've seen it happen before. Some kids are just more sensitive than others."

"No, no, it's not that," Phoebe blubbered, "Can I…"

Despite everything that had happened last night, when you looked at Johnny, you saw he'd done the same. A tense, knowing stare was shared between the two of you, and then Phoebe spoke.

"Can I speak to Agent L/N please?"

Your head snapped to her when she said your name. You stood, and nodded.

You lead her out the door while ignoring Doyoung’s frown and Mrs. Walker's confused look. Johnny followed behind at a distance. 

The three of you went out the door, to the outdoor lunch tables. You had Phoebe sit down, Johnny and you remained standing. 

"What is it you wanted to talk about, Phoebe?" You said gently.

She took a shaky breath, rubbing her hands together. "So… Do you know who my stepdad is?"

Thinking back to when you'd made a basic profile on the three kids yesterday afternoon, you nodded. "He's the gym coach here, right? Grant Howard?"

She nodded. "So… he married my mom when I was 6. And he adopted me when I was 8. One year after that my mom got a new job, a-and she started travelling a lot, y'know? So I was alone with him a lot more. I-I don't know when it started, but…"

The sinking feeling in your chest grew as she started to cry again.

"S-sometimes when she wasn't here, h-he would invite people over. They'd come i-in with these red cloaks and they—would bring small animals. Kittens a-and puppies, birds sometimes… They would take me down to the basement, to a room where the walls are painted red and there's this dirt floor, and they would—they would stand in a circle and sing and they would give m-me knives, o-or screwdrivers and…"

You sat down next to her, rubbing her shoulder as she let out a gut-wrenching cry. Looking at Johnny, the hand that wasn't in his trench coat pocket was balled into a fist. He was looking down, eyebrows furrowed.

"I didn't want to!" She wailed, "They would hurt me if I didn't, they said they would hurt my mom if I said anything! I had to be the one to kill the animals and then they w-would drink the blood—I don't know how I blocked it out or why I never remembered it until Mrs. Walker put the—the pig on the table, and I… I… I just…"

"It's okay, honey," You murmured, nodding. She buried her head into your shoulder, sobbing freely, and you rubbed her back to soothe her. 

Again, you looked at Johnny, who didn't look at you. You realized just how difficult it would be to keep this off the record—this was something that involved a child being abused, you couldn’t let her go home to a dangerous situation. 

This just got a whole lot more complicated. 

HOWARD RESIDENCE, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—15:49 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

Phoebe was to remain at school. Donghyuck and Amy would pick her up, and she would spend the night with Amy. She wouldn't be going home until the situation was thoroughly investigated. She'd been left with Doyoung, who would speak to her as a mandated reporter, and would later go back to attempt to finish the project. You left her your number in case she needed to speak to you again. 

You'd spoken to Mrs. Walker as her final class was out, just before you and Johnny left. The lab was spacious. A large python lay sleeping in a glass case in the corner of the room. The space was ripe with the smell of blood, which didn't surprise you, given the amount of pig embryos she was having her students dissect all day long.

The woman had a soft voice, and seemed very sympathetic to Phoebe's struggle. "I absolutely understand, I might have her do something else for her grade, but I'm afraid I might not be able to find any other activity on such short notice."

You nodded, sighing. "Of course. Thank you for considering, regardless." 

Your eyes fell to her desk, where a small basket of random items glinted with a small charm bracelet, the same bracelet you'd seen on—

"Ah, the students usually ask me to hold onto their things when we get messy like this," She said with a smile when she noticed where you were looking. "You said you're a doctor, so you understand, right?"

"Oh, yes. I can't really wear anything at all," You said with a soft chuckle.

"Not even a ring? Oh, your husband must be disappointed." 

You felt your face heat up, scratching your neck awkwardly. "I'm not married."

She smiled. “Oh, good for you then. It’s literal hell. And, you get to ogle your partner all day.”

You choked on your spit, coughing awkwardly. “I-I’m sorry, what?”

She laughed, waving her hands, “Oh, Agent L/N, don’t be so modest. You can’t deny that Agent Suh is an absolute dish. Why, if I were 25 years younger… oh my, the things I would—”

“I really must be going, Mrs. Walker,” You insisted quickly. “I’ll contact you should I have any other questions for you."

“Could I have your phone number, in case anything comes up? I-I’ll admit, this whole situation has frightened me a bit.”

You nodded sympathetically, ignoring how uncomfortable you’d felt a moment ago. Pulling out Johnny's pen and your notepad, and you jotted down your number there.

“Y/N?” A knock sounded, and Johnny popped his head in the door. “We need to go.”

“Yeah, I know,” You replied, tucking the notepad back into your pocket. You bid Mrs. Walker goodbye, and off you went, kitten heels clacking as you went.

As for your time with Johnny? The entire ride there was tense.

“Were you expecting that?” He asked a few minutes into the ride. You raised an eyebrow.

“The secret cult that forced a nine year old girl to murder puppies and kittens?” You answered in a clipped tone, “No, John. I can’t say I was.”

He hummed. "Okay… no tape recorder today?"

"I forgot it. Left it at the hotel."

He nodded, and that was that. 

Her mother and adoptive stepfather were, to say the least, shocked at their daughter's confession. You spoke to the girl's mother in the living room, Johnny spoke to her father. Mrs. Howard, whom Phoebe had insisted had never said anything was beside herself, crying as she spoke to you.

“Mrs. Howard, you’re absolutely sure you’ve never witnessed any violent behavior from your husband?”

She nodded, sniffling. “He’s always treated me and Phoebe very kindly. In front of me, at least.”

You hummed, looking down at the carpeted floor. “You said this is your husband's house, and he’s lived here longer than you have? Have you been in all parts of the house? Is there maybe an area a guest might not know about?”

She looked up at the ceiling in thought. “After hearing what Phoebe told you both, it made me realize that I’d never been in the basement. Grant’s always said that was his woodworking space, and he didn’t want anyone in there.”

With a nod, you looked at her. “Could my partner and I maybe take a look at--” 

A commotion from the kitchen cut you off.

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING OF THE SORT! I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE ACCUSING ME OF, SUH!”

You shot up, and so did Mrs. Howard, just in time to see Grant Howard push Johnny into the cabinet. Your training kicked in, and you stepped between the two, holding up your hands to placate the man. 

“Calm down, now,” You growled, dangerously low, “Or I will place you under arrest for assault of an officer.” 

“Grant,” Mrs. Howard called, “Breathe.”

“Leave, both of you! If you want to see my basement, get a damn warrant and you’ll see there’s nothing down there!”

You tugged Johnny away by the wrist, leaving out the front door. “What happened?” 

Johnny shook his head in aggravation. “I asked to see the basement, said that it would clear my suspicions of him. He said he didn’t hurt Phoebe, and I said I didn’t believe him. Then he snapped, grabbed me by the collar and shook me.”

He unlocked the car. “Should we try and get that warrant?”

You got into the passenger seat, shrugging. “I can do it.”

Johnny nodded. “Hopefully we’ll find—”

A ringing from Johnny’s phone caught him off guard. He fished the phone out from his pocket, answering, “Suh.”

“Sheriff, what’s going on?”

You could hear him through the speaker, and you didn't like what you heard. 

"We'll be there right away," Johnny said, face turning serious.

ROOM 471, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—17:37 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

"You're saying she just… had a seizure?"

"I was sitting at the desk, and she was about halfway through the dissection when she just… collapsed on the floor," Mrs. Walker said, voice trembling, "She was shaking and her eyes were rolled up into her head… Agent L/N, it was terrifying."

You sighed and looked at Johnny, who was speaking with the sheriff. When you looked back at Mrs. Walker, she was shaking her head. "I feel a dark force is among us, Agent L/N," She murmured, putting a hand on her chest, "So many horrible things in such a short span of time."

"Agent Suh and I are working hard to solve the case, Mrs. Walker. I promise we're doing our best."

"Y/N," Johnny called, "We gotta go."

You bid the older woman goodbye, and she gave you a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Once you were out the door with Johnny, your voice lowered. "What do you got?"

"Not a lot. The Howards have been notified, but Grant Howard isn't being allowed into her hospital room."

"Who called the police?"

"Clinton."

"Clinton?" 

He shook his head, grimacing to himself. "Shit, sorry. Beatrice Pratt. The secretary." 

You stared at him. "Pratt and Clinton don't sound alike at all."

"Well, yeah, but…" He scratched his head and lowered his voice. "The pantsuit and the bob remind me of the first lady."

You frowned. "I wear pantsuits all the time."

"Yeah, but you don't look like Hillary Clinton."

You sighed. You didn’t have time for this, especially when he was still mad at you. "Okay. Sure, whatever. I talked to Walker. I… I'm not so sure about her."

Johnny tilted his head. "Why not?"

"I don't know. I don't have a lot to go off of, but it seems just a little bit odd that she shows up the morning of Mark Lee's death, replacing a man who apparently hasn't missed a day in a fifteen year career."

"Maybe he had an emergency. Happens to everyone."

"Johnny, he contracted flesh eating bacteria. Does that sound like something that happens to everyone?"

He didn't answer. Obviously, he hadn’t been expecting that. "Ohhh-kay, then. Let's do this. The sheriff said that the warrant should be ready within a few hours. Howard would probably beat my ass if he sees me again, so you check out that basement, and I can do the background check on Walker. Sound good?"

"Actually, I don't think you'll need a warrant."

The two of you turned, stunned, to see Grant Howard standing in front of you both. His eyes were rimmed red and he was clearly restless, shifting his weight onto his legs constantly. 

"Agent L/N, I'll show you the basement."

HOWARD RESIDENCE, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—18:09 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

"My entire life," The man said, sounding tired, "I was taught that humans are no better, no worse than animals. Do what thou willst, rather than do unto others." 

He pulled open the basement door, gesturing for you to go first. Immediately, you were on edge. If you had your back turned he could easily push you down the stairs or hit you in the head.

"You go down first," You ordered. He nodded understandingly. "You were saying?""My family has kept this religion for seven generations. My great, great, great, great grandfather was born in 1777, Agent L/N, and he was the one who brought us into it. We've been keeping it alive since, with two other families. It kept us in good health, we had no money problems."

When the two of you got to the bottom of the stairs, he turned the light on and you realized Mrs. Howard had been right, it did look like a normal woodworking space. Until Mr. Howard pulled a rug up from the ground to reveal a hatch, which he pulled up to reveal another set of stairs.

"I was raised to believe that Christianity was synonymous with hypocrisy. And for years, I believed that." He led you down this pair of stairs again, where he lit his flashlight. The room was a bit smaller than the basement but still large enough to keep a large group of people like Phoebe had said. Also identical to her story were the red walls and the dirt floor.

 "Believed?"

"Believed," He confirmed. "I believed until I saw it in my own religion as well, not even an hour ago. When I got to the school to gather my things and was met by the heads of the other 2 families, asking me to pin the murder of Mark Lee on my own daughter. That if she were permanently affected by what just happened, we could get away with all of it. That was when I knew that I was better than an animal. I need to keep Phoebe and Linda safe."

"So one of you did murder Lee," You murmured, trying to get a solid confession. However, he shook his head. "I didn't. The others insist they didn't either." 

"Who did, then?"

He sighed. "Agent L/N, you have to understand, I'm trained in these arts so I know when there’s a difference somewhere. Something is here. Something bad."

 You frowned. "Alright. Did you or did you not abuse your daughter?"

"I never laid a hand on her. The others, however… they wanted to make sure she would stay quiet through fear, and they wouldn't listen to me. We have a ritual that blocks out memories, every time we would perform that ritual when we were done. The plan was to reveal the memories when she turned 18, and then allow her to join or reject the religion. It's a rite of passage."

"Why even use Phoebe in the first place?"

He shook his head. "The magic of an innocent soul is a powerful thing. It's one of the most powerful things we could ever use in our magic. That's also why we used those sacrifices. She was the youngest of all of our children. The others were all past 11 at that age."

With a sigh, you led him up back to the main basement. "Would you be willing to give me a written statement of who the heads of these families are?"

He nodded. "Of course. I just want my daughter and my wife to be safe. They believe that whatever's here wants a sacrifice. That it took Mark Lee as a warning to us, and unless it gets a sacrifice from us…"

"It'll strike again," You finished."And it won't stop." He sounded desperate. You found your notepad, but the pen was nowhere to be found. "Do you have a—"

Your cellphone ringing interrupted you. You groaned quietly, scooping it from your pocket. "Hello?"

"Y/N?" You heard Johnny's voice say. His tone was urgent. There was a faint crackle of static, but as you listened it began to get louder. "I'm at the school. You need to hurry, Y/N, there's something—!"

The static overpowered the sound of his voice, and then the call dropped. "Johnny? Johnny! Hello?"

Your heart dropped, and you tucked the phone and the notepad into your pocket. "I need to go. My partner's in trouble."

"I'll go with you," He offered.

You shook your head. "No. You're under arrest."

"What? But—"

"You just admitted to animal abuse, your complicity in child abuse and conspiracy. If I take you to the school, how do I know you won't take the other two and bolt?" You snapped. "Against that beam, there.

Pulling out some handcuffs, you forced him against the side of the stairs, where you handcuffed him to the railing. "I'll come back for you later," You growled, "Don't move."

Rushing up the stairs, and out the door, into the rain, you ran towards the car. Johnny needed you. 

Your friend needed you.

FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—18:30 hours, February 12th, 1993

You burst into the school, trying to keep calm despite the horrid feeling in your gut. You eyed the office, which was right next to the main entrance. The lights were on, you could see your laptop was on. But the seat was empty, and so was the rest of the office, or so it seemed to be from where you were standing. Taking a deep breath, you pulled out your gun, and entered the office slowly. 

"Hello?" You called, looking into the window of Doyoung’s office. Empty. The principal's office? Empty. Your mouth felt dry. 

Where was Johnny?

"Y/N?"

In a moment your professors at the academy would've been ashamed to see, you shrieked, and turned the gun in the direction the voice came from. But when you realized it was Johnny with a styrofoam coffee cup, whose eyes had gone wide at the sight of the gun pointed at him, you lowered it.

"Don't fucking scare me like that," You muttered as you tucked the gun into its holster. A second later, you raced forward, engulfing him in a hug as you realized that he was okay.

"Y/N? What's… going on?"

You pulled away once it registered what you'd done. "Sorry," You mumbled. "What happened? Where did the thing go?"

"Y/N, what are you talking about?"

You shook your head in confusion. "You called me. You said you were in danger. My heart fell out of my ass, Johnny, what happened?"

Johnny's face contorted at your statement. "Huh? Y/N, I never even touched my phone. I was running the background check on Walker—who, by the way, is pretty much clear in the system. But… I don't know."

Staring at him, you put your hands on your hips. "Johnny, I heard your… never mind. We have to go. Howard confessed."

His eyebrows shot up. "He did it?"

"No, but he admitted to conspiracy and has names. Come on, we have to go."

For the millionth time today, you made your way from the school to the Howard residence, where you found the door was still open. As you opened the door to the basement, you looked at him.

"He's down here."Johnny turned on his flashlight, and you followed him down the steps. The room was eerily quiet, and when Johnny flashed the light at where you said he was, it was empty.You huffed at the sight of the empty handcuffs. How had he slipped out of them?

"Y/N," Johnny said, flashing the light a few feet away, "Look."

You turned to see what he was pointing at. Your eyes widened at the sight of bones, tinged pink with the small chunks of meat still attached to it.

"Do you think it might be some kind of acid?" You asked, and Johnny shook his head.

"There's no sign of a reaction on the floor," He answered, flashing the light around the basement floor. He stopped a few feet away. You felt yourself grow even more confused.

"Is that—?

""Snakeskin," Johnny whispered, "...There's a python in Walker's class."

"B-but, that's not possible," You muttered, "It would take a snake hours to consume a grown man, and weeks to digest it!"

Johnny grabbed your wrist, shaking his head at your rambling. "C'mon, Einstein," He told you, "We gotta go pay Walker a visit."

ROOM 471, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—19:01 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

The school was a lot darker than when it had been when you had been there previously. Seeing the halls, which you'd grown used to being full and lit up, suddenly so dark and empty made you uneasy.

 It was raining a lot harder now. The sound of the rain pelting the roof made it harder to listen for anything. When you got to Walker's room, it was also dark. She said she'd be here until eight grading papers, but the room was empty. There were some broken beakers on one of the lab tables, and when you really strained your ears to listen, the sound of soft yet strained breathing could be heard behind the desk. 

"Mrs. Walker?" You called, slowly walking towards the desk. Johnny tried the light, but to no avail. The rain must have knocked it out.

The woman was on the floor, nose bleeding and leg bent at an angle at which legs weren't meant to bend at all. She seemed to have been hit in the head, a sizable lump protruding from her temple.

"Th-the snake—" She mumbled, "They took the snake—He hit me,"

"Who, Mrs. Walker, who?"

"Kim," She spat out, "Pratt. I think they—think they killed that boy."

Doyoung and Beatrice. You and Johnny exchanged glances, and you remembered what Grant had said.

"Did you see where they went, Mrs. Walker?" Johnny asked. She blinked hazily.

"Said something about the conference room," She muttered.

"We'll call paramedics for you, okay?" You stood, trying to reassure her gently. "You'll be fine."

Johnny had already picked up the phone. Thunder crackled overhead as he dialed the number, but you could hear the busy tone all the way from where you were standing

."Damn storm is jamming the signal," He said, "Y/N, we gotta go, now."

"Johnny, what about—"

"Y/N," He growled, "Now."

Something about his tone set you off, and you did as he said. He immediately shut the door, and sped up his steps down the hall. 

"What was that about?" You asked, turning on your flashlight and trying to keep up with his pace. 

"Y/N, do you have that pen you borrowed from me yesterday?" He asked, not slowing down. Thunder rumbled overhead.

"What?" He had a point, probably. He always did when he got like this. "No, I dropped it I think."

"The pen was on Walker's desk. Next to the phone. Next to Phoebe's bracelet. It was my pen."

You inhaled sharply as Johnny tugged the door to the conference room open. "What are you implying?"

"Walker was clear in the system. But when I was talking to the principal yesterday, she couldn't even remember hiring her. What are the odds that a woman pops up out of nowhere the same day a murder happens?"

You pulled a filing cabinet open, looking through random folders. "Okay, yes, we agree. But what if—"

"Y/N, did you not see how tall she was?"

You shook your head, turning to pull out some papers from a file. "Sure, she's a bit taller than average, but she's shorter than you—"

"She's slouching to look smaller. Trust me, I did that when I was younger. If she stood up straight, she would be taller than me. Donghyuck said the thing that grabbed Mark was tall, had female breasts, and had dark hair. She fits the profile."

You sighed. "I mean, maybe you—"

A thud! and a groan from Johnny had you turning your head. Your flashlight landed on Johnny, on the ground, unconscious. Your body turned cold. 

"Johnny—?"

But then you felt something hit you in the back of the head, and everything went dark. 

Your eyes cracked open at the sensation of being dragged, and as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you realized two things. 

One, you arms and legs were bound, and there was a gag placed in your mouth. You craned your head, and Johnny was in the same situation as you, only he was still unconscious. 

And two, you were being dragged by Hillary Clinton. 

Shit, no. Maybe you'd hit your head harder than expected. Your vision cleared up further, and you realized it wasn't, in fact, Hillary Clinton, but rather Beatrice Pratt. Doyoung was dragging Johnny, and then you realized what was going on. 

These were the others that Grant Howard had been referring to. They seemingly hadn't realized you were awake yet. You were in the school gymnasium, headed towards a doorway in the corner. The room was dark, occasionally lit by flashes of lightning.

"—The showers, right?" Doyoung asked, sounding out of breath. Beatrice huffed. 

"Yes. The blood will get washed away there."

You couldn’t move your hands, no matter how much you squirmed. Your eyes looked at Johnny, who was beginning to stir. His brows furrowed, mouth trying to form words. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” Doyoung hummed, disdain dripping from his voice, “Lovely.”

Johnny’s eyes cracked open, immediately glaring at Doyoung, who chuckled. “Please. I’m terrified.”

“Doyoung, shut up,” Beatrice snapped. “Open the door.”

Doyoung let Johnny’s legs fall onto the floor. Johnny groaned in discomfort as Doyoung opened the door, propping it open with something.

He approached Johnny again, but before he picked him up to drag him further, he landed a swift kick to Johnny’s gut. Johnny let out a muffled moan in pain, and you thrashed against your restraints.

“You just had to come and ruin everything, huh? This is a once in a century opportunity, and you--” He proceeded to kick Johnny again, over and over, “Just--won’t--quit.”

“Doyoung!” Beatrice snapped. “We don’t have time for this. Don’t you sense it getting angrier? If we don’t sacrifice them now, it’ll take us like it took Grant.”

Doyoung turned to her, breathing heavily through his nose. “Fine,” He bit out.

They dragged you into the bathrooms, leading you to the showers, where they dumped you both next to each other. You rolled onto your side to look at Johnny, whose eyes were screwed shut in pain. His breathing was labored. 

You squirmed again, trying to free yourself as the shower roared to life. Curling in on yourself as cold water soaked your body, you tried to think of a way to save both Johnny and yourself. Doyoung and Beatrice pulled out large daggers from their  coat pockets, and raised their arms to the sky. They began chanting in latin, but the roar of water, the shock of the cold temperature, and the panic beginning to set in caused the words to blur together. 

This was it. You and Johnny were going to die. 

Until the two of them crumpled on top of you. You jumped as Doyoung’s weight toppled onto you, eyes squeezing shut in pain. His elbow had landed on your stomach. For a moment, as you lay there reeling in pain, and you wondered if this was a part of the ritual. But then…

"Agent L/N?" Your eyes shot open, and you met eyes with Amy Espinoza. She managed an awkward attempt at a polite smile, fiddling with what she was holding in her hands. Your eyes widened when you registered the shotgun. A flashlight was duct-taped haphazardly to the barrel, probably so that she could see wherever she was aiming.

"Mmh-hffpnffh?" You couldn't stop yourself from trying to speak, unable to contain your surprise. 

A second set of hands turned off the shower, and you craned your neck to see Donghyuck Lee, holding an old baseball bat underneath his armpit. He pulled Beatrice off of Johnny, making a disgusted face. "I always knew there was something up with her," He grumbled, "She never laughed at my jokes."

"Yeah, 'cause you're annoying as shit," Amy countered, pushing Doyoung to the side. "Can you guys sit up?"

She untied your hands, and you got to work on untying your feet before pulling the gag off of your mouth. 

"What are you two doing here?" Johnny asked, voice raspy and out of breath. 

You stood up, wiping water off of your face. "Where did you get that gun?"

 "Oh." Amy suddenly sounded embarrassed. "I, uh… Stole it from my dad?

"Donghyuck helped Johnny stand. "We went to visit Phoebe in the hospital, Mr. Suh—"

"Agent Suh," Johnny corrected, bringing a hand to his stomach. "Whatever. Anyway, we went to visit and once she woke up she told us something… not good."

"Mrs. Walker is the thing," Amy said. "Phoebe said she was dissecting the pig and she saw her grab the bracelet she'd given her—"

"And she did something and her eyes turned orange, like the thing we saw in the woods!" Amy continued. "The officer that was there didn't believe her, but we did."

"So we decided to take matters into our own hands," Donghyuck said. "She killed our best friend, so we thought—"

"That coming to your school with a shotgun and a wooden baseball bat, to kill a demon was the best course of action?" You didn't sound amused, and the two of them exchanged a look.

Amy looked down. "Well… when you put it like that…"

"It doesn't matter," Johnny said. "You kids need to go home now. It's not safe for either of you." 

"Like hell we're going anywhere! We were able to save you guys, so—"

“You kids got lucky this one time," You pointed out, sounding stern, "Agent Suh and I are trained for dangerous situations like this. You two aren't, and we certainly aren't about to expose you kids to one. Go home."

You searched your pockets, not finding your gun. You crouched to look through Doyoung and Beatrice's pockets, handing Johnny's gun to him and putting your gun back into your holster.

"But—"

A large crack of thunder startled you all, and the ground seemed to rumble as it did. Johnny looked past you and the kids, at the end of the shower hallway, and inhaled sharply.

"Oh, that's so much worse than Hillary Clinton," He mumbled. You didn't even see what he meant, but in that split second something in you took over. You pulled Donghyuck behind you, Johnny grabbing Amy and doing the same. 

At the same time, Amy aimed the gun to where Johnny had been looking, the light landing on...

Donghyuck gasped. "Holy shit."

It was like exactly what Donghyuck had said, except worse. Glowing, orange eyes, goat legs, stringy black hair. Johnny was right—standing like this, she was much taller than him. Her jaw was unhinged, open impossibly wide. She was panting heavily, hobbling slowly towards you. 

You and Johnny pulled out your guns, shooting instantly. One hit her in the shoulder, the other in the stomach. Her jaw opened even further, and a blood curdling screech echoed throughout the tiled room. 

Then she broke out into a run. 

You forced yourself to stand still, shooting another round before she jumped over you. Out of the corner of your eye, Donghyuck swung the bat, hitting her in the leg, causing her to fall face first to the ground.

 Taking that advantage, Johnny fired another round into her back. She shrieked again, and you and Johnny took the opportunity to run out the door, pushing the kids with you.

"Go! Both of you, now," You ordered once you were in the gym again. They shook their heads. Donghyuck held up his bat.

"We're not leaving without—"

"Donghyuck, this isn't a movie," Johnny insisted, "Now go!"

 Amy grabbed his arm. "Hyuck, they're right, we have to—LOOK OUT!"

You turned to see what had once been Mrs. Walker stick its head out of the doorway. Amy was able to fire one last shot into it, with her shotgun. You didn’t see where it hit—the door shut and you heard one final wail. 

A few moments later, the lights flickered on. You stood there, clothes dripping onto the hardwood floor for a good minute or so, until you looked at Johnny, who wore a pained grimace. "I can check," You told him. "Stay here with the kids." 

"You sure?" He asked. You nodded, holding out your gun and slowly making your way towards the door. You spared the odd trio one final glance. 

Johnny—soaking wet hair falling into his eyes—was standing in front of them, aiming his gun at the door. Donghyuck was holding his bat up, Amy's MacGyver-esque flashlight gun making you squint.

Then, you opened the door. You could feel your heart hammering a mile a minute. Very slowly, you scanned the room. You stopped when you glanced at the showerhead Beatrice and Doyoung had placed you under—the same one they should have been under, knocked unconscious. You swallowed a lump in your throat. 

Because they weren’t there, and neither was Mrs. Walker. What you did see, however, were two large streak of blood dragged up the wall and to a window, staining the green tiles.

PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—20:47 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

The four of you made your way back to the main building on high alert. The rain seemed to have stopped once the thing was gone. Amazingly, there wasn't even a cloud in the sky. Even the air felt different—cleaner.

Shockingly, this time when Johnny tried the phone again, it worked. In order, he called the sheriff, who had no issue believing the ordeal you had gone through. Then the principal, who was incredibly confused as to how four of her teachers could vanish in one night.

 And then, you turned to the kids and gestured to the phone. "Alright, your turn now. Call your parents, both of you."

If they were more afraid of the murderous hellspawn they'd just helped you fight off, it didn't show. "Please just let us go now, Agent L/N," Donghyuck pleaded, "My mom will never let me leave my house again after this."

Amy shook her head. "My dad's gonna kill me if he finds out I stole the gun again."

Johnny made a face. "Again?"

She turned even paler when she realized her screw up. "I'm not going to omit witnesses from a report because you'll get grounded," You told them. "You're good kids, with good intentions. You just lost someone and had another friend go through something traumatic, we get that. But what you did tonight was incredibly dangerous, reckless, and—and—"

"Stupid?" Johnny offered.

"Johnny!" You snapped, lowering your voice. He shrugged.

You sighed, trying to get them to understand. "Alright, listen. There's a Yellow Pages over on that desk. If you don't call them, I will, or the sheriff will. Which would scare your parents less, huh? Getting a call from their kids, from the sheriff's department, or from the goddamn federal bureau of investigation?"

If they didn't get it before, they definitely understood now. Amy took the fall first, telling her dad she'd brought her car to the school, had gotten into trouble, and needed him to come by to talk to the police. She left out the gun, much to your amusement.

While Donghyuck did the same, you pulled Johnny into the hallway to speak to him.

"Are you okay?" You asked, "Doyoung seemed to kick you pretty hard." 

"I'll take a few days off once we get back to DC, I'll be fine," He murmured. He leaned against the wall and winced.

You nodded, but weren't sure how to respond. Finally, you spoke again.

"Look, about last night," You said softly, and he looked up in thought. 

"What about it?" He didn't seem to want to meet your eyes.

You took a step forward. "Johnny, other than when we first met, have I ever treated you like you were crazy?" 

Your voice was quieter now, gentler in its approach. He looked to the side, crossing his arms. "...No."

You shrugged, before sighing. "It's not that I don't trust you. I have my scientific conclusions. You have yours. Every time I see something I can't explain I try to explain it with what I do know. Tonight was… insane, and you were right. But honestly? It just reinforced my wanting to go the scientific route every time we have a case."

He frowned. "Why? You saw Walker."

"Exactly." You crossed your arms. "If I went into every single case, expecting to see that or something even worse? God. I… I don't know how you do it, John."

He smiled, but still didn't meet your eyes. "I didn't mean what I said last night either. Y'know… that. Or at least, I didn't realize I didn't mean it until today. I… I care about you, Johnny. I really do. You're smart, and you're really funny, and you give me perspectives I wouldn't consider otherwise."

He looked at you, and you put a hand on his upper arm. "I'm glad I have a friend like you to work with," You admitted, "And I'm glad you're okay."

His smile grew, and he let out a chuckle. "There's no one else in the bureau I would rather be murdered by Hillary Clinton with," He said, with the most endearing tone possible. You burst into laughter, Johnny joining you. He stepped closer, pulling you into a hug as you continued to laugh. Your eyes shut, and despite Johnny's cold, damp clothes pressing against your cold, damp clothes, it still warmed your chest. The two of you stood together for a while, enjoying each other's embrace. His chin rested on your head, and you sighed happily. Johnny gave good hugs.

"Uhh, Agent Suh?"

Johnny and you broke away immediately. Johnny cleared his throat."Uhh, yes, Donghyuck?"Amy and Donghyuck exchanged a glance from the office doorway. "Uh, my mom said she'll be here soon. A-and I saw some police lights across the street, so…"

"Oh." Johnny straightened his tie. "Thank you."

A few seconds later, the sound of sirens came into proximity. You took a look at these two kids, and despite the stress they'd caused you, you felt an odd fondness in your heart. 

“Come on, you two," Johnny murmured, "Time to go."

X-FILE 229-B: THE SAN CEFERINO SHIFTER

FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C—07:08 hours, Wednesday, July 6th, 1994

On this particular summer morning, you were enjoying the air conditioner for as long as you could wait. You'd be flying to San Ceferino, California, twenty minutes outside of San Francisco. 

The assignment was at a gated community where three women had been found dead within the span of three weeks. You and Johnny would be sent in to investigate due to a strange, unidentifiable residue being found on the bodies. A local detective had contacted the bureau for help.

The kicker? For some reason, due to some sensitivities of having their community "invaded" the head of the community had requested you be placed undercover.

So what was the bureau's idea? "Moving" you and Johnny into the community, posing as a newlywed couple. 

Yikes.

This seemed like a bad idea to you, but you didn't say anything. Because if you spoke up to your superiors, they'd ask why, and you'd be forced to explain. 

"I got the flight tickets and our fake profiles!" Johnny entered your shared office, causing you to look up from the case file.

"Oh, nice. Who are we?"

He curled his lip, making a face. "Whoever makes up these names should be demoted, I swear to god. My name is Fox. Fox Kang. Who the hell names their kid Fox—"

You stifled a laugh as you grabbed the file from him, flipping to yours. Dana Baker. A bit ordinary, but the more inconspicuous, the better, you figured. 

"God, I kind of don't want to go," You hummed, "It's hot enough as it is here in Washington. I don't wanna imagine the California heat."

"Well, suck it up," He said, but he didn't sound dismissive. "We're leaving in three hours. We still have to pick up our undercover wardrobe and get to the airport, y'know?"

Frowning at the profile, you nodded half-heartedly. It stated that your backstory was that of college sweethearts at Cornell in the 80s. He was class of 1984, you of 1986. You were moving to California two months after getting married, because "Fox" got a job offer just outside of San Francisco. 

"You're staring at that paper like you're Nancy Kerrigan and it just broke your knee," Johnny pointed out, "You okay?"

"Huh?" You looked at him, swallowing. "Oh… yeah. I'm fine. I'm just a bit… unsure about the whole marriage thing." 

Johnny shrugged, offering an amused smile. "Really, Y/N. We've been working together for two years and you still find me that unbearable?"

You laughed, standing and circling your desk to stand in front of him. "No, not at all. I'm just not the best when it comes to undercover work."

Johnny leaned against the desk, smiling sympathetically. "Well, I'm no Tom Hanks either. But if you think about it, we spend all our time together anyway. It's not that big of a stretch to say we might as well be."

"We definitely argue like one," You fired back. You both laughed, simply staring at each other in silence once it quieted down. Johnny's eyes studied you up and down, dark eyes warm. He was wearing his glasses today. 

You wondered if he was judging your outfit, because he did that sometimes with other people. Apparently, before he became interested in criminal psychology he'd wanted to become a fashion designer, or so he told you. Six months later after he'd told you that and you still weren't sure if he was joking or not.

"What are you looking at?" You asked. He shook his head. 

"...Nothing. Let's get going?"

The two of you picked up your faux suitcases—the bureau had a department full of fake clothes for agents going undercover needing to fit a certain persona. The two of you were nothing close to the white picket fence suburban life, so you were better off picking up some fake clothes.

You laughed when you saw the first outfit Johnny had been given. A pastel yellow LaCoste polo shirt, and grayish blue dress shorts. He glowered at you when he saw your face.

"Oh, yeah, very funny."

Your outfit wasn't much better. High rise, light wash jeans and another polo, this one bright red, a pair of dark red casual loafers to match. Johnny didn't laugh, but it was clear he was trying not to.

You decided to sleep on the plane. There wasn't a lot to look over, as you'd received the file the night before. By now, you knew the drill. 

You dreamt you were back in that hotel room in Oregon. Johnny was kneeling beneath you, but you still hadn't taken your robe off. He was saying something, but you couldn't understand what. His eyes were full of a warm emotion that you couldn't quite place.

Until he raised his arms to try and remove the robe. This time, when he spoke, you could hear him clearly. "This is what you wanted me to do, right?"

Your hands grabbed his. "What? Johnny, I… Well…" 

He stood, face impossibly close to yours. There was an odd smile on his face. "Don't worry," He murmured. "I want to, too."

Slowly, your hands let go of his and he began to pull off the robe. You didn’t protest. When you were bare, his hands slid to the skin of your waist, and he pulled you against him. His forehead pressed against yours.

"Johnny, are you sure?"

"Y/N," He said with a smile, "We are beginning our descent into LAX. Please put on your seatbelts and put up your trays."

You jumped awake in your seat, eyes impossibly wide. A laugh from beside you caused you to turn your head. Johnny was giggling into his palm. 

"What?" You asked, voice raspy from sleeping. 

"Oh my god, that was beautiful," He declared, "You were sleeping so peacefully and then, oh my god, that was hilarious."

"Ha, ha, ha." Your tone was devoid of any emotion. You rubbed your eyes, yawning slightly. "What time is it, here?"

"Three hour time difference. It's one PM." 

You nodded. And you still had a six hour car ride. Lovely. 

SOMEWHERE ALONG THE I-5, CALIFORNIA—15:22, Wednesday, July 6th, 1994

"Couldn't they have just flown us to San Francisco and have us drive from there?" Johnny complained after being cut off by yet another car. 

You sighed. "Budget cuts, I guess. We're not infiltrating the mafia, or taking down human trafficking rings."

"Yeah, we just fight the boogeyman and the little green men," He agreed. You laughed. 

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we hadn't gotten assigned together?" He sounded wistful, not taking his eyes off of the road. 

"I don't know." You picked at a loose thread on your jeans. "I would probably still be teaching at the academy. I think Brooks was considering placing you with Jung if I wasn't up for it."

"Jaehyun Jung?" He turned his head, making a face. "Really? He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," You insisted, "He just thinks like me, science before all, except… less nice about it."

"You sure?" He asked, fiddling with the radio, "Every time we're in a room together, I catch him staring at me like he's trying to shoot lasers into my head, the prick."

You shrugged. "He's nice to me."

"That's just 'cause he's trying to get into your pants."

You hummed. Jaehyun was pretty handsome. "Would that be such a bad thing?" 

He coughed, shrugging. "Well, it's your love life. You do you."

The air turned awkward. Johnny fiddled with the radio, but in this particular stretch of the interstate, all that came up was a Latin beats radio. Trumpets, and soft snare drums filled the car. You immediately recognized Selena's Bidi Bidi Bom Bom, a song about a girl realizing her heart went crazy whenever her lover passed by—while you didn’t listen to a lot of Latin music, you had a friend who did and always played this song when you met up.

Me tiemblan hasta las piernas

Y el corazon igual

Se emociona, ya no razona

No lo puedo controlar

"Oh, I hate this song," Johnny mumbled, reaching to turn the radio off.

"No, wait! I like it." You pushed his hand away. He groaned, but didn't turn it off. 

Y me canta así, me canta así…

Bidi bidi bom bom, bidi bidi bom bom

Bidi bidi bidi bidi bidi bom bom

Bidi bidi bidi bidi bidi bom bom

So, the two of you continued on listening to Selena, Johnny silently pouting. 

"So, what were you dreaming about on the plane?"

"Huh?" You cleared your throat.

"Yeah, you said my name in your sleep."

You shifted in your seat. "Oh… Um. I can't even remember."

He hummed, but didn't say anything. The drive continued on, both of you alternating between discussing mundane things and the case. All of them had been found in their homes, with no sign of a struggle—which suggested they knew their assailant. They'd all been strangled to death. No odd fingerprints could be recovered from the crime scenes. 

The first victim lived alone. The other two's husbands had solid alibis that were confirmed by the police. 

Which meant that it had to be someone in the neighborhood. There was reportedly a strong sense of community there, which was part of why the bureau had you going undercover. 

Around six, the two of you rolled into San Francisco, for a brief stop to talk to the detective who had contacted the bureau, a woman named Wendy Son. 

The two of you rolled into the precinct, and upon showing your badges, were prompted to the woman’s office. She had her light brown hair tied up in a ponytail, wearing a black pantsuit similar to what you would wear, had you not been dressed like a soccer mom.

"Oh, thank you for coming," She said once you sat down. "I have some extra material here that I wasn't able to fax you."

She pulled out a folder, setting it in front of you on the desk. Johnny opened it to reveal more images you hadn't initially seen. 

"We sent the sample to Los Angeles because their laboratory has a higher capacity," She told you both, "They still weren't able to identify it, but apparently it apparently has an a mild tranquilizing enzyme. That might also be why there wasn't much of a struggle." 

Johnny hummed. "There aren't any cameras in San Ceferino, are there?" 

Detective Son shook her head. "Only around the perimeter and the gates." 

"Maybe there's something there," You said, "Could we have access to those tapes?"

She looked back down at the pictures. "I could certainly get it to you by tomorrow afternoon, though. Come in past two and I should have it by then."

Johnny nodded and smiled at her. "That would be great, thank you." 

She smiled, and you'd have to be blind to not notice the blush on her face. She handed him the keys to the house that the heads of the community had arranged to have semi-furnished ahead of your arrival. The rest would be arriving tomorrow in the morning, during which time you would go through the motions of being a newlywed couple moving into their “forever home”.

Johnny apparently was blind, though. He didn't say anything about it once you were both back in the car. You couldn't really blame her. 

Johnny was… well, he was Johnny. He was incredibly handsome, and funny. Any reasonable person interested in men would find him attractive. 

"Detective Son likes you," You told him as you were getting onto the road that led to San Ceferino.

"Does she?" He answered, smiling smugly. "She's pretty."

You don't know why that ignited something in you. "You think so?"

He nodded. "She seems nice. But I'm not interested."

The odd sensation in your chest simmered down. "No?"

"Not really. I'm not interested in something long distance. Plus, I work too much to have a relationship."

You nodded. "Yeah. I understand."

You arrived as the sun was setting, around seven. The two of you pulled into the gate to the place, where you introduced yourselves with your fake names to the guard. He checked his roster of approved people and let you both in. 

San Ceferino consisted of four different cul de sacs, each house practically identical. The house you would be staying in was towards the end of the second one. The house was a pale pastel yellow, orange rays of the sunset making it seem a deeper color. Your car rolled into “your” driveway, and with a sigh of relief, Johnny turned the car off. 

“I’m so tired,” He groaned, “Should we try and introduce ourselves today or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” You said, letting your head fall back against the headrest, “These people are probably all having dinner or something, it’d be weird for us to do that now.”

He nodded, and got out of the car to open the trunk. You got out to grab your suitcase, and as you were getting out you realized that just maybe the universe disagreed with your decision to wait to meet others around the neighborhood.

A woman was crossing the street. She seemed a bit older than you both but was still dressed almost identically. You walked over to Johnny, who had his back turned, and tapped him on the shoulder. “Fox,” You mumbled, “We’ve got company.”

He turned, and upon spotting the woman flashed a comically fake smile. You offered the friendliest smile you could muster, but the way her eyes lit up when doing a once over of Johnny and then drooping in disappointment once she spotted you. If she thought she was subtle, she was dead wrong.

“Hi,” She said, impossibly enthusiastic, “I’m Anne Morrison. I’m the head of the Homeowners Association.”

You nodded in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you,” You said, holding out your hand, “I’m Dana. This is… my husband, Fox.”

“Fox,” She repeated, turning to look at Johnny, “That’s a lovely name. So, what brings you two to San Ceferino?”

“Oh, I got a job offer in San Francisco a few months ago,” Johnny answered. He was good, you decided. “We looked at some houses in the city, but it’s so busy there, you know? We were living in Maryland, so the transition between small town and big city… it’s not for us.”

She nodded, eyes wide. “I absolutely understand. My ex-husband wanted to move to the city now that our kids are in college. I don’t enjoy any of the hustle and bustle, really.” She chuckled, “So guess who got the house in the divorce!”

You and Johnny exchanged a glance, then laughed as if it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. “Oh, my goodness,” You wheezed, clutching your hand in your chest, “I can imagine!”

“So, what do you two do?”

“I’m an architect,” Johnny said.

“I’m a publicist.” You scratched at your cheek when you felt a mosquito try to land. Her eyes zeroed in on your hand.

“You two are married, right?” She asked, “How come you’re not wearing your rings?”

You froze. Did the bureau even have fake jewelry? Why didn’t either of you think of that detail?

“Oh,” Johnny shrugged, coming to the rescue. “It’s so stressful having to take everything on and off at the airport, so we decided not to wear them today. Right, honey?”

He wrapped his hand around your waist, and you nodded. “I never wear jewelry when I’m on a plane. Too much hassle.”

She nodded, mouth slightly agape. “Oh, I see.”

Johny cleared his throat. “What do you work as?”

She grinned. “I’m a chemist.”

“I hated chemistry in high school,” Johnny groaned jokingly. Anne apparently thought this was hilarious, swatting his arm. He laughed again, but it was empty, awkward. You leaned your head against his shoulder in hopes that she'd get the message. 

“Well, Anne, it was lovely meeting you,” You declared, “But we’ve been awake since five in the morning travelling. We’re exhausted, we really should be getting inside.”

Anne sighed, eyes turning away from studying Johnny’s face to you. “Oh, go ahead. You two must be so tired.”

Johnny nodded, pursing his lips. “We’ll speak soon?”

She smiled. “There’s an HOA meeting on Friday night at another member's house. You should come and see what we’re all about, consider joining.”

"Swing by tomorrow!" You grinned, "You can tell us the details then."

"Of course, of course. Well, I'll leave you two to it. It was nice meeting you, Dana." She raked her eyes over Johnny one more time, "...Fox."

When she was out of earshot, Johnny pulled the suitcases out of the trunk and scrunched up his nose. "That was... awkward."

Your hand pulled up the extendable handle of the suitcase, looking back at her to see her close the door to her house, which was at the very end of the cul de sac. 

You looked back at him. "So, a chemist. And she's involved with the community, everyone probably knows who she is."

He shrugged before closing the trunk. "Let's keep an eye on her. She gives me the creeps."

The two of you made sure the car was locked before making your way towards the front door. He fiddled with the keys

"She might even have a motive," He said, as you stepped inside. "Ah, c'mon, aren't you gonna let me carry you over the threshold?"

"Not the time," You said, picking up your suitcase to carry it to the bedroom. "We were talking about a motive. Evidently, she likes looking at… married men. If it's her, she might be doing it out of jealousy."

"Exactly," He agreed, following you up the stairs. "Maybe there's something else at play—jealousy or something. how old were the other victims?" 

"Between 25 and 35. She didn't say how old she was, did she?" You rolled into the bedroom, sitting on the bed and immediately flopping down onto it. Johnny rolled past your room, looking for the separate bed the bureau had said would be there as well.

"Finally," You sighed with a smile. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you stifled a yawn. For a second, you considered falling asleep just like this, uncomfortable jeans be damned. 

"Y/N?" 

You cracked your eyes open, frowning at Johnny who was standing in the doorway. "What?" 

"There's only one bed."

You almost stopped breathing for a moment. "Huh?" 

He shuffled on his feet. "There's only one bed," He said, speaking slower.

"What do you mean there's only one bed?" You sat up.

Johnny sighed. "I mean there's only one bed." 

"But the bureau said—"

"Well, the bureau lied," He interrupted, "Because there's no other bed."

You  crossed your arms. "I could take the couch."

"That's supposed to get here tomorrow." 

"Oh," You frowned. What were you going to do? 

"I mean, I could sleep on the floor," You said, "So that way we don't have to sleep, you know…"

"Together?" He offered.

"In the same bed," You corrected, turning your face. It felt hot all of a sudden. 

"No, I couldn't do that to you." He set his suitcase next to yours, then sat next to you. "The bed seems big enough. I'm sure we'll be fine."

You were too tired to argue further. "Sure…" You didn't sound too convinced. 

"Great," He sighed, "I just gotta tell you. I snore a bit."

KANG-BAKER RESIDENCE, SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—08:43 hours, Thursday, July 7th, 1994

That night, surprisingly, you slept like a baby. You initially thought you'd overthink it all with Johnny lying right next to you but… it was comforting, knowing he was there. You hadn't slept next to anyone since you were 26.

Life as an FBI agent was demanding. Because of this, you'd given up on the idea of having a meaningful relationship ages ago. And due to the nature of your work, it was easy to throw yourself into it to drown out the desire to have someone to come home to. The fact that whenever you did get free time, if you spent too much of it alone… 

But now, lying awake in the morning, seeing Johnny's sleeping face curled up into his pillow… You remembered. 

He looked peaceful. Even at 33, like this he barely looked a day past 27. You could make out the details on his face, old acne scars and the occasional mole. The smile lines along his cheeks and the corners of his eyes… maybe in another lifetime, another universe, you could have gotten used to—

No. You shot up, heading towards the en suite to go to the bathroom. You were still sleepy, that was all. The time difference between Washington and California was having second effects. 

You pulled down your pants, blinking sleepily, and promptly had a heart attack when you sat down. Your knees barely missed your nose, your stomach dropped, and a shriek tumbled out of your lips before you could even register what was happening. 

Standing, now wide awake, you had half a mind to pull up your pants as Johnny tumbled into the bathroom, eyes wide in alarm.

"What happened?" He asked, voice raspy from disuse. You didn’t answer, but instead stared at the offending lifted toilet seat until he got the message. 

"Oh…" His face turned awkward, lips tilting from side to side. "I got up a few hours ago. I must have forgotten to put it back down, sorry." 

You didn't answer, yawning instead. He shrugged. "I've never… lived with another woman before, so…"

"Never?"

His eyes looked down. "...Never."

"Not even with that ex-girlfriend from Oxford you told me about?"

"Mary? No."

You held back an amused grin. "Johnny, when was the last time you even went on a date?" 

He pursed his lips. "I… am starving. Do you want me to go to the supermarket to pick something up for breakfast?"

You blinked, putting your hands on your hips. 

"...Breakfast sounds great."

Johnny promptly changed and left while you got into the shower. Once you were out, you brushed your teeth, did your general morning routine and waited for the car to roll back into the driveway, doing a quick background check on Anne in the meantime. 

No criminal record whatsoever, but that didn't automatically discard her from your list. Mostly because she was the only one on it, so far. 

Johnny rolled back into the driveway just before 9:20. You helped him take the bags into the kitchen, when he said, "Think fast!" and tossed you a small box.

"What's this?" You asked, opening the box. You sputtered at the sight: two simple gold bands. He looked at you like you were a moron.

"Wedding rings," He said, plucking one of the rings out from the box, "Hopefully so Anne lays off."

"You didn't have to go out and buy actual—"

"It's fake gold." He waved his hand dismissively, sitting down at the island and slathering an ungodly amount of cream cheese across a bagel. 

You settled on some coffee after hesitating to put on the ring. As you were finishing up, a knock at the door caught your attention. You looked at him, and he shrugged. "Moving van won't be here till 10:30."

So, you sighed, but still headed to the door. Johnny followed behind, second bagel in hand. When you swung the door open, you were met with Anne and a man you hadn't met yet. A wide Cheshire grin was plastered onto her face.

"Dana, hi!" She greeted. Her eyes landed on Johnny. "Good morning, Fox."

"Morning, Anne," You said with a nod, catching her attention again. You turned your eyes onto the man and held out your hand. "Hi, I'm Dana."

He shook your hand with a friendly smile. "My name's Scott Hernandez. I'm on the HOA board."

Johnny walked up to the door, putting a hand on your shoulder. "I'm Fox," He said, face speckled with crumbs and mouth full of food. You wanted to crawl into a hole.

"Hey, man," Scott said, eyeing Johnny, "Uh… Welcome to the neighborhood!"

"So," Anne asked, eyes raking over Johnny's chest, "How was the first night?"

Johnny swallowed his bagel before speaking. "It was lovely. We just snuggled up together and slept like little baby cats." He turned to you, eyes warm. "Isn't that right, honey bunch?"

Your neck snapped to look at him, holding back a look of disgust. "That's right…" You racked your brain for something sweet to call him and a moment later came up with, "...Poopy head."

Poopy head? Nice one, L/N.

Johnny’s smile faltered for a second, but neither Scott nor Anne seemed to notice. You flashed them both a bright grin. "So! Would you like to come in?"

Scott and Anne nodded. "That'd be great, thanks," He said. You led them into the dining room, where Johnny managed an awkward laugh. "Sorry it's such a mess, we just got up about an hour ago and I immediately went to the supermarket."

"Oh, don't worry, Fox," Scott hummed, sitting at the island, "Moving is so stressful. Especially with…"

Anne flashed him a dirty look. You raised an eyebrow at the interaction. "With what?" You asked, tilting your head as you feigned innocence. Anne sighed, shaking her head.

"Three women have been… murdered over the past few weeks." Scott looked down. "Police haven't been able to catch who's responsible."

"That's horrible," Johnny murmured, standing next to you. "Did you know them?"

"We know everyone because of our HOA responsibilities," Scott answered, "I wasn't that close to any of them, but they were all very nice women. It's awful, what happened to them. You knew Yolanda, didn't you, Anne?"

She nodded, eyes glassy. "Her son and mine used to play together. She was such a nice woman. Lovely family, too. It just breaks my heart." 

"I'm sorry for your loss," You told her. She offered a sad smile.

"But what, is it someone from the community or what?"

Anne shrugged, eyes full of concern. "The police don't really know, but it would make sense if they were from the community—"

"It couldn't possibly be someone living here," Scott huffed, "Everyone knows everyone, why would someone want to—"

"Scott is just in denial," Anne said, waving her hand. "Did you two really not know?"

"Not at all," Johnny replied, eyes wide with fake worry, "These past few weeks have been so hectic we barely had time to sit down. Right, honey?"

You groaned, partially putting up an act and partially in disgust at the name. "It's been a nightmare!" 

You made up some problems, like a crappy travel agency, yard sales, things going missing, stuff like that. Johnny occasionally chimed in, embellishing your stories. Occasionally, Anne or Scott would ask a question, and Johnny would answer with something he pulled out of his ass. 

"So that's why Fox isn't allowed coffee, anymore," You said a few minutes later, rolling your eyes. Scott was cackling, Anne giggling into her palm. Johnny glared at you, but there was no malice behind it. 

"But anyway, I'm guessing you two didn't come here to hear about how anxious I get with caffeine." Johnny turned to the pair. "What brings you to the... Kang-Baker residence?"

"Oh, we came to talk to you about joining the Homeowner's Association," Anne explained, "Not everyone in the neighborhood is a part of it, but it's very convenient to join." 

They laid down the basics, and as they talked, you realized just how much you appreciated living in an apartment rather than a house. Yes, it was a bit small at times, definitely not as idyllic, but 300 dollars as an initiation fee, and monthly payments of 150 dollars? You had half a mind to call the bureau and tell them that the real crime was the extortion from the Homeowner's Association. 

You didn't really see any advantages—probably because you didn't even own this house and wouldn't have to worry about selling it later. It just sounded like a nightmare. What did they mean you could only paint your doors pastel colors if you joined?

When they finally left, you looked at Johnny. "Maybe I'm not cut out for the American dream after all. That HOA stuff sounds even worse than the time we got attacked by the flesh eating virus."

He held back a laugh. "That bad, huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, this is much more irritating. The moving van will be here any second, come on, let's go."

127TH PRECINCT, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA—14:29 hours, Thursday, July 7th, 1994

After unloading the furniture boxes (empty boxes with nothing really in them), you and Johnny settled on lunch—some crappy junk food—and drove all the way to the police station where Detective Son worked. 

"What did you think about that Scott guy?" You asked Johnny, who shrugged. 

"Seemed nice enough. We'd have to look into him too, since he's also involved in the community."

You nodded. "I'll run a background check once we get h—back to the house."

He glanced at you, but said nothing. "...What are you doing once this is over?"

You furrowed your eyebrows. "What, once we get back to DC?"

He nodded. "Well, yeah."

You stared ahead at the car in front of you. "Oh, well… I'm not sure. Probably finish writing that stupid report for Brooks and then curl up on my couch, watch some movies, drink some wine. I don't know."

He snickered. "What, and watch Pretty Woman for the 700th time?"

Smacking him in the shoulder lightly, you huffed. "Which is no better than watching Full Metal Jacket 700 times, and you know it, Johnny Suh."

He shrugged. "Well, if sex on a piano is what does it for you then who am I to judge?"

"Shut up." You rolled down the window, the heat too much to handle. 

When you finally got to see Detective Son again, she handed you the cassette and made her way towards the door. When she spoke, she looked only at you. "I'm actually headed out to check out another call we got just now," She explained, "But feel free to use the VCR in my office to look it all over."

She left, not even looking Johnny in the eye. You turned to Johnny, who was wide-eyed. 

"And you said she likes me."

In her office, you went over several days' worth of sped up hours of footage of six different camera angles. By the third hour of watching sped up, grainy footage, Johnny huffed. "I don't think we'll get anything," He said, "Especially considering the killer didn't even need to break their way in—"

"Hold on, hold on." You shook your head, eyes zeroing in on a dark shape in one of the cameras. You walked up to the VCR machine and hit the rewind button.

"Watch camera six."

He narrowed his eyes, fixing his glasses as he watched the dark shape run out from the treeline and up the wall, then out of the camera's view—presumably inside the community. You rewinded one last time, pausing just as it leaped onto the wall.

"There."

"That's too big to be a cat," He murmured, standing to get a closer look at the grainy black and white still image, "Right?"

"Could be a big cat—bobcat or a lynx, maybe, but…"

"It's movements are too… jerky for it to be a cat."

You hesitated, before nodding. 

"Could this be the thing we're looking for?" Johnny asked, and you crossed your arms, giving the dark blob a skeptical look.

"Looks like we have some digging to do."

One more hour of poring over the footage, plus another hour of looking at the archives of the police department turned up nothing on big cats in the area. There'd been no calls to 911 to report big cats in the neighborhood, and looking over the tape again showed nothing else, not even the thing leaving.

Which made Johnny’s theory that it was still there weigh even more.

By 7:30PM or so, Detective Son had returned. "I brought coffee," She said, entering the small space, "Find anything?"

You shrugged. Johnny looked at her. "We saw a weird blob go inside. It never came out and we couldn't figure out what it was."

She frowned. "There haven't been any reports of wild animals there in years. Not since that huge military base opened up."

Johnny's eyebrows knit together. "Army base?"

She nodded. "Fort Talbot. It's about fifteen minutes west of San Ceferino. There aren't a lot of roads that lead to it, they're pretty private."

You locked eyes with Johnny, who was probably thinking the same thing as you. Military base? That was new.

 “I don’t suppose you could take us to see it?”

She shrugged, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, we could try, but there’s a fence around the perimeter about a mile or two away from the actual base. They’re not gonna let you in.”

“No, we’re not military,” You sighed. “But thank you for telling us about that.”

SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—20:44 hours, Thursday, February 12th, 1993

When the car rolled into the driveway, the two of you had found that Anne was at your front door. You shot each other a quizzical look when she turned at the sight of your headlights. “What’s the cougar doing here?” He sighed, and you elbowed him.

“Hush. Be nice.”

She reached the car once you’d both stepped out. “Oh, I was wondering where you two were! I wanted to invite you over to have dinner. The spinach quiche I made was a bit too big for just me!”

At the mention of the meal, your stomach panged in hunger. All you’d had since you left the house was that coffee Wendy had given you. Plus…

Johnny seemed to read your mind. “We’re starving. Quiche sounds great, thanks so much, Anne.”

She beamed at his praise. “Oh, come on! Wouldn’t want it to get cold.”

Anne took the both of you into her house, leading you to the dinner table where she’d already set up spots for the both of you. “It’s not too much, is it? I’m sorry if I’m being overbearing. I really do want you to ease into the neighborhood, and plus, living in this big old empty house gets… lonely.”

As you sat down, you frowned in sympathy. You watched as she began to slice the quiche for you both. “Don’t worry, Anne. I understand where you’re coming from. It’s so lonely in my—or, it was so lonely in my apartment before Fox and I met. Sure, you can distract yourself during the day with all of the stuff you have to do, but at the end of the day you come home to… nothing.”

She handed Johnny a plate, and he took it. “There you go, Fox.”

He smiled, handing the plate to you. “Thank you.”

Her eyes followed his hand, and blinked when she spotted the ring on his hand. “Oh, I see you have your rings now.”

Johnny’s smile grew into a grin, as he held out his hand, flashing the band around his ring finger. You did the same. “No more pesky metal detectors,” He declared, “So why not?”

Anne nodded, eyes lowered. She handed him another plate, then served herself. And then, finally, you all started eating. It occurred to you as you took your first bite that if she was she easily could have laced the food with whatever was in those women’s systems when they died. But that would be too different from the killer’s modus operandi. They only went for women and they killed them in their home. Autopsies didn’t find anything recent in their stomachs at the time of death, so you concluded to take a bite. 

Besides, it smelled good. If you were going to die, then it would be nice to die by the hands of some good quiche.

“So,” You began, “You said your kids were off at college?” 

She nodded, digging around her food with a fork. “My oldest is in grad school at USC. He’s currently in South America doing research on bats, or something, I really can’t remember. My second is off backpacking for the summer, she’s graduating from UCLA next year, and my youngest left for college two years ago. He managed to get a full scholarship to Duke, can you believe it?”

You smiled, nodding. “Wow, that’s impressive.” 

She sounded proud, but there was a sadness behind her gaze. “It’s hard, it really is. Especially trying not to worry. They rarely call and only come home during the holidays. Drives me up the wall not knowing what my kids are up to!”

Johnny laughed. “My mom was the same when I went to college. My freshman year she called me once every day. My roommates always made fun of me for it.”

She chuckled. “Oh, that’s how all moms are,” She turned to you, “I imagine it’ll be the same when you two have kids.”

You almost choked on the food in your mouth at her words. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Johnny go white. Somehow, you managed to hold it back, hitting your chest lightly as the food made its way down. “Oh, well… it’s a bit early for that, I think.”

“We only got married six months ago…” Johnny murmured awkwardly. 

“Oh, I totally get it,” She said, “But, y´know, accidents happen. Especially when you’re still in the honeymoon phase after the wedding. I had my first less than a year after we were married, we weren’t even trying!”

You chewed on your lip. “Well, if something happens…” You met eyes with Johnny, whose gaze was unreadable, “Something happens.”

Not looking away, Johnny licked his lips subtly, before picking up a napkin. Anne didn’t notice, surprisingly, and seemed satisfied with your answer.

You ate a little bit more, when Anne asked, “So, tell me, how did you two meet?”

Remembering the file, Johnny perked up. “We met at a party in college. I was in my junior year, I think? Right, honey?”

You shook your head. “Your senior year,” You corrected, “Because I was in my sophomore year. I remember it like it was yesterday. He came up to me and was wearing this horrible button up shirt—”

“You ended up stealing it from me!” He joked, and you held up your index finger.

 “I use it to sleep. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that in public. Much less to attract a mate.”

Anne cackled, and the two of you laughed too. Again, you managed to make up a story: he was drunk and accidentally spilled some punch on your pants. He’d tried to help you by washing it in the bathroom but only made it worse.

“When I got back to my dorm, it was around three in the morning, my leg was sticky and I was miserable, but we ran into each other a few days later and he was very apologetic about the whole thing.”

“I was mortified,” He said, “I mean, here’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life and I managed to screw it up by ruining her pants. I was so sure I’d screwed up.”

Anne raised her eyebrows. “So, you knew from the start that you liked her?”

Johnny’s eyes landed on you again, turning wistful. He leaned over and grabbed your free hand. “The moment I first laid my eyes on her, I knew. She was the one.”

You tried to smile, but suddenly your chest felt like it was caving in on yourself. You let your hand rest in his for a moment, before pulling away. “Oh, Fox. Don’t get all sentimental on me now.”

Clearing your throat, you didn’t miss the way Johnny’s eyes fell slightly. “If you’ll excuse me, where’s your bathroom?”

She pointed up. “Upstairs to the right.”

This was your chance to get some dirt on her, and put some space between you and Johnny. As you walked away, you touched a hand to your cheek and it came away burning. 

“Get it together,” You muttered to yourself.

The quick search yielded nothing. She had nothing in her drawers, all of the papers on her desk were related to her work at a hair care company. You always could have missed something though. You couldn’t take more than a few minutes, you certainly couldn’t risk her coming up to check on you and finding you sifting through her work documents.

Before you came down, you did your best to leave everything as you found it before heading back downstairs. 

When you sat back down at the table, things were a bit more tense. You sensed it immediately. “Everything alright?”

“...Yeah,” Johnny mumbled. 

“Fox and I were just talking about how… difficult marriage can be.”

You nodded, wondering if that was all that had happened. “Oh, it’s no walk in the park, that’s for sure.”

The rest of the dinner was not as lively. There were more awkward silences, more lulls in the conversation, less laughs. When you finally left, his elbow intertwined in yours, you looked at him. “What happened while I was gone?”

He shook his head as you both crossed the street. “I don’t like her,” He told you in a hushed voice, “She started talking about how it won’t be like this forever and it’s only fun now because we just got married or whatever.”

“What, was she trying to open something up between you and her?”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t exactly been subtle, so it wouldn’t surprise me if she was.”

The two of you marched up into your house, and while Johnny was showering you did a background check on Scott Hernandez. Nothing also. A perfectly ordinary citizen, no criminal record at all. 

Then, it was your turn to shower. As you did, you couldn’t help but think back to Anne’s words. The whole situation, feigning domesticity was proving to be bad for you: you couldn’t help but imagine a small child with his wide eyes and your nose, his lanky limbs and your hands. 

The amount of time you put into your work made you fully aware that it would make having children difficult. Truth be told, you hadn’t really put much thought into settling down. The right person had never been there.

But what if he had? What if he’d been by your side for the past three years?

He had to be putting on an act when he’d said it.

The moment I first laid my eyes on her, I knew. She was the one.

Thinking back to the moment you’d first met him, and he’d come across as slightly patronizing and dismissive of your conclusions. But thinking about when he’d first turned to look at you, that particular morning in 1992…

You turned off the shower. Alone time wasn’t doing you any good, either.

When you emerged from the shower, you sighed as your eyes landed on the toilet seat, which was lifted. You set it back down with a huff before getting dressed.

Once you stepped out of the bathroom in your pajamas, toweling your hair, your eyes fell to the pile of dirty clothes on the bed. “Please don’t put your sweaty clothes, where I have to sleep,” You told him, tossing the clothes into his face. He let out a soft groan, picking them up. 

“Oh, come on,” He grumbled, “They don’t even smell that bad.”

After he set them off somewhere (you didn’t see where as you were shutting your laptop off), he sat back down on the bed, leaving a space open for you. "So, what if we looked into Scott tomorrow?"

“That sounds like a good idea. Tomorrow night there’s that HOA thing we need to go to. We might be able to pick up some more stuff there.”

He nodded, and as you stood in front of the bed he waggled his eyebrows and patted the spot next to you. “Come on, Dana,” He murmured sarcastically, “We’re married now.”

You didn’t smile. He took that as a sign to continue. 

“Plus, if something happens, something happens.”

You grabbed a pillow and flung it into his face. “You’re the worst,” You grumbled. He laughed, but it was muffled from the pillow.

Slowly but surely, you realized with the sound of his laughter, this feeling was soon going to become something you couldn’t ignore.

HERNANDEZ RESIDENCE, SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—09:02 hours, Friday, July 13th, 1994

When the door opened, Scott Hernandez had a welcoming smile on his face. “Dana,” He said, “Good morning. Did you need anything?”

“Oh, I just wanted to ask if there was an official guidebook or anything for the HOA? Fox and I are still considering joining, but we’d need to go over everything.” You scratched at the cardigan you were wearing. Why did the bureau have to give you something so thick and scratchy when they knew you were coming to California in the middle of July?

“Come in! I’m sure I have a rulebook. Plus, if you have any other questions you could always just come over.”

He led you up the stairs. “I keep all of my stuff in the office,” He explained, “That way my kids don’t mess it all up.”

You offered a soft laugh. “Oh, you have kids?”

“Yep.” His voice was warm. “Two kids, a nine year old and a six year old. They’re not here right now, though. My wife took them up to Washington to see their grandparents.”

“Ah, that’s sweet.” As he led you into the office, your eyes studied the room. A picture frame behind him of a professional family portrait, a houseplant in the corner a big clunky computer on top of the desk, and a cabinet pushed to the side of the room.

Your eyes fell onto the things placed on top of the cabinet, a stapler and some other office supplies. But when your eyes caught a different type of metal that wasn’t the standard gray color, you focused on it. A small medallion, decorated with a ribbon. When you recognized the logo, your eyes widened slightly.

“You’re military?” 

His eyes turned to you, eyebrows raised. Then he looked to the side. “Oh… no. My brother was. He passed away in the Gulf War.”

You looked down, but something about his tone didn’t sound quite authentic. “I’m sorry for your loss,” You answered anyway. 

The silence hung overhead for a few moments, before he pulled out a small booklet. “Here’s a copy of the rulebook.” He held it up, waving it back and forth, “This has pretty much everything.”

“Oh, really?” You straightened your posture, feigning a smile. When he handed it to you, your smile grew bigger as you looked down at the small book. “I’ll be sure to show Fox when he gets home. I really appreciate it, Scott.”

He waved his hand. “Don’t mention it. If you need anything else, just come on over. I work from home, so I’m here pretty much all day.”

Scott studied your face, and a second later you looked away. “So, I should get going,” You murmured. “I’ll see you tonight? I don’t think nor you nor Anne said where it would be.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Here, actually! Tonight, at 7.” 

“Great,” You answered, “I’ll see you tonight.”

When you got back to the house, you walked to the office, where Johnny was waiting. “Hernandez has military links.”

His head shot up. “He does?” 

“There was a military medallion on his cabinet in his office. He looked like he was gonna piss himself when I asked about it.”

“And what did he say?”

“Said his brother was a Gulf War veteran. I didn’t believe him for a second.”

“So could he be our guy?”

You took a deep breath. “Honestly? I don’t know. I could try to look through his office tonight at the HOA thing.”

“You?” He shook his head vehemently. “You fit his profile. All of his victims were around your age. You’re not going somewhere you could be alone with him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Then what?” 

He looked at you as if you were dumb. “I’ll go.”

“But—”

“No.” His gaze turned stern, before walking all the way up to you. He put his hands up on your shoulders. “Y/N, he could kill you.”

“Has that ever stopped me before?” You asked, tilting your head. “Johnny, it’s in the job description to deal with people who could kill me. What’s so different now?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. His eyes were wide, urgent, and his face was inches away. You shook your head, trying to prompt him to speak. “What?” 

Johnny pursed his lips, studying your face. And then, finally he shook his head. “Nothing.” 

He stepped away, and left the office, leaving you speechless. You leaned against the desk thinking about what just happened.

For the rest of the day, he was relatively distant. During lunch—you went out to buy some sandwiches—and he barely said thank you, before you ate in tense silence. You could only wait until 7 o’clock rolled around. In the meantime, you placed a call to Detective Son, telling her to look into Scott Hernandez and his family. You typed up the rest of your preliminary report, and then all you could do was wait. 

When five thirty rolled around, you started to get ready. You took only about five minutes, before stepping out, fully dressed. When you stepped out of the bathroom, Johnny had his back turned to you. It was almost as if he hadn’t noticed you were right behind him, because he was humming softly to himself, tapping his foot to a non audible melody. You could hear him humming it though, and after a few seconds of listening. you were able to recognize the song.

He froze when he heard your giggling. “What?” He asked, turning his head.

“Is… is that Bidi Bidi Bom Bom?” You asked, leaning against the wall. He straightened his posture before shuffling on his feet. 

“...No.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “Sure, it isn’t.”

He raised his eyebrow, but it wasn’t as serious as he had been before. And when you spoke again, his mouth grew into a crooked smile. 

“You like Selena,” You sing-songed. 

“Alright, enough. We’ve got a job to do.” He was biting back a laugh. You knew him too much to believe the opposite. 

When the two of you finally walked the few houses towards Scott’s house, he held out his arm for you to hold onto. Taking a deep breath, your hand hesitated before it grabbed onto him. Approaching the house, you could tell that it was alive with a lot of people on the inside. You wouldn’t necessarily say it was overflowing, but you could tell it was definitely close to filling up. 

“Let’s go?” He asked, and you nodded. He led you to the front door, where he rang the doorbell before the two of you waited. 

A minute or so later, Scott opened the door with a grin. 

“Hey, you two! You’re just in time.”

You put on your best smiles. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Johnny sighed. You didn’t miss the tense undertone in his words.

The two of you made your way into the room. Across the room you heard someone call for you both. You held back a groan. You really didn’t need this right now. 

“Hey, over here!” Anne called, beckoning you over. Johnny heaved the sigh of a man ready to end it all, and then you both made your way to her and her group. All of them seemed to be the same age as her. 

“Ladies, these are our new neighbors I was telling you about.” She pointed at the both of you .”This is Dana Baker, and this is Fox… the architect.”

Oh boy. 

And the talking began. You and Johnny having to rehash the same details over and over again. It felt like having to navigate a minefield. You had to recall all of the lies you’d told Anne and Scott, this time in front of an audience of women very clearly ogling the man who they fully believed was your husband. 

You made idle chit-chat after that, but eventually, about twenty minutes had passed until they sat everyone down. The living room was full of grown ups, including a few young children. The thought of everyone being in such close proximity to someone, something that could hurt them all the way it had hurt those other women.

It was easy to tune them all out. It was then that you realized that suburban life would never really be for you. This was all so dull and monotone. You were sure that if you had decided to actually go into the medical field and settled down… you would probably lose your mind. 

They went over some things you didn’t pay attention to: lawns and whatnot. It was so tiring you had to stifle a yawn on more than one occasion. Anne was going on about some infraction that didn’t even sound that bad to you, when it occurred to you to slip away, Johnny be damned. 

You patted Scott on the shoulder as Anne went on. “Where’s the bathroom?”

He nodded back once, “Upstairs. Green door. We’re almost done, though, are you sure you can’t wait a little longer?”

“I had the genius idea to drink two whole bottles of water before we left,” You murmured so as to not make too much of a scene, “I really don’t think I can.”

He sighed, before nodding. “Go ahead.”

Gotcha. You slipped up, sparing Johnny a glance. He was glaring at you. If looks could kill, you didn’t even want to know where you’d end up going. You made your way up the stairs, remembering the way to the office from this morning. You slipped into the office, making your way to the cabinet. The medallion was gone, which made you wonder why he had done so. 

As you shuffled through the drawers of the cabinet and came up with nothing, you had to remind yourself to keep count of how long you’d been up here. You moved on to the desk, shuffling through the papers on the desk and then the ones on the drawer. In the first drawer, you found an ID: Alma Hernandez, Lazarus Programming.

In the second drawer, nothing. 

In the third and bottom drawer, you found something: a pair of dogtags. Neither of them said Hernandez. Instead, they read Simon Walsh. 

Simon Walsh? That was new. You stashed them back into the drawer, suddenly remembering how long you’d been up here. Probably a bit over five minutes. As you made your way back down to the living room, you ran into Johnny. 

“Hey,” He said, “I was just coming to look for you.”

He looked disappointed, bordering on anger. In the small space, you could feel his proximity. You couldn’t help but shake your head.

“I had to take the chance. I wasn’t sure if there would be a chance after this.”

He sighed. “I can’t believe you. Come on, they’re serving pizza.”

You laughed, letting him grab your hand as he led you back into the living room, where you two ate a few slices of pizza. Enough to feel satisfied, but not enough to feel too full. In theory, if you had to make a detainment or worse, have a confrontation then it’d be a bad idea to have stomach cramps. 

You two kept to yourselves, occasionally speaking to other couples who introduced themselves to you. Once you’d finished gorging yourselves on the food, he kept his hand around your waist the entire time. It was a gentle touch, but comforting. You couldn’t help but feel tense.

“After we get home, I’ll tell you all the details I saw.” You looked up to see his face, watching you tentatively. 

“Alright,” He murmured, leaning closer to your face, “But I wanna talk about something together first.”

Raising an eyebrow, you leaned away from him. “What, are you okay?”

Johnny nodded, smile reassuringly. “Yeah. I just realized something earlier today.” 

KANG-BAKER RESIDENCE, SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—21:17 hours, Friday, July 13th, 1994

When the two of you left, Anne had bid you both goodbye. She’d said Scott had gone to bed with a headache, which made you feel a bit uneasy. The entire way home, Johnny kept himself relatively close. The entire way home, he was silent. It wasn’t until the both of you were inside of the house that he leaned against the front door. As he led you to the couch )which had finally arrived), you tried to remember all of the details you’d seen as you looked through Scott’s office.

When he sat you down, you placed both hands in your lap. He scratched at his shoulder, before meeting your eyes.

“Simon Walsh.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widened at the same time his had. “What?” You asked, shaking your head. You were suddenly aware of everything going on. You were in an ongoing murder investigation. It was quite possibly linked to a very secretive military base. Three women had been murdered. A fourth would be soon if you didn’t hurry.

“Johnny, I don’t think…”

“No, please. Just a few minutes, okay? I’ve been dealing with this for years. I need to get this out of my system and then we can talk about this back in DC. Please, Y/N.”

Your gut felt heavy at the same time your heart felt incredibly light. It was by far one of the strangest sensations you’d ever felt. Letting out a shaky breath, you nodded. 

“Alright, John. Five minutes. Then we talk about what I found.”

He nodded with a small smile. Gently, Johnny grabbed your hands, rubbing the knuckles with his thumbs. He was silent for a while, tilting his head back and forth as he tried to figure out what to say. 

“What I said last night at Anne’s. I meant it. That first time I saw you, I… I knew. I knew we didn’t get along initially, but I just had this feeling in my chest. You were so smart, and eventually we realized how much we clicked…”

He looked up, leaning closer. You swallowed softly as his eyes met yours again. He managed a soft chuckle. “Y/N, I tried to hold it away. But it got stronger every single day. You understand me. Even though we push back against each other, you don’t think I’m crazy. You take them into consideration and don’t brush them off. I really appreciate that. I look at you and… I’m home.”

Looking to the side, you sighed. “Johnny, I really don’t think this is appropriate. Especially not right now—”

"Y/N, I know what your dream on the plane was about."

You inhaled sharply, alarmed gaze meeting his own. His eyes had turned soft, warm. You knew you had to push him away. The name Simon Walsh was on loop in your head, but you couldn’t find it in you to push him away.

“What?”

“I heard you moan my name,” He sighed, “Trust me, Y/N, I know what I heard.”

He leaned even closer, cupping your face. You could feel his breath puffing softly onto your skin. His eyes were knowing as his voice dropped to a whisper. 

“You want me too, don’t you?”

When his lips met yours, you couldn’t find it in you to pull away. He pulled you closer, and your arms found their way to wrap themselves around your neck. His lips were soft, but demanding. You could tell he’d been waiting for this a long, long time. 

You don’t know when he laid you down onto the couch, but honestly… you didn’t really mind. Johnny was warm, comfortable. And yes, July in California was hot, humid, but… up until Johnny put his hands on you, you’d never realized how cold you’d been, even before your arrival here.

He deepened the kiss, hands sliding down to your waist. They toyed with the hem of your blouse, humming against your lips. You gasped against him, hands sliding into his gelled hair.

Your eyes snapped open. Johnny never used this much gel in his hair.

Two things happened in the next two seconds. You pushed Johnny off. Johnny would never prioritize his feelings like this over a case. You hadn’t seen Scott as you left. All of this pretending, playing house had gotten to you. You were in real danger now.

The other thing that happened? Johnny burst through the door, wearing clothes he hadn’t been wearing when you first left. He was panting heavily. There was a bruise on his cheek and his wrists were red.

You backed away from Not Johnny, who turned to you, gaze now furious. A wave of nausea passed over you, breathing heavily. Whatever Not Johnny had in his system, he had passed onto you with his spit, and you could feel it settling into your system. You looked up at Johnny, before pulling out your gun. Taking a deep breath, you looked at your work partner, closest confidante, love of your life.

“I had a feeling,” You mumbled, realizing how the sinking feeling in your stomach was actually dread.

Stumbling, you heard Not Johnny let out a ghastly screech. You fired your gun at him before passing out. 

SAN FRANCISCO METROPOLITAN, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA—10:39 hours, Saturday, July 14th, 1994

The room smelled sterile. You knew this smell. You’d lived it for several years before in medical school rotations. This had to be a hospital, you realized. Slowly, you let your eyes open. You let out a soft groan at the discomfort of having been stuck in one position for so long.

“You awake?” A deep, familiar voice asked. Your vision was blurry, but you could still recognize it was Johnny. His eyes were rimmed red from exhaustion, but he looked relieved. 

“No. I died, actually.” Your voice was raspy. Johnny scoffed, shaking his head.

“You’re impossible,” He mumbled, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“What even happened after I passed out?”

Johnny took a second to gather his thoughts before speaking. “You hit him in the face. It wasn’t pretty. He freaked out a bit, and then he took off. I couldn't catch him. Called Son, she came in with the precinct and they looked through Hernandez's house."

His gaze turned somber as you sat up with a soft huff. Your muscles were stiff.

"They found the real Scott Hernandez, his two kids and his wife, in their basement. Autopsies are being performed today, but it looks like they've been dead a few weeks."

Your eyes shut. Two kids, a man, and another woman. Seven victims total.

"And that thing is still out there," You mumbled, "If only I hadn't been so stupid—"

Johnny put his hand on yours. "Don't say that. Even if you hadn't gotten knocked out, he would still be way too much for just the two of us to handle. Y/N, you shot him in the face and it barely stopped him. He wasn't human anymore."

You shook your head, burying your head in your hands. "Still… I know you, Johnny. I should have seen the signs, but he was so—somehow he knew everything—"

"It's something to do with touch," He said with a nod, "He knocked me to the ground and locked me in a closet before he found you. I was a bit out of it, but I remember he touched my wrist for a few seconds and then he turned into me. My head still hurts, too. Maybe he can also copy some memories from the people he touches long enough."

When you didn't answer, he grabbed your face. He looked desperate. "Y/N, you're only human. I would have fallen for it too."

"I fell for it because he told me exactly what I wanted to hear," You whispered, feeling tears spring to your eyes, seemingly out of nowhere, "He played me like a fucking fiddle and I fell for it."

His thumb brushed away a tear. "Don't think about the what-ifs, Y/N. It's already happened, and now we need to focus on what's gonna happen next. We need to find a way into Fort Talbot. Somehow. Turn your report into the bureau and we can figure it out from there. There’s something going on there. Human experimentation on soldiers, or something."

"We're never gonna get clearance to search a military base, Johnny. It's impossible."

He shook his head. "Y/N, if you were able to convince Brooks to let me, Spooky Suh, FBI's most unwanted? keep running around hunting ghosts and aliens and Bigfoot all over the country, you can figure out a way to get access in there. I know you can."

You were shaking now. "We won't be safe if we do. You think the military won't retaliate? We'd be dead, Johnny," Your words were garbled and your voice wouldn't stop cracking, "There has to be another way."

He shook you gently, shaking his head. "Dammit, Y/N, I can't do this without you."

"They placed me with you for a reason, Johnny," You snapped, "To debunk your work, to reign you in and shut you down—"

"But you saved me," He insisted, "You did exactly the opposite. And as a result we kept working together, and you kept me honest. You… you've made me a whole person."

He rubbed his face with his hand, pushing a strand of dark hair out of his eye. "Y/N, as frustrating as it's been sometimes working with you, your stupud science and rationalism have saved me a thousand times over. I owe you everything. Y/N, you owe me nothing."

His forehead brushed yours, and his eyes fluttered shut. "I can't do this without you," He murmured. And despite the fact that you knew that this was your Johnny, you shook your head. The deja vu was making your head spin. 

"Tell me something the real Johnny would know," You whispered, putting a hand on your chest.

He thought for a second, before sighing. "I had three moments when I realized I was in love with you. When you first walked into my office that morning, I had a feeling," He said, voice full of conviction, "It grew into something concrete when you told me my glasses were crooked. And the moment I knew—I mean, I already knew from that first moment but this was when it truly hit me—was when you told me you'd kept that stupid fucking nasal implant in your sports bra so that you wouldn't lose it."

He laughed warmly, obviously thinking back to the moment. "No one else has ever believed me the way you do. And I doubt anyone else ever will. You're my one in…" He looked to the side, trying to remember the number, "Five billion."

Your hand came up to caress his face. He seemed to melt against your touch. 

This time, when your lips met, everything felt right, despite the feeling that the world was crumbling around you. His hands squeezed your face gently, as if you were about to disappear. When your hands slid into his hair, it felt slightly sweaty still, but it wasn't tacky with gel. 

This was your Johnny. You knew it with your entire being.

Yes, Johnny was sarcastic, stubborn, eccentric and had low impulse control. But he was also highly intelligent, empathetic, hilarious and yes, you could now admit that he was the most beautiful human you'd ever seen in your 30 years on this planet. 

If it had to be him and you against the world, so be it. The truth was out there. You and Johnny would just have to be the ones chasing it.

taglist: @doderyscoffee​ @always-wishing-for-rain​

[vixenpen]

Neighbors (Bakugo x Hawks x Miku)

12. Who Can I Run To?

Bakugo ran his fingers through his blonde hair and paced back down the stairs for the millionth time that night.

He hadn’t slept a wink since Miku had caught him and Kirishima in bed that evening. His eyes burned from lack of sleep and his head felt foggy and heavy.

He tapped Miku’s contact again.

“Miku...Dove, look,” his voice cracked, he cleared his throat, “baby, I know how bad it looked, but we need to talk. I need to—I owe you an explanation, right? Please, just pick up. We can work this out. Think of everything we’ve been through together, Angel. Four years strong, baby, remember? I don’t wanna throw that away. Please, Miku, just give me a chance to explain.” He barked out a pained little chuckle. “Damn, you got me beggin’, Dove. Fine. I’ll fuckin’ beg, but just-“

“If you’re satisfied with your message, press one to send.”

The robotic female voice cut him off.

“FUCK!”

He tossed the phone harshly on the couch before collapsing beside it and raking his fingers through his messy hair.

Dammit!

He’d gotten comfortable, and as a result, had gotten sloppy and careless.

The fact of the matter was, he loved Miku. He was in love with her. He wouldn’t have invested four years into her and their relationship if he wasn’t, but he also loved Eijirou.

It wasn’t as if his love for one made him fall out of love with the other. He didn’t love one more than the other, he just needed Miku to let him explain...

Just then, his phone buzzed with a call. He practically pounced to grab it, answering without bothering to check the caller ID.

“Miku?!”

“No.” Was the deep voice’s dry response.

Bakugo exhaled and plopped back against the cushion.

“Eiji, I don’t have time to-“

“Shutup and listen,” the desperation in his voice made Bakugo snap to attention, “have you checked the tabloids yet?”

“Yeah, babe, I’ve spent the last ten hours catching up on the latest gossip,” Bakugo snapped back, “no I haven’t fucking checked the tabloids why would—“

“JUST SHUT THE UP AND LISTEN!” Kirishima shot back, cutting him off. “There’s a video. Of us. Together. I don’t know how it got out or who did it, but it’s been spreading like wild fire all over the fucking blogs!”

“A video?”

“I just sent the link,” Kirishima replied, sounding tired, “just...call me back when you see it.”

The line went dead.

Grumbling in confusion the man checked the link that had his lover so out of sorts. The moment he clicked it, he felt his entire stomach bottom out.

Ground Zero Blows Up Relationship With Pop Princess, Syren!

Just one week before before the biggest charitable event in hero society, top ten heroes, Ground Zero and Red Riot, are discovered to be secret lovers!

The explosive hero has been very public about his relationship with long time girlfriend, Syren. Not so much with his supposed liaison with fan favorite hero, Red Riot.

This footage shows the two heroes in the throws of a secret passion.

Bakugo didn’t have to watch the video to see that it was obviously himself and Eijirou on the tape. Both their distinctive hairstyles were as distinguishable as what they were doing together.

“SON OF A-“

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

“Bitch...”

Keigo’s golden eyes scanned the article once more as he waited for Miku to answer the door.

He never mistook the younger hero for a nice guy, or even a decent person for that matter, but as much as Keigo hated to admit it, he at least thought Bakugo was a good boyfriend to Miku.

Speaking of which, Miku finally opened the door. Her skin looked dull and her big eyes were bleary and glassy. She wore the hotel issued kimono robe tied loosely on her hunched over frame.

When her eyes landed on Keigo, her face crumpled and she burst into a fit of sobs. He grabbed her immediately and ushered her inside.

“It’s ok, Angel.” He assured her.

“You were right, Hawks,” Miku looked up from the crook of his arm with wide, wet eyes. “All the signs were right under me, but I was too stupid to notice.”

“You weren’t stupid, Angel, you were in love.”

She shook her head. “I caught them together in Katsuki’s bed.”

“Yikes.” Keigo felt that one in his chest. So he could only imagine what Miku must have felt actually discovering it.

“I am the biggest idi-“

Keigo tickled her tear streaked cheeks with a feather, cutting her off with a weak giggle.

“What are you?-“

“I’m not about to let you beat yourself up for loving some jack ass that didn’t deserve it. You are not stupid for trusting your heart to the wrong guy, ok?”

Miku nodded, tearfully.

“Good.” He squeezed her shoulders. She melted into him. He smelled good. Like outside and whatever aftershave he used and he was thin, but solid, and-

Miku pulled back and pouted up at him.

“Will you fuck me?”

The man practically swallowed his own tongue.

“I-what?”

Miku crept a hand up his leg and pressed against him. His breath caught.

“Please, Hawks, I just-please fuck me.”

“Angel,” he grabbed her hands and gently eased her away from him. “No.” He replied as gently as possible.

Still, Miku’s face fell like she had been slapped, and Keigo felt like a complete asshole for the causing the hurt on her face.

“You don’t want me either?” Miku sniffled.

“Angel, come on, you know that couldn’t be further than the truth.”

“Then why won’t you? I want you-“

“No, you want to use sex to cope, and I am not about to take advantage of you while you’re in this state, Angel. You don’t need dick. You need a friend.”

Miku’s lips quivered.

“I’m such a—“

“No, you’re not!” Keigo shot back, a bit harsher than he intended. Especially judging from the way the woman’s mouth snapped shut. “Now get up and get dressed. You can’t hide here forever.”

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

“MIKU?! I SWEAR TO GOD—LOOK, I KNOW I HURT YOU, BUT THIS IS TAKING IT TOO FAR! CALL ME.”

“Miku, at least tell me,,did you have something to do with that article? Look, I know you’re pissed, and you have every right to be, but...fuck, Dove, we could have talked about this! If you would just answer the damn phone-“

“Miku. Baby, I promise I’m not mad at you, but we have to talk. We can clear this up.”

“Baby, please, what happened was a mistake. Please believe me. I love you.”

“Dove, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I love you.”

“I can explain everything, Angel, just give me a chance. You have to let me explain.”

“Baby doll, just give me a chance to make this right. I’m sorry.”

The switch in Katsuki’s voice and demeanor was terrifying and Miku felt sick to her stomach listening to each message.

“Angel,” Hawks called out in a warning tone, “stop checking his messages.”

He gave her a chastising look. Miku sighed, tucking the phone away.

A strong hand stroked her white curls, and even though the touch was unfamiliar—and she usually cursed most people out for touching her hair—she leaned into the it.

Hawks had brought Miku to yet another one of his properties which was situated so far on the outskirts of Tokyo, she wondered if the location could even technically still be considered apart of the city.

He flashed yet another charming smile down at her, and passed her a cup of tea. Miku managed a smile back.

“It’ll get better, beautiful. In the mean time, you can stay here as long as you need. I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

“Please don’t,” Miku sat the mug down on the coffee table in front of her. “I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

Keigo nodded, ruffling her hair once more.

“Then I’ll be here.”

His amber eyes were warm and sincere. For the first time that day, Miku felt reassured.

Hawks plopped down beside her, and pulled her into another gentle hug. Miku cuddled into the huge, vermillion wings wrapping around her body and cooed.

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter XVII.5: Inevitabilis, Inevitable

HOSTIS PLAYLIST: WONHO - LOSING YOU

Previous Chapter (XVII: Et Universum Parallel)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz) 

Genre (by chapter): drama, angst

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

Dana’s A/N: this is a special piece written by @vxstarlightxv​ who has been feeding me ideas to fuel this story. i did not write this chapter, i only merely proof-read it/gave her tips etc, but otherwise the beauty of this chapter will never be able to be my own original work.

P.S: if you’re emotional, please keep a box of tissues with you 

“there is no escape from you, not now, not ever. you are inevitable.”

The day the kids at school start calling you Ares is the day Hyunjae loses faith in humanity. You are a spineless, low-life coward, who hardly deserves to be bestowed with the same title as himself. Yet here you are, acting as though you were worth being on the same plane as him.

He hates you. Oh god, he truly does.

He remembers the way you fucked him over so well and thoroughly, and in front of the whole school that too. Granted, he may have screwed with your equipment, but maybe if you didn’t suck so bad you wouldn’t have failed.

Blaming him for your shortcomings. How typical.

But showing Minhee ​that picture of the accidental kiss (that meant ​nothing​) for the sole purpose of destroying his relationship? That was a bitch move right there. So he has no regrets when he posts a cleverly edited picture of your lab teacher with his girlfriend. None at all. In fact, the sight of your tears when that himbo Younghoon dumps you is something that brings him delight.

His heart definitely did not twist when he saw you cry, because he definitely does not care. You hurt him, and it’s only fair that you’re hurting too.

Nonetheless, he is pleasantly surprised at how fast you bounce back. His breakup with Minhee was a huge watery mess, and he cannot help his grudging admiration for your strength when you power through your own with Younghoon.

It is only admiration, for he definitely still hates you.

When the time comes to choose a medical school, he chooses the one that seems the furthest away from you. But fate hates him, so after 4 years of respite, he is dumped back on your doorstep as your fellow intern in the neurology department.

Of all the fucky coincidences.

~~~

Ares is a brutal god. He is the fire of war, wild and relentless.

Hyunjae is furious when he finds out you’ve stolen his report, but he’s not surprised. Not when he would’ve done the same thing. Then again, he was kind of hoping you would leave him alone. Naturally, you’ve done the opposite. He wonders if his emotional response is a little… disproportionate, given the situation, but he’s not going to let you fuck him over like this and escape unscathed. He isn’t a fucking pussy, your thoughts on the matter be damned.

Silly little kitten. Put your paws in the fire, and watch the heat bubble your skin.

He is simmering as he bangs on your door. He hears you screaming some nonsense about your mother, but he’s too pissed to process anything. You open the door, face falling as you see him. He cannot help but reach out a hand and grab you by your pretty throat.

He shoves you into the house, fuelled by the magnitude of his anger. You’ve hurt his pride, made a fool out of him in front of Dr Kim. He wants to shred you to pieces, get you on your knees and rip the apologies from your mouth.

Tonight you will understand why the other gods fear the wrath of Ares.

 ~~~

Hyunjae replays the encounter in his head as he drives home. He has never once considered you as anything but an enemy. But today, something of seismic proportion has shifted in your dynamic.

The flutter of your lips against his, like butterfly wings on a flower. The warmth of your chest against his in a tight alcove, hiding from Dr Shin. The way you felt when you took him in, the way you cried when he hit every single spot that made your toes curl. The way you purred when he called you kitten and mewled as you fell apart on his cock.

In retrospect, he hopes that he didn’t hurt you. He usually likes to stick around for aftercare, but he didn’t want to ruin your pride even more. You’d already been dealt with a devastating blow, and he didn’t want to make it worse, regardless of how big of a dick you think he is.

(Ring, ring)

The sharp blare of his ringtone shatters the silence of his ride home. He glances at the screen, smiling when he sees the caller id.

“What’s up, Juyeonie? Are you finally back?” Hyunjae is thrilled to hear his best friend’s voice. Juyeon is very busy these days, being a commercial pilot and all, so these rare moments they have with each other are more precious than gold.

“Hey, hyung! Yes I am! On that note, are you free next Friday? Let’s get drinks and catch up!” Juyeon sounds so eager and hopeful that Hyunjae can’t help but say yes, no matter how packed his schedule might be. The rest of the conversation proceeds pleasantly, and he is happy to forget the day’s drama.

It is only when he reaches home that he realises that the thought of you has never quite left his head.

~~~

“So what happened? The last I heard, she left you high and dry in JFK.” 

He watches as feline eyes crinkle with delight at his question. His friend launches into a happy tirade about his mystery girl, going on and on about fate and chance encounters and love lost and found. Hyunjae listens carefully, admiring the way Juyeon has changed. He wonders for a moment if he'll ever experience something as profound as Juyeon has, will ever wake up one day knowing that his heart sits in the palms of another person, and will not fear the idea.

The image of your eyes dancing with wicked laughter arises unbidden, and it punches the breath out of him.

He is jostled out of his thoughts when a hand lands on his thigh. It is so abrupt, so sudden that he all but jumps out of his skin.

“Long time no see, stranger.”

Choi Minhee is standing in front of him, batting her mascara-painted eyelashes at him seductively. She is as pretty as ever, with her delicate collarbones and anime-girl eyes.

But she is not you.

The thought is so dreadful and unsettling that he cannot help but flirt with her the whole night in order to get it out of his head.

When have you become anything but an annoyance, anything but a pest that’s been shoved down his throat?

It is pleasant, talking to someone who he hasn’t met in a long time. He remembers her fondly, despite how miserable their parting was. Minhee is soft and kind, a gentle cherry-blossom compared to your ever-burning inferno. She complements him well (not perfectly, because only ​one​person does), and for a second he feels white-hot annoyance at you for fucking him over in this regard. Hyunjae cannot help but wonder if they would have been married by now had you not intervened with that photo. Would they be living the white-picket fence dream? What would their kids have looked like?

All he can see are children with your ash-brown hair and his almond eyes. The image causes his gut to clench so tightly that he wonders if something inside him might have cracked open.

“Have you and Y/N gotten together yet? I figured that after we broke up the two of you would end up going out. You were always kinda obsessed with each other.” The question jolts him out of his reverie. Juyeon, who has been listening politely so far, decides to insert himself into the conversation.

“Yeah, hyung. The two of you have always had something special, right? What was that stupid nickname we gave you? Paris and Helen?”

The irony is not lost to him. Enemies, being compared to the two greatest lovers of all time. A face that launched a thousand ships, a blaze of love that destroyed a nation. Only fools succumb to Aphrodite, the cruelest of the divine hosts.

“Ares and Ares. And for fuck’s sake, I will never be attracted to that hag. You won’t believe what she did at work last week-”

Hyunjae misses the knowing look Minhee and Juyeon exchange. He’s only seeing you.

~~~

If there is one thing that Hyunjae hates, it is surprises. So he really, really hates it when he sees you flirting with the intern as though ​he ​doesn’t exist.

The day had actually started off pretty well. He came into work feeling all pleased with himself. Not only did he break you down, but he also figured out a solid way to keep you in line. You were reacting beautifully to his taunts, and seeing you unable to walk made something vicious inside him preen.

And then, before he can breathe, you are making stupid cow-eyes at the snot-faced little intern as though he created entire galaxies in your honour.

How dare you, honestly? You’re wearing ​his ​hickeys on your neck, limping and ​sore because ​he​ripped you apart last night. How can you even ​think​of flirting with another man? Are you doing this on purpose, to get some semblance of power back?

This is not jealousy. It definitely is NOT jealousy because that would mean he would have to be attracted to your hideous hag face. No, it was an issue of pride. And no, he definitely was not deluding himself right now.

Nonetheless, watching Eric help you into his car after work makes him want to vomit.

~~~

It is the party incident that truly knocks it into his head. He spends the entire night seething over your flirtations with Eric, with even ​Sangyeon. He glares at you, but you pretend to not see, and it shoves him off the edge.

Why won’t you look at him? A room full of people, but you are the only one he sees. So why aren’t you seeing him too?

He reminds you that night, who is the only one who knows how to pick you apart, snap you in half. He reminds you who is the only one who can make your body thrum and vibrate, who is the only one who can coax tears from your eyes and pleasured sobs from your throat. But he is also tender with you after, because under that diamond-hard exterior is a heart wrapped in silks and satin. Hurting you is the last thing he wants to do.

It is only when he wakes up alone in the morning that he realises that maybe, just maybe, he wishes he could see you in his bed again, hair spilled across the sheets as your breathing slowly evens out into slumber. He wants to coo over your keening wails, drink the moans from your mouth.

A thought, fleeting and profound, surfaces.

He wants you to be his.

~~~

He goes to work on Sunday with iron resolve. He has spent the entirety of Saturday thinking hard about you, and the relationship you shared with him. The line between obsession and infatuation is a thin one, one that the two of you have been dancing on for 10 whole years. When did his foot slip? When did the late nights plotting revenge mutate into candied dreams of your lips, of your body, singing for him?

But of course, who else could it be? You have always been, will always be, his forever other half.

Ares and Ares, locked in their death dance. But when did Ares become Aphrodite? War has become Love, and Love has become War.

Somewhere along the way, something has gone wrong. At some point or the other, he has forgotten the hatred that sizzled through him like blazing poison. He has forgotten that you are annoying, that you are competitive, and that you get revenge in the sleaziest ways possible. He has forgotten everything, because all that remains is the way your smile looks like a flashing ray of sunlight, like a tendril of shimmering starlight. All that remains is the sound of your wind chime laughter, the softness of your small hands on his heated skin. All that remains is the memory of how good you are for him, how addictive the juxtaposition between your submissive sweetness in bed and your fiery heat outside of it is.

So he decides that he is going to make you his. Granted, the order of things was completely wrong, but he would fix it. He would cook you dinner, press kisses onto your cherry mouth, and then love you till morning comes. And then he would repeat it every day, till the day the two of you are cradled in the eternal embrace of death.

Surely, surely you reciprocate his feelings? How can you not, when your body weeps for him the way it does?

He likes to think you do, when he admires the way your eyes flutter closed when he steals kisses in the pantry. He likes to think you do, when you stay four hours past your shift and order takeaway for him. He likes to think you do, when you dangle Eric in front of him in order to get him to fuck you ​hard,​just the way you like it.

You are his, now.

~~~

Hyunjae’s love for you grows like tender flowers. It starts off small, but grows into something lovely and heartbreaking. You have carved your way into him, nestling against the walls of his heart and beseeching him to let you in with your stupid almond eyes.

He loves your stupid almond eyes.

He is on a cloud these days, brimming with affection that lights up his every step. He never considered himself to be one of those annoying, lovey-dovey honeymooners, but he can definitely see where they get their joy from.

Lovers alone wear sunlight.

You become his greatest delight. When you are around, even dust seems to sparkle like a thousand tiny diamonds. He loves waking up with you, your eyes half lidded and neck covered in his marks. He loves to see you in his clothes, smelling of his body wash, smelling of ​him.

(He has an extra special fondness for the days in which you are soft and pliant, allowing him to dress you like a doll. It makes his internal organs feel like they are tumbling over each other, and it makes him a little giddy. He loves taking care of you.)

But if he really had to pick a moment, he supposes he loves you most when you are with your patients, hands calm and steady and strong. It reminds him of everything beautiful there is about his profession, and he cannot get enough.

You are beautiful, in all the ways there are to be beautiful. You race through him like lightning, and he is sucked further into your orbit everyday. You carry his heart with you (inside yours), and you are never without it.

So he is overflowing with love when he picks you up and tastes your peach-covered mouth. He is overflowing with love when you smile at him with a sort of lightness that he's never quite seen directed at him before. He is overflowing with love as he goes to your favourite cafe one day to pick up the chowder you never stop talking about. Tonight, he will ask you to be his girlfriend, make this tentative little dance official.

Perhaps that is why the pain is so exquisite when he sees you with Younghoon, and hears you talking about Eric with such tenderness in your eyes.

“​He’s super enthusiastic and there’s just something about him that’s so... comforting. I see him and I think about nothing but sunshine and warmth and laughter. He’s just... so cheerful, compared to whatever i’ve been used to.​​” Something inside him shatters into a million jagged pieces when he hears the words, and every breath becomes as a blood-drenched ordeal.

Sunshine and warmth and laughter. Sunshine and warmth and laughter. Sunshine and warmth and laughter. The words ring like alarm bells.

Fool. Naive, hopeless fool. You were never really his, were you? You might be the light by which his spirit is born, you might be his sun, moon and stars, but he? He is your nothing. He is the shadow that is birthed of your radiance, forever connected and forever forgotten.

Is this is why storms are named after people? You have destroyed him in the sweetest of ways. Is this taste of heartbreak? Rust coats his tastebuds. Is this how tears are born? The agony is magnificent and all-encompassing. There is nothing left for him here. He has never been enough, never will be.

He leaves quietly, chowder forgotten.

~~~

It is truly repulsive, the fact that he can see what you adore about Eric. The intern is strong and sweet, kind in all the ways Hyunjae is not. He is soft and mellow, and will cool your scalding tantrums with gentle words. He will not stir up the embers of your fury the way Hyunjae does, hoping for a reaction. He will be tender with you, gently laying you out and coaxing your body to sing. He will not be harsh and hard and possessive like Hyunjae, claiming you with bites and bruises and writing his possession into your blood.

He has been measured, and he has been found lacking. Eric is the perfect Hephaesthus, a sweet spring dandelion, and it is no surprise that Zeus will give you to him.

Aphrodite never belonged to Ares, after all.

“Hey, Eric! Do you have a moment?” By some miracle, his voice doesn’t crack.

“Hey, hyung! What can I do for you?” Eric is as mirthful as ever, and Hyunjae wishes they weren’t fighting over the same girl because he might actually ​like the​ intern otherwise.

“Have you gotten Y/N’s number yet?” He pauses to watch the bashful amusement dance across the intern’s face, and waits for the head shake he knows is coming. “Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but she’s very into you. So here’s her number, and make sure you call her, alright?” The teasing lilt he’s going for comes off more as a hoarse croak, and he realises belatedly that he really needs to be less of a shit actor.

“Thank you so much, hyung! But hey, don’t you hate Y/N? Why are you helping her out?” The intern offers him a cheeky grin, and all Hyunjae wants to do is knock his teeth out. But he’s a ​professional,​so he offers Eric a tight smile (read: grimace) and says “Well, maybe I’m hoping you’ll distract her from work so that I’ll get the promotion first.” He tosses a wink in for good measure, before reaching out to ruffle Eric’s hair with a certain sadistic pleasure.

That’s thirty minutes in the bathroom gone down the drain. But that’s what he gets for stealing Hyunjae’s girl.

Of course, because Eric is quite literally an angel who can apparently do no wrong, he gives Hyunjae a sweet smile and rolls away happily in his chair, high off his excitement at finally getting the girl he’s been after for ​ages.

And then Hyunjae is left alone to drown in self-loathing.

Hyunjae is clearly a masochist who likes to hurt himself, so that’s why he decides to tell you to meet him at the carpark after work. One last time, he’ll be the one to drive you home, the one who kisses you goodnight.

He promises he’ll let you go after this.

~~~

The car ride is as quiet as ever. You enjoy being left alone with your thoughts, and Hyunjae isn’t about to interrupt you when he’s being pummeled by his own.

The Japanese once made up a fictional disease to describe the horrors of unrequited love. They call it ​Hanahaki​, in which flowers grow in the lungs of the victims, causing them to cough up petals when they suffer from one-sided love.

He supposes that it is the exact feeling that he feels now. His love for you coils in his chest, choking leaves and thorns that crush his internal organs. It is rooted so deep that it might never leave, killing him softly but surely. The petals tickle his throat in an insidious kiss as he chokes on his desire for you, their softness a poisonous taunt of your lips against his, a feeling he might never know again.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is a balm to his wounded heart.

Of course he’s not okay. He’s in love with you, but you’re not in love with him. He knows that he is nothing without you, and that knowledge is somehow everything.

All this time he wanted to make you his, but you have made him yours.

He cannot form words, so he looks at you, really, really looks at you. He memorises the contours of your face, the slender bone of your nose, the tilt of your eyes, the exact shade of red your lips are. He'll hold every little detail close, remember the last night you're his and his alone, because tomorrow Eric will ask you out and his Aphrodite will never be his again.

He wants to pretend like the sudden moisture in his eyes is surprising, but he can't lie to himself anymore.

Liar, liar. Ares is a liar.

Is this how Lucifer felt when he fell from heaven? You are life, you are life and light and everything bright. And he is cold, dark and alone. He has fallen from grace, and all that is left are the coiling tendrils of hubris keeping his spine straight and gluing the shattered pieces of his heart together. He is heartbroken, but he will clench his teeth and grit through it. Your joy is worth it. His ego won't let him fall apart. He's stronger than this. Isn't he?

Break my heart. Break it into a thousand pieces and then some. It was only ever yours to break anyways.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Anyways, we’re here now. Get out already.” Your scoff is musical. He is aching and he is broken, so he does not have the strength to resist the screaming in his head to steal one last kiss from you. He luxuriates in the feeling of your petal-soft lips against his, before pulling away reluctantly.

Everything is more beautiful because the two of you are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. You will never share this moment again.

“Goodbye, kitten.”

The words are far more permanent than he likes. You don’t hear them.

His tears run as he pulls out of your driveway. He allows himself one last look at you, confusion blossoming on the face he once swore was hideous but now haunts his every moment.

Love is fire. It burns as much as it warms, and he is the poor fool who allowed himself to get scarred.

~~~

Crossing the line from enemies to lovers was a wheeling drop of ecstasy and biting kisses. Crossing the line from lovers back to co-workers is a study in heartbreak, and Hyunjae doesn't know how much longer he can handle it.

How do I forget you? I've tasted your secrets on my lips and drank the whispers of your body. You are the weakness in my bones and the hollowness in my lungs. How do I cleave my soul from yours, when you are the drum that my heart beats to?

It is an awful sort of pain, feeling his chest cave in when he watches Eric roll over to you from his cubicle. You find him cute, it's obvious from the way your eyes crinkle like little stars when you regard him.

Look at me. Look only at me.

You look up, searching for his eyes like you’ve heard his prayer. You're expecting jealousy, disdain, fury. You're expecting him to drag you to the pantry, to call you ​kitten ​and kiss you till you bleed. But Hyunjae has no more poison to offer you. He is empty, and all he can do is give you a blank look. He hopes you will be happy, silently wishing you the best.

Hephaestus gets Aphrodite, and all Ares can do is watch. Bloody, brutal Ares is never the winner.

His lack of response throws you off. By now, you are used to his hissy fits, his seething rages. But who is he? What right does he have? You are not his to rage over, or his to claim. You might wear his marks on your neck, but you are definitely not ​his.

How he wishes you were. But wishes are like pixie dust, and this is no fairytale.

The rest of the day is agonising. His body is so keenly attuned to yours now, and he doesn’t know how to rewire himself. He keeps a cool distance from you, but every molecule in his being roars in fury at the forced detachment.

He misses you already.

You continue to press him, trying to push his buttons and rile him up. Hyunjae studiously ignores you, hoping his coldness will further fray the ropes holding up the fragile bridge of a relationship that the two of you have developed. You are looking at him with a strange mix of anger, disdain and annoyance. For a second, he thinks he might even see-

Is that? Could it be? Longing? Do you miss him like he misses you?

Wishful thinking. That’s what it is. But it hurts so bad that he decides that he’s just going to avoid you from now on, until he finds a more appropriate coping mechanism than simply crying like a toddler when he can’t get his way.

Maybe he should call Minhee, and try to rekindle-

He cuts the thought off before it dredges up more painful memories. All he can see when he thinks of Minhee are the one-thousand-and-one different ways you exceed her.

You’re fiercer, with more spine. You don’t give in as easily. You’re not afraid to fight with him. You have a kinder heart. You are so much smarter. Your lips are softer. Your hand fits into his so much more perfectly. You are lovely in all the ways she never was, never will be.

It is a numbing, novocaine relief when Dr Choi summons him for rounds. If Hyunjae is left for even a second longer with his thoughts, he might just spiral into a pit of depressed longing and self pity that he might never emerge from.

Mighty Ares, on his knees. Aphrodite’s laughter perfumes the air, irresistible and menacing.

~~~

He is on his final round when he meets Mrs Kang. The kind, old lady takes one look at him, eyes lighting up with knowledge that he wishes she wasn’t able to glean so easily.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Well he doesn’t, but the words explode out of his bleeding heart like ink spilling on ivory pages.

“I... I thought that it would be okay, that I could forget and let go and that it would all be fine and good but then… I saw her--” his voice cracks miserably as a lump etches itself into his throat. His heart is racing, and every inhale feels like swallowing glass shards.

“I saw her and something went terribly wrong because I couldn’t forget and my heart was remembering and I felt like I was dying but I couldn’t do anything because all I want is for her to be happy and I know that happiness isn’t with me and I hate it, I hate it, I HATE IT.”

Mrs Kang is silent, regarding him with a look he can’t quite decipher. He takes it as an invitation to continue.

“I wish I was him. I wish I was the one who could make her smile, make her laugh. But I’m angry, I’m jealous and I’m immature. I’m overly competitive, and I don’t know how to lose graciously. When I’m pissed, I do stupid, radical things.”

Silence. Inside, outside. It is deafening.

“Why would she want me? I don’t deserve her, and knowing that I’ll have to live my life watching her in another man’s arms is ripping me apart.”

He’s breathing hard, like he just ran a marathon. It’s a terrifying prospect, facing his feelings head on. Until now, they were swirling around his head in an ugly tangle of emotion. Verbalising them, hearing them out loud, is painful and cathartic at once. But he’s already feeling like a pathetic little sap. He wonders if you would sneer at him if you heard. Is this what it feels like to lose? Is this how you felt, lifetimes ago, on your sofa? The two of you have always been push and pull, a forever impasse. But today, you’ve finally shoved him off balance.

Who is the stronger Ares now? Your kisses are his kryptonite.

A hand comes to rest over his.

“Love always finds a way. I know you’re feeling hopeless now, but know that if you are meant for each other, you will always find your way back,” Mrs Kang finishes with a gentle smile. The pretty words do not reassure him.

If only love was as perfect as love seems to be, if only his flaws and broken edges could be hidden away. But this is a dream that will never come to life, a flower that will never grow to bloom.

She does not know who it is that he is fighting with, who it is that is slipping away from him with every passing second. She thinks that it will be okay, but she does not know that Ares has no mercy. He expects none from you. Nonetheless, he gives her a watery grin in return before standing up to complete his rounds. He may have lost, but he has enough composure to know better than to break in public.

It is a monumental effort, holding it together.

Hyunjae makes it to the lift in peace, stepping in through the shiny doors and slamming the button for the fifth floor. When they slide open, the sight before him makes his heart drop like a wineglass.

You and Eric are standing across him, hand in hand. Eric’s foot is tapping impatiently, eager to drag you off to wherever he was taking you for dinner.

For a second, he loses control over his emotions. Agony crumples his face, and you, because you’re just that smart and just that perceptive, register it. He doesn’t have the heart to pretend anymore.

Hyunjae brushes past the two of you, ignoring your questioning look, ignoring Eric’s cheerful greeting, and most importantly ignoring the writhing in his chest. He goes straight for his briefcase and shoves his belongings in, flicking the lights off and rushing to the carpark. He does not want to see anyone. He does not want to process anything.

He is empty. So, so empty, and hollow. The void inside him threatens to consume him whole.

The moment he reaches home, he goes straight to his spirits. There’s a bottle of whiskey sitting in the top most shelf of his kitchen, a birthday gift from his father. He pulls it down, slamming the glass decanter onto the kitchen counter, and the pressure nearly cracks it open.

He remembers the sight of you pressed up against this very counter, squirming under his ministrations. He remembers your lips fall open in a sigh, and then to beg. He remembers standing between your thighs, feeding you and then licking cream off your lips. Memories swirl through his head, cutting through his ribcage and slicing his heart open.

He doesn’t bother to grab a glass, pouring the scorching liquid down his throat. It claws at him, and he welcomes the pain.

Love is cruel, love is cold. When it kills, it does it slow.

He knows the tears are coming. The pressure has been building in his head for the last twenty-four hours. They fall as he walks over to the living room, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

The mirror you clutched when you moaned wretchedly, promising him that HE was the only one who could ever ruin you this way.

He lifts the bottle, forcing himself to look his reflection in the eye as he drinks a toast to Eric. ​Here’s to you, buddy.

His reflection sneers back, bloodshot and desolate. A half of a whole, incomplete. This is what he is without you.

Hyunjae sinks to the ground, bottle thumping down on the carpet. It rolls once, twice, and rivulets of alcohol splash across the floor. Another memory lunges up.

There is nothing more striking than red on white. Blood on snow. Wine on cream skin, tracing paths his eager tongue follows. A hiss of anger that softens into a sigh.

The sofa smells like you. The study smells like you. You are everywhere, and it breaks him, tearing a wail of grief out of his chest.

One day, the smell of you will fade. You will slip between his fingers like the wisp of a dream, and all he will be left with is the recollection of the fleeting seconds you were his and his alone.

Too much. This is too much. He cannot think, he cannot see, he cannot ​breathe,​without being haunted by you. You are in every orifice, in every nook and cranny and cell. You are in the water of his blood and in the porous hollows of his bones. You are in the fibre between his atoms, you are in the electricity racing across his neurons. 

There is no escape from you, not now, not ever.

You are inevitable.

(Knock, knock)

It takes him a moment to realise that the pounding is not from the blood rushing in his head, but from someone impatiently banging on his door. He picks himself off the floor, not bothering to fix his appearance.

By now, you must be in Eric’s arms. He would kiss you softly, like summer rain. You would sigh into his lips, and he would look at you like you hung the moon. He would take you home, and press more kisses into your silk skin as he whispers his love. One day, he would get on one knee and present you with a diamond. You would say yes, because Eric is sunshine and warmth and laughter. Sunshine. Warmth. Laughter.

This, this is what you deserve. Not him, not his twisted mess of anger and jealousy. He is a stinging scorpion, and you deserve more than his petty poisons. But his heart still lurches at the thought of you, nestled into Eric.

The gods have always feared Aphrodite more than Ares. He thinks he can finally understand why.

He swings the door open, and once again forgets how to breathe, forgets how to think, forgets that he kinda hates you but now kinda loves you because there you are, raindrops glistening in your eyelashes, and you eclipse every star in the sky. There is nothing but you and you alone, and his withered little heart is shooting to life because ​that’s just what you do to him. There’s so much he wants to say, so many thoughts tumbling through his head. But he’s a frightful, useless coward, so all that flies out of his mouth is:

“Why the fuck are you--”

And then your lips are cushioned against his, kissing the venom out of him. He cannot help the sigh he breathes into your mouth at the way your body slots so perfectly against his.

Home, home is in your arms. He has been running all his life, and you have always been his only destination.

Tears slip out, hot and fast, washing the festering wound inside him clean. The cracked pieces of his soul begin to lift up and fuse together.

The light of a thousand suns slices through the void in him, and the darkness melts like ice on a hot summer day.

He is shuddering, wrecked by the sheer ​force​ of the emotions in him. But you are holding him tight, so very tight. He hopes you will never let him go. ​Never ever, ever let him go.

He is yours, and you are his. Where he ends, you begin and where you end, he begins. There is nothing else, no one else, because there was never anyone for him but you. Love not at first sight, or even the second, but at last sight and at ever and ever sight.

When you finally pull away to murmur the words he would have never even dreamed of hearing from you, it’s like starlight is filling the dusty hollows of his chest, sewing the pieces that have fallen apart back into the tapestry that is you. He is surprised, he really is, but something inside him has always known, has always clung to the hope that you would choose him, despite everything.

All that matters, is that you’ve come back to him. You are the only truth he’s ever known.

~~~ 

Later in the evening, when the two of you are spent from your love-making and coiled so tightly that your breaths have become one, Hyunjae takes a moment to contemplate the situation. You have won this competition between the two of you. You have planted yourself as first in his life, and for once (​and of course, the only time ever, because he is still going to get that damn promotion before you)​, he is happy to cede to you. This is what love is, to break and to be broken, to be full and to be empty, to win and to lose. He would have it no other way. All that he is, and all that he will be, center around the axis that is you.

Do you feel like this too? Like your heart is bursting from the seams?

You sigh in your sleep, seemingly agreeing. He loves you so much, it hurts. But there is one final thing to do.

He lifts his head to the stars, who have been waiting for this collision of souls for a long, long time.

Thank you, he whispers.

And for once, Zeus smiles down on his Ares.

ENDING THOUGHTS:

First of all, a very big thank you to everyone who made it to the end!! This piece has been a wild, emotional ride from start to finish and I understand that the sudden change in style can be jarring for some. As such, I am very grateful to everyone who took the time to read it :)

Hyunjae has always been a very complicated character. We’ve seen him through Y/N’s eyes for the last 17 or so chapters, and she is definitely not the most reliable of narrators. Many of her thoughts regarding his actions and motivations are shadowed by her own negative emotions, and he has come off as a rather poisonous character, except for the rare moments of tenderness he seems to show. Hopefully this will help you get a glimpse into Hyunjae’s psyche, in a way that is untainted by Y/N. I’ve seen many of your asks about Hyunjae and his behaviour, and perhaps you will see this as a sort of redemption for him, in the sense that he is so much deeper and complex than the seething neanderthal Y/N sees him as.

Writing this was a challenge nonetheless, and I think we should all be very grateful to Dana for powering through Y/N and Hyunjae’s story, given how much of a hot mess this couple is! It’s very hard to write an enemies-to-lovers fic without it coming off as corny and shallow, and she had the double struggle of writing that dynamic in a medical setting. The fact that we’re all whipped for these two is testament to her brilliant writing, so let’s all say a big thank you for that :))

Before I end, I’d like to pay homage to some of the writers that have inspired this fic. Reading through, you will see quotes inspired by the likes of Nabokov, Cummings and Homer. If I’m not wrong, there’s a little bit of Sarah J Maas and Caitlyn Siehl in there as well. And of course, who can forget the little bits of mythology peeking out here and there? If you happened to notice these references, feel free to scream in Dana’s ask box! It’ll be fun to read your thoughts :)

Once again, a very big thank you for following Hostis so devotedly, and showering Dana with your love. I hope you’ll continue to give her all your love and support the rest of her works.

(P.S Did anyone notice Pilot! Juyeon? If you didn’t, you should 1000% check out his story too, here.)

Love Always,

V

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

Chapter XVIII: Renuntiatio

[winderlylandchime]

Hello, so after we finished 2x18, it started to pour like crazy and we ended up losing power in our neighborhood for well over a day. Which means this man ended the day at like 5 pm with Justin cheating and he was miserable. I forgot how horrible it is to experience this storyline for the first time. Anyway i am now here with 2x19(1/2) and the meltdown of it all: ‘awww Ted calls him Bri just like me! Look how cute he is, god damn it Justin!’ The groan he just let out at the sight of Ethan and Justin. He immediately paused it and went to get himself candy and he is so angry that he can’t drink alcohol. ‘I’m actually about to puke out the burger I just ate. This is actually making me nauseous and also making me pissed at Justin’ *mocks Ethan in a childish voice* his instrument? He’s his instrument? Id say he can shove it up his ass but he already did. CHEATER! I am begging you to fast forward it (oh how I wish i could) this is hideous! HIDEOUS! Justin, do you not feel gross with yourself?’ *mocks Ethan again* big plans tonight? YEAH BRIAN! BIGGER! BETTER! Bitch!’ He now paused the tv cause he got frustrated, it paused on Ethan and he yelled out FUCK NO and started the ep again until he could pause it on something that wasn’t Ethan. ‘That’s nice? Being a starving artist is nice? If someone said that to me I’d throw a punch! I DESERVE TO EAT EVERY NIGHT! Oh look at him, he it just itching to ask about Brian..HA HA YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A SIDE DICK and not even a good one at that! *mocks him again* oh if he stayed sometime you could wake up together? I hate both of you. I hope every coffee you drink burns your tongue! You know, Brian can be A LOT but even he doesn’t deserve to be cheated on’ He got so relieved when Ethan went off screen only for Carl to pop up. He is already done with this ep. ‘……oh but they aren’t homophobic?..Debbie. fuck you. THEYRE GONNA BOWL TOGETHER? TIME FOR BRIAN TO SHINE!!!’ ‘This sounds really weird but I like it when Brian is working. Oh look what the cat dragged in. A CHEATER! Oh you were studying? Let me guess, classical music? Oh, you’re gonna shower are you? I wonder why?! oh Brian is a little suspicious. I need him to get caught. I hate this because I love Blondie so much but this? This isn’t it. So right now, he is on my shit list! THEY GOT FUCKING BOWIE ON THE SOUNDTRACK! I mean i know he was on in s1 BUT FUCK SHIT FUCK! BOWIE!!!!! I love Bowie!…*pauses tv* do you have any clue what this song is about? LOOK IT UP! *starts ep again* ….is he gonna tell him? What WAS JUSTIN GONNA SAY?! Oh you coward!’ ‘Okay, my dear lesbians. I am an *makes a weak fist* ally but I’m gonna need yall to fuck off because i have other stuff to worry about’ ‘oh look it’s Mikey and Cheat- WHY IS THERE VIOLIN MUSIC?! HE WAS NOWHERE TO BE SEEN FOR TWO SEASONS AND NOW HE’S ON EVERY FUCKING CORNER?!?! MAKE IT MAKE SENSE MY MAN. JUSTIN! NO! ENOUGH..oh fuck you’ He is so pissed off at Ethan right now that he is fake criticizing his violin playing as if he knows what he’s talking about ‘CHEATER! Yes. RAGE! Which is about his BOYFRIEND! DUDE HE HAS A BOYFRIEND BACK THE FUCK OFF! Why would you want to go watch a oui oui movie? Justin, you literally don’t like half of what this dude is talking about or offering so why are you acting so fucking smitten? MIKEY, GET HIS ASS! Oh boohoo the french movie is a parallel to Justin and Brian and this fucker, isn’t it? WHY ARE THEY KISSING! NO KISSING RULE FOR FUCKS SAKE JUSTIN YOU FUCKING SHITHEAD! No offense, my man..actually scratch that, full offense but you two suck at kissing each other. WHERE IS MICHAEL THE ONE TIME I WANT HIM- THERE HE IS MICHAEL!! GO TO BRIAN TELL BRIAN! PLEASE DO IT PLEASEEEEEE!’ He is so stressed out, he had to take his sweater off because he was getting so heated. I swear this is the only thing that makes it worth watching Ethan.. ‘TED AND BRI! I like these two, i feel so bad for Brian. Poor guy. Ted, my man, when you do porn, you become desensitized to it. It’s true I watched a video about it. Oh look at that, two besties talking about sex fantasies’

YOU LOST POWER AFTER 218??? Oh my god. I'm surprised your brother survived. I would have diedddddd.

Groaning at the sight of Ethan. YEP

Loving Bowie on the soundtrack. YEP

MAKE IT MAKE SENSE. YEP

Screaming at Justin. YEP

Your brother is breaking down but for all the right reasons.

[whitewitchdani]

Laters, Baby: Chapter 12

Read Chapter 11 Here

Word Count: 1780

Pairing: Winchester!Sister x Reader

Warnings: angst, language, description of injury, mention of a serial killer

A/N: Sorry I’ve been MIA y’all. I had to go back to work and it sucked. lol. Here’s chapter 12! Let me know what you think and if you’d like to be tagged. :)

Laters, Baby Masterlist

“Simple salt and burn my ass. Did Bobby do any research on this house before he gave us this case?” You complained as you sat at the motel table doing research while Dean cleaned his gun on the bed and Sam had just finished showering.

“Why, what’s up?” asked Sam as he approached you from behind drying his hair.

“This house was the site of a serial killing. A victim of the BTK killer was killed here, oh my god.”

“No way. Really?” Sam asked as he looked at the laptop over your shoulder.

“BTK? What the hell is that?” asked Dean as he slid a magazine into place.

“Seriously Dean? He’s one of the most famous serial killers in history; he killed at least 10 people. I learned about him in one of my classes at Stanford. BTK stands for bind, torture, kill. Guy still gives me the skeeves,” you shuddered.

“Shit really? And this is a victims house?” Dean asked as he walked toward the motel table.

“Yeah checks out. And the way the people have been being attacked lines up with the way the girl was attacked and killed,” answered Sam.

“So is it the victim or BTK?” Dean asked as he walked around the table and sat down, leaning back to reach the fridge and grab a round of beers for everyone.

“Well Rader, BTK, died in prison. So there’s no reason for him to be tied to that house. I’d say it’s definitely our girl,” you replied as you accepted the beer from Dean.

“This is going to be an interesting case,” Sam said with a sigh as he took the beer from Dean and sat down. “Haven’t had a good ghost hunt in a while.”

“It says here she’s buried in the town cemetery. So, Dean, you wanna go dig her up while Sam and I go to the house?” you asked as you shut the laptop.

“Why do I always get the dirty jobs?”

“You lied to Sam and me for over 25 years; I don’t want to hear you complain about anything I ask you to do for a very, very long time,” you batted your eyes at your eldest brother.

He nodded his head at you, “Touché, kid. Touché.” 

------------ Later at the house, you and Sam made sure the place was empty. The previous occupants had fled after the last attack, leaving the home vacant. It was silent in the small house, until the ring of Sam’s phone caused both of you to jump.

Sam grabbed it and looked at the caller ID, “It’s Dean.” Flipping it open, he put it on speaker and answered. “Hey Dean, did you find the grave?”

You both heard heavy breathing on the other end of the line, “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“You’re 30, Dean,” Sam rolled his eyes, “Did you burn the bones?”

“Yes I burned the bones,” he replied out of breath. “I just finished filling in the grave.”

“Alright, Sam and I will sweep the house one last time so just get back here.”

“Super.” Dean rasped out before he hung up.

Sam flipped the phone closed and turned to face you, “Well, you take upstairs and I’ll take downstairs?”

“Meet back at the front door and then we can get the hell out of here in time to hit the bar.”

Sam rolled his eyes with a smile as you ran up the stairs. You looked through the bedrooms and, finding nothing, began to trudge back down the stairs. As you hit the second step on the staircase, you felt two hands in the small of your back and before you could react, they gave you a hard shove. With a scream, you tumbled down the stairs and landed at the bottom with a thump.

Sam came scrambling around the corner to the base of the stairs to see you groaning at the bottom. “Y/N!” He rushed to your side and breathed a sigh of relief to see you were still conscious. “Are you alright?”

“Just peachy, Sam. Not like I just fell down a damn flight of stairs or anything.” You rolled your eyes at your twin. Attempting to stand, you hissed and grimaced as you put weight on your right hand, “Ah! Son of a bitch! Goddammit I think I broke my wrist.”

Your brother grabbed your wrist to examine it and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the front door slamming open. You both turned expecting another ghostly encounter, only to see your older brother strut in waving his gun around.

Dean walked in and cleared the room before looking at his siblings on the floor, “I heard Y/N scream, what happened?”

Sam helped you stand as you answered, “Well, either our girl’s tied here some other way, or there’s something else in this house. Something pushed me down those stairs and now my goddamn wrist is broken.”

“I burned those bones, there’s no way that ghost is still here.”

“Then what else could be here?” Sam crossed his arms in frustration.

“Well I didn’t throw myself down the stairs. Something is here,” you groaned as you held your wrist and leaned on Sam to stay upright.

“Good observation, Winchester.”

All three of you turned to follow a British accent towards the staircase finding a tall, blonde man standing in the middle of them. As your eyes met his, he flashed his blue eyes onyx causing every Winchester in the room to let out a collective sigh. 

“Seriously? I’m gonna kill Bobby. Simple salt and burn my ass,” you repeated your sentiment from earlier in the evening.

“Don’t blame your surly hunter friend, Winchester. Before I arrived it WAS just the spirit here.” The demon began to descend the stairs as he spoke, “No I’m here for a different reason all together.” 

“What could you possibly want?” you yelled.

“You, Miss Winchester. You see, our Father has issued a bounty on you. Any demon that brings you back to him alive will be rewarded greatly, and I intend to be that demon.” His thin lips curled into a sickly smile. 

“Like hell.” Dean fired the shotgun into the demon’s chest, causing him to fly backwards. “Time to go.” He grabbed your good wrist and pulled you through the front door, Sam pulling up the rear. 

Suddenly, Sam got thrown by a force into the lawn.

“Sam!” you yelled. You and Dean turned to look back and saw the demon in the doorway. 

Your brother put an arm protectively in front of you, “You aren’t taking her to Lucifer. Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged.” The demon smiled, “Just give me the girl and no one gets hurt. For once no one gives a rat’s ass about the infamous Winchester brothers, just their whore sister who miraculously is the soulmate to the devil.”

“Hey!” You yelled at him. “Just because you’re a demon doesn’t give you license to be a dick.”

“No one talks to my sister like that.” Dean lifted the shotgun once more but with a wave of his hand, the demon flicked it out of his hands. With another wave, Dean was thrown away from you.

“Dean!” He and Sam were groaning in a heap on the lawn, leaving you alone with the demon on the sidewalk. You turned your attention to him, “I’m not going with you.”

“My dear, I don’t think you’ll have a choice. See, I’m a demon and you’re an injured, female hunter. Not exactly much of a fight,” he smirked. In a flash, he backhanded you across the face.

Your face turned to the side with the force. You looked at him wide eyed as you wiped the blood from the corner of your mouth, realizing he had a bit of a point. But you’d be damned if you went down without a fight. Bringing your leg up behind you, you grabbed Ruby’s demon knife out of your boot. You leaned forward and slashed, making contact with his arm.

“AH! You bitch! You’re lucky Lucifer wants you or I’d kill you right here.”

“Not if I kill you first you black eyed bastard.”

Fighting with your non-dominant hand was difficult, but you held your own. The demon got a few licks in, but he was no match for the knife. Dean yelled from the lawn, causing the demon to look away from you just long enough to make your move. With one swing, you brought your left hand around and plunged the demon knife into his chest, causing him to spark orange inside his vessel as he died.

The vessel collapsed on the ground as your brothers rose from it, making their way over to you. You bent over and pulled the knife from the man’s chest, the blade still smoking. 

Sam got to you first, “You alright?” He grabbed your face to check the split lip and saw a bruise forming on your cheek.

“I’m fine Sam. I just need Bobby to set this stupid thing and I’ll be good as new.”

“Friggin’ demons man.” Dean growled as he made his way to the driver’s side of the Impala. 

“My sentiments exactly. But Dean, Lucifer issued a bounty for me. Attacks like this are only going to get worse,” you slid into the backseat with your twin, him tending to your injuries.

“I know, kid. We’ll figure something out.”

Dean threw the car into drive and headed back to Sioux Falls. With a yelp from you, Sam set your wrist and wrapped it in a bandage from the first aid kit. You gave him a look of contempt as he did so since you A. weren’t expecting it and B. expected Bobby to do it when you got back.

“You better not have fucked that up, or I’ll re-break it on your jaw,” you smirked at your brother.

“Ha-Ha. You know it’s right; I wanted to get it set before it started to heal wrong.” He sighed, “What are you thinking Y/N/N? I can see your wheels turning.”

You sighed in return, “That I should just go to Lucifer like I planned. You and Dean are gonna get hurt soon and I don’t wanna risk it.” You replied to him lowly so Dean wouldn’t hear; he was pissed enough.

“You know that isn’t an option.”

“I know but-”

The screech of the impact of metal on metal interrupted you as another vehicle rammed into the passenger side of the Impala. The car flipped twice before landing right-side up on the side of the road, leaving all of the Winchester’s inside unconscious.

Read Chapter 13 Here

Tag List:

@lovesamwinchester​ @tomhiddleston-is-mischief​ @ditu-m9​ @stuckinsaudi1​ @sugar-nico​ @potato-extra-pot​ @humbledarkness​ @the-fiery-ghost​ @jo-wayward​ @streetghostfighter07​ @millieccino​ @some-local-dumbass​

[gansey-just-gansey]

Before I Wake Part One

Written by @gansey-just-gansey, @allfortheandriel , and @majoringinlycanthropy

A second later, the engine roared to life. Or rather, the car roared to life. Who knew what strange, miracle wiring was even making the sound that flooded their ears. Blue made a ridiculous whooping sound of glee. The year was stretched out in front of them: magical, enormous and entirely unwritten. It was a marvellous thing and Blue was alive with the thought of a future unpredicted. Fate diverted.

“Do you think it ever breaks down?” Gansey shouted over the sputtering of the not-engine.

Henry began to laugh, warm and delighted. “This is going to be a great trip.” 

He stepped on the gas.

Blue jerked awake, disoriented, like she actually expected to wake up in that old, beaten up dream car instead of here, on this plush dream sofa. She couldn’t believe how vivid it all had seemed. Her heart was racing. She could still feel the wind cooling sweat on her forehead, the smell of warm tires, and something fresh and mint-like that lingered on her lips.

“It was all just a dream,” she whispered, if only to convince herself.

“Dreams?” came a smooth voice from the other end of the large sofa. Joseph Kavinsky sat up with a snort, drawing a thumb under his nose to rub the powder away. There was more blow untouched on the mirror beside him. “Dreaming’s my job,” he said. “You just rest your pretty head.”

“Mm, just a crazy dream,” Blue mused. “I was friends with Dick Three and his merry gang. That wasn’t even the craziest part.” The dream had started to fade, but she recounted the heart of it. Prophecies, mysteries, and dead Welsh kings. It sounded like a bad trip by the time she shared the finishing dissolving details.

He laughed shortly. “You dreamed me dead, little witch? Fucking dark. And here I thought we were in love.” His crooked smirk mocked her.

“You should be so lucky,” she said haughtily, rubbing at that space above her nose where a headache had begun to form. “Quit hogging the coke. The world is way too sharp right now.”

“Come here, baby. Come get your fix,” he patted his leg, presenting himself like a throne for her to sit on. 

Blue rolled her eyes, but did sit on his lap, pressed up against him as she used one of the numerous fake IDs that Kavinsky must have dreamt to separate out her own line. When she bent in to take it, she saw a flash of his grin. His smile would be almost nice to look at if it wasn’t like experiencing the world being turned over on its head. Her nose burned, stinging hard as she wriggled it, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before that sensation began to fade. The pain, the dream, K’s crooked smile, along with the rest of the world around her would be gone soon. 

Kavinsky gripped her thigh as she started to slide off his lap. “Ah ah ah, little witch, where’s my payment?” He tapped his bottom lip.

A kiss. Only a kiss.

Blue didn’t hesitate, catching his mouth easily, and the world as she knew it melted like paint in a rainstorm. Their lips slotted together and her hand curled around the nape of his neck as she tilted her head and deepened the kiss. Complaining was in Blue Sargent’s nature, but in the end she truly didn’t mind kissing him. He was at least good at it, much better than others she had kissed. He knew how to use his mouth and tongue. In an instant, with his mouth against hers, she felt new. She was clean. She was oh so clean. Washed away like the world. 

They were still plastered to each other when Proko entered the room; his familiar boots making heavy sounds as he came down the stairs. Blue felt the loss immediately. A kiss and then none at all, broken by K to watch his favorite plaything make his way towards them. No, Prokopenko was the easiest plaything. She didn’t want to think about what she was. She sighed quietly, wiping away the feeling of the kiss from her bottom lip. Her time with Kavinsky was over now.

Whatever, it was time for her shift at Nino’s anyway. “Later, bitches,” she said, not bothering to wait for a goodbye. K would already be too wrapped up in Proko to pay any attention to her exit. 

She was only halfway through her shift when Gansey, the star of her dream, came through the door, followed by his disciples. She rolled her eyes, ignoring them as they were seated by her coworker. Her cheeks burned at the memory of Gansey’s part in her dream. She could still hear the sound of the Pig’s engine, the smell of mint on his breath, the feel of-

“Pardon me, miss.”

Blue turned unwillingly towards the voice. She knew who it was of course, how could anybody mistake the sound of that honeyed, old-money, Virginia accented voice?

“Yes?” she asked Gansey, impatiently. 

He looked a bit put off by her curtness, but not enough to stop his next words. “Would you like to come sit with us?” He gestured at his table where the other three were watching. She knew Ronan, of course, and Adam from K’s stories. The third boy was unfamiliar, blonde and smudgy. The stranger looked curious, Adam distasteful, and Ronan, that absolute bastard, amused. She scowled at him and his smile grew. She jerked her attention back to Gansey.

“Do you see how I’m wearing this apron? It means I’m working. For a living.”

He looked unconcerned. “I’ll take care of it.”

She echoed, “Take care of it?”

“Yeah. How much do you make in an hour? I’ll take care of it. And I’ll talk to your manager.”

Blue was at a loss for words. She regarded him with narrowed eyes. Could he really be propositioning her? Here, at her real job? Considering for just a moment, she decided it couldn’t hurt. She needed money to keep up with her habits. She couldn’t solely rely on K accepting her other services as payment. It wore her out too much.

“How much are you offering, sugar?” she asked, voice like silk. She put one hand on his forearm and left it there, leaning into him.

"You can't sell what you give out for free," Ronan smirked at her, coming up behind Gansey.

"Stay out of this, Lynch. If your friend is looking for a good time, I can oblige. Money might not be a problem for you, but the rest of us need cash to keep up with our habits." 

"What kind of habits?" Gansey asked, frowning now.

"That's not anything you need to worry about, baby," Blue responded, pulling out her man-eating smile, the one she used when asking K to get her something good. “What do you say we talk when my shift is over? You can have me the whole night, if you like.”

“Oh yeah, you better prepare to drop a lot on that, Gansey. Like, at least twenty bucks,” Ronan rolled his eyes.

Gansey looked extremely confused and maybe a little frustrated now. “I was just asking if you’d like to have dinner with us.”

Blue’s smile dropped. “That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it. What did you mean?”

“I thought maybe-”

“She thought you wanted to pay her for more than just her pleasant company,” Ronan said gleefully. She wanted to rip the sarcastic smile from his face.

Realization dawned on the Aglionby boy’s face. “Oh, that was not how I meant it. That is not what I said.”

Blue had abruptly run completely out of patience for these boys. “That is what you said! But it doesn’t matter, you couldn’t pay me enough to suffer your abhorrent know-it-all attitude and judgemental friends. Get out of my face,” she snarled, moving to go around them and hide in the kitchen until they left. Maybe she would call K and convince him to make the trip to the pizza parlor so she didn’t have to go the rest of her shift without another hit.

“Wait,” Gansey said, grabbing her arm as she passed. A dangerous look came over her face as she glared at the offending hand and then its owner. He released her slowly. “I just wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding.”

“Whatever,” she snapped, turning on her heel and slamming through the kitchen and out the back door, yelling over her shoulder that she was going on her lunch break on her way out. She was already pulling up K’s number on the phone he’d bought her in exchange for her services. 

He answered on the first ring, making her swell a little with pride. He always dropped what he was doing just to answer her. “Hello, little witch. I missed you leaving earlier. You don’t even bother to say goodbye anymore?”

“I did, you were too distracted by Prokopenko to notice.” She tried not to let her annoyance slip through, lest he turn down her request.

“Ah well, that does sound like me. What do you want?” he asked. As disinterested as it was, his voice was a balm for her frayed nerves.

“I need a hit. Will you swing by?” she asked, scuffing her shoes on the asphalt.

“What will you give me in exchange?”

“Anything. Dick Three is here and pissing me off. I need it,” she said, a plaintive note in her voice.

“Oh is he now? Lynch and Parrish, too?” 

“Of course.”

“It might be worth the run just to go fuck with them,” K mused. She stayed silent, letting her bait sit. She knew it would get her further for cheaper than if she begged. “Okay. I’ll be there in five.” He hung up.

Blue heard when Kavinsky showed up, his engine rumbling loud enough to be heard from the back of the restaurant. She went back through the kitchens to meet him in the front, but he was already leaning over the table that held the other Aglionby boys. All four were stiff, with varying degrees of anger on their faces. She smiled for their discomfort.

Finally, K started laughing and straightened up. His eyes roved over the crowd until they landed on Blue, still waiting next to the kitchen. He sauntered up to her, pulling her into a deep kiss that she had no choice to return, not that she minded very much. When he was done, he smacked her ass and slung his arm around her shoulders, guiding her back through the kitchen door. She chanced a glance back at the table Gansey sat. He watched them with a deep frown. The smudgy boy looked disappointed now; Adam’s distasteful look had intensified. She saved the worst for last. Ronan was pissed, his glower following them as they left.

“Definitely worth the trip,” he laughed, pulling out the little baggy of fine powder and holding it in front of her face when they were back outside. She grabbed at it, but he pulled it back at the last second. “Hey, show some gratitude. I came all the way here.”

She propped her fists up on her hips. “You said-”

“That it was worth the trip,” he finished, wagging a finger at her. “Not worth the substance.”

She sighed. “What do you want for it?”

His grin came easily. “Nothing as bad as all that. Just a little something for me this time.” He tapped his lip like he had earlier.

She fitted herself against his body, tilting her head up as he leaned down to reach her. The kiss was soft this time, tongues sliding together and hands roaming. When his palms reached her ass, she nipped hard at his lip.

“Easy,” K chuckled.

“Not at work,” Blue said unconvincingly. Her eyes were still on his lips.

“Fine. When you get home, then.” He tossed the baggy up in the air and she snatched it.

“Done,” she agreed, tearing open the bag and making a line on the extra chair that they kept back here. She did the line, sniffling a little when she was done. “Thanks.” She planted a chaste- or chaste for them- kiss on his lips before returning to finish her shift. She willed the memory of that honeyed, Virginian drawl to fade along with the rest of the sharp edges of reality. 

[pilot-boi]

Shouting In Cafes: Chapter Two

Downsides Of Revenge

If possible, second impressions go even worse. And this time, he doesn’t even have the excuse of being hungover. As much as he wished he was.

AO3 LINK

Neptune laid in bed, phone on his chest, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. His hangover had finally worn off and he was starting to regret everything. Why had he initiated anything? He should’ve just acted passively annoyed and let the guy - Sun right? - figure out how much of a dick he was being by himself.

Why the hell did he tell him he had nice pecs?

He wasn’t in his right mind when he was hungover. That was apparent.

So, now he was debating whether he should actually call this girl and get one last blow in. It was a shady move. Using a girl for petty revenge. Was he really that kind of guy? What had Sun really done to him?

Neptune considered opening the bottle of replacement-wine he’d just bought.

No. Stop. He needed to stop. He wasn’t using a girl to get back at a guy he met once who kind of pissed him off. He needed to sleep. He needed to get his shit together.

He’d take care of it in the morning.

“Well, hello, sunshine.” Jaune greeted a drowsy, rumpled Neptune with a broom in his hand and a flower from one of his sisters stuck awkwardly into his blonde curls.

Morning light streamed through the windows of the empty coffee shop, the smell of fresh coffee and Jaune’s careful sweeps across the tile floor the only indication that the building was open. Neptune checked his watch. 7:05 AM. They didn’t get customers until around nine. They had some time to kill.

Neptune rubbed at the bags under his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Do I look that bad?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks.” He shoved his card into the slot to clock in with a little more force than needed.

“Not enough sleep?”

“I went to bed at like nine but kept waking up in the middle of the night.”

“Nightmares?”

“Stress dreams, more like.”

“Are you still trying to be mad about that guy?”

“I’m not trying! And no. I don’t know.”

“Did you get your revenge?”

“I’m not going to sleep with somebody’s girlfriend out of spite. Even if she’s dating a douche. She seemed pretty nasty herself.”

“Hm. She did give you her number while she was on a date, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you even know her name?”

“No.”

“Well then, that settles that!” Jaune plucked the flower from his hair and tucked it behind Neptune’s ear, poking his friend in the eye in the process. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll never see either of them again, anyway.”

Jaune’s soft smiles were one of the only things that could warm Neptune’s heart. He tried not to show any emotion other than general annoyance whenever he could, but Jaune never failed to see right through him. He appreciated that sometimes.

But right now, Neptune couldn’t tell if he wanted to be annoyed by Jaune’s optimism or not. He settled on giving him a soft smile. He tried harder than most people he knew. “Thanks, Jaune.”

“No problem. You’re on register today.”

“God dammit, Jaune.”

The day was slow. Slower than usual. By three in the afternoon, they had only had five customers. Neptune caught himself falling asleep a couple times while standing up, which could not be healthy. Had he done his homework? God, he didn’t remember. All he remembered doing last night was staring at his phone and contemplating whether he wanted to be an asshole or not.

No homework then. He could do it before class. After work. How much longer did he have?

The door opened. Shoes smacked against the floor.

“Welcome to The Daily Grind. What can I get for you to-”

It was the dickhead. And his girlfriend. Again.

Neptune took a breath. Cleared his throat. “Welcome to The Daily Grind. What can I get for you today?”

The guy- Sun? -hunched his bare shoulders up to his ears. He was wearing one of those tank tops that had nearly the entire side of them cut out of them so you got a healthy dose of chest no matter what angle you were looking on from. They were nice shoulders. He didn’t deserve nice shoulders.

Thankfully, his expression took away from his body. Cocky and whimsical and snarky, like he knew everything you didn’t. “What? Not hungover today? No sleazy remarks?”

God, he commented on how nice his pecs were yesterday, didn’t he? No. God, no, of God why. Why would he let him have the upper hand like that? Bad move, bad move. Wine did bad things to him. Never again. Or at least he’d settle for never that much.

Embarrassment flooded to his cheeks and he tried to choke it back down. “Could I please take your order.”

Sun forced his palms against the table, winking and flashing a toothy grin. “What? No guts now that you don’t have some booze in you?”

“I’m working. Please keep your voice down.” Neptune let himself wonder if Sun could ever be quieter than a jackhammer.

“You were working yesterday, too! But that didn’t stop you from saying that my pecs were nice!”

Neptune leaned forward. “I like complimenting a handsome man when I see one, but no matter how nice your body is, your personality reeks of frat boy and beer.”

Sun’s date appeared beside him, grinning at Neptune from ear to ear. Sun’s face melted into pouted lips and a worried brow, like Neptune had actually offended him. Neptune felt victorious for a moment, before more heat rose to his face.

He was at work. All three of their other customers were staring at him.

Neptune coughed and picked up some cups and a sharpie, staring straight at the plastic. “What will your orders be today?”

“Grande white mocha and a plain cappuccino,” Sun said.

“Right.”

There was a silent exchange of a credit card and a receipt. Neptune’s blush was finally fading away. Just as Sun and his date were walking away, Sun turned back around and asked, “Are you gay?”

Neptune tensed, mouth slack in shock. Finally he managed to stutter out, “Your order is almost ready, Sun.”

They stared at each other for a moment more before Sun spun on his heel and walked away.

“He asked me if I was gay,” Neptune said in a hushed voice, fingers pressed to his temples, head bowed to the floor. “Is this real life? Did someone just ask their fucking barista if they were gay?!”

“Were you acting gay?” Jaune asked.

“Jaune!” Neptune hissed, sounding scandalized.

“It’s a genuine question.”

“I said I liked complimenting handsome men. I kind of implied that he was a handsome man.”

“That’s pretty gay.”

“That’s not the point!” Neptune nearly yelled before gathering himself. “You don’t ask your barista if they’re gay! What?! No! You don’t do that. Who the hell does that? This guy, apparently!”

“Neptune.”

“I’m sorry, dude, but honestly what the fuck. I can’t believe this. Who acts like this?”

“Neptune, I understand, but calm down. Take a breath.”

“I have to retaliate.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I’m texting his girlfriend.”

“No, you’re not.”

Neptune pulled out his phone. “Then tell me what I’m doing right now.”

“Oh my god.”

He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out the crumpled straw wrapper, plugging in each digit into his phone. He thumbed the text icon and typed out a message.

Ocean Man: Hey this is the barista at the daily grind. I never caught your name.

“Sent it,” Neptune said and waggled the phone in front of Jaune’s face.

“I can’t believe you,” Jaune sighed.

“I’m probably going to regret this later.”

“You definitely are.”

They both watched as Sun’s date sipped her coffee, set it down, and looked at her phone. Sun was too engrossed in his own storytelling to notice the smile that pulled on her lips or how fast her thumbs typed on the keyboard.

A few seconds later, Neptune’s phone buzzed. Neptune puffed out a sigh. Guess he was doing this.

No Contact: Aria. And you?

Ocean Man: Neptune vasilias. Nice to meet you aria. Quick question. Why are you going out on a date with that guy? You dont seem to like him.

No Contact: He’s hot and he asked me out. Quickly finding that his personality sucks. You’re cuter. Wanna hang?

Neptune gave his phone a sour expression. No matter if the guy was a dick, you should at least finish the date before setting up a new one with someone else.

Jaune read over his shoulder. “Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

Neptune looked up and across the cafe to find Aria looking over her shoulder, smiling, and waving at him. No.

And Sun was glaring straight at him. No.

Was this what he wanted?

Sun stood up, nearly knocking his chair over backwards as he stomped back to the bar.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jaune asked, echoing his thoughts.

“What do you want exactly?” Sun questioned, pushing a finger into the middle of Neptune’s chest. “To piss me off? Is that why you’re flirting with my date in front of me?”

“Look. You might be an ass but she’s the one who gave me her number while you two were here yesterday. You might want to find someone who actually likes you.”

Neptune could hear Aria squeak in outrage from the other side of the cafe.

“Fine! But that doesn’t explain why you actually texted her!”

“I think I wanted to make you mad.”

“What the hell!”

“You asked me, your barista that you don’t know the name of, if I was gay!”

“You were acting pretty gay!” Sun exclaimed, as if that explained everything.

“So what?!”

“I dunno! But you obviously aren’t because you’re flirting with my date!”

“Why do you still care? She doesn’t like you!”

Jaune stepped to the side of Neptune. “Dude, you might wanna stop.”

Neptune didn’t stop. “I’m not having the best time right now! I got dumped two days ago, got painfully drunk and hungover and have had to deal with you repeatedly!”

“Neptune,” Jaune warned.

“You’re just a shitty frat boy! Why the hell are you in a tiny coffee house on a date at three in the afternoon?”

“I get free coffee here!” Sun yelled. Not that it made a difference, his only volume setting was yelling.

“No, you don’t, you id-”

“My mom owns this place!”

Neptune went quiet. He stared at the fury burning in Sun’s eyes, white teeth bared, flimsy tank top threatening to fall off.

For once, he had no words. Well almost no words. Thank you Mama Vasilias, for your words of wisdom for these troubling times. Words that had helped him through many hardships before. Words straight from the old country.

“Merda,” Neptune muttered, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging open.

[nauseateddrive]

BACK ALLEY SORCERY by Turner Odorizzi

There's nothing like getting that text at 11:30pm from your dealer. Unsolicited, he tells you "HMU. I got it." You know what 'it' is, because you asked him for it two nights ago. At the time, he told you "out, sry", and then to your roommates you said "Fuck. He just responded and he's out." Your roommates start to fight with passive-aggressive jabs that morph into screaming. All the way up the stairs, you could hear it outside.

But he's got it.

I'm at a bar with two shots in front of me, and the bartender snarls at me for taking my phone out as I was ordering. To satisfy him, I put it up and mumble a vague apology. I turn around to see that everyone else in here is under red lights, faces bathed in pale blood, behaving like there's a comfortable toxin drifting around. All sweating. I slug the two shots and leave the red babble into the back hallway where the bathroom is, but I apologize to the bartender for real before I leave.

He says he can meet me two blocks away in an hour.

That's a long time when you've started to become drunk. The first phase of it materializes convex feelings that flip a mental switch and turn you into a false prophet. I'm so transparent when drunk lately that it's become my default setting. I think I am a false prophet.

I often have these waking nightmares when I'm drunk, usually concerning the haphazard and brutal way the world maintains itself. Lately, they've become increasingly unreal.

I finally leave after debating, and as soon as I step out onto the street, I smell the falafel drifting out of that long white truck across the street. To my right, a homeless woman snaps at this girl's ankles while they're talking; the girl likely deserves to have been bit. She's what I would call a talker: one of those placating the downtrodden with a lousy quarter, iPhone in hand. These people on the streets are treated like a dogs, so it's only natural that they react as a dog would.

I digress.

There's an hour before my dealer can meet me, and now I'm thinking I could become a runner of his, you know? A loyal soldier.

A text comes in, but not from my dealer. I'm becoming angrier and spewing emotion like piss out of my eyes.

It reads: 'What r u doing? I'm downtown. Derek and I just picked up. Wanna join?'

She knows me well enough to know I'm getting drugs. It's got nothing to do with her. My anger is vitriol that's been forcibly caged, ready to gnash its teeth and make a feral attack, but I'm sure I'll be more kind when I'm high. By that point, I'll be knee deep in the oblivion I burn into my stomach, and less acquainted with how lucid and fractured all the days seem. Hopefully I'll be nicer then.

I text back: 'Yeah, maybe. Running errands first.'

Errands always means drugs in my world.

There's something unfair about being robbed of my self-image in a place so low-lit. How dare they take me for such a simple projection?

Goddamn, he should be here already.

He knows I'll linger on this stool until he strolls up, grinning like he's got a secret, however late or tempestuous he seems. I’m a cool condensation on a tall glass, just waiting like hell to fall.

But then he taps me on the shoulder. My mind snaps to attention, the neurons all firing with voracious action potentials, and it feels like a stroke but good and warm; my mouth is drowning in saliva. Finally, I can just feel serene and let the drug do its goddamn job.

"Come on. Hit the bathroom with me."

I trail him back to the bathroom, around the corner. He hands me the bag; I hand him the money in the same motion. We do a bump together and then I'm sent on my way to do my drugs in peace.

She texts again:

" At Carrie's. No cover tonight. Would love to see u."

I must be more drunk than I thought, because I don't remember getting here, or being checked for ID. I only remember getting this drunk. But here I am at Carrie's, the bar where she is and where she wants me to meet her. Here. What an absurd concept under the cover of night, blinded by the drugs and the drinks, especially since I could just as easily be there as here. Here or there? I'm already drunk, and I can't tell.

When I first see her, I'm stuck in the memory of our last encounter where, at the wrong moment, I wilted.

About a gram in with twelve drinks washing it down, I looked down to a flaccid dick. Hyper-flaccid. I was on my knees behind her, so she couldn't actually see, but she could definitely feel it. Trying to maneuver it then, in that faltered state, is like death throes in the aftermath of a waning battle, where she's standing there waiting on my surrender to it, because she's seen failing infantry before. She's waiting for me to run down the hill, pants hanging sloppily around my ankles, bellowing that I'm not dead yet.

It happened so quick and mutated to become furiously disappointing. Wilted flowers limp over the edge of the vase, unable to photosynthesize or cope. The question: Does she remember? I'll never let it go; my dick happens to be a good three quarters of my personality. I still remember what she said to me when I huffed and leapt off of the bed like some wounded coyote, to go out for a cigarette.

"Come on! Turner? It's fine, I swear! Please just come back to bed, you can smoke that in here, and we will just open the window. Please, you know it's not a big deal."

She kissed me, and I felt marginally better...but I had stumbled onto my curse.

She stroked the back of my neck while I laid horizontally across her lap. Scorched ego; Typical male bullshit. But that's what chaos looks like for me. Destruction is my motif.

In my head, my dick would never work again, for good or ill. It was permanently soft with embarrassment and inability and extraordinary self-loathing. Without that crucial three quarters, what am I?

He's nobody. He's faceless.

We go upstairs to the balcony dance floor, one step and then two at a time. The staircase is made of new, stained wood steps. Reminds me that this is the point of the night where all highs coalesce and I am... boisterous.

Once we get a drink, she tells me she dropped her small bag of coke when we hugged by the downstairs bar. She must have lost some of it in the process, maybe all, because now she turns to me morose, verging on drug tears in the middle of the dance floor. She asks me if I had bought any from Stone earlier.

She leads me to the darkest stall in the most remote corner of the bathroom.

"Did you pick any up, baby?"

"I don't like it when you call me baby, so please don't. But yeah, I bought some. I met him at the bar, but I waited longer than I wanted to. I should've left."

"I'm glad you didn't. Can I have some, baby?"

Now she's doing it on purpose.

I'm already feeling the pretense to the emotional crash which is requisite in the valleys with uppers. It's fingering my spine, and my ass is cold.

That crash acts as a proving ground to see which drug users will spill over into the abyss.

We finish off what I had left, both of us licking the top of the container earnestly afterward. It's clean by the end.

My fugue state is resolute, allowing me to float through all of this as if it were a dream. But I have sparse hopes, and I want to cry. Badly. There is something welling up, and I need to cry.

"What did you just say?"

"What?"

"I'm asking you what you just fucking said, you drunk-ass."

She chuckles in between drinks.

"I don't...really know. It just feels like I really need to cry right now."

"Um...okay. Did I, like, do something to you?"

In moments like this, I wish there was more booze in the world than I could handle. Like so much booze, that it spews from and falls over the sides of all of those high rises downtown, raging throughout the city, happy to pick me up and transport me to some other place. A place where it's okay to be catatonically fucked up on a daily basis.

Meanwhile, the coke is really getting on top of me.

"No, I never said that. Look, it's not you, and honestly it has nothing to do with you. I just...I can't explain it. I feel gravity more than anyone should, I don't know. That seems like the best way to describe it."

She looks forward.

"It's ridiculous. Fucking tears."

"Well, do you want a hug or something? Or...maybe you need another drink?"

There's a tone in her voice that's covered in moss. Furtive, too. Judging by her oblique reaction, this is what nullifying the rules of engagement is like. Sensory destruction. I can feel that dogging me.

"No, just...never mind. I'm going outside, but I'll be back. I need a cigarette."

I won't see her again tonight, unless darker forces are at work.

Somewhere, in a grand tower with walls of cinder-colored brick, there's an aging wise man, with eyes like surreptitious black pearls, wearing what I could only describe as an onyx-colored warlock's cloak. The cloak trails behind him while he mans the strong brass bell at the top of the antechamber like a ringing monument. It chimes in step with those darker forces.

I sit down on the front steps of a hotel, searching my pockets for...no, there it is, my wallet. I am still me. How fucking disappointing after all the drugs, the alcohol, that some catalytic change didn't materialize. If only I could use alchemy to transmute myself into something productive, maybe someone or something else. As above, so below won't fucking cut it anymore. Those platitudes are hanging from that bell tower as shredded banners.

Can't the warlock hear me over that goddamn bell?

She's texting me again, realizing I'm not good on my word.

"WTF. Where did u go? Are u getting more? I'll pitch on it if you just meet me."

"Pls. Text back. I'm going to Line Bar. Meet me."

I can't help but wonder whether the beginning of hatred is always so subtle? I mean, is it always so...slippery? That I cannot exhale. She won't see me for the rest of the night, except as a useful vision of drugs but I'm just an outline there. A... falsehood. But that doesn't matter, because I would rather smoke on these steps in mute conversation with the warlock, listening carefully as he heaves back and forth, tugging the rope that bids the bell to toll.

Now It's clear that we're approaching the point in the night where the residual effects of all highs begin to wane and shrink up into themselves. They're dull, lanky fingers tickling the insides, fading quickly.

Fading toward an end.

The word of the hour is ‘terminate’. It comes from the Latin word terminus meaning border or end. We're approaching that end. Of everything: the night, the bell, the protective haze of the drugs and the booze. The warlock is shedding his cloak right there by the bell and watching it settle with the dust on the floor. He looks like me, but older, harder; He's just as close to total annihilation.

I don't hate her because I should, or because I have a rationale beyond self-loathing, or even because I'm some noble man saving her from my affliction. I look at her, or anyone, and it's easier to stomach while I'm drunk. Who can survive with that kind of doped up blanket? Better yet, who would want to?

It's getting colder as I sit here and suck down cigarettes all the way to the charred filter.

Wait.

If I'm right I think I... Do I hear...a bell? No, that's just the violent squeak of an Uber driver's horn. Couple the squeak with the image of two homeless and yellow-eyed men fighting nearby, and then you've got the whole picture. Now, one of the men’s knocked the fuck out on the sidewalk, breathing like he's smoking in his sleep.

The warlock whispers, "He's nobody. Now, grab the knife."

Drunkenness is making a hard comeback now. Confusion of...me? Am I not me? The most pressing concern I have is the warlock fading in and out of my vision. Who is he, and why does he keep prodding me to grab some presumably nonexistent knife?

It’s the drugs, I swear.

Am I swearing to the warlock? If so, that begs the question as to whether or not he can hear me.

Who am I?

Only after the haze has made its comeback do I realize I'm no longer on those steps but am walking in the direction opposite the bar where she implored me to meet her. While weaving through crowds and lines of people on the sidewalk, I see a couple standing on the precipice of the curb next to a mangled pile of scooters, fighting about something. They fight like good omens, and I can see...well...something about them. Maybe it's the brutish mannerisms of traitors and bullies.

The girl thrusts out her arms in a half-baked attempt to tell the guy to fuck off; she tells him to leave. Perhaps she doesn't want him to, but he does; he's frustrated, yelling 'fuck you' over and over, alternating between tripping on the curb and the street.

I’ve been there, in those shoes. I've been the brick wall of a person she collided with, only to remain solid and immovable.

I need another drink or to crash, whichever can make it first.

Another text. Two, actually.

"Fuck you. U said seee u later."

"Why di you leave?"

When I look up, I'm at some dive bar, but it's impossible to tell which one. There are old beer signs glowing all over, and everything has a thin, nostalgic dust covering it.

Would that I could feel sorry, but I'm too volatile now. There's a corrosive quality to these things I do. I bleach skin with every word and eat through the rest, like the worst dissolving agent ever conceived. Even then, I'll go on knowing its wrong and stand perfectly still.

My dick deserves to never work again. Perhaps I should take the knife the warlock keeps taunting me with - the short one I notice is sitting there on the bar mat - and turn myself into a eunuch, and then, after the dust has settled, I can take my severed dick and paste it up on the wall like some anti-trophy.

I could see that.

The bartender hands me the last shot of the night, and it tastes like nothing, feels like vapor and kicks me straight in the liver with a twelve-pound steel toe.

After some time, the bar staff ushers us out like drunken cattle, and everybody descends into their phones.

But something happens in that flood of people, among the fucked up din of their cries and slurred shouts. There are far too many people crying outside of the bars tonight, and it's shameful that I'm not even one of them. By the way, how do you cry? Can someone tell me, because I'm drawing a wide blank? What are the mechanisms and motions? If only I could give someone five dollars just so they would teach me how to cry, like an in-person tutorial.

In a bizarre twist, I've become a zealot for crying in the vicinity of bars tonight.

But the bells start again; I hear them ringing out, chime after full, throaty chime. Bells, like the fucking Edgar Allan Poe poem repeating 'the bells' line after line. The warlock has really dug in.

I can't keep ignoring him.

My phone buzzes, but it feels more neurotic and nagging every time it vibrates, and I can sense that neuroses summiting my spine, hovering there like a curse.

I slink down along the wall next to a cluster of dumpsters, the alcohol taking control of basic motor functions this time. I grab my phone with violence in mind.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! STOP! GODDAMN, STOP! SHUT.THE.FUCK.UP."

I rear back and chuck it at the wall opposite me. It hits the brick with a plastic thud and shatters slovenly. I can hear all the words escaping from it into the air. It flashes and breathes with little electric impulses, the life finally going out as something shuffles up beside me.

"You asked it to shut the fuck up y'know. Bit dramatic, heh."

"What? Where the fuck did you come from?"

"I'm Lenny, yeah. Just sayin', yeah...it did what you asked."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks?"

He gazes down at me, fiddling with some glass thing between his fingers and tossing it from hand to hand. Crack pipe, is it? No. Maybe? Well, if it is, and If I ask him, he might toss some my way, which could be a great way to pass the time while I lose my mind up against this filthy alley wall. It will just be a small hit, you know, just enough to take me away for a second.

Before I can ask, something overtakes me. I can't tell if this man is real.

My vision is blinded by an esoteric haze, and I can't be sure Lenny isn't just a facsimile of something or someone I've encountered in my worst dreams, because he does look familiar. Maybe he's never touched a drug in his life. I envy him. He's scruffy, but smiling. I think it's me who is the junkie.

Even better, this could be the warlock passing himself off as a man living off the street, like a messiah.

The bells come back fuller, and they ring louder as I feel psychosis encroaching on me, daring me to go just one step further and fall over my edge, to cross that border and finally come to the crucial end. The last stage, and the whole world's a stage. What a stage this godforsaken alley will be when this is a play in some dinky theater.

Dong, Dong, Donggggggg.

"Hey man, let me ask you, you got a dollar?"

"No. Uh, No, man, I'm sorry. I don't have a phone either."

He grunts and whispers something about me lying, which I am. I'm a liar. Tonight is full of these strange thoughts and lies. How...fucked up am I, really? How much more miserable can I get? Those are the thematic concerns of my whole fucking life. Those studying me will have to accept my capricious self and take these fundamental themes with them, because there's nothing left: no cigarettes, no drugs, no real me.

In fact, I think this would be as good a place to die as any. Better here than someone else's bed; the light is good enough to show that I don't seem the kind of person who should die in an alley, adjacent to shit and sewer water.

The bells are ringing out across my mental landscape. I can't hear anything else, I can't feel anything but the warlock's gaze. He's not laughing, just looking down with placid eyes. What does he see?

I look at my reflection in the puddle where my dead phone lays. Is this me?

Smile.

There's always tomorrow.

Turner Odorizzi is an author that lives in Austin, Texas. He is a graduate of the University of Texas at Austin's English and Creative Writing programs, in addition to being an intern for the Bat City Review. As of yet, he is previously unpublished.

[casszabek]

meet CASIMIR RADOSLAW ZABEK, he has been living in milton for fifteen years and is generally known around town for being dedicated and temperamental. the twenty one year old, is apparently a youtuber but you didn’t hear that from me. when i think of him i think of: splatters of blood on ice, skulls drawn on a fogged up window, the beads of a rosary biting into your palm despite knowing god will never take you.   -   timothee chalamet, cismale, he/him as written by pepper, 23, est, she/her. 

ABOUT THE MUN.  id like to formally apologize for calling everything sexy. it seems i have forgotten every other word that could express that i like something. 

hello all, it’s me, ya gurl pepper. as the kids say... what is UP kyle! i usually like to start these things with a bit about me but god i feel like y’all already know too much about me already i skjsjk revealed it all in that groupchat but omg okay lemme think. i am 5′6 and the shortest person in my family and everyone makes fun of me for it. i don’t drink so every time i write my muses drunk it’s a whole mess. i can’t cook but i love to eat. i am in love with both stiles stilinski and rory sutton brady. i love to rollerblade but the one time i did the rollerblades highkey cut into my skin so i’ve never done it again. i am a big marvel and like general superhero nerd but i’m not proud of it cause disney really let me down sdkjsdjk okay that’s it i think onto cass stuff now!

BIO. *removes one earbud* the fuck you want

cass was born and raised in poland to parents who honestly never really cared for him. like it wasn’t that they were particularly cruel to him or anything, they just didn’t like him. they barely bothered with him most days, generally leaving cass to his own devices when they could or with friendly neighbours. cass pretty much grew up raised by those polish grandmothers who stand on their balcony’s to look out and see the gossip, but he was always pretty okay with that like he never knew any different. until he did. 

when cass was six he and his parents took a trip to america and milton to visit his grandfather. you see, his grandfather and grandmother came to america for their retirement around the time that cass was about two. they settled down in milton and quickly became the eccentric foreign couple. the zabeks. everyone loved them. but then cass’ grandmother died. and his grandfather fucking cyrofreezed her ass and shoved her in the shed like a psycho. 

so basically they were coming for the funeral but the funeral was just them all looking at his grandmother’s frozen body in his grandads fucking shed like she was an exhibit at a museum. it was weird. like really weird. but so was grandpa zabek so no one really questioned it. cass just remembers thinking that he couldn’t wait to get out of there. 

he never did. his parents fucking left him there. just like that. 

they literally said they were just going over to the next town for some dry ice for the grandma zabek popsicle and they never. fucking. came. back. 

so cass was stuck here. with his crazy psycho drunk of a grandpa. and a grandma who was quickly getting freezer burn. and a town full of weird ass people. he was living the dream. 

but then things got weirder. the towns people, who were also psychos, like fucking loved it?? like they were way too into it. based a whole town tradition on the whole thing. and that wasn’t it, no, pretty soon they were attracting tourists. to their little fucking house, or more specifically, the shed in the back. cass has vivid memories of leading curious people out there, bringing them into the dark shed and just pulling down the little light switch to a bunch of oohs and aahs. people were fucking crazy. and cass learned that pretty quickly. he was jaded at a very young age.

but it didn’t stop there. oh no. so before grandpa zabek was a drunk psycho guy he was an olympic figure skating coach. and so guess what he forced his grandson to do for bonding?? fucking ballet. fucking figure skating. cass never really had a bit of a choice honestly, the moment his grandfather figured out he had a talent he was pretty much set on training cass up for the olympics. and honestly, the moment that cass figured out that he was actually good, and could actually fucking beat people, well. he was pretty into it. like honestly cass has always been pretty into knives, and like having knives on your shoes?? hardcore. 

so for most of cass’ life that was it. going to school and barely passing. ice skating after school, and before. showing off grandma for money whenever they had a couple tourists in town. the zabek household was always people’s weird small town stop on their crosscountry road trips. some asshole even did a whole article about them once, and that just blew things up further. prick. if cass ever finds him he’ll take out his kneecaps. 

honestly cass was always pretty much a loner in school? got into a lot of fights, caused a lot of mayham. think patrick verona in ten things i hate about you. that was cass’ energy. he had like maybe three friends total and he was pretty okay with that. 

anyways, so after years of training and figure skating and ballet training, like yes literally ballet training, cass is pretty much all ready for the olympics. he and his grandad are about to go through the whole fucking process and guess what the old man’s dumbass does?? tries to rob a bank in the city to pay for the various olympic things they need. gets his ass arrested of course. like an idiot. 

cass was sixteen at the time, and royally pissed about it but well. what can you do. so cass goes back to town, no medal, no nothing but his broken up feet to show for it all, and honestly kind of depressed and scared like ??? he didn’t know what he was going to do without his grandpa and he certainly didn’t want to go to foster care. but then the weirdest thing happens. the town takes care of him. 

cass didn’t ask for it of course. cass will die before asking for help. but he didn’t have to. just like that random ladies were coming to his house with casseroles for lunch, and dinner, and breakfast. people were double checking to make sure cass’ ass was going to class because he still had to graduate. some random ladies from his ballet studio even came with him to his grandfather’s hearing. 

it was weird honestly?? cass has never really gotten that level of support, not even from his grandfather, but it was big gilmore girls energy. the whole town rallied around him as if cass was just an angry, violent little rory gilmore after a heartbreak. and honestly he was grateful for it, although he’d never say it. he feels a certain level of debt to them honestly, so you can pretty much always lowkey catch cass helping an old lady clean out her gutters or like helping some random suburban mom paint over the side of her house. helping out at one of the stores when someone is short staffed. that kind of stuff. 

he still has the family business though and that covers the bills. every once and a while cass is over charging some suckers to see a dead lady and he’s chill with it. honestly he’s gotten so used to it that he actually talks to frozen grandma zabek like it’s nothing sdkjdsjk like honestly he lives by himself and he’s lonely so he’s always like ‘wow, look at the fuckin’ haul this time around babcia... with all this i can buy you a new dress or something...put it over your cube... just kidding, i’m spending this shit on a new board, sorry’ sdkdsjkan

but to bring in extra money cass does youtube, something he kind of stumbled into honestly?? like cass is really good at video games, and he really likes them so honestly someone probably just uploaded a video playing video games once (cause cass wouldn’t do it himself so wanted connection i guess if anyone is willing to like be friends with this boy) and like it blew up?? and cass realized he could make a whole ass career based off of this?? so that’s what he did??? he makes videos of him playing games and just getting super pissed when he loses or messes up and people LOVE IT!! he probably goes by halo online because he doesn’t want people to find him. also will occassionally post videos of him skateboarding. honestly is really popular on line, like maybe not p*wdiepie level but maybe markiplier or ksi idk gamer youtubers guys but he’s up there. has never been to playlist live or anything like that though because he is not a people person sdkdsj but someone force him to go i feel like it would be fun

oof and that’s it i think ! a long ride but thank you for getting to the end 

PERSONALITY. i may seem like an angry person on the surface but deep inside i’m angrier.

and that’s it that’s his personality thanks for coming out. 

BLUNT. no but aside from being generally grumpy at all times cass is just so honest most of the time, like he straight up does not lie for the most part because he doesn’t see the point?? says what he wants no matter how rude. kind of a dick but it’s not as much that he’s trying to be it’s just that he never goes out of his way to be nice unless he really, really likes you. 

TACTLESS. cass does not have a suave or like ??? persuasive bone in his body?? again he just says what he wants?? actually super like useless with an actual crush??? the kind of person who had a crush on someone as a kid and wrote them a little note that was like ‘get out of my school’ yk dsksd very mean to his crushes, will tease you mercilessly and get flustered and yeet at any reciprocation?? he doesn’t know what to do tf ??

DEDICATED. god, cass is like resilient and also so freaking ambitious and determined when he wants something?? unfortunately the olympics and like skating didn’t work out but he put his blood sweat and tears into that and whenever he finds what else he wants to do he will put that same energy into that too. 

TEMPERMENTAL. it is so easy to piss cass off, but if it’s the right person it’s also really easy to make him laugh. like he hates most people, but his mood can be like so easily changeable. one second he’s laughing the next he’s punching some guy in the face. i’m making him sound kind of unhinged and sometimes he is but most of the time he’s chill. 

CONFLICTING. god cass doesn’t say what he means sometimes, which kind of conflicts with him being blunt but like??? at any sign of affection cass is like NO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE when he really wants someone to stay around like skjdsj he’s got big tsundere energy sometimes and i hate it. very bad at apologizing, very bad at like admitting when he’s wrong, very bad at like receiving or reciprocating affection unless it’s the right person because his parents and grandfather never hugged him sdkjsd

DESTRUCTIVE. literally the type to like to set things on fire sdkjsdj obsessed with bonfire nights cause he can just burn things. will explode things for fun on his youtube channel occasionally. like big chaotic aries energy people. 

FUN FACTS *covers up real feeling with aggressive sarcasm*

polish is his first language and he mostly learned english through tv and video games. he has a knack for languages as well, like he can pick them up fairly easily, but he’s honestly better with his body. has a thick ass polish accent though and he probably used to get teased for it when he was younger but anyone who would tease him for it would get their ass beat so skjdsjk was it worth it?? 

one smacked a guy with his skateboard so hard it straight snapped in half. that’s the level of aggression we’re coming with today.

was raised catholic, and is still kind of a god fearing boy. still goes to church like religiously despite his grandfather not being around. will wear a pressed white button down and then someone will point out there’s like blood on the collar dskjdsj *cass vc* oh fuck 

lives in hoodies about a size too big for him, the colour black and combat boots. general angry and all the adults in town are like casimir sweetie you should wear something bright it’ll make you look like less of a ghost and like half of them get the finger for it which results in a smack upside the head for your boy.

very competitive. like incredibly competitive. cass needs to win or he’ll die basically. 

bisexual as all hell. is kind of tentative about it because ??? will god hate him ??? but he is attracted to both men and women and he’s pretty sure god hates him already so 

absolutely adores video game apps. has like a thousand on his phone, and is constantly idly playing them, lie whenever cass has nothing to do he’s playing video games 

has a skateboard, tends to ride it like everywhere. catch cass riding through town either smoking or vaping, squeezing in the gaps between people and causing chaos. it’s his vibe. 

a dog person BIG TIME! has a big lovable white dog named snieg and he loves her, she is the only roommate he ever wants to have and he is kissing her constantly sdkjdsk catch cass only smiling at this dog ever tbh

sleep talks and sleep walks especially when he’s stressed. cass will walk into the middle of the street asleep honestly which is exactly why he should never move to the city.

also smokes when he’s stressed. smokes a lot of weed, might even experiment with some other stuff while he’s partying because yeah his body was a temple but now?? fuck it sdkjds

like i said his grandpa was highkey the town drunk. cass had to drag him out of bars regularly and like bring him home and he also literally like climbed on top of like town square drunk af on like christmas day sdkjsdj * cass vc * gET DOWN YOU OLD FUCK!!! IF YOU DIE I’LL BLOW YOUR LIFE INSURANCE ON HOOKERS!! sdkjdsk so yeah basically the zabeks were chaotic but lowkey cass misses his grandfathers drunk ass he visits him in prison like once a month. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS *how to catch feelings and then throw them into the fire where they belong*

i always love getting rivalry connections for cass so a RIVAL please and thanks. 

a PARTNER IN CRIME of sorts! someone who he can turn to just cause havoc and such??? whenever they’re together people know it’s trouble.

lowkey a CONSCIENCE?? someone who can be the little voice in the back of cass’ head mayhaps. who can convince him that attempting to use someone’s roof as a skateboarding ramp might not be a good idea you know. keep him sane, keep him alive. 

someone who cass feels comfortable discussing his feelings with?? like a CONFIDANTE. this would probably have to be a true legend and a super rare person??? just someone who can listen to cass’ crap and just be there for him you know. likely his soft spot tbh

someone who casimir absolutely hates with every fibre of his being. give me that HATESHIP. someone who he wouldn’t piss on if they were on fire. it could be mutual or onesided.

someone who has maybe been in a few of cass’ vlogs that the internet like ships him with??? could be fun. there are like edits of them everywhere, they have a ship name, and cass wants to murder the world. 

an EX because i always love that kind of stuff. cass is the worst at relationships but he is always all in emotionally. it probably would have been a lot of fighting and arguing but also good when it was good honestly we can plot it out. 

the JACKIE TO HIS HYDE please and thank you. it’s what we deserve. 

 FRIENDS of course i nearly forgot but like friends please. maybe the couple of people who could tolerate him in high school??

and finally.... FWBS or EWBs because why not, that’s as much as cass can handle emotionally.

omg i lied cause also A CRUSH! like a childhood crush on cass’ part, or on your muse’s part, or a crush that has just arisen now an cass lke avoids them like the plague for it. although if cass has a crush on your muse just be prepared for him to be irrationally kind of mean because he doesn’t know how to emotion. 

a SIBLING LIKE RELATIONSHIP!! big brother for cass, or cass can be the big brother, a big sister for cass, or a little sister. i’m here for it all whether it’s bickering siblings or protective siblings that would do anything for each other. a kind of found family thing if you will, please and thanks.

and absolutely anything else! i am one hundred percent happy to brainstorm something if none of these catch your eye so like this and i’ll hit you up! or react to me on discord either works tbh

[closethegoddamndoorswat]

Rules: Once you’ve been tagged you are supposed to write 92 truths about yourself, and at the end, chose 25 people to tag i was tagged by @goldun-days LAST: 1.) drink: agua 2.) phone call: my mama llama 3.) text messages: actual text messages was me explaining to my “friend” that when nobody responds on the groupchat it’s because we DONT want to converse or have her blab on.. except in a polite way? 4.) song you listened to: currently Migraine by TOP, but before it was Growing Up by Macklemore ft. Ed Sheeran 5.) time you cried: yesterday i got teary eyed because self-titled top HAVE YOU EVER 6.) dated someone twice: uhh yeah more than twice tho more like six times 7.) been cheated on: emotionally? yes. physically? no 8.) kissed someone and regretted it: havent really had my first kiss yet so nope 9.) lost someone special: not really 10.) been depressed: uhhh yeah fam 11.) gotten drunk and thrown up: nope, i havent done any drinking yet LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS: 12.) Mint greeny blue 13.) black 14.) used to be maroon but thats the color of a school that wait-listed me so i’ll say purple! IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU… 15.) made new friends: HELL FUCK YES 16.) fallen out of love: ive never loved anyone, not romantically 17.) laughed until you cried: yeah, family stories and old family pictures.. also ezra and ry convos 18.) found out someone was talking about you: who hasnt tbh 19.) met someone who changed you: SHANNON YOU COMPLICATE MY FEELINGS SO MUCH BUT YOU HAVE DEFINITELY CHANGED ME 20.) found out who your true friends are: OH HELL FUCKING YES I HAD ALL SUMMER OF THAT 21.) kissed someone on your Facebook list: ew who uses Facebook? Also, never kissed 22.) how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: again, no Facebook 23.) do you have any pets: MHM JOSIE NAMED AFTER THE SONG JOSAPHINE BY DISPATCH SHES A BRINDLE MUTT FROM A SHELTER WE LOVER HER V V MUCH 24.) do you want to change your name: hnnnnng kinda but more for the fact that i dont associate with my birth name at all and less because of gender identity 25.) what did you do for your last birthday: the usual: go to my grandparents’ house and eat a melting cake and watch my grandfather and uncles shoot off fireworks while we try not to burn ourselves with sparklers. 26.) what time did you wake up: around 8:30 but then i went back to bed for three hours 27.) what were you doing at midnight last night: Kiking with Ezra i think 28.) name something you cannot wait for: my band to actually write some gotdamn music 29.) when was the last time you saw your mother: three hours ago 30.) what is one thing you wish you could change about your life: That i wasnt such a dickhead about practicing music 31.) what are you listening to right now: Part II by Paramore 32.) have you ever talked to a person named tom: there was a helper guy who was a college student named Tom at our rock band camp.. he played ukulele :) 33.) something that gets on your nerves: my own acne 34.) most visited website: probably either tumblr or ao3 35.) elementary: Fuckt™ ((public school, home school, charter school my mom started while home schooling me.. yeah.) 36.) high school: Stop Reminding Me I Know I Have No Plan Because Everywhere Rejected Me Stfu 37.) college: hopefully nowhere, id rather be touring 38.) hair color: Reddish-orange-brown because i have brown hair dyed with henna 39.) long or short hair: short!! 40.) do you have a crush on someone: more like multiple people i would date and/o make out with but feel no need to stress over making anything official or pining for aged 41.) what do you like about yourself: surprisingly, a lot.. i like my lips tho! They arent TOO small or too big theyre a lil plump and small like all of my features 42.) piercings: just standard ear piercings but i wanna pierce more shit 43.) blood type: fuck i think it’s O negative idk?? 44.) relationship status: single and lonely,,, hmu babes 45.) nicknames: my mom calls me Pessa (short for however u spell princess in italian), my brother calls me Chlub, and my friends that call me Toni use the nickname Tono 46.) zodiac sign: cancer 47.) pronouns: they/them or she/her 48.) fav tv show: House M.D. ((Patrick stump had a cameo ;) )) 49.) tattoos: non but i wanna get lots of lil important black symbols and shit 50.) right or left handed: right i am the majority FIRST: 51.) surgery: nope, not yet 52.) piercing: ears 53.) best friend: Elizabeth or Katy, i forget which came first 54.) sport: soccer i think, like p much everyone 55.) vacation: my dad’s aunt has a house on Martha’s vineyard that we used to rent and i think we’re trying to rent it again this year and it’ll be so great to go back!! 56.) pair of trainers: i have no fucking clue i dont remember 57.) eating: nothing 58.) drinking: water sorta 59.) about to see: nothing 60.) listening to: A Love Like War by ATL ft. Vic Fuentes 61.) waiting for: perpetually waiting for acceptance letters from schools ayy 62.) want: piercings and tattoos and a partner 63.) get married: idfk yet man 64.) career: HANDS FUCK DOWN A MUSICIAN ILL SELL MY SOULD TO PETE WENTZ ILL SUCK A DICK I JUST WANT TO BE ON WARPED TOUR AND BEBIN A BAND PLEASE WHICH IS BETTER 65.) hugs or kisses: both?? I dont have much experience in the latter tho 66.) lips or eyes: couldnt care less 67.) shorter or taller: taller because i think it’s impossible for anyone to be shorter than me 68.) younger or older: imma say older because maturity level needs o be above average like mine 69.) romantic or spontaneous: whichever suits the person better! 70.) nice arms or nice stomach: idfc as long as one holds me and i can tickle the other one 71.) sensitive or loud: LOUD BITCH 72.) hook up or relationship: atm, honestly, maybe just hook up because idk if i can deal with an emotional relationship? 73.) troublemaker or hesitant: neither HAVE YOU EVER 74.) kissed a stranger: nope 75.) drank hard liquor: nope 76.) lost glasses/contact lenses: dont need them so nope 77.) turned someone down: yep 78.) sex on first date: nope to both 79.) broken someone’s heart: nope 80.) had your own heart broken: not really, i did get real pissed at him tho 81.) been arrested: nope 82.) cried when someone died: nope 83.) fallen for a friend: uhhh maybe 84.) yourself?: Good™ 85.) miracles?: meh 86.) love at first sight?: should walk by again 87.) santa claus?: as much as brendon urie not being a fuckboi.. no 88.) kiss on the first date?: yeah if both parties are down 89.) angels?: DONT GET EXISTENTIAL ON ME BINCH 90.) current best friends name(s): Ezra the Mega Ultimate Squish and Ryan, AKA CatAssJones 91.) eye color: Boring Brown 92.) favorite movie: Deadpool and/or The Blues Brothers.. Anyone can do this, just say i tagged you in it!! P.S. ...We're on a mission from Gahd.

[anonwords]

may 31 2020

as if the world wasnt already in a state of unrest, cops went and killed another black man. George Floyd. they knelt on his throat for 10 minutes. 10. they also pushed Regis Korchinski-Paquet off her balcony, killing her. and they killed Tony McDade, a trans man. the first riots were in Minneapolis, where george was killed. then within a week, 25 US cities were rioting. peaceful at first, but cops posing as protesters started destroying businesses and inciting violence, leading to full on violence from protesters, leading ultimately to cops using force to disperse the crowds. Ive seen photos of people shot in the head with rubber bullets, someone lost their eye, my cousin was maced in the face. at least 15 states have curfews in their cities, and the cops are relentless. I don’t know whether to believe real change is coming, or maybe this will all blow over in a month, and everything will go back to the way it was. one thing is for sure though: all cops are bastards, and the cops will pay with their blood for the blood of the people of color and specifically black people, which they so easily have spilled on the streets since America’s inception. 

  the virus isnt helping the whole protesting movement, I just know theres gonna be spikes all over the country. the virus does seem to be slowing in parts of the world, but the ever looming second wave has yet to begin. south korea has some of the lowest numbers of infection since their rise and new zealand has completely gotten rid of it. the whole damn country is without infection. meanwhile in america any effort led by the govt to test people has been a complete farce. trump says nothing can be done, and when twitter fact checks two of his tweets, executive orders two days later to combat them. i really hope we as a nation can see where his priorities lie, and we need to vote him out. btw when asked what will the govt do about the protesters, he said and i quote: “when the looting starts, the shooting starts!” i really hope they kill this man.

  josh says if nothing pans out by august for a place to live with group members, he wants me and him to get a place together, which i totally agree with. I can just keep saving and when they open the dmv’s i can get my license, and i can live up there on my own. god its all i want. to be free. Im so ready. ive been talking to josh more frequently through phone calls and its nice to talk to someone who just loves all forms of art and understands on my level. our convos would go on forever when we were together, and i really miss that. just drinking and smoking and being chill. when the state is in phase 3, we want to drive up to san francisco, me, him, ian, and maybe donald. ive never been that far up the coast and the city has so much rich gay history ive always wanted to see for myself. Ian said i was really sweet and no ones called me that in a long time. it made me feel really good and i was smiling the whole day. ian is very straight, not even a hint of femininity in his deep voice, but he’d be the perfect twink. not too perfect though because he is light skinned, but still very cute. 

  I had a dream last night that i was at a party with my friends, and i was in a room full of people in a house ive never been to before. there was this girl who was very pretty and basically exactly my type. she was very thin, short, had black hair that went to her shoulders, glasses, and she dressed like daria’s best friend. she had pretty brown eyes, light skin, very pretty smile, and a perfect cute little nose. EXACTLY my type. my subconscious was on my side for once. now that i think about it, she kind of looked like this girl from high school who i had a crush on. still kinda do. anyways she kept glancing at me from across the room and when our eyes would meet she’d smile and i would smile back, with a cool nod. she ate that shit up. finally i went to take a piss. i had my dick in my hands and she comes into the tiny bathroom and puts her hands over my eyes, and says “guess who?”. before i could say anything, she takes her hands off my eyes, and grabs my dick, still in my hands from peeing. i said “woahh” and she giggles and smiles. she starts stroking me and i waddle over to the sink to wash my hands, with her still stuck to my back, my dick still in her hands. i start to get hard, i look down and my dick is now fully engorged in her hands, my dick never looked so tasty. my dream cuts to us making out in the hallway, and i keep instinctively putting my leg up to her thigh, like i was the sub and she was the dom. i had to keep reminding myself i was in charge, and i had to be big and strong, so i stopped. then we cut to her on a bed, me on top of her, the room was glowing red. i started eating her out. i vividly remember the way it felt. my tongue was exploring every nook, every cranny, every part of her. my lips were so soft but she felt softer, and i could feel my tongue going deeper into her, my mouth filling with her cum, and i would let it drip out my mouth, to get her wetter and sloppier. she was writhing around with pleasure, pleasure only i could give her. then my dream took the weirdest fucking turn when marge simpson of the simpsons was on the other side of the bed, behind me, asking me to fuck her. this was not the marge simpson from the show, as she had the fattest ass ive ever seen, and didnt even sound like her at all. she was sitting on the bed in such a way that her dripping vagina was facing me, and she kept asking me to fuck her. in my head i was trying to come up with a polite way of saying i dont fuck moms, but the girl was down for a threesome. so i finally agreed and the girl was gonna ride me while i ate marge but i said no because i was afraid i was gonna cum. but then marge somehow found out i didnt want to fuck her and she left in mr burns’ car. so then me and the girl cuddled for a while and that felt great. she was so soft and smelled so good and i think i kissed her neck a few time. but then she had to leave and started saying goodbye. i asked for her insta and gave her my phone so she could follow herself. then i walked her out to her uber or friends car, i dont remember who it was, and on the way out i could hear a song from the watchmen soundtrack, and i knew cesar was showing some girl the first episode of the series. then i was in front of the house and the street was really pretty with trees everywhere and it was really windy, and we said goodbye. i think wt one point i even asked “where are we?”. i think some stuff happened after that but i dont remember. i woke up wanting a girl, something i havent wanted for a long time. i dont know how to feel about it, but that was the nicest dream ive had in months. i hope my subconscious is good to me that way from now on.

  i forgot to mention in the beginning im 21 now. i can buy alcohol and walk into dispensaries now, not that that was a problem before. im getting older and i often think about how i want to die. and i keep coming to the same conclusion that when the time comes, i want to kill myself. that won’t be for a long time though, at least. say one day the doctor tells me i have x amount of months/years to live. if im at a certain age where i feel like ive had a full life, i don’t want to waste away in some home, shitting myself and watching the days go by, i want to die still coherent, and continent at least. so maybe around 70 or so i’ll poison myself, while on mushrooms, so i can trip out and die in a world of color. i guess i never plan to marry or be in a serious relationship then. maybe for a while, but it will have to end someday. when i picture myself dying, its always by myself, by my pool, in my silk robe, having breakfast, smoking and drinking. then im just gone. i dont know if that’s supposed to be poetic or whatever, but its how id want to go. not surrounded by family because i expect them all to be dead when i go. i want to be admired for my storied career, and i want to be a relic of new old hollywood. loved and adored by people who are old or dead. i dont ever want to die in a hospital bed, i dont want to die battling some disease for years, when i feel its my time, i want to be in control of how i go. it will be hard for some but i plan on telling those i care most about about my plan so they’ll be ready. it will be so perfect, my death. on that day the sun will shine on my skin, and the warmth will be spectacular. the birds will chirp and the air will be so clean. my death will be clean. i plan to live a full life, and when i fell ive livedmy life to the fullest, thats when it will be my time.

[dharkness-bdbrw-blog]

#BreakFastTime #BDBRW

#BDBRW

Dhark

(I finished filling out my application to the Trainee Program for the brotherhood, and I would send it in tomorrow night to the designated delivery address. I was still at a loss as to what would go on next, but I am sure they would be contacting me letting me know one way or another what the next step would be. I tossed the empty bottle of beer into the trash and made my way to the back bedroom. I was trying to be a gentleman by giving her my bed. It was her lucky night, any other time my naked ass would be in bed beside her. I went in and checked on her, and she was sweating bullets and was hot to the touch. I supposed it was the alcohol burning its way out. I just hoped she didn’t get sick. I turned the heat down and grabbed a pillow, blanket and made my way out of the room closing the door behind me. I made up the sofa and grabbed the remote turning on the TV not paying attention to anything that was on, just using it for some background noise so if the female woke up she might not freak.)

Zophya

~I woke in a daze. My eyelids felt like the lashes had twined together in an attempt to keep them from opening. I had to swipe them multiple times just to convince the mascara that it didn’t need to help keep my eyes from ever opening again. The blurred vision I got once I finally managed to open them peepers really didn’t do me any good either. Where the hell was I? It sure as hell wasn’t my place. That much I could tell by the smell. It was very… sniff, sniff… dudish…! Shit! What did I do last night?!! I curled up in a ball, head in my hands. Damn it, Zo. You know better than this. What if I ended up with a psycho? I could seriously be diced meat right now. Knowing my luck, that was far more likely than picking up the one guy who would actually be nice to me. I’d pretty much given up on the whole dating scene entirely. The last one ended up setting my car on fire. Honestly, I gave up on cars too. I’d walk and learn how to pleasure myself before I went down either road again. And yet, here I was. Well shit, a girl’s got needs. Right? Hell if I know. I can’t even remember what happened. That has to be the most disappointing part. I probably had a super good time and OF COURSE I don’t remember it. Wait a minute… Why was my head so hot? Do a vitals check girl! You could still be missing pieces! You still got your kidneys? I swiped a hand under the sheet, feeling my side where I imagined someone would take a kidney out. Nope, nothing there. Like REALLY nothing there!~ Fuck! I’m super naked!! ~I instantly clamped my hand over my mouth. You might not be alone here! And oh, my, god, what is that in your mouth?! I dragged my tongue over the roof of my mouth. It felt like a small, furry animal had crawled up in there and died. Just how drunk had I gotten? Apparently straight up plowed.~ Literally!!! ~I snorted out a laugh that was entirely too loud. I groaned and drew the pillow over my head, hiding completely under sheets and pillows. If no one sees me, I’m not really here right? Wait a minute. There’s my clothes. They were shoved all the way to the foot of the bed, bunched up under the sheets with me. Like they’d pissed me off in the middle of the night and I took them off. Yes, I did that sometimes, so bite me. Oh my! That brought back a memory! I ran a hand down my neck, trying to feel for a sore spot or a wound of some sort. What I actually remembered was how frickin yummy it felt. Calm down girl. You are getting yourself all worked up.~

Dhark:

(I woke to the sound of a rapid heartbeat coming from the back bedroom, MY bedroom. A smirk played upon my lips as I laid here thinking about what had occurred in the alley last night. The smell of sex was still in the air around her, and I was hard just thinking about it. I couldn’t wait until she made her way out of the room, I am going to guess she doesn't even remember what went on, with all the sounds I heard going on in that room throughout the night. I sat up, running my fingers through my hair, smoothing it down on my head before making my way to the bedroom. There was a lot of movement going on under the sheets, and hell, I was curious as fuck to see what she was doing in there under them sheets. Rising, letting my blanket fall to the floor I slowly made my way to the outside of the door. My sweats hung low on my hips, and I was shirtless as I opened the door, slowly peeking in. I seen her curled up in a ball with her head buried in her hands. Her heart was beating so fast now I thought it best if maybe I make a small noise to avert her attention. I let out a little cough…”Hello… um, sorry I didn’t catch your name last night, I hope you are feeling better.” I briefly paused for a few seconds before continuing. “I didn���t know where to take you. You know you really should carry a photo id or your driver's license with you.” I kept my eyes towards the floor; I knew she was naked by the sound of the sheets moving over her skin, and I could smell myself on her. “The bathroom is down the hall to the left; I will leave you a few towels if you’d like to shower.” I let my eyes travel up to the bed, hoping maybe she would peek out from under the sheets. “Hey, you hungry? I could make us something to eat.” Why the fuck was I being helpful to this female? Something about her made me feel sorry for her. I turned from the room and made my way to the bathroom leaving her some towels out and one of my clean shirts before going back to the kitchen to start breakfast.)

Zo:

~I held very still as soon as I heard the cough of someone else in the room. I gripped the mattress, ready use it to propel me forward kamikaze style if this guy turned out to be the stabbing type. Better not. I'd claw his eyes out! Hang on a sec. He actually sounds super nice. My head tilted to the side and I pulled a section of the sheet up so I could catch a glimpse.~ Holy Hell!! ~I let out a wolf whistle at the stacked and packing piece of man meat that was walking out of the room. Dayum, Zo! You done good girl! I was leaning out of the bed to catch a better view and I ended up falling ass over tea kettle onto the floor. Sheets and pillows flying everywhere in a tangled mess. I hit my head with a loud thud.~ Umpf! Ugh... sonofa... ~I bunched and tucked all of the sheet around me as I somersaulted across the floor like I meant to do that. I scrambled to my feet with hair flying wildly and a near miss on the wardrobe malfunction. Shit girl, pull yourself together. This is serious. That guy is positively delish.~ I know what I wanna eat... ~I mumbled under my breath and then burst out laughing. Remembering myself I called after him.~ Thank you! Really. That's awesome of you. ~Wait. I didn't have my ID?! Shit! Where the hell did I leave it? I remembered putting in my purse. Least I thought so. I poked my head out of the room to catch the glorious sight of him heading toward the kitchen. I groaned and forced myself to dart into the bathroom instead of toward him. I really was nasty and I needed to fix that before I jumped on Muscles over there. Well maybe not jump on him... Although... It would be nice to remember him at least. Good reason. Let's go with that. I nodded to myself and turned on the water in the shower. The sheet fell to the floor in a florid swish of my arms.~ I'm using your toothbrush. Okay? Thanks! ~I didn't even wait for him to say no. This critter in my mouth needed evicting quick fast and in a hurry. By the time I was done with that the water was steaming up nice and good. I got in the shower and almost fell on my ass. One foot slipped and I grabbed the sides like a sucker fish. Nope! Not falling again this soon. Course it probably sounded like I was. That or killing something that came up from the drain. Crisis averted. For now. I rolled my eyes at my own clumsiness just before losing myself in how wonderful the water felt. I moaned like I was doing something naughty, lathering up with whatever products Gluteus Maximus used. I liked the idea of smelling like him. So what if I just met him? He was fucking hot and I was taking the win.~

Dhark:

(I couldn’t help but let a cocky smirk appear on my face. I heard every word the female had said, and although I was a hit it a go kind of guy, I can’t deny she made me kind of laugh. It had been so long since anyone had done that. I always said I would never mate with anyone, seeing first hand what heartache of losing your other half could cause and I did not want to partake of that. I also never fucked the same person twice. I did not do clingy very well, and now with me going to the trainee program, well, who would have time for that. I finished making breakfast, I made us both up a healthy portion and setting them on the table along with some juice and had the coffee going. I heard her in the shower, squirting out the soap, and oh My toothbrush!? Well, I could think of something else to stick in her mouth. I yelled after hearing her moan, “Everything going ok in there?” I fought back laughter and decided to peek in on my house guest. I walked all stealth like down the hall not making a sound as I approached the bathroom door. I grasped ahold of the handle, turning it slowly and pried the door open. There she stood, her back towards me as I watched the suds of the soap make their way down her curves. I held back a growl and the urge to rip the shower door off. I felt the need to press her against the shower tile and have my way with her. My dick was as hard as a diamond in an ice storm. FUCK. I backed away and shut the door without a sound. I quickly adjusted myself as I was still walking around in sweats. I yelled out, covering up what I had just done. “Breakfast is going to get cold if you don’t hurry up.” I walked over to the sink turning the cold water on taking some in my hands to splash my face with as I heard the shower turn off. Drying my face off with a hand towel tossing it on the counter before taking a seat at the table waiting on the female to join me for a bite to eat before finding out more about her.)

Zo: I'll be out in a minute! ~I felt more like a person after I got out of the shower. Between that and brushing the gunk out of my mouth, I was set to face the world. Or maybe just the guy in the other room. Damn. Was I set to face him? The dose of liquid courage that I had last night was no longer a factor here. What if he didn't actually care for the real me? I looked at myself in the mirror. Meh. Fuck it. What have I got to lose at this point really? Not a damn thing! I picked up the shirt that he left for me with a big old grin on my face. He was so thoughtful. 'Here. Wear a shirt and nothing but.' Why thank you, I think I will. I held it up to my nose and took a deep whiff. Very nice. Maybe I could steal it from him when I left. I slid it over my head, instantly getting lost in the fabric. His shoulders for miles equaled a dress on me. I laughed and toweled off the excess water in my hair before calling it good and leaving the relative safety of the bathroom.~ Whatever you made smells amazing. ~Always did like a guy who knew his way around a kitchen. I stopped when I finally saw him and gave a nervous grin. Damn. His backside wasn't the only thing appealing about him. Keep it together girl. I came over and sat down in the chair with a plate of food in front of it. My stomach growled instantly. I hid my laugh in my still wet hair.~ Guess I was more hungry than I thought. ~I forgot the food for a moment and let my eyes wander the many tattoos that I was seeing. Way I figured it, if a person has that much art on their body, they want people to look at it. It did nothing to hide bulging muscles. In fact it was hard to ignore the contours in favor of the ink. I probably looked stupid staring but I didn't care. My head tilted to take more of it in. There was a lot going on here.~ I like... that one, most of all. ~I touched a finger to the winged warrior on his upper arm.~ Though this one is a close second. ~Touching the dragon that curled around his neck and down his pec. I grinned wide and took my finger back, scraping teeth over my lower lip.~ So... My name's Zophya. ~I held out my hand.~ You can call me Zo for short. Everyone else does.

Dhark:

(I waited patiently as my house guest yelled that she would be out in a minute which gave my cock enough time to tame down. Taking a huge gulp of coffee, I heard her feet pad down the hall, my eyes focused on where she would appear never losing sight of her as she took her seat. A smirk played in the corner of my lips as her stomach roared out in hunger. “ Well I am glad, it smells good to you, I wasn’t sure if you’d be up for some food after last night.” I looked at this little female over my cup of coffee. I enjoyed her eyes raking over my skin gazing at my tattoos, but then when her finger touched me, holy fuck, it took all I had not to clear the food from this table and lay her out on it. The only thing that saved her at this moment was when she finally gave me her name and broke my train of thought. “Zophya, that is nice.” Her named lingered on my lips. “Mine name is….” Damn, how do I tell her my name is Dharkness and not send her running. “Donovan, but my friends call me Dhark.” I took her hand into mine, holding on to her longer than anyone should. I could feel my fangs drop. It was like her blood called out to me and my mouth watered just to taste her. My cock once again begging to be buried between the warmth of the thighs of this female. My eyes shifted down my shirt, the one that she was wearing. Stopping at her ever so perky nipples that were showing through the material I licked my lips and once again a feral growl that started in my gut made its way past my mouth. With one quick sweep of the table the food flew with such a force, the plates shattered against the wall as the food slid down piled on the floor as the steam still rose. I had this female on the table flat on her back before she could even speak. My eyes shifted from hers as  I tore at the shirt, shredding it with my teeth feeling her flesh now against mine. Without even asking my hand eased between her legs and my lips made their way to her ear tugging at her lobe before I spoke in a hushed tone. “Zo, It seems my appetite has taken a turn, I no longer hunger for food but you.” Scraping my teeth along her pink flesh, kissing down her neck as I cupped one of her breasts. I was intoxicated by her scent, or maybe it was her blood, but I knew she wouldn’t be leaving here anytime soon.)

Zo: ~My brow furrowed as he seemed to struggle to remember what his name was. Was he giving me a fake one that he just made up on the spot? The flicker of a warning was quickly dashed as I focused on the hold his hand on me. Strong, well used fingers. Just like the rest of him. I blushed as his gaze went directly to the girls that were cutting glass right now. I probably could have dried off better because the wetness of my hair was leaving nothing to the imagination on the shirt front. I could have probably come out in a parka and not stopped what happened next. Food flew everywhere. I might have said something but I didn't have a chance to get out more than a surprised squeak before I found myself laid out on the table.~ Holy hell!... ~One thing I had to give him, he didn't mess around. He went after what he wanted. And damn me if it didn't hit all the right notes with me. I'd come into the room aroused but now I was flat out dripping. My hands found and explored rich mounds of muscled flesh, greedy to know every inch of the guy who was above me right now. I almost forgot to breathe. It was a close thing and ended up coming out in a ragged burst that had my chest rising and falling. The shirt didn't stand a chance. Had I ever seen someone rip off clothes with their teeth? The answer was a huge, NO. But I could sure as hell cross that off my bucket list now. I arched into him and held on for dear life. It felt like I could melt off of the table and land in a puddle on the floor at any moment. My breath hitched once more and I surprised myself with a loud moan as his hand slid right between my thighs.~ Oh Shit!... ~My legs opened without a thought as to whether or not I should. I hooked both feet around his huge calf muscles. Pulling myself into him. It felt like my entire body was on fire and he was the only thing that could put out the flames.~ Fuck food... ~I gasped~ We can eat later... ~Nails dug into his back and shoulders, slipping and clawing through all those beautiful tattoos.~

Dhark:

(An animal instinct came over me as her nails dug into my skin. I felt her feet wrap around my calfs. Knowing I would break this table, but at the same time not caring, I ran my hand down her outer thigh all the way down to her ankle, breaking the hold she had on me. I glided down her body, worshiping every inch on my way down. Cupping her perfect, hard nipples that I saw poking through the now shredded shirt that sprawled all over my floor, giving them a nice squeeze. The smell of her arousal now filled the room. Letting loose of her breast my hands ran over her flat stomach, to her mound. I ran one finger down her soaking wet folds letting my index finger skim over her clit to her entrance. I licked my lips with anticipation of tasting this female. The arch of her body was erotic and made me want to do nasty things to her. I pushed my finger forward penetrating her core. I pushed her legs farther apart with my free hand dipping my head down between her thighs licking up and down both before I claim my prize. Flattening my tongue over I slowly made my way up over her juices sucking her click as I know added another finger, moving every so easily now in and out as I worked on giving her something to remember me by. My tongue ran up and down her, gaining intensity. I would show no mercy to her, and would not be satisfied until I felt the quiver of her legs vibrate so hard it would knock us off the table.)

Zo: ~I should probably be worried about what I was doing. I had only just now learned this guy's name and here I was spread out on his table like a Thanksgiving dinner. These were the kind of things that horror movies were made of. Single chick goes home with some guy she fucked while totally wasted. Next morning they find her hacked to bits in a dumpster somewhere. Did I even care right now? Not even remotely. He was hot and I was horny. It was that simple. Well... There was more to it. Like the fact that I couldn't remember ever even being horny before. Yeah, I had sex. I wasn't no dang virgin. But it was never... This!! I wanted to pull him down inside of me so bad that it hurt. When he unlocked my ankle and pulled away even a fraction I was ready go full Hellcat on his ass. I rose up from the table, supporting myself on my elbows, and almost fell right back down. I moaned loudly and pushed into the hand that he had on my breast. Hell, who was I kidding? This guy could do whatever the fuck he wanted to me. I made my arms hold me up as he descended. I wanted, no, I needed to see him. There was so much that I missed last night and I was sure as hell going to enjoy every minute of it this time around. I sucked in a breath that I almost forgot to let go. I don't know what I did right to get this kind of treatment but I was sure as hell sending up some thank yous right now. And there was his tongue... Something a little tamer than a scream came out of me. I started falling back and caught myself at the last second. Determined to stay right where I was, I grabbed his hair with both hands and used that to keep me up. I'd rip his frickin hair out before I fell this time. I damn near pushed and pulled his head to exactly where I wanted it. Though he didn't need any kind of direction to get the job done. It really didn't take too long before all my resolve flew out the window. There wasn't a muscle left in my body that was going to hold me up. I slipped down, maybe taking a bit of his hair, I wasn't sure. I was twitching and rolling with every small motion of his. My fingers found my nipples and I rolled them back and forth. I cried out to the heavens as I climbed higher and higher.~

#BreakfastTime