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cariantha · 9 months

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A Kiss on the Hand (Part 3️⃣)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Warning: None Category: Hurt/Comfort; Angsty Fluff Word count: 2.9K Series Summary: After realizing just how much they mean to each other, Ethan and Sawyer express their love through a sweet hand gesture. A/N: Artwork by the incredible @/artbyainna on Instagram. This is a three-part series. Part three inspired by 400 Trillion by Justin Jesso and Like I Need You by Culture Code & Elle Vee.

Part One: Soulmates / Part Two: Always Three Times

Part Three: I Know What You Mean

It felt like a scene from a movie, where the character stands still as the world around them moves in fast motion. Sawyer was that character. Frozen in place as the emergency room swirled around at light speed.

Megan, the nurse who received the dispatch from EMTs, darted down the hall to inform Dr. Edwards, the Head of Trauma. Other nurses jumped into action preparing the available trauma room for the inbound patient. And remaining staff members turned their heads and gasped as Ethan's name traveled between the exam curtains.

Dr. Edwards soon appeared leading a team of gowned and gloved residents to the ambulance bay. As he strode past, he instructed the desk supervisor to page the Chief of Medicine. Jackie was among the group. She noticed the look of shock on Sawyer’s face as she rushed by and pointed at her.

“Hey, Brooks, you good?” she called.

At her friend’s voice, Sawyer snapped to attention and lied with a nod. She shook the haze from her head and followed Jackie to the ambulance bay, grabbing a paper gown and a pair of gloves on the way.

She stood behind the others who waited in suspense, poised to spring into action as soon as the ambulance arrived. Sawyer barely managed to unfold and glide her arms into the gown. Her hands trembled violently, making it impossible for her to hold them still long enough to put on her gloves.

The crash of a metal door slamming against the wall startled her. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw Naveen hurrying in their direction. He shook his head in disapproval when he spotted Sawyer.

Meeting her watery, pleading gaze, Naveen took the gloves from her shaking hands and pulled the paper cover down and off. After tossing them into a nearby receptacle, he took her hands and held them between his own.

“As hard as it might be, Sawyer, we are both going to sit this one out and let the others take care of him. Okay?” He patted her hands, then looped her arm through his and held on tight. Naveen, though wise and level-headed, seemingly needed her support as much as she needed his.

After waiting for what felt like an eternity, the sound of a siren and flashing red lights announced the arrival of Aid Car 23. The trauma team dashed out into the rain, returning seconds later with a gurney and an EMT calling out vital signs. Sawyer only saw the blur of a bloodied face as Ethan was wheeled past. His jacket and shirt had been cut open, and someone was using an Ambu bag to ventilate him, squeezing it over his mouth every few seconds.

No longer needed, the EMT stepped back. Sawyer threw her arm out to stop her.

“Holly, do you know what happened? How he got hurt?”

“They were at the scene of a car accident on the bridge. A woman was trapped in her car, and Dr. R was trying to stabilize her until the fire department got there to extricate. Nick said a large truck sped toward them. When the driver finally decided to hit the brakes, he hydroplaned and slammed into them. One of the officers said the truck driver was on his goddamn phone and not paying attention.”

Sawyer’s hand covered her mouth as she tried to process the information. “Oh my god … is … is Nick okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. He had gone back to the rig for supplies and wasn’t hit. He was able to call for back-up.”

“And the person trapped in the car?” Naveen inquired. “Are they on their way?”

Holly shook her head no. “Nick said she was already in critical condition before the second impact. She was pronounced on scene.”

Another dispatch came in on Holly’s radio and she excused herself.

Sawyer turned to Naveen. Unable to keep her composure any longer, she collapsed into his open arms. “I begged him not to go,” she cried into her grand-mentor’s shoulder.

Naveen softly patted her on the back, then pulled away to look her in the eyes.

“Sawyer, you know better than anyone … Once Ethan sets his mind to something, it’s difficult to convince him otherwise. Especially if it means saving lives.”

Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he led them to just outside the trauma room, where they watched the team assess Ethan's injuries through a sliding glass door.

Inside the small room, there was organized chaos.

“Hemopneumothorax,” Edwards called out. “Prep for a thoracostomy and get Dr. Emery down here for a neuro consult. Stat.”

A minute later, he inserted a tube into Ethan’s chest wall. The vitals on the patient monitor began to improve, but Ethan was not out of the woods yet.

“Dr. Edwards, he’s awake!” one of the residents trumpeted a few moments later.

Ethan had opened his eyes. Confused, he surveyed the room as Dr. Edwards informed him that he had been in an accident.

The rest of his body immobile, Ethan’s eyes darted around the room, scanning every face.

“Soe?” he mumbled underneath the oxygen mask.

“Ethan, you’re at Edenbrook…” Dr. Edwards continued explaining.

“Soe?” he managed, his trembling voice a bit louder this time.

“We're treating you for a hemopneumothorax, and it looks like you took a nasty blow to the head.”

“Soe?” he asked again and again, each time a little more agitated than before.

The staff all looked at each other with concern before Ethan closed his eyes and drifted off again.

“Dammit! Where’s neuro?” Dr. Edwards vented.

Harper arrived a couple minutes later with Bryce, who was on her service for the week. One of the other residents provided a quick rundown of the case so far, including the fact that Ethan had been alert but incoherent. The neurosurgeon carefully inspected the laceration at his hairline and ordered a CT scan.

“Ethan, can you open your eyes for me?” she asked, getting her penlight ready.

Ethan slowly fluttered his eyes open.

“Good. Do you know who I am?”

She shone a light into his eyes and checked the dilation of his pupils.

“H-Harper.”

“Hi there, friend. Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital.”

She asked him a couple other simple questions to which he gave correct, but slow one-word responses.

“You did good, Ethan,” she laid her hand on his shoulder. Turning to Bryce and Jackie, she spoke softly, “Get him to CT right away.”

Ethan scratched at her hand, trying to get her attention. When she looked at him, he moved the mask away from his mouth.

“Where’s … Soe?” he tried again, hoping his friend would understand.

“Soe?” Harper repeated.

The others in the rooms shrugged their shoulders and shook their heads.

But not Bryce. On the other side of the glass door, he saw Sawyer nervously chewing on her thumb nail. He met her anxious gaze and smiled as he immediately understood.

Bryce was familiar with the moniker. He had heard it before when working out with his friends at the hospital gym.

He stepped forward so that Ethan could see his face. “She’s here, buddy. She’s right outside in the hall with Naveen,” Bryce answered, putting the mask back in place.

They saw relief wash over his features before he closed his eyes once again.

A short time later, the residents prepared to take Ethan up to surgery, and Dr. Edwards and Harper updated the chief.

“...X-rays confirmed he has several broken ribs, which caused the hemopneumothorax. We’re taking him up to surgery to repair the damaged tissue. Tanaka’s already scrubbing in,” Dr. Edwards reported.

“He also has a small brain bleed that requires decompression. I should be able to resolve it with a simple burr hole procedure,” the neurosurgeon added.

Harper put her hand on Sawyer's arm and gave it a light squeeze. “He was alert and responding to my questions. He was asking for you,” she said with a polite smile. Looking back to Naveen, “He’s in good hands. Tanaka and I will page you after the procedures.”

As the attendings took their leave, Jackie and another resident wheeled Ethan toward the elevator. With a tilt of her head, Jackie gave her friend permission to walk with them. Sawyer caught up and took his hand in hers.

“Ethan, it’s me. It’s Sawyer,” she said as his eyes cracked open. “Hi, I’m here. And I’ll be here when you get out of surgery. I’ll be here the whole time.”

As they waited for the elevator to arrive, Sawyer bent down and kissed his hand three times.

“You know what I mean, right?” she searched his eyes for understanding.

Ethan gave a slight nod and whispered, "Yes."

A lone tear escaped from the corner of his eye. Sawyer quickly swiped it away with her thumb and kissed his temple.

When the elevator chimed, Naveen pulled her back. “Come dear, let’s go back to my office and call his father. We can wait there for further updates.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

It was just past 8 a.m. when Ethan was finally transferred to the intensive care unit. Throughout the day, Alan, Naveen and Sawyer received updates from Harper and Dr. Tanaka. The surgeries had been successful, and so far there had been no complications, but the next twenty-four hours would be critical.

As day turned to night, Naveen offered to drive Alan back to Ethan’s apartment. The older men insisted Sawyer go home and get some rest, but she refused, wanting to be there when he woke up.

Finally alone with him, Sawyer stood at Ethan’s bedside, drawing lines up and down his arm with her finger.

“Hey you … it’s time to wake up now … even if just for a few minutes."

"I know you’re probably exhausted, and that you need the rest, but I really need to hear your voice and know that you’re okay."

"So … I’m sorry not sorry for what I’m about to do … and that’s to be a colossal pain in your ass. I’m going to stand here, and talk your ear off, until you wake up and tell me to shut up,” she let herself smile.

Sawyer took a moment to look him over. He looked so out of place lying in a hospital bed. He was meant to be the one standing next to it.

“You know … I wasn’t just kissing your ass when I told you I was your biggest fan. I meant it. I own three copies of Diagnostic Principles. I have a Google drive full of research papers and journal articles that you’ve authored. I even have a playlist of conference talks and podcasts,” she shook her head in self-amusement.

“Your approach to patient care … your forward-thinking techniques … the unbelievable diagnoses … all of it inspired me to become a doctor.”

She cupped her hand over his as if to soften the blow she was about to deliver.

“Though I have to confess … During my first week at Edenbrook … the saying ‘never meet your heroes’ came to mind several times. Geez, you were such an asshole,” she revealed.

“I also thought you were the most attractive man alive, but an asshole nonetheless.”

“Then … you let me see another side of yourself … I still don’t know why … but I’m grateful because I got to know the real you. I got to see you as Dolores’ friend … and Tadpole’s godfather … and Naveen’s adopted son … and then as my friend. And what I learned was that you are actually quite softhearted under all that armor. You are also generous … and loyal … honest … passionate … and protective … Oh, and don’t even get me started on that snarky sense of humor. Nobody makes me laugh the way you do.”

She exhaled a deep breath, gently squeezing his hand before continuing.

“Despite your best efforts to prevent it … I fell for you, Ethan. And not just head over heels … it was more like a ‘leapt from a steep cliff, rolled down the side of a mountain, bounced off every boulder, splashed into the ocean, and drowned in you’ kind of fall.”

“Hey, I saw that! I saw you roll your eyes underneath your eyelids," she chuckled.

Sawyer moved to sit on the edge of the bed, trying not to jostle him. She leaned forward and stroked his cheek ever-so-slightly.

“Do you remember that TED Talk where they mentioned that we have a one-in-four-hundred-trillion chance of being born?”

She took a quick peek out the window, looking up at the night sky.

“I can’t help thinking about that … against those odds, we never really stood a chance of ever meeting. But somehow … I stumbled upon your book … and my application to Edenbrook landed on your desk … and we were in that lobby at the same time.”

She bowed her head and wrung her fingers.

“Our … our fight yesterday … that’s basically the root of it. We’ve overcome these impossible odds and found each other. And … and I’m so scared of all the ways that I might lose you.”

“Then you add another, going out in that storm and getting hit by a truck!” she cried out, taking his hand again and holding it in her lap.

“You and I both know the past two years have been far from perfect … but that’s us. That’s our brand. And I wouldn’t change a thing. If it was all that we’ve been through, or nothing, I would want it all … because I need you,” Sawyer’s voice cracked as tears rained down her cheeks.

“I need you, Ethan,” she wept. “I know you would say that I don’t, but I do. I would have thrown in the towel so many times if it weren’t for you believing in me. Fighting for me. And I’m not just talking about my career … you were there on my darkest days. You wouldn’t let me give up, and you never gave up on me. I could never, ever express how much that has meant to me … how much you mean to me … but I want to try. So you really need to wake up soon.”

Carefully leaning over him, she placed a barely there kiss on his forehead.

“Babe … please … come back to me,” she whispered.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Sawyer dozed off in the armchair with her knees tucked under her chin. Sometime during the night, a thoughtful ICU nurse draped a blanket over her.

“Soe,” said a low raspy voice.

It sounded like her family nickname. Ethan learned of it when he met Sawyer’s siblings, following the attack. Lately, he had been using the pet name more and more often to call her when they were alone together. Thinking she either dreamt it or misheard one of the nurses talking outside, she shifted a little and tried to fall back asleep.

“Soe … Sawyer?”

There was no mistaking it that time. She opened her eyes to find Ethan looking at her, his hand outstretched beckoning her to come close.

She threw off the blanket and sprung to her feet, grabbing his hand and giving it a tender squeeze.

“Hiiiii,” her eyes welled with tears once again.

“Hi,” he stared back.

Sawyer looked at his bruised and battered face, and the bandage wrapped around his head. "How are you feeling?" she asked. "Do you remember what happened?"

The corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile, “I feel like I got hit by a truck,” he half-joked.

“Give me one sec … Harper will want to know you’re awake.” Sawyer poked her head outside to inform one of the nurses and then returned to his side.

He tapped the bed, inviting Sawyer to join him. Perched on the edge, she could no longer hold back the tears of relief that streamed down her cheeks as they gazed into each other's eyes.

Ethan slowly lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing it three times.

“I know what you mean when you do that.”

“I surmised as much. When did you figure it out?” he wondered.

“You let it slip the night you got drunk,” she smiled, recalling the sweet moment.

“I see.”

Sawyer looked down at their clasped hands, Ethan's eyes following suit. They each steeled themselves to speak. To say those three little words.

It was Sawyer that worked up the nerve first.

“God, Ethan, I was so scared,” her voice shook. “I was scared that I was going to lose you and never be able to tell you how I feel. I’ve felt this way for a while, but I didn’t want to scare you away, or pressure you.”

She carried on, barely taking a breath.

“Had I figured it out sooner … had I realized you felt the same … I would have reciprocated. I would have said it back … out loud … and told you every day. So I’m going to do it now, and I don’t care if you–”

She was taken aback when Ethan pulled his hand away and pinched her lips shut to silence her rambling.

“I love you, Sawyer,” he voiced with a grin.

With a hint of laughter, she cried in relief.

Swatting his leg, “You just had to steal my thunder and say it first, didn’t you?” she laughed through her tears.

“Well, technically, I already had,” Ethan smugly shrugged his shoulders.

Sawyer shook her head and brought his hand to her lips.

“I love you, Ethan." One kiss.

"I love you too." Two kisses.

"I love you so much.” Three kisses.

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan x sawyer #choices stories you play #choices open heart #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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scorpionyx9621 · 2 years

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The Bat Family as things I have done IRL that just radiate Chaos:

Dick: Sign up for OT immediately after a red-eye flight to the east coast because my boss asked me really nicely and I've only learned how to say no after this happened. Proceed to pass out during my actual night shift. Still didn't get in trouble for sleeping on the job.

Jason: Take my government stimulus money, move out to the west coast from Washington D.C. do the drive all by myself and have the time of my life. Immediately gets homesick the morning I woke up in Seattle and dropped $700 on plane tickets back home. Proceeds to have one of the worst holidays of my life and have my flight get delayed 7 hours flying back to Seattle. Regrets ever spending the $700.

Duke: Starts writing fanfiction as a gift for a friend for dragging me down into Batfam Hell. Turns out to actually be okay at it and makes it a genuine hobby. Gets writers anxiety regardless but still writes and genuinely enjoys it and wishes they could do more.

Cassandra: Take Chinese for a semester because it's 6 credits and I needed 6 language credits to graduate. Get a 25/100 on the first test. Turn out to be absolutely abysmal at learning new languages but busts my ass and cry every night because Chinese is really freaking hard to learn. End up passing the class with an A-.

Barbara: Working at the front desk of a building I was an RA of at 6am. Watch as one of my residents who's rushing the biggest most infamous fraternity on campus walk back in shirtless covered head to toe in honey and maple syrup. Take one look at him as he tries to explain but I just tell him to take a shower and go to bed. Said resident proceeds to do that and thanks me for not asking questions.

Bruce: Stay up until 4 AM at least 4 times a week plotting on ways to take down my floor buddy as an RA who had been stalking and harassing me only to find out he got himself fired for SH'ing residents. Also getting my then best friend who also was an RA the next year randomly assigned to said asshole former co-worker when they tried interviewing for the same position (like an idiot) and said former friend blows the whistle on him and his behavior. Literally bringing in upwards of 8 RA's all in agrence to do whatever it takes to make sure this guy never gets hired in our department again.

Tim: Pull an all-nighter to finish an East Asian Politics Paper, give a presentation on radar remote sensing, take an exam on advanced statistics, do a full-overnight work shift and do a desk shift the next morning and the following day go to an international student party, black-out, come to in my dorm room and proceed to get violent food poisoning/my liver temporarily gave up on me after not sleeping for 55 hours then going to a college party.

Stephanie: Make it a daily goal of my 9-5 office job full of disgusting and toxic east-coast work culture to make my direct supervisor flip me the bird at least once a day. Proceed to go on a 10 month streak of actually succeeding in saying/doing something so cheesy/corny but still not within the realms of getting me in trouble enough so he just flips me off. At least once a shift.

Alfred: Adopt 4 freshmen all rushing the most notorious fraternity on campus and basically just act as their disappointed father from a distance. Teaching them valuable life lessons like yes, you should wash your sheets at bare minimum every two-four weeks. Feeding them spare cookies from the dining hall, giving them my extra laundry swipes, etc, Knowing full well I can do nothing to stop them from their debauchery. All I can do is attempt to assure they don't kill themselves.

Damian: In an act of absolute senioritis. Proceed to skip a bonus assignment for a final that would have taken me from a B+ to an A all because my former best friend had found a cat roaming around the student apartments and we proceed to spend the night trying to trap the cat. We succeeded and now said cat is in the loving home with my friend even though we no longer are friends.

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britishassistant · 3 years

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When Villain!Yuu manages to return to their dimension and finds out their minions did, it’s one of the few times that the Supervisor has lived up to their title as heir. The next day the head of the minions of the attempted murder squad was found battered, covered in bird poo, and tied in front of RSA. If Crowley asks, Yuu makes the excuse that they are simply following one of the rules of villainy. If a minion steps out of line, don’t correct, make an example out of them.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

Warning for dark under the cut.

There are three items on the desk.

One is a cellphone. It’s a compact, black brick of a thing, the sort that could survive a drop from a window a story up. Its screen is currently dark and silent. It has not buzzed or vibrated, or given any indication that it’s even on.

The second is a glass of clear liquid. The glass looks pretty standard, no fancy plane designs or rectangular shapes. Just a squat round cup with a round lip and clear liquid an inch or so from the top. There are small bubbles forming in the bottom, the longer it remains undisturbed. It doesn’t seem like those are the results of carbonation, or some other nefarious properties.

No. If anything, the cup is there for the third object on the table.

A pair of two pills are sitting innocently by the cup’s side. One is larger, pale pink, and lozenge shaped. The other is smaller, a capsule that’s colored dark green and blue.

The minion swallows. The phlegm feels like it’s lodged in his throat.

There’s a sigh from the other side of the table.

The Supervisor leans forward. The supervillain’s features are slightly drawn, like they’re preparing to undertake an unpleasant chore.

The minion has the insane urge to giggle at the sight.

“So…” The Supervisor splays their hands. “Unfortunately, following reviews of your recent performance, we have found that you are…not a good fit for this business. It’s been determined that it’s in everyone’s best interests for you to be terminated from your current position effective immediately.”

The minion—or rather, ex-minion—gives a shaky nod.

The Supervisor tilts the brim of their top hat up, so they can better make eye contact with him. “You have two choices for your…ah, severance package.”

One hand gestures to the glass and pills. “Option one: you take these. The pink one is a sedative, and it’s up to you whether you take it before or after the other. It’s pretty fast acting, so it shouldn’t matter so much either way. All you’ll know is just falling asleep.”

The other gestures to the phone. “Option two: I make a call to Dr. Crewel. You’ll be transferred to his department. But in the, ah…volunteer capacity. Instead of the minion one. Do you have any questions?”

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

“W-what?” The ex-minion stutters. “B-but…I, I don’t understand?”

“What don’t you understand?” The Supervisor asks, patience in every line of their posture. Like they were an adult helping to explain something complicated to a small child.

This, in spite of the fact that the ex-minon was a decade the supervillain’s senior.

That helps the ex-minion order his thoughts somewhat. “I-I thought the rules for g-getting fired were that the min-minion in question would be turned over to the police for arrest. Or to the local sup-superheroes.”

The Supervisor nods. “That is what happens in most cases, yes. However, in those cases, the termination is contingent more on minion incompetence or betrayal. You and your…friends, regrettably, fall outside that purview.”

The ex-minion’s mouth moves soundlessly. “But…I don’t understand. Isn’t this for betrayal? That I betrayed you?”

The Supervisor’s mouth tightens, even as the rest of their face remains impassive. “That…is another crime you committed, and one that was taken into account when making this decision. But it is far from the main motivating factor behind all this.”

The ex-minion wracks his brain. “But, what…?”

“You attempted to murder a child.” The supervillain exhales, some dark, wounded emotion entering their eyes for the first time. “Another version of myself, true, but an injured, defenseless child. One who had never done anything to you, or anyone else in this world. Who had no involvement in whatever quarrel you have with me. Who nearly bled to death on my roof due to the injuries sustained as a direct result of your attempted murder.”

The Supervisor shakes their head. “And that would be bad enough, especially as I was under the impression that they would at least be cared for in my absence. Except this? This was not an isolated incident, was it? Looking over the behavior of the perpetrators, it’s become clear this is only the culmination of a dangerous trend I should’ve seen and put a stop to ages ago.”

The ex-minion doesn’t think he can breathe.

“The first endangerment of Miss Elena Blackwood back at the bank. The repeated suggestions of attacking elementary, middle or high schools or public playgrounds to divert heroic attention during heists or schemes. The inclination to ignore my orders when I specified that children were to be released immediately if caught up in a hostage situation we organized. The attempted hostage taking of Mr. Cheka Kingscholar while he was my guest.”

The ex-minion tries swallowing again. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “I thought you didn’t know about that.”

He winces at the mindless admission.

The Supervisor’s eyes narrow at him, and fury rolls off them in almost visible waves. There is no doubting the Night Raven’s genetics were used to make them like this.

“I have my ways.”

The ex-minion quails under their glare.

The Supervisor sighs, scrubbing a hand over their eyes. “Do you understand now? You are not being fired for betrayal. You and your cohorts are being terminated for repeated and willful perpetuation of un-villainous crimes of one of the highest orders, in accordance with League Statute A55. So, what’ll it be?”

“Sh-shouldn’t there be a hear-hearing, or, or an appeal, or something?!” The ex-minion begs desperately.

“If you wanted forgiveness, you should have applied to the Royal Sword Association.” The Supervisor rattles off blandly. “We here at Night Raven Corporation specialize in putting the super back into supervillainy.”

The ex-minion slumps. “…I always hated that slogan.”

The Supervisor pulls a commiserating face. “Not some of Dad’s best work, I’ll admit.”

He stares at the pills and at the phone.

“…Which did Miette pick?”

The supervillain pointedly glances towards the glass and its companions.

He snorts. “Naturally. She’d rather be dead rather than be something monstrous like you.”

The Supervisor inclines their head but doesn’t deny his words.

He considers it some more. “…Would I still receive a paycheck? As a volunteer?”

The Supervisor shrugs. “One that’s considerably reduced from what you currently earn, but yes. You would be compensated for your services. And your current life insurance will still be maintained and paid out to those you specify in the event of an accident under Dr. Crewel’s care. Or, indeed, if you take the other option.”

Like he has anyone he wants that money to go to.

His eyes dart between them.

The choice is easy in the end. Miette can call him a coward all she wants beyond the grave, but he’s not letting this thing be the last sight he sees.

“Make the call.”

The supervillain nods, and picks up the phone.

It’s screen lights up as they lift it towards their ear, pressing a button. “Dr. Crewel? Mr. Aston Michaels has expressed his consent to be transferred to the volunteer department. When can we expect pickup? Five minutes? Yes. Yes, this is the last one. Well, thank you for your help. Have a nice day.”

They hang up, and set the phone back down on the table.

Something flickers across their face— distaste? Weariness? Regret? Whatever it is, he hopes it haunts this thing’s nightmares for the rest of its miserable existence. It’s the least it deserves.

The two of them sit there in silence. Then there’s a knocking behind him, and light spills over him as the door is opened.

A pair of minions in impeccable suits step through, nodding to the supervillain, who nods back. Each one of them takes one of his arms and gently pulls him up from his seat.

“I’d say you’re going to be dammed to Hell for this.” He says, almost cheerfully, before they can turn him away. “But I’m pretty sure you need a soul to go down there, and things like you don’t have those.”

There’s a subtle intake of breath from the suited minions on either side of him. He ignores them, his glare fixated on his now ex-boss.

The Supervisor smiles grimly back at him. For some reason, that kind of pisses him off.

“Oh, believe me, Mr. Michaels. I know.”

#ask #tw: suicide mention #tw: human experimentation #twisted wonderland #twst #harrassed villain yuu au #supervillain au #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu #the supervisor #villainous paranoiac yuu #divus crewel #dire crowley #why is all my dark stuff for this au #like seriously #office jargon covering up terms of endangerment #yuu goes and gets very drunk with ace and deuce after this

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writing-in-april · 3 years

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Spooks

Raymond Wadsworth X Female Reader

Summary: Raymond starts sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong at the next haunting he’s investigating.

A/N: Hey heyyy- here’s my second fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April 2021!!! I had this spur of the moment idea in the middle of the night and ended up writing a pretty long fic for it (at least long for me lol) I had a lot of fun writing it and really liked the idea- I hope you all enjoy it too! Drop something in my ask box here if you’d like!! I’m always looking for feedback and my requests are open as well! Thanks for reading!!!

Warnings: 18+, Ghosts & poltergeists, Smut, Sub Raymond, Unprotected sex, Sex in a car, Slight cum play

Main Masterlist Word count: 3.2k

Your job description wasn’t an easy one to describe, you could say Mulder and Scully would be the most accurate equivalent. Though as with all tv shows it was portrayed with a set of rose tinted glasses, giving a filter to any realities you faced on the job.

You and your department preferred to call yourselves spooks, truthfully only because the pun was funny. In reality your 8 person department were called agents just like the rest of the FBI, you guys were just more secretive than the others.

Most of the time you ended up getting handed the short straw when getting new cases as you were still the newest on the team, despite being there for several years already. Unlike most professionals in law enforcement you did not have a partner, it only slowed you down. Every place that you were scheduled to decontaminate was an in and out procedure streamlined for effectiveness, adding another body to be hyper vigilant about was a hassle. You operated alone.

Any type of paranormal phenomena that you could think of was thrown in front of you. In your opinion the cases you had the most fun on were the ones that dealt with aliens, though some ghosts could be fun on occasion. The most recent case I had to deal with was a nasty poltergeist, the worst type of ghost. They always wreaked the most havoc on whatever house or place they occupied.

The family in this house had moved out a while ago, the request to decontaminate the home had been sitting on one of your supervisors for a while. It was an old house, built around the late 1800s. Old enough that it had a bunch of unnecessary rooms, like the parlor room that you found yourself trapped in.

And, you weren’t on your own either. Trapped with you was a man with fluffy brown hair flying in any direction, his eyes a darker shade of brown that were filled with fear- yet also curiosity. He was wearing a blue romper, it looked good on him, from what you had seen while you were frantic. But, you highly doubted that it would be effective clothes for a paranormal investigation, maybe he had just stumbled across this place out of curiosity. Either that or he was the type of an inexperienced investigator who had probably had one encounter with a ghost. It did not change that he was cute though.

“I’m a paranormal investigator- uhh technically a supernatural detective! My name’s Raymond! Who are you?!” He sputtered out, ranting probably to try to push aside his fear. You were standing side by side holding the double doors of the entrance to the parlor room, pushing them down to prevent the poltergeist from ramming it down and attacking us.

“Not important!” You snapped back at him, throwing a glare at him. Even if it wasn’t such a tense situation, you weren’t supposed to give away your identity or your job description to just anyone.

With another gasping breath he asked another question, even though you hadn’t answered his first inquiry, “I came with a girl, her name’s Becca- did you see her?”

This one you would bother to answer as he was quite obviously worried about the well being of his companion, “I may have seen her speed away in a red car after she was thrown out of the house. Was that your car she took?”

Not that you really cared all that much, but if he had been stripped of his transportation by his partner you’d have to take him in your own car. Not that you really wanted to, you still would have to help him even though he was seriously hindering your decontamination. “No, I came in my own car.” He answered which made you breathe a sigh of relief, you wouldn’t have to deal with another issue after you escaped, “I don’t blame her honestly, if I could leave I would.”

You were about to answer when your pressure on the doors wasn’t enough, making you both stumble forward. When you stumbled forward your keys, along with your badge, fell out of your pocket. Your badge flipped open front and center to reveal your name, plus the exact agency you worked for in a bold logo.

“You’re an FBI agent?!” You could not confirm or deny what he had asked, you were firmly focused on scrambling to get your things and avoid the ghost that was now throwing furniture at the two of you.

When Raymond finally took notice of the being that was pelting heavy objects around you, a ghostly shape in the form of a woman with a tortured look on her face, he screamed bloody murder. It was not unlike that of a scooby doo cartoon, him obviously resembling Shaggy almost perfectly. If only he had a dog to jump into his arms before he comically zoomed away while remarking “zoinks!”

His frazzled response to the ghosts giving a rather mediocre jump scare made you wonder whether he had the credentials to back up his job title as a paranormal investigator- or as he called it a supernatural detective. You racked your brain to try and recall anytime you had seen a Raymond or a Becca on the long lists of people that were being monitored for potential involvement, coming up with nothing. Well, maybe they were new, as his reaction seemed to indicate.

Your own reaction was stoic as usual, your nerves no longer jumped and your heart no longer quickened to the visage of a ghost trying to spook you. It was in no doubt for some arcane reason probably linked to revenge towards people that no longer existed. One would normally say don’t assume anything about people, that it might offend them to assume, but dead people in your view also had dead opinions- plus relying on precedent was usually a good option when a ghost might be trying to kill you. Despite the absence of fear from you there would be no call out of “Let’s split up gang!” either. It was you mostly not wanting to explain to your employer how you lost a citizen in the middle of this place and- besides that you couldn’t deny that you didn’t want him to die no matter how much undeniable extra trouble he was causing.

“Let’s go.” Your voice was firm, no discernible room for argument or questions.

Raymond somehow found a way to wriggle in to asking yet another question, “Where are we going?”

You yanked his hand out of the room that you think might’ve been a parlor room back in it’s day. You shouldn’t have bothered to answer as it would breed more questions from him, you already gave away too much about who you are and what you do. Any extra questions you answer from him was just creating a bigger breach in your security. Yet you found yourself justifying an answer, his eyes that were probably pulled into an adorable curious look laced with fear bored into the back of your skull as you dragged him out of the room and to the nearest exit. It was only a harmless question, it didn’t even have a satisfying answer, “Anywhere but here!”

Weaving my way through the house that was better characterized as a maze was hard to navigate through. At every turn some sort of iteration of the poltergeist tried to capture us, to pull us into death with it.

The two of us did eventually find the front door, only to find that we could not pull it open, the handle was stuck.

“Step back!” You shouted at Raymond to get him to move out of the way while you prepared to kick the door down. He skittered over to be right behind you, looking over his shoulder in paranoia. You used your right foot to kick the door, using all the leg strength you could muster. After three kicks, the door burst open, letting you both free.

Scurrying quickly to your government given work vehicle, looking back for a second to make sure that Raymond was following you. You couldn’t let a civilian die here, no matter how much of a nuisance he was, and he was cute of course.

Pulling out the last resort from the trunk of your car, gasoline, you then shoved a container of it to your unexpected companion.

“Cover as much of the house as you can!” He made no argument with your plan, running right behind you back up to the house to cover it all in gasoline. Once you had both covered it as much as possible you made sure Raymond was standing back before you lit your lighter and chucked it into the wood wet with the accelerant.

As soon as you could confirm with your eyes that the house had sparked with fire, you grabbed Raymond’s arm again to drag him to your car, not even caring about the one he had come here in. You basically threw yourself into the driver's seat, starting to drive away immediately after Raymond had sat down, before he had even shut the side door.

Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, causing your heart to pound hard enough that it felt like it could burst out of your chest. It was not unusual in your field of work, to feel death brush right by you.

“My car?!” Raymond screamed, his body turned so he was looking out of your back window.

“Sorry no time to go back! The U.S government will reimburse you for that- maybe…” You said quickly, while trying to step harder down on the gas pedal to speed away.

The house behind you was burning so bright from you could hear the crackling from the house turning to ash. You imagined that the flames and smoke were big enough to be seen for miles, considering how much accelerant you poured on it. So much for being subtle, your boss was definitely going to chew you out for that.

When you had gained a sufficient enough distance away from the flames you pulled off into a parking lot adjacent to a park. Pulling into the parking space fast you then hit the brakes hard, jostling you two a bit.

Taking a deep breath you slumped forward to rest your head on your steering wheel, just for a moment of relaxation.

“You know burning it down won’t necessarily get rid of it.” You only grunted in response to his matter of fact statement. Your lack of response seemed to make him even more anxious, tapping his fingers on any surface that was around him to preoccupy his mind while you took your breather. He tried to fill the silence that was making him uncomfortable, “So what do you actually do?”

You sighed deeply against the steering wheel one last time, then leaning off of it to sit back in the seat. You decided that you might as well give him a small morsel of information that may satiate his curiosity, “That’s highly classified, but you could probably figure it out.”

His insistence to bring up what your job is was making your insides twist with anxiety. You were already dreading what would happen when you got back to the office. It would be a lot of paperwork to explain everything that happened, plus you’d have to submit an application on behalf of Raymond to get his car reimbursed.

The adrenaline that had spiked in your veins born out of fear was still present. It was overwhelming, and you felt the need to use it for something different than wallowing in your fear.

You redirected your gaze to fixate on Raymond, who could surely help you redirect your adrenaline. He was an attractive man, who’s personality did help make him even more desirable. Even though he was a pain in your ass, he was a cute and funny one.

His own eyes were fixated on yours as well, with a different look than what you had seen earlier. His eyes were deepened with lust, not fear, though there was still an ounce of curiosity in them- probably still wondering who exactly I was.

Grabbing the hairs at the back of his neck you then pulled him forward to crush your lips onto his. He reciprocated immediately, though did not try to challenge your dominance over the kiss. He let you slip your tongue into his mouth, exploring him with diligence.

You wanted him closer to you, feeling every inch of him. So you swung your legs over his lap as best you could with the space you had to straddle him. When you did so you barely let his lips come off your own, too greedy to let them separate from yours.

A thought however was nagging you in the back of your head as you continued to melt yourself into the kiss, he had mentioned a companion that he had been worried about earlier. You did not want to step on any toes, nor endorse any type of cheating. You separated your lips from his own, even though you wanted nothing more than to envelop him in another kiss.

“This ok with you?” Your words were said right into his lips, mingling your breath with his, “You’re not with that Becca girl are you?”

“Not anymore- and yes I’m totally ok with this.” He confirmed before surging up to meet his lips with your own again. You wasted no time in starting to grind your hips onto his cock that was swiftly growing underneath his shorts. Just from grinding you could feel how large he was, even through a couple of layers.

He moved his hands to the button of your pants when you moved your lips to start nipping and sucking on his neck and jaw. You tried to kick off the articles of clothing on your lower half, panties included, without removing your lips from him. Unfortunately you had to do so because of the amount of space. You cursed under your breath, wishing that the government had paid to give you a larger vehicle.

You were already slick with arousal, also aided by sticking your fingers into his mouth to get them sufficiently wet. He bobbed his head up and down on them eagerly until you were satisfied. Removing them from his mouth you ran them up and down along your slit, getting you even more wet.

You guided his length to your entrance, not sinking down immediately. You undulated your hips so his length was coated with your arousal as well. When he bucked his hips in impatience you just pushed them down back into the seat. Then you leaned down to whisper into the shell of his ear to be patient- he’d get what he wanted.

“Fuck me.” Was all Raymond could muster up to whimper when you sunk down onto his cock, his head falling back to hit the headrest. You wasted no time in starting a fast pace, bouncing up and down on him with vigor. Raymond grabbed onto your hips when he couldn’t find anything else to hold onto, digging his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

His large cock bumped up against your cervix in the most pleasurable way possible as you swivel your hips over him. Your own head tilted back, your mouth opened wide to let out a loud moan when his cock hit a particularly pleasurable spot inside you. You also felt the need to hold onto something as your release began to build inside you, getting ready to snap. So you grabbed onto the best thing you could find, running your hands through his hair and pulling on his strands.

One of his hands then moved to toy with your clit,his movements were a bit fumbled, but it swiftly made your orgasm start to crest. You were almost disappointed about how quickly this was going to be over, you however couldn’t deny that it felt amazing even with the frantic pace. In the back of your mind you couldn’t help but imagine all the other things you could do to Raymond if you were given the chance.

You fell apart above him, your eyes rolling back into your head. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins, and it felt good to have it redirected to a pleasurable experience instead of fear. You kept yourself impaled on his cock for a bit after your orgasm had finished, relishing at the feeling of him inside you.

Slipping out of him was a little bit awkward because of how cramped the space was. Once his cock slipped out of you, both of you groaning at the loss of him inside of you, you wrapped your hand around his length. You started to pump him slowly in your hands, taking your time compared to earlier. Your adrenaline had abated a bit and now you wanted to see how long you could drag this out, in case you never got the chance to again.

However, It still didn’t take much movement from your hands for him to get close, he was already close to the edge from being inside you. His hips bucked up into your hands a bit before he begged, “C-can you put- your hands- around my throat?”

“Should’ve known you’d be into that.” You snarked back a bit in response to his plea. Your tone had no sympathy for him, making him obviously think that you weren’t going to oblige him by the look in his eyes. That look of pure desperation in his eyes, with his kiss swollen lips, and his curls disheveled made you buckle. He groaned loudly when you put your free hand around his neck. You only applied a small amount of pressure, but that was all Raymond needed for him to cum all over your hand.

Once you had helped him ride out his own orgasm you removed your hand from his neck and his cock. You did need to clean up the hand that was covered in his thick ropes of cum, so you brought it up to your mouth to lick it clean.

“Fuck me…” Echoing his previous words, this time with an even bigger whimper. After you had cleaned yourself and him up enough to be decent you flung yourself back to sit in the driver’s seat again.

Raymond was silent for a minute, which seemed odd if you were going off of what little experience you had with him so far. Though maybe he was still going through his post orgasm relaxation just as you were. He then broke the silence, by asking the same question again, even though you had wanted to answer it just about 30 minutes ago. You’d bet money on the reason that he kept asking, being that each time that you answered you gave him a small hint, “Will you tell me now what you actually do?”

“Maybe- if you get to know me better.” You turned the key to start the engine again then asking with another hint as to what your job was, “Consider this your lucky day, you’ve got a spook as your chauffeur. Now, where next Raymond?”

—-

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minmotl · 3 years

Text

Chapter 60-61: Tang Fan Gets Blisters on the Insides of His Thighs, Sui Zhou Asks Him to Take Off His Pants

Context: Sui Zhou and Tang Fan (and their respective teams) embark on their journey to He Nan Province. Tang Fan ended up having to bring along Yin Yuan Hua, one of the officials in Tang Fan’s department who he bested, and whose supervisor/shifu in the same department Tang Fan offended (for good reason!). Yin Yuan Hua’s mission on this trip is to gather evidence of Tang Fan’s wrongdoings/mistakes so he can go back and report him to higher-ups, and hopefully this will end in Tang Fan’s demotion.

Also a Note: I’m doing the first half of 61 for context (because the case is pretty complex plus all the new characters lolol) and the second half of 61 where the cute fanzhou moments are, but from now onwards Tang Fan and Sui Zhou are hanging out with each other like 24/7

AMAZING TIDBITS:

Pants stripping

Sexual innuendos

Tang Fan and his tongue licks Sui Zhou’s finger

Sui Zhou feeding Tang Fan pastries

Fanzhou shares a bed XD

Introduction Post | Masterpost

—

Highlights under the cut

Tang Fan and the rest of them set off from Jing City, and head in the direction of He Nan Province on land.

Sui Zhou left Xue Ling back in the Northern Administrative Court to hold the fort, and he himself, along with Pang Qi included, brought along 20 close guards. With Tang Fan, they head south, tasked as an imperial convoy.

Although this case is hardly the most urgent, it involves the life and death of others and also the robbery of royal and imperial tombs, so there is no time to waste. Everyone began the journey riding horses, but after rushing on the roads for two days, the disparity between the Embroidered Uniform Guards and civil officials slowly became increasingly visible.

The guards are a bunch of brash old men and have thick and tough skins. Moreover, after going through Sui Zhou’s hellish training, all of them have already been polished into people with bodies and bones of steel. That being said, even without Sui Zhou’s intensified training, for army officials like them, riding horses and rushing along is a simple thing to them.

The same cannot be said of civil officials, however. These officials spend most of their days in the courts and the hardest manual labour they have done is at most serving tea. Suddenly having to ride horses for two days consecutively, it feels as if their bodies and bones are about to fall apart. And what they could not say was that every one of them had blisters on the inside of both their thighs, and some of these have already burst and are bleeding. They hurt like burns.

As the formal lead envoy, Tang Fan of course has to act like the leader he is and grit his teeth in determination regardless of the circumstances. It does not take Sui Zhou long to discover that these civil officials can no longer go on, and orders the guards to slow down their pace. He also quickly takes out some ointment for Tang Fan and the rest to use on their wounds.

Since their leader can withstand this, the two officials under Tang Fan naturally are in no place to complain. Instead, it is Yin Yuan Hua who insists on not riding horses anymore and demands that they switch to a horse carriage.

The Embroidered Uniform Guards do not look upon these civil officials kindly, but they also know that their Sui-laoda has a good personal relationship with Tang Fan, and it is rumoured that this formal lead envoy is staying right in Sui-laoda’s house.

This Yin Yuan Hua, on the other hand, is obviously not on good terms with Tang Fan, and this is easily seen when he speaks with Tang Fan, and even when he does not speak. Both of them are not on the same side, and the guards do not dare to mock the formal lead envoy, so naturally, they focus their attention and provoking remarks onto Yin Yuan Hua instead.

One of them wriggles his eyebrows, “Aiyo, someone thinks he’s out here to sightsee, and wants to even sit on a horse carriage? Does he also want a beaded curtain? Like those esteemed ladies, or wives, when they hide half their faces, and are embarrassed even before they speak!”

Another laughs snidely, “How do you know if he isn’t a little wife? Don’t tell me you’ve seen what he looks like without clothes on?”

Earlier, their group passed by a official’s relay post, and decided to stop for a rest. Tang Fan and Sui Zhou are formal lead and co-lead envoys, and wanting to interact freely, they are unwilling to share a table with their leaders even at meals, and so Sui Zhou and Tang Fan have a table to themselves. Yin Yuan Hua and the two civil officials share another, and the rest of the guards are scattered around. So once the next table speaks, Yin Yuan Hua can hear them extremely well.

How would he not know that these people are speaking about him? Fury courses through him immediately and slamming his chopsticks on the table, he gets to his feet and says, “Who are you talking about!”

It would have been better if he did not stand up, because once he gets to his feet, his thighs cramp up immediately, sending Yin Yuan Hua into unbearable pain, and this garners the mockery of the group of guards.

Although Tang Fan doesn’t think much of Yin Yuan Hua, but on this trip, he is formal lead envoy and is also Yin Yuan Hua’s supervisor. As a leader, he needs to have the aptitude of one and so he cannot just stand by and let Yin Yuan Hua be mocked like this. He uses the other end of his chopsticks and pokes at Sui Zhou’s arm.

Sui Zhou lightly coughs and his sharp gaze sweeps over his group of men, and they immediately stop laughing, burying their heads into their rice and meal.

After their meal, Yin Yuan Hua insists on not riding horses, wanting to sit on a horse carriage and head to He Nan.

Both of the other civil officials are also suffering silently, and so turn their hopeful eyes onto Tang Fan.

With a strange expression, he asks, “All of you really want to sit on a carriage?”

The officials do not dare reply, and Yin Yuan Hua interjects, “We must have a carriage. We lower-ranked officials cannot compare to daren, we don’t have to deal with the pressure which comes with the formal lead envoy position. Comfort is of importance, and we’re not afraid of being mocked by others!”

In his words is hidden mockery at Tang Fan bringing suffering upon himself, all to salvage his pride.

Tang Fan says, “We may not have enough horses at the next relay post, so once you switch to a carriage, if you regret it, you will still have to sit in it until we reach He Nan.”

The more he says, the more Yin Yuan Hua feels that Tang Fan is deliberately making things difficult for him, and so insists on sitting in a carriage and nothing else.

He has already said this much and given them a friendly reminder, but they will not listen, so there is nothing to do but to let them have their way. He asks the official in charge of the relay post to prepare the horse carriage.

The carriage itself is still considered quite spacious and has enough space for Yin Yuan Hua and two other officials to sit in. The official also found a driver for them, and once the carriage reaches its destination, it is just nice for the driver to return with it.

The three of them happily get on the carriage after seeing that the insides are padded with cushions, and this is definitely more comfortable than riding the horses.

In the end, just after they crossed several kilometres, Yin Yuan Hua and the rest suddenly realise why Tang Fan revealed that indescribable expression earlier after they insisted on sitting in a horse carriage. Because this is even more shaky and turbulent than riding a horse…

Yin Yuan Hua regrets as he finally gets a taste of what it means to strike his own foot with a rock he’s moving.

Not only just him, but both Cheng Wen and Tian Xuan, are regretting their decision immensely.

It is such a turbulent journey, and just before their souls are shaken out of their cores, they finally arrive at Gong County.

Before the group of them arrived at Gong County, the county’s magistrate had already brought his men out to the official relay post right next to the official’s travel channel early on to wait for them.

“Daren, how about you come in and rest your feet?” the county deputy, who has also come out to welcome the group, cannot help but ask the magistrate, who is pacing back and forth so much it’s making him dizzy.

Aside from the deputy and other officials, which include both low and high ranking ones, plenty of other well-known gentlemen also wanted to accompany them originally, but were all rejected by the magistrate. He is facing so many cases right now, how would he have any more energy to bring these people along and let them create trouble in front of him?

Before his trustworthy deputy, the magistrate does not hide his face full of worry, “Hai, laodi ah, it’s not like you don’t know, these envoys are not here to sightsee, they’re here to investigate a case. At the end of the day, trouble happened to the imperial tombs within my jurisdiction, and if we don’t handle this properly, I will not be able to keep this futou of mine!”

The deputy advises, “Daren, it is futile for you to be frustrated about this, you might as well cooperate well with the envoys, and then ask them for a favour so they can go back and help put in a good word for you, who knows, this huge matter may turn into a small one!”

The magistrate sighs, “That’s all I can do at this point. I’m such an unlucky magistrate, the former magistrate and the one before him left a huge mess of things when they passed on their positions, and the imperial tombs were left untouched, but these messes I still had to deal with! No one knew of my efforts, and now that the imperial tomb is involved, the responsibility for this has instead fallen onto my head!”

Which official has not been dragged into one or two terrible events, thinks the deputy. How is it possible for an official to have a smooth career all his life, it is the magistrate who was afraid of trouble in the first place, and now he is complaining about this instead of thinking about how to properly suck up to the incoming imperial envoys. What future can he count on like this?

Unfortunately he is the man’s subordinate and although these are his true thoughts, he still ends up properly reassuring his magistrate.

In the midst of their conversation, a group of men and horses approach from the distance and gradually slows down, the dust picking up around them, and behind, it looks like there is a horse carriage accompanying the group as well.

The magistrate and his deputy head out, and a minor official comes over with news, saying that the people ahead are indeed the imperial envoys.

“Quickly accompany me to fetch them!” the magistrate says, adjusting his uniform and hat.

The speed of the horse carriage is not fast and Sui Zhou’s subordinates in front seem to have deliberately slowed down to wait for the carriage at the back, and only after a minute or so does the whole group, which was already visible from a while ago, arrive.

Right in the middle of the other Embroidered Uniform Guards, a young man wearing a Rank Five uniform and an Embroidered Uniform Guard wearing a feiyu uniform are surrounded.

The magistrate quickly approaches them and offering both his hands in greeting, he says, “Gong County Magistrate He Hao Si greets the imperial envoy!”

Although he is unsure who is actually the formal lead envoy, but this greeting will certainly do no wrong.

The official document sent by the Department of Justice also clearly says that the lead envoy is the department’s overseeing langzhong in Henan’s Qing Li Si, Tang Fan, and the co-lead is the Embroidered Uniform Guards’ acting zhen fu shi, Sui Zhou. However, since both lead and co-lead envoys are here, then who is the one sitting in the horse carriage at the back?

Could it be an even more important person?

Magistrate He cannot help but look towards the back.

Instead, he sees the Embroidered Uniform Guard next to the civil official move backwards a little to put some distance between them, indicating the difference in status between him and the civil official. He opens his mouth and affirms Magistrate He’s guess, “This is Henan’s Qing Li Si langzhong, Tang-daren, and he is the formal lead envoy.”

Tang Fan wearily gets off his horse and returns Magistrate He’s greeting, “Magistrate He does not need to stand on ceremony, we have been on the roads for days, shall we first find a place to sit and talk?”

“Yes yes yes!” Magistrate He returns to himself, and hurriedly says, “This official has already readied the relay post, and also asked them to prepare food and hot water. I’d like to ask everyone to move into the city, it is not far away from here.”

Tang Fan nods, “Then I’ll have to trouble Magistrate He to show us the way.”

***

“Come over here.”

Tang Fan takes a look at the ointment in his hands, and cannot help but laugh, the sound dry, “You see, I’ve used the bandages for so many days, it’s almost healed, so I don’t need to put it on anymore, it’s uncomfortable!”

Sui Zhou’s face is cold, “Come over when I tell you to come over, whether or not it has healed, wouldn’t you know best?”

Of course he has not yet healed.

Tang-daren’s face falls, and he slowly ambles his way over.

“Lie down, take off your pants and pick up your shirt.”

“…”

No matter the circumstances, this conversation sounds only too intimate, and if anyone were to pass by on the outside, it’s likely they will misunderstand, but the reality could not be further from that.

Tang Fan’s physique is not much better than Yin Yuan Hua and the rest, and he has ridden on a horse for so many days consecutively. Naturally, he is unable to withstand this, but sitting in a horse carriage is worse, and he knows that just by seeing the way Yin Yuan Hua threw up. In comparison, it is only his butt and the sides of both his thighs that hurt riding the hose, and not his whole body. Weighing between both to see which is more important, as the biggest lead in this mission, Tang-daren would rather suffer than lose all pride like the way Yin Yuan Hua did.

This is called suffering as one would rather die than lose pride and face.

The posterior is one thing, as it is shaken here and there; the area is a bit thicker, so it doesn’t matter as much. The main thing is the insides of his thighs, which has been subjected to endless friction and movement in contact with the horse. Blisters formed, and then bled when the skin was broken through.

It is a must to put some ointment on if he is hurt, and in the beginning, Tang Fan was worried of losing face, too embarrassed to ask for help, until Sui Zhou forcibly restrained him to put the medicine on.

Now, having to put on a fresh round of ointment every night has become something that Tang-daren is most reluctant to do.

If he could choose, he figures he would rather go to the Luo River and warmly face the River God there, than to lie flat on the bed like this with both legs spread open, his pants taken off and his shirt picked up, letting Sui Zhou change the bandages around his injured parts.

Although they are both men and the parts he should have, he has, and the parts that he should not have, he does not have, but Tang Fan just feels incredibly uncomfortable. Staring at the ceiling above him, he disassociates, only to hide his embarrassment.

Sui Zhou seems to be able to see through his thoughts and finds it really hilarious inside, but on the surface, he retains his stoicism. Circling the bandage around Tang Fan’s legs, he pretends to accidentally brush his eyes past Tang Fan’s groin, peering at it for a moment, before saying, “The form is not bad.”

Even though Tang Fan is pretending to be dead, he is still conscious and attentive, and the moment the other’s words sound in his ears, he cannot help but go red in both his face and ears, and furious, he says, “How dare you, assessing the lead envoy like this, do you not want to live anymore?”

Sui Zhou goes ‘oh’, and then, “I am an envoy too.”

“You’re a co-lead, and I am the lead, cut out the nonsense, you should strip and let this official assess yours as well!”

Sui Zhou, “You are certain you want to see?”

“Of course!”

He thought Sui Zhou would come up with an excuse to refuse, but who knew the other simply stands up without another word, and reaches out to loosen his trousers belt.

Tang Fan hurriedly says, “ Forget it, forget it, I know you’re smaller than me, if your ego takes a hit later this is not good, all men want to save face, so I will go easy on you this once.”

“No matter, I do not mind,” Sui Zhou returns.

“…”

Sui Zhou only wants to tease Tang Fan, he is not this despicable. And seeing that Tang Fan is about to explode in anger, Sui Zhou goes with the flow and stops. He brings a plate of pastries over from the table, picks up one, and personally brings it to Tang Fan’s mouth.

Under the dim glow of the candle light, Tang Fan cannot see the shape of the clear jujube cake, but the flavour as it enters his mouth is extremely good. Sour and sweet, and for a moment, it is a familiar taste to him, similar to the one the cooking lady at home made when he was younger.

He cannot help but curl his tongue, reaching for the rest of the pastry piece, only to sweep across Sui Zhou’s finger accidentally. The other freezes slightly, and snatches his hand back quickly.

Tang Fan does not take this to heart, and instead squints as he fully savours the flavours on his tastebuds. He nods, and praises, “The pastry that Deputy Zhao chose is really not bad! It is a pity this place is filled with evil, and such good pastries are wasted here. We may have to start rushing about sometime in the middle of tomorrow night!”

Sui Zhou gets him to wear his trousers properly, and bends down himself to adjust the bedsheets and covers. He asks, “You saw something amiss?”

Tang Fan shoves another piece of jujube cake into this mouth and instead of answering him, responds with a question, “You can see it too?”

“Don’t eat too much, or you won’t be able to sleep later,” Sui Zhou frowns and nags. Then, “That old man seems suspicious.”

Tang Fan nods, and opens his mouth, about to speak, but because the cake slides into his throat, he ends up almost choking to death. He brings his hand up, holding onto his throat and the whites of his eyes can be seen.

Exasperated, Sui Zhou goes over to pat at his back, then gives him a cup of tea, “How did you actually survive the past twenty years?”

Drinking the tea and sending the cake down along with it, Tang Fan finally heaves a sigh of relief before laughing, “A menace like this official will naturally be alive for a thousand years. That old man is indeed suspicious, and although he seems incoherent when speaking, it does look more like his behaviour is deliberate.”

Sui Zhou makes a noise of assent, waiting for him to continue.

“There are a few possibilities. Firstly, those people were killed by the old village chief, but this isn’t very likely. I can’t think of a reason why he would kill all these people. Besides, he is a weak elderly, so unless he had some help, it is impossible for him to harm so many people. So let’s set this possibility aside for now.”

“Second, that old man, or even the whole village, are in cahoots with the tomb raiders, and are doing all they can to mislead us, directing us to focus on the possibility of a malevolent ghost. Maybe after the robbers raided the imperial tomb, they promised to distribute some of their loot to the villagers in exchange for their help in keeping this a secret. The people who were killed discovered this, and wanted to report them.”

Tang Fan slowly analyses that hypothesis, then shakes his head, “But this is not fully explainable. The clues that we have on hand are too little, it is very difficult to guess what the truth is.”

“There’s still one more possibility,” Sui Zhou says.

Tang Fan looks at him, and he continues, “What the old man said is true.”

“You believe in ghosts too?”

Sui Zhou shakes his head, “It might not be a ghost, but it could be something else. Whether the old village chief has truly gone insane or is pretending to be, he is definitely hiding something from us, and has not told us everything.”

Tang Fan laughs, “We tried the civil, courteous route first, and next can bring out the troops. It looks like we have to get the Embroidered Uniform Guards to take over.”

In terms of interrogations and forcibly getting confessions, there is no other group of people more adept at this than the guards. When people hear of interrogations, they often think of cruel torturous methods, but in actual fact, a lot of other methods exist in this world which will make one obediently vomit out the truth without any physical torture. These methods are most commonly used on officials who refuse to speak the truth and yet cannot be subjected to torture; a secret that is passed only within the guards and is unique.

Using it against an old man in a poor and removed village, is considered using a blade that is made for slaughtering cows, to slaughter a chicken.

Sui Zhou says, “We’ll talk tomorrow and rest now.”

Yes, it is almost the hai hour (9-11pm), and they naturally must rest.

It is quiet outside, not even the slightest sounds can be heard from livestock or dogs, and all living creatures have also descended into sleep. Saying it is entirely silent, however, is not correct. At the very least, the Luo River which is a short distance away continues to flow, day or night. The rush of water charging forth fills up their ears, but once one gets used to listening to this, it does not bother them much. Instead, it almost feels as if their troubled thoughts are being scrubbed clean by the river.

The bed space is not cramped or narrow, and is more than sufficient for two people to lie on it. Tang Fan sleeps on the inside, and Sui Zhou sleeps on the outside.

Although the both of them stay under the same roof, they have never slept shoulder to shoulder like they are doing today, previously. The both of them are really too tired, but sometimes, when one is too exhausted, it is instead more difficult to fall asleep.

Sui Zhou hears Tang Fan’s tossing and turning and says, “Turn over.”

Tang Fan does not ask why and turns over so his back is facing the other, and then he feels a warm palm cup over his jaw. Another hand slowly presses at a few acupuncture points at the back of his head.

The tension in his brain dissipates gradually, and Tang Fan moans once, comfortable. The person behind him is applying just the right amount of force, not too light, and not too heavy. He feels the pull of slumber come up as the exhaustion emerges again, and quickly enter the land of dreams.

In the middle of the night, he has a strange dream.

In it, he is walking along the dark river banks and in the vast land in the distance, many tombstones, high and low, have been erected. The wind blows past him, and along with it brings the sound of cries. The cries are devastating, as if filled with endless suffering, pain and resentment. The sound echoes in the space and then digs into Tang Fan’s ears, sending shivers down his spine.

The cries approach, coming closer and closer, closer and even closer, and suddenly, it seems like there is something behind him! The sensation is unclear to him, all he knows is that he has never felt this afraid before.

Slowly, he turns his head, and jolting, he opens his eyes.

“Don’t move,” Sui Zhou says, his voice low next to his ear, his arm stretching across Tang Fan’s waist.

Hearing his voice, the heart that was racing because of his nightmare slowly calms.

Then he quickly realises that the intolerable wails does not seem to exist just in his dreams, but is originating right from outside!

===

Notes:

*乌纱帽 wu sha mao

Also commonly called a 乌帽 (wu mao) or futou, this is the headwear for Ming dynasty officials, with a tall cylindrical top and two flaps on the sides.

*河南清吏司郎中 he nan qing li zi lang zhong

This is a full official rank. It is a little hard to find an English equivalent to this on my end so I’ve left it as that. 河南 (he nan) is a city all on its own in today’s map, and in this case it means Tang Fan is heads this particular court located in he nan. I’m not really familiar on the geography of it as well, it could just be a name for the neighbourhood or sector he’s in as well.

*镇抚使 zhen fu shi

Another official rank, where 镇抚 (zhen fu) is the Administrative Court, and 使 (shi) on its own means ambassador. In this case, it can be interpreted as chief, or some equivalent. He is not a commander yet in this case, which is a position reserved for Yuan Bin, and previously Wan Tong.

*搬起石头砸自己脚 ban qi shi tou za zi ji de jiao

This means literally to pick up a stone and smashing your own foot with it, which means inadvertently and directly causing harm to yourself with a decision you made. I left the metaphor in the translations above because it’s interesting, the imagery!

*祸害遗千年 huo hai yi qian nian

This is a common phrase used to say that a menace or evil being will survive for thousands of years, and good people are doomed to die early in a second part to this phrase.

*杀鸡用牛刀 sha ji yong niu nian

Literally means to use a blade for slaughtering a cow to kill a chicken, which also means to apply unnecessary and excessive force to a matter which requires minimal effort. Or going overboard when the matter or thing requires much lesser force.

#the sleuth of ming dynasty #tsomd #成化十四年 #cheng hua shi si nian #fanzhou #suitang #sui zhou #tang fan #tsomd novel #novel translations #this is definitely one of the chaps i like more hahaha

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 8

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 8 - Drive Away the Ghost

If a city had existed for thousands of years, no matter how prosperous it looks on the surface, some people still believe in legends and some corners of the city still retained the oldest mysterious customs. Once Lin Yan had left the police station, he drove northwest. The surrounding people were gradually thinning out, and the mountains were foggy at dusk. When the entire trail was almost enveloped by the dense fog, Lin Yan finally found his destination at the foot of the Xishan Mountain.

Lin Yan stopped the car and compared the photos he found on the Internet with the scenery in front of him. This was it. A small temple without a name was built on the side of the mountain. Two white lanterns in front of the door and the candles had been replaced with electric lights. It looked very ominous in the night. By the well in the yard, there was a holy spirit banner hanging on a jujube tree with a crooked trunk next to it, the strands of cloth fluttering in the wind.

Although the appearance of the small temple was fairly inconspicuous, it was quite famous among supernatural enthusiasts. It was different from ordinary Buddhist temples for worshipping gods and praying for blessings. This ancient temple had only one purpose, and that was to exorcise ghosts. Most people always thought that where there was a temple, there was a spiritual aura. It is true for an ancient temple on the mountain, but this temple was built on flat ground. From the perspective of feng shui, the mountain belonged to the light Yang energy. The temple was built in the middle of the mountain to connect with the clear and righteousness, and was more accessible to the gods; the depression in the earth gathers the dark Yin energy. This temple was built in a low-lying place in front of the mountain to attract the lonely spirits and wild ghosts, and they won't disturb anyone in the area. Because of this, there was a saying that the temple should not be demolished. Xishan Temple was a mass grave in ancient times, and it experienced lots of grievances. This small temple had been preserved to this day because of its special function.

Lin Yan glanced at the rustling banner hanging at the door and silently turned his car off.

This was the riskiest thing he could try according to the information he had found on the internet.

Having called in advance, the master of the temple had been waiting outside. When Lin Yan approached, he greeted him with a smile: "Sit down, do you want to pray for peace or do dharma ceremonies?"

The man wore an earth-yellow robe. He didn't shave his hair, keeping it buzzed down instead; he looked 70% like a monk and 30% like a Daoist priest. Lin Yan looked at the furnishings in the temple; the limestone walls, the concrete floor, and an old wooden table with faded clothes on it with incense burners and fruit offerings. There was a strong scent of sandalwood that lingered in the room. Lin Yan took out a lighter and gestured to it. Seeing that the master had no objection, he took out a cigarette and lit it. After taking a drag, he said in a deep voice, "Neither, I want to kill a ghost."

He didn't know if it was a psychological effect, but Lin Yan felt that as soon as he spoke, cool air washed over him. The temple master was taken aback, and quickly said: "You can't talk nonsense here, they'll hear you." After speaking, he looked back at the door for a long time, and couldn't help but frown. "What a heavy hostility. This man died violently and he's been dead for a while."

Lin Yan glanced in the direction indicated by the master. It was an empty space and he couldn't see anything.

"I'll say it outright. Guest, you have less than three months left to live."

"Master, you must be joking." Lin Yan tried to keep his voice calm, but his fingers trembling unconsciously.

"A-Yan, pour a glass of water for the guest." The temple master shouted into the back hall, then turned to Lin Yan and said, "Since you came all the way to my small temple, it must have taken a lot of effort, but let’s talk not beat around the bush and get to the point. How did you provoke such a life-threatening ghost?"

Lin Yan didn't know what to say.

The host said indifferently: "I'm used to seeing these silk clothes. I think this Ming Dynasty shirt is a bit cordial."

Ming Dynasty shirt. . . The familiar words evoked something in Lin Yan's memories. He couldn't keep in his gasp. Did the strange man really see ghosts? He couldn't help but think of the archaeological practice he had mentioned to Yin Zhou. He was responsible for the cleaning of the main room of Pit No.16. He kept turning over the materials every night for a week with just the light of a miner's lamp. Next, they excavated a camphor coffin sealed with 64 copper nails. The coffin was covered in thick, black lacquer. He leaned over the coffin and used a soft brush to clean the corpse. He peeled off nine sets of mouldy and decayed mortuary clothes layer by layer and patted the body for the funeral objects scattered in the gap between the bones. . .

"Last month, I did enter an ancient tomb from the Ming Dynasty in Shanxi. . ." Lin Yan said in shock.

"Like the sutras say: everything has a consequence." The temple master smiled and asked for Lin Yan's birth date. He made some calculations and said strangely: "The four pillars are interspersed in Yin. The Four Pillars of Destiny has roots in the gateway of the universe. Based on the universal retrograde, this person has heavy Yin energy. No wonder he found you."

"This person died in a terrible accident, with resentment born in his heart from it. His spirit has felt like this for too long. A lonely soul becomes an evil spirit no better than a beast. I am afraid it will be difficult to survive this spirit."

Lin Yan interrupted him: "Can you do something about it?"

The temple master replied: "I can only disperse his spirit which means that he would no longer be able to enter the cycle of reincarnation."

Lin Yan lowered his head and squeezed his hands together softly. He thought of the madness and aggravation of the things in the elevator, the shameful memories in the living room, and the face of the grandmother in the morgue. He clenched his fists and said fiercely: "He killed someone. I don't know when the second or even the third victim might be. Why should I be kind and save his soul? He forfeited his life with murder; he deserves this."

"I don't care who he is, I just want him to go back to wherever he came from." Lin Yan said coldly: "Send him away, I'll pay whatever you want."

The host sighed, and took out a stack of yellow paper from under the table: "Whoever says that ghosts can be cruel; people are just as cruel."

While they talked, the little disciple sped out from the back hall carrying the tea tray and respectfully handed the tea to Lin Yan. He put the remaining cup in the tea tray next to the fruit tray on the incense table. He lowered his head and said, "You are a guest, you must be thirsty too. Please drink."

Lin Yan was taken aback, wondering why this voice was so familiar. The little disciple met Lin Yan's gaze. He was taken aback, and then smiled: "It's you."

With a lean figure, pale and slender face, and wearing a nondescript blue earthen cloth robe, it turned out to be the strange Daoist priest he had run into during the day.

Lin Yan's mind was confused, wondering whether this was a Buddhist temple or not. Why did a Daoist priest show up?

"This-, this is my master." He turned his face to the temple master and bowed his head: "Lin Yan is my university classmate."

Lin Yan vaguely remembered this Daoist with the last name Yan. When they were in their undergrad, the two were in the same department and their dormitory was on the same floor. Normally, Lin Yan was looking down in class so he didn't see him. However, he was introverted, uncomfortable in social settings and had stuttering problems. He was never seen at school-organized activities. He never participated, so his classmate Lin Yan couldn't even remember his real name for four years. The title of Daoist priest was as impactful as thunder. At that time, the freshmen had just moved into the dormitory of the school. Within a few days, there were rumours that there was a weird man on the same floor who was burning paper while muttering to the air in the dormitory. He also liked to make some ghost-like talismans and stick them everywhere. After a while, the guys in the dormitory couldn't bear it anymore, so they forced him out. They changed the locks on the doors to keep him out all night, threw his things out of the windows in the dormitory. He lasted half a semester before they drove him out of the dorms.

This story was told as a joke in the department for a long time. The most troublesome thing for Lin Yan as the dorm supervisor at the time was the issues with this Daoist priest. No matter how hard he tried to force the strange Daoist priest to stand up for himself, he would never fight back. He lowered his head and dealt with whatever happened after that. Later, when his course got more intense, Lin Yan couldn't take care of him, and slowly forgot about the whole thing.

"You-, you just call me A-Yan," The Daoist priest whispered. "I don't mind."

After concluding on a price, A-Yan brought out a red lacquer box from the back hall. The temple master ordered the contents to be laid out one by one; yellow paper, sacrificial incense, cinnabar, a short knife that seems to be several years old, and some bottles and jars with unknown contents.

"After everything is done like how I say, this wicked creature will have cultivated a physical body. Now is not a good time, and I'm not completely sure about this. If something goes wrong, we may have to deal with it here." The temple master faintly commanded: "Set the array."

The master and apprentice went to work. Lin Yan had never seen something like this before and felt like it was out of a movie. He saw the temple master lock the doors and windows and evenly sprinkled the incense ash on the window edges and the door cracks, placing a copper coin at various intervals. After that, the doors and windows were closed with red ropes. The whole room was connected by the ropes. Finally, a thin layer of cinnabar was spread on the floor, and the yellow paper and short knife were placed on the table for later use.

"The red rope wards off evil spirits and prevents anything outside from coming in, and anything inside from getting out." The temple owner said: "The negative atmosphere in the mountain at midnight is extremely strong, and the cinnabar brings light. After a while, the wild ghosts in the mountain will come running in anger to this conflicting energy."

Lin Yan suddenly became nervous: "What do you mean, 'wild ghost'?"

"Some are lone souls who don't believe that they are dead, some are poor people who had no one to collect their bodies, and some were killed and are waiting to get resurrected. It doesn't matter, the trouble is with the one following you." The temple master gestured towards the centre of the room. So far, the development of the matter had completely exceeded the limit of Lin Yan's imagination. He didn't know what to say, so he just nodded.

"This can isolate yin and yang energy, and ghosts will not be able to find you if you sprinkle it on your body. Remember that you will not be able to speak or breathe afterwards. No matter what happens, do as I say." The temple master picked up one of the jars from the table. He unscrewed the lid and sprinkled all the stone powder on Lin Yan's body. Seeing Lin Yan's nervousness, A-Yan gave a hesitant smile: "The temple is very dark, give it a minute and you'll be able to see. I was so scared the first time I saw it."

He took out a piece of cypress wood from the basket. He used the knife to engrave Lin Yan’s birthday characters and then cut out a small paper man to paste on it. His hand moved delicately. The little red paper man stretched in his hands, grinning. But there was an indescribable weirdness on the table.

As the night grew deeper, the mountain breeze blew the leaves of the jujube trees in the courtyard. There were no people in the area for dozens of miles. The ancient temple was lit with faint lights. Lin Yan thought, if someone passed by at this time and saw three people in the room sitting in a red line around an oil lamp, they would have to be extremely frightened.

Time passed by, and there was no change in the surroundings. Lin Yan took out his phone and checked the time. It was 11:30 and they had been waiting for almost two hours, but the temple master and A-Yan remained silent, as though they were meditating.

The flame on the table moved.

"It's here," A-Yan said, and then motioned Lin Yan to pay attention to what was behind him. Lin Yan turned around and saw that there was nothing unusual. Then he saw it.

There are obviously only three of them in the room, but there were four shadows on the wall.

#dig a grave to dig out a ghost #dig a grave to dig out a ghost translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #yaoi novel

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 4 years

Text

Elliot, Just a Tech

Summary: Plagued by not having Admin rights on your work computer, you contact the IT department expecting to talk to your usual guy. However, you are greeted by someone new.

A/N: Consider this post-show

WC: 2596

Warnings: None

You looked over the icons on your desktop for the eleventh time, dragging the old version of Adobe into the trash for the tenth time, and growling with frustration as the error message appeared for what felt like the hundredth time.

Please enter an Administrator’s Username and Password.

After the great email phishing scam the month prior, the IT department had been directed to revoke all employee’s Admin rights to their computers. It wasn’t your fault your colleagues were too dumb to realize that you should not click on email that has been flagged as spam, even if it is a version of your boss’s name: Mattthew Whitman has scheduled a meeting with you at 9 pm!

As if Matthew spelled with three ts wasn’t enough to deter someone, scheduling a meeting at 9 at night should have been, not to mention the exclamation point to top it all off—no one ever enthusiastically scheduled a meeting. Ever.

Alas, no less than 13 people had opened the email, severely compromising the integrity of the network.

You needed to get rid of the old version of Adobe in order for your network’s cloud to allow the download of the updated version, so you were left with no choice but to submit a ticket to the IT department.

You and Matt, no relation to Mattthew your boss, had had several Zoom sessions since the start of the quarantine, mostly thanks to your need to actually get some work done. With so many more people on your network, the IT department was doing the best it could to make sure everyone was achieving basic functionality.

Opening a new work order, you quickly filled in your information and snapped a screen shot of the error message. In less than a minute, you had an email inviting you to a Zoom session.

“Matt’s really on it today,” you said while opening the link and waiting for him to start the session.

You had just glanced away to check your To-Do list when someone opened the Zoom session and you paused, staring at the downturned face of someone who was definitely not Matt.

“Hi,” you greeted awkwardly.

“Hi,” he answered, still not looking into the camera.

“Where’s Matt?”

The stranger looked into the camera, clearly caught off-guard.

“Uh, he’s off today.”

“So they finally unchained him from his desk—good for him!”

The stranger’s eyes widened a little in amusement, but he didn’t smile which caused your grin to quickly fade.

“Are you . . .” the stranger trailed off as he glanced at his other desktop monitor. “Y/N?”

“I am. And you are?”

“Elliot.”

“Are you the new Supervisor they were hiring for last week?”

“Nope. Just a Tech.”

“All right. Well, hi, Elliot, just a Tech. I’m in dire need of installing an update, which I cannot do because my colleagues are dumbasses.”

This time Elliot did smile, and you found yourself reaching up to fix the wild bun on the top of your head, wishing you had actually taken some time out not to look like a troll who had crawled out from under its bridge.

“I see that you can’t install Adobe’s update without administrative permission.”

“Yup. That’s my issue, I think.”

“I want to try something first,” Elliot said, concentrating on the task at hand as he looked away from the camera and to his other monitor.

“Can you locate your system preferences? You can find it by clicking on the appl-“

“Done. What do you want me to go into?”

Elliot looked back into the camera, then gave you a series of steps which you quickly followed.

“I am only semi-illiterate when it comes to technology,” you said, trying again to get him to smile and this time it worked.

Elliot adjusted his headset and lowered his eyes as he grinned. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve had to explain over the past few days.”

“Oh, I would absolutely believe them. I’ve talked three people in my department off a ledge just by explaining the magical powers of “Command + Z.”

Elliot chuckled, and the sound of his laughter filtering through the mic on his headset made you want to stay on the call as long as you could stretch it out.

“It looks like the program is not responding. I’ll need to take remote control of your desktop.”

“Have at it.”

You watched as Elliot worked, waiting for your mouse to start moving across the screen, but nothing happened.

“Uh, do you have any error messages on your end?”

“Nope.”

“Let me try one more thing,” Elliot mumbled, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

You sat quietly, letting him work, which gave you an excuse to just look at him and the more you looked at him, the more attractive you realized he was.

Elliot had a stylish haircut, although it looked like his fade had grown in quite a bit thanks to the lockdown. Tufts of straight black hair stood up on either side of his headset and you wondered if they’d be stiff or soft to the touch. His eyes were large, clearly the most enticing of the features of his face, except for his angular jaw that made you softly smile in appreciation of its masculinity. Elliot may consider himself “just a Tech,” but he was a damn good looking one.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you blurted out, forgetting all of your manners thanks to the lack of social interaction.

Elliot fumbled as he was typing and looked into the camera, his lips parted.

“Oh, lord. That came out . . . blunt. I asked because Matt’s been loving working from home. His wife just had a baby and even though he’s chained up in his home office at all hours of the day he still gets to spend time with the people he cares about. Which is what I was trying to ask you—if you were enjoying working from home.” You finished with an awkward laugh, and a barrage of mental curses to yourself.

Elliot’s lip turned up with a quirk. “My sister stops by to bring supplies, but I live alone.”

“Oh—well, that’s nice you have someone to interact with. I still see my sister, too.”

“I like this. Not having to interact with people.”

“The only downside is the verbal vomit you spew when talking to someone new because you no longer understand social protocol.”

Elliot laughed again, that same breathy little chuckle that upgraded from drawing your attention to making you shift in your chair.

“I’ve never been particularly adept at social protocol. Hence . . . just a Tech.”

You laughed and Elliot must have liked the sound because he stopped to watch you, his eyes flicking over your face through the camera.

“You need to update the Zoom app for me to take over your desktop. I don’t know why yours seems to have this glitch, but are you ready for the steps?”

You grabbed your pen and a fresh post-it. “Lay it on me, Tech.”

Elliot smirked, then listed the steps. “I’m going to close the call, but as soon as you’ve completed the steps, click on our Zoom link again.”

“Got it!”

Your eyes connected and lingered for just a moment before Elliot closed out the call.

You missed him immediately.

“Oh, Matt. If I had known Zoom calls could be like this, I’d have dumped you long ago.”

You shook your head to clear it and began to go through the steps Elliot had listed for you. You wanted to get this right to prove to him that you weren’t incompetent.

Having successfully, and quickly, completed all of the steps on your Post-it, you reinitiated the Zoom meeting.

“You’re quick.”

“I’m sure you’re much, much faster,” you said.

“I can only go as fast as the web connection, unfortunately,” Elliot replied, staring into his other monitor again.

“Let’s try this again—remember the steps to give me remote access?”

“I think so . . .” you said, trailing off as you began to click.

You paused, then your mouse began to move without you.

“Excellent job,” Elliot praised and you knew you wanted him to praise you again . . . preferably away from a computer, maybe in a bedroom—

“All right. So I need to delete, reinstall, and wait for an error message that’s been popping up making this a little harder for people to do themselves.”

You watched Elliot control your computer, and once he got to a point where the app was updating, he paused and turned back to the camera.

“About that girlfriend thing you asked me earlier. Are you seeing . . . anyone?”

“I was . . . about six months ago. By the time I was ready to get back on the horse, the plague struck.”

Elliot chuckled. “Not exactly the best time to start dating.”

“No,” you said softly laughing, too. “I agree with you, about the whole nice not seeing people thing, though. For me, it’s more about setting my own schedule. I get so much more done without constant interruptions just to chat.”

“Kinda like we are now?”

“Hey! We are waiting on a signal to go to space and come back. It’s only polite to give it some time so it doesn’t feel like it’s being watched—like a watched pot never boils kinda thing.”

Elliot smiled, his eyes meeting yours and lingering as you smiled back.

A new box popped up breaking your eye contact and Elliot went back to work.

“Fixed. You shouldn’t have to worry about the next update. We’ve been reporting this glitch regularly so the developers should have it fixed by then.”

“Thanks, Elliot. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s my job,” he said with a slight shrug.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your afternoon,” you said, wishing you had a reason to stay connected.

“Yeah.” Elliot replied, looking at you again with those hypnotic, grey-blue eyes. If they could impress you through a screen, imagine what they looked like in person. “You too.”

You smiled at each other and when neither of you closed the call, you both laughed, Elliot looking a little shy and you looking a little embarrassed.

“I’ll close it. Don’t forget to fill in your survey so big brother knows I did my job.”

“Five-star service, all the way!”

Elliot chuckled again, and you shivered this time, the sound of his voice working its way through your entire body, filling you with a pleasant warmth.

“Bye,” he said, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he ended the meeting.

When the session closed out, you began to think of ways to break your computer so you needed to talk to him again, but before you could pull a purposefully dumbass move like downloading a virus, a sticky note popped up on your desktop.

212 555 0179

Probably breaking work protocol, but text me sometime if you want.

~Elliot, just a Tech

“Oh my god!” you gasped, glancing up at your camera to make sure you really were disconnected, unable to shake that feeling like someone was watching you. You reached for your packet of stickers and placed a fresh one over the camera of your computer—better paranoid than sorry!

“Should I text him now? Is that desperate? Or is it mean to make him wait? Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you said, pacing around your small office space.

“Just a simple hello,” you decided. “First, gotta find my phone.”

After walking through your apartment, you found your phone in the kitchen, unsurprisingly because snacking had become your favorite hobby since the lockdown began. It was a blessing and curse to be able to eat whenever you wanted.

You took your cell back to your computer and smiled again at Elliot’s virtual Post-it note and typed in his number and contact information.

Hi, Elliot ☺️

Hi, Y/N. I hope your emoji means I didn’t creep you out

That’s what this one 😱 is for

Lol. Got it. I don’t really do the emoji thing. They kinda confuse me

Well then! Maybe that’s why we met? You know all the real techy stuff, and I know all the silly techy stuff. I can teach you to emoji like a boss 😎

Sunglasses = boss? Shades? Because bosses are shady?

🤣more like the shades mean you’re just too cool to care. Like a boss attitude. But actually 🤔that’s a really great analysis!

See? Confusing 👽

Confusing as in no one knows what’s really “out there” huh? Wow. I like your way of emojiying (new word, just go with it)

Lol really?

I do!

Can I ask you something?

Sure

Which emoji makes you think of me?

👀🦋💬🧸🧨 😰📱😃

You stared at Elliot’s text, a goofy grin on your face as you tried to puzzle out his emoji story. The eyes, okay, but the rest was sort of a mystery.

Lol! I need to do this in pieces so you can tell me if I’m right or wrong

So, you saw me and thought I was nice? Pretty? Delicate?

Lol pretty

Ok. Thanks, btw. We talked and then, oh boy, this is tough. An exploding bear? Talking to me made you feel like you were going to die? This is not good.

🤣 Poor choice of the firecracker, clearly, but take them as two separate things. What do you associate with a teddy bear?

Um, childhood . . . safety? Protection?

Close! Warm, safe. You seem like a warm, safe person to talk to.

I am grinning like an idiot right now. You are so sweet. But on to the firecracker? Wait! Like sassy? Like I have a firecracker personality?

Yes! You’re funny in a forward, witty way. I guess the “She’s a real firecracker” thing might be a bit outdated.

I LOVE IT. I gotta keep going now. This part is easy, I think. Sooo even though you felt nervous, you took a chance and left me your cell, and now you know it was a good choice because you made me happy.

Almost—when you texted, it made ME happy. Hence 😃 and I have big eyes so I used the big eye happy face.

I.am.dying. That’s the cutest thing anyone has ever done over a text in the history of the world!

Lol. Is there a dramatic emoji because I don’t think anything I’ve ever done is that great.

This WAS great. I’m serious

Do you wanna maybe have dinner over Zoom? God how lame is that?

You respect the quarantine—not lame at all. I’d love to!

They let me unchain myself around 6. I’ll send you a link at 7?

Perfect! But what are we going to order? Shouldn’t we order from the same place to make it more authentic?

Do you like Chinese?

Who doesn’t?

You looked at the location Elliot sent and laughed with the irony that it was your favorite take-out spot.

How did you know that was my favorite take-out spot?

Lucky guess 🤷🏽‍♂️

Well, lucky Elliot who is just a Tech. I’ll “see” you at 7. If we order the same dinner, I’ll consider it a sign that we are meant to take over the world together by eliminating one dumbass’s access to a computer at a time 🦸‍♀️🦸‍♂️

Lol except that would leave me out of a job

We will find you something more meaningful, I promise

Make me a list 😃

You got it! Can’t wait for 7 ☺️

Me either

* * * * *

Tags: @ramimedley @clumsybookworm18 @r-ahh-mi @aboutthatmelancholystorm @alottanothing @sherlollydramoine @txmel @diasimar @hah0106 @flipper-kisses @rami-malek-trash @ramisgirl512 @dancing-disco-deacy @just-a-queen-bee @eightiesriot

Maybe a Part II?

#Elliot Alderson #elliot alderson x reader #female reader (but it is pretty ambiguous)#elliot alderson fanfic #elliot alderson imagine #fluff #for now #Rami Malek character #rami malek fanfiction

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bitchpuddingstorytime · 3 years

Text

Ok so about 7 months ago, I got hired at this really awesome place and everything was lovely. The boss/owner is cool but definitely a little intense, but the work was fun and mostly engaging (we made prescription eyewear). I caught on to using the machines quickly and I could keep up with daily product goals, and I was generally (I'd like to think) a good employee. It's a small business with around 15 people total, and only a few of those people were actually in the lab. I was in the glasses finishing department with 2 other ladies who thought they ran the place. In one of their defenses, she had been there for around 12 years and has like 20+ years of experience in the industry so it was pretty fair for her to gently point me in the right direction. But this other chick was a legit 2 faced nightmare. She'd only been there a few months longer than me and had somehow managed to get herself "promoted" to department supervisor even though she was abrasive, dismissive and terribly unprofessional. Well, I gradually started having a difficult time meeting goals, and on several occasions I actually forgot what I was doing while I was doing it. It sounds kind of alarming out of context, but I assumed it was a combination of life stress and ADHD. Anyway, said unpleasant supervisor liked to call me "sidetracked Sally" (my name is not Sally) and otherwise bring attention to my apparent lack of ability to multi-task or general new found forgetfulness. It was embarrassing and frustrating and not surprisingly, stressed me out and made my overall performance at work suffer further. To the point that the owner pulled me aside and told me that if I couldn't focus at work, he'd replace me (this supervisor had his ear and full stop sang of my incompetence any time she had the chance). He told me I was an excellent employee *when I was on task* but that was happening less and less frequently. Well, life happened and I needed some time off to get my kids teeth fixed and the boss himself doubted why I wasn't at work because shitty supervisor FOUND MY HOUSE MY DRIVING AROUND LOOKING FOR MY CAR and told our boss when I was home. Like appointments aren't at 8 pm but whatever. The boss chewed me out on the phone but ended up believing me in the end, and I quit amicably the next day. Well, fast forward to 2 weeks after I quit, I had a really weird migraine, and had an mri. Turns out I have a ton of white matter lesions and a now precursory MS diagnosis. These coworkers watched my brain deteriorate (at an alarming rate at that) and one of them full stop tortured me over it and cost me my job. I'm still on good terms with the boss though, and my dad is coming to town to visit and wants to take a tour of the lab. And you better believe I'm telling Shitty McSupervisor to her face my diagnosis so she knows that if she would have taken me seriously that this shit was way out of character for me, and been kind, I might have been diagnosed literal months ago and I might not be stuck with this much permanent cognitive loss. Idk if that's petty but honestly when I originally thought it I laughed put loud so now I have to do it lol.

#idk how to tag lol #sorry for the long post #kinda funny #kinda fucked up #multiple sclerosis #disabled woman #story time #actually disabled #bruh wtf

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tartagilicious · 4 years

Text

Victor - Coming Home (translated date)

Here’s another translated date, requested by @shimizusora! This time, here’s the card beforehand, as I couldn’t find the separate versions to place when they appear ^^

spoilers for a date not released in EN server beneath the cut~

The meeting has lasted for almost 3 hours, and everyone is waiting for Victor’s final decision. In addition to dignity and fatigue, his expression also showed a trace of annoyance: before he came, he did not expect the situation to be so heavy!

Earlier, when it acquired shares in the SE online video platform, LFG issued a circular to the public saying that this was an important and strategic move for LFG to sweep the overseas film and television market.

In just two years, SE was in debt due to a bad project, and the capitol chain was broken several times -- all accounting for a debt totaling 10 billion…

Many insiders in the industry secretly insulted Victor and took a few days to turn a blind eye; after all, this incident was only passable as a joke for the wine table to them. The people of LFG’s public relations department exhausted all available media resources to suppress the negative rumours of this matter as much as possible. Fortunately, the news did not end up flowing out.

Only this time, LFG did lose.

Everyone at the meeting exchanged glances. The president had not closed his eyes for two days -- from his plane landing to now. He had spent a lot of time looking at the report documents, and sometimes the project information. He even tended to sit alone in the meeting room for several hours.

No one dared to step forward and say something, even the question of a cup of coffee seeming threatening.

It wasn’t until everyone came to the meeting room three hours ago that they found the dinner they had sent was still tucked in the corner they had left it.

Goldman: President, the most difficult problem is in the long return period of the project. SE now also has stable advertising revenue and a large amount of copyright resources, which we can fully leverage on their acquisition, wholly owned. (t/n: big words. He’s basically saying that with the deal, LFG can buy the aforementioned things and get complete ownership of them.)

Goldman: With LFG’s resources involved, these batches of information may not be able to go online smoothly, and there will be a turn around.

Victor: There’s no need for this.

Victor closed the folder in his hand and raised his eyes across the conference table.

Victor: Talk about prices with a few funds, don’t make a habit of stepping deeper and deeper.

The lengthy meeting ended at this moment.

When Victor returned to the hotel, the number of unread messages accumulated on his mobile phone exceeded one hundred again. He didn’t pay attention to this information, though, just clicking a single number from the countless list of tips.

Unsurprisingly, it was all nonsense gossip, accompanied by small expressions of different styles.

Victor loosened his tie and read them one by one from top to bottom.

“I made an improved egg omelet for dinner, would you like to try it?”

“What’s Goldman’s circle of friends talking about? I know you’re probably irritated and tired, but I hope the meeting still goes smoothly!”

“Remember to eat…”

“Also remember to sleep!”

Victor’s motion stopped after that line, and soft emotions flooded his eyes.

“The internet celebrity lawyer I told you about last time agreed to my interview invitation, so I have to hurry up and plan the case for this Saturday. Do you want to come supervise the work?”

Victor opened the dialogue box and typed a single ‘good’, and immediately received a cat with a smiling expression. But, he raised his eyebrows slightly when thinking about the time in China.

I sat up in bed and was preparing to have a long discussion about the weekend schedule, but my phone in my hand suddenly rang and shocked me.

Victor [over the phone]: did you sleep or stay up?

MC: haha….

Victor: Why are you laughing?

MC: Because I feel like that’s often asked by me, but now you’re the one asking…

Victor: It’s only 5 o’clock here, but there..

I understood what he meant.

MC: I wanted to wait for your reply and couldn’t sleep well, ok…..

I rolled over in bed and changed to a more comfortable position and held the phone against my ear.

MC: What projects have you been busy with this time? Is it going well?

Victor: Smoothly. But, you should go back to sleep again before it’s too early.

MC: ...I’m not too sleepy. You told me before, but will you still come back Thursday?

Victor: Before Saturday.

MC, sadly: Today is only Tuesday, and today’s sun isn’t even out.

I heard Victor laugh seemingly indiscriminately, and I noticed a little laziness in his low voice.

Victor, softly and groggily: Is it too late?

MC: Don’t you dare, as long as it’s not for something important, postpone your return. But, even if it’s necessary for work, you still have to say one thing, you have to promise me:

A slow sigh fell to my ears, revealing faint fatigue.

Victor: Go on.

MC: You can’t stop eating or sleeping.

The other side of the phone was silent for a few seconds.

Victor, humming: Then, I promise you.

The misty light of Loveland was reflected faintly on the curtains, and in the moments of silence, I closed my eyes to feel the frequency of every breath from him.

MC: ...It has been raining in Paris these past few days.

Victor: It’s the season.

MC: The meetings… Are they cold?

Victor: Not badly.

My consciousness became uncontrollably deeper, but I could still clearly capture his voice from within the grotesque dream.

Victor, sweetly: Sleep if you’re tired. I’ll hang up now.

MC: ..No… I’m not sleepy… Don’t go.

Victor: Your words are slurred but you still refuse to sleep?

MC: …

I can wake up in five seconds.

I hummed gently, not sure if I actually said this.

Soon, Victor’s long and heavy breathing was close to my ears, very close, making me feel calm and almost as if I was next to him.

Victor: Sleeping?

MC: ….

Victor: Go to bed.

Victor: ….

Victor: Sleep peacefully.

On Saturday afternoon, I looked up at the wall clock for the nth time. Until the hour hand reached the number 3, I couldn’t help but call Victor. But after waiting, the robotic voice reminding me that the other party could not be contacted sounded. The doorbell rang before I could react.

Victor, who was standing outside the door, was putting his phone back in his pocket the moment I opened it. I looked hesitantly at his empty hands.

MC: Your luggage…

Victor: I let Goldman take it back, and I’ll go to LFG tonight.

With that said, he entered the door and walked to my bedroom after changing his shoes at the entrance.

Victor: What have you been doing these past two days?

He walked over to the coffee table, and carefully picked up the interview outline that I had been writing all morning. A corner of his lips raised with a single glance.

Victor, teasingly: You said that you worked hard for several days, and listed a few outlines.

MC: Don’t underestimate me, I have read a lot of information in the past few days, see--

I pointed to a pile of hot social cases and legal books on the ground to show Victor.

MC: I did not sharpen the woodworker by mistake. And I’m also very self-knowledged, aren’t I, supervisor?

I busied myself and dragged a chair to the coffee table, and took a medium-sized pillow and placed it on the back of it.

MC: You sit.

MC: I guarantee that from this second, I will devote myself to planning, and I will surely have the first version of the results before the sun goes down.

Victor couldn’t help but laugh, hang his coat up by the door, and pull out the chair. Just sitting down, I remembered what it seemed like, and sighed slightly.

Victor: Let me borrow your computer.

I handed the laptop to Victor, and a thought flashed through me. How could he come here without a computer?

MC: Victor Li, when were you infected with my bad habit of losing everything?

Victor: Only once. I put in the backseat of my car and forgot to bring it down.

Victor avoided my gaze, and opened the LFG website without changing his expression, and approved the documents.

Victor: The sun will go down in two hours.

MC: Maybe the sun won’t want to go home today. (t/n: maybe the sun will stay up a bit longer and she’ll get to work on her report longer)

I sat back in my position and looked at Victor from across the table with a hand under my chin. The light golden slightly projected from the window slowly enveloped Victor. The quiet and warm light was also calmed by his smooth wooden fragrance, which was very comfortable.

Victor didn’t speak, and tapped his fingers one by one, so in the quiet room, even the sound of our breathing was quietly amplified.

Not knowing how long I had taken, he finally raised his eyes to meet mine.

Victor: Will staring at me finish the planning case?

MC: I’m not staring at you, but conceiving a plan in my heart.

As soon as my voice fell, a short ‘ding’ sounded.

MC: Wait for me~

I ran out of the room and to the kitchen, taking out the fragrant cookie from the oven. I put it down carefully to cool, and took it back with two hot drinks.

MC: Afternoon tea time!

Victor took care of his cup, the steam rising up to slightly warm his eyebrows. The milk in his glass was a light temperature, and the similarly warm scent of the cookies melted into the room.

MC: Your dark circles are so heavy, didn’t you at least drink coffee while you were away?

Victor: I’m fine.

I thought Victor didn’t mean to drink the milk, but when the words left his mouth, he still picked up the glass. After watching, I pushed the dish with cookies in front of him again.

MC: Take a look at my new designs. Cute, huh?

I pointed to the painted kittens with different expressions on the cookies to show Victor.

MC: This one is yawning, this one is surprised, this one is asleep, but I like this one the most--

MC: It looks really angry, so I named it “flaming”.

Victor glanced in the direction of my finger.

Victor: It looks like you.

MC: Is that so?

I let air fill my cheeks, trying to look like the cat on the cookie, and raised my face to look at Victor. He didn’t react, and his eyes that were connected with mine were full of silence. I just smiled and picked up “buffoon” and brought it to his lips. (t/n: “buffoon” as in another named cookie)

MC: Can you try it?

Victor took a bite of the cookie in my hands and looked back at the computer.

MC: Would you like to comment?

His lips were pulled into a weak line, and I couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not. Then, he moved a little closer and ate the remaining half of “buffoon” in my hand. Warm lips briefly rubbed my fingertips, leaving a soft warmth in its wake. A fluffy, sweet, happiness suddenly bloomed in my heart.

I patted away the crumbs on my finger with satisfaction and picked up the pen again. The smooth tip made a rustling sound on the paper, and I wrote it down with the same strokes of the previous outline.

But today’s weather is so nice….

The sky is a clean blue, the clouds a lazy white, and the room is full of rich and warm fragrance. I turned away absently, quietly looking to Victor. The sense sunlight was reflected in his dark pupils, refracting the invisible layers of his thoughts into a glorious glow.

He doesn’t have any emotion when he works, and his expression is always calm. But the appearance of deep concentration in his eyes is not the same as usual.

To say what’s different….. It’s probably even more eye-catching.

Victor: It’s only been a few minutes, and how many times have you lost your concentration?

I quickly returned my eyes and scribbled onto the paper, pretending to be like a good student who was caught by the teacher during a lesson. But, my ideas were not connecting, and nothing could be written, so I opted to draw a little heart on the upper right corner of the white paper instead.

I noticed that Victor was still focused, so I kept drawing this little heart, adding a tilde to its tail. But after a short pause, I sighed and raised my eyes slightly.

Victor sighed.

MC, flushed: ..I can’t help it.

Victor: And what can’t you help?

MC: I can’t help but look at you.

I folded my arms and changed to a more comfortable position on the table, tilting my head and looking at Victor. He chuckled almost inaudibly and was about to speak, then a familiar ringtone came from his pocket.

After seeing Victor answer the phone, all the messy thoughts in my head disappeared in one evil stroke, secretly lost.

Victor: the time now is…..

Victor looked at the bottom right corner of the computer during his speech, paused for a moment, and then quickly looked back to the mobile phone.

Victor: It’s 4:30 right now, so let them reply to me by 8pm.

He hung up the phone in a concise manner, and I asked a little hesitantly,

MC: Are you…. Going back to LFG now?

Victor: Don’t worry, I won’t go.

Victor said this, muting the volume of his phone and sliding it to the corner of the table. Facing my doubtful eyes, there was a trace of helplessness in his calm eyes.

Victor: Your computer is in Paris’s time.

I didn’t understand the random topic for a moment, but nodded subconsciously.

MC: Well, it’s more convenient to look at the time like this.

Victor didn’t speak, and glanced at the computer again. At this time, the system pushed out the weather forecast for the next 5 days in Paris -- a continuous rain every day. He smiled lightly and closed the computer slowly.

Victor: ...it’s all getting stupidly convenient.

MC: Yes, yes, taking care of a fool like me really makes the president troubled…

I deliberately stopped talking there, and couldn’t help laughing with Victor as I got up and picked up the two empty glasses.

MC: I’m going to go wash the cups, do you want anything else to eat?

Victor: No need. Do you think I’m you?

I groaned, irritated, and turned my head towards the kitchen.

I originally thought it would take less than a few minutes to wash the cups, but after I cleaned them and cleaned all the tools I used for baking before, a half an hour had passed.

When I came back, Victor was already lying on the bed, still holding my unfinished outline. I walked past him quietly, and whispered near his ear.

MC: Victor, are you asleep?

Victor didn’t answer me, only taking a shallow breath that made his twilight-coloured eyelashes tremble.

MC: Are you really asleep or pretending to sleep?

I climbed onto the bed, approaching him little by little.

MC: ...Victor?

I called him again softly, but he still did not stir. Only the corner of lips raised, into a badly hidden smile.

MC: You didn’t fall asleep!

I laid my arm on the bed and picked up a few strands of his hair. Looking down at his smoother and sharper jawline, my fingertips unconsciously rubbed against the tips of his hair.

MC, whispering: ...Have you been tired recently?

Victor, with his eyes still closed: No.

In his words, there is obviously fatigue. I don’t know if he has rested in these past few days, and the possibility of him fainting after a bit of relaxation crosses my mind.

MC: Didn’t you read the outline of my interview? How does it look?

Victor: I see what you’re written.

I thought of the heart with the small tail, and was suddenly caught speechless.

Victor: You deliberately brought this to your supervisor, but in the time I’ve been here, you wrote so few lines?

MC: Yeah, I guess you should go overseas more often, then. When you are near, the efficiency of my work plummets!

I reached out and pulled away the notebook in his hands, and covered him with a blanket. Victor turned his face and looked at me for a moment with his eyes half open. I rarely saw his tired eyes, but felt that all the emotions in my heart were softened a hundred times by him in that moment.

MC: Still want to go to LFG after a while? I’ll wake you up at 7:30.

With Victor’s degree of rigor in scheduling, this time, he temporarily canceled several important meetings and later flew to Paris while delaying the return time twice. He had already said that it would be before Saturday, but suddenly, it was changed to Saturday…..

It’s not very difficult, it won’t be like that. He’s also very stubborn in insisting he’s not tired.

I put my index fingers on his temples and slowly massaged circles into them. After a moment, a flirty smile overflowed from his lips.

Victor, laughing: …..

Victor pulled my right hand and wrapped my fingers into his palm, and moved me closer to him wordlessly. The close distance has our breaths mixing, and I can’t help but lean down to press my lips to the corner of his forehead. In the silence, all I could hear was our heartbeats and breaths, slowly accelerating together.

Victor, softly: Do not worry about me. I’d never let a fool worry.

MC: Ok, I know…

I responded softly to him, but I couldn’t hide my calm smile.

MC: ...I just can’t help it.

I can’t help worrying about you, whether you’re hungry, cold, or tired. I can’t help but want to see you whether you are in front of me or not. I can’t help but smile, only because of your figure in my mind.

I looked out at the clouds stretching out of the window, spreading out a large dim twilight, the stars looming, the golden sunset and the quiet night meeting at the end of the sky.

The sun is going down.

MC: Victor, I did not finish the interview before the sun set. Will you punish me?

Victor: ….

The only response to me is his even and steady breathing. I looked down at his sleeping face. This familiar face became thinner in just a few measly days. I reached out and stroked his cheek gently. But, still afraid of waking him, I just watched quietly.

MC: Go to bed.

MC: …..

MC: Sleep peacefully.

#mr love queen’s choice #mlqc #mr love #mr love queen’s choice victor #mr love victor #love and producer #恋与制作人 #李泽言 #恋与制作人李泽言 #mr love date #mlqc date #mr love queen’s choice date #mldd #mr love dream date #hes so cute 🥺🥺🥺🥺

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nayutai · 4 years

Text

Baby Don’t Move

⇢ Pairing Yunho x Female OC | Office Worker AU

⇢ Word Count 6.010

⇢ Warnings Yunho has a filthy mouth and a huge dick, oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, cursing (in general), aaaand I think that’s it

⇢ Summary Naima Yancey is ambitious and determined so her promotion at DevTech comes as no surprise to anyone. What should be a joyous moment for her is tainted. The promotion comes with a real office, more money, and a higher status, but it also comes with close proximity to the office golden boy Yunho. He gets under her skin in a way no one ever has, but she’s determined not to let this oversized menace ruin this opportunity for her. Turns out, Yunho would rather ruin her instead.

The muted ding of the elevator sounds much too joyful to Naima. Her transfer to the accounts receivable department should be marked by the sound of a death rattle or a dying elephant. A twinkling little ding only makes her even more pissed off. She glances down at the contents of the box nestled in her arms to see the brand new name plate she’d been given for her new office.

Naima Yancey

Receivables Supervisor

The youngest supervisor in DevTech history according to HR. She guesses that anyone else in her position would be excited about the transfer she’s mentally griping about. It’s not every day that someone like her gets unexpectedly promoted to a supervisory position. Naima has only been with the company for three years and apparently she’d made the most of that time. She pauses next to a sea of cubicles to scan the numbers above the offices on either side of the employees rapidly typing away at their stations. Only a few of them even bother to give her a second glance and for that Naima is incredibly grateful. She finally spots her destination, hiking the cardboard box she’s unloaded her desk into a little higher on her hip. She takes half of a step and immediately regrets every life choice that led her to this point.

“Well look who we have here. Are you lost, Ravioli?” Naima grits her teeth at that god awful nickname, swallowing the scathing retort that’s burning her throat. The deep baritone voice sounding off somewhere over her left shoulder is the cause of every ounce of the work stress she carries in her shoulders like a boulder.

Yunho Jeong. Beholder of an unfair amount of undeserved beauty and the victim in Naima’s most murderous dreams.

“You were in the staff meeting when they announced my promotion, Yunho.” She deadpans. Her skin is starting to itch from the prolonged exposure to the man in front of her. The smirk that is practically permanently etched on his face does nothing but piss her even more. She wants to smack him until it disappears.

“I’m just messing with you, Ravioli. You know that. Welcome to Receivables.” He shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he starts backing away. “Try not to fuck it up!” Naima can feel the thick cardboard of her box bending to the forceful clench of her fists. The weight of of nearly fifty pairs of eyes keeps the scathing remark she wants to make from bubbling up.

Fucking Yunho. Naima hasn’t even been in Receivables for an hour and she’s already doubting if the extra money is worth the headache. Okay, who is she kidding? The extra money is definitely worth it. Getting ahead of her bills had felt like the pipe dream of a wistful millennial before it had become an unexpected reality just last week. No way she lets some oversized preteen bully ruin this for her.

Naima is almost done putting her things into her new desk when the sound of an office door loudly closing disturbs her concentration. She looks up to see the source of the noise is none other than Yunho himself. All of the offices on this floor conveniently have floor to ceiling windows next to the door which allows people directly across from each other to see into the other person’s office. Naima is absolutely horrified at the implications of this as Yunho stares her down with a satisfied smirk. It’s obvious now that he slammed his door on purpose to get her attention.

“This is the worst day of my life.” Naima mumbles to herself as she does her best to ignore Yunho’s gaze burning into her forehead.

IT arrives a few tense minutes later to set up her docking station and get her started on the training modules for her new job duties. She’s taking notes on how to perform certain functions in the billing system when she receives a chat notification from her work husband Knox Rivers back in her old department.

KR: Hey wifey how’s the swanky new digs?

NY: My office is DIRECTLY across from Yunho’s office

NY: I can literally see every move he makes and he can see mine

KR: Dreamville? My treat

Naima immediately perks up at the mention of the bar down the street that has become a favorite amongst their group of friends. It’s going to take a lot to make her feel good about working in such close proximity with Satan’s hardest working demon, but a free round of drinks is a great start.

NY: I’ll meet you downstairs at 5:30

Naima nearly bursts into tears when she steps off of the elevator and spots Knox leaning seated in the lobby playing a game on his phone. She’s always thought that he looked like Thor with his long hair and athletic build and right now a superhero is exactly what she needs. A giggle bubbles up from Naima’s throat at the red stain that creeps down Knox’s throat when she sneaks up on him to kiss his cheek.

“Come on, big guy. There’s a Blue Magic with my name on it and I intend to collect my due.” Naimah declares, clapping Knox on his broad shoulders.

“Lead the way, my lady.” He holds the door open like the gentleman he is with a dramatic flourish. Naima’s heart twinges a little. She misses the days when talking to him in person required her to lean back in her chair as opposed to taking an elevator ride.

A few other people from the office are already at Dreamville when Naima and Knox arrive. They’re quickly swept up in familiar gossip and more drinks than anyone has a right to consume on a Tuesday evening. She’s engaged in a dangerous game of darts with a new employee named Xavier when a horribly familiar voice rings out above all the noise in the bar. Her head whips in the direction the voice came from, but the dart flies from her fingers anyway nearly taking some poor girl’s eye out. She yells out an apology but apparently her almost victim has had a little too much to drink herself and simply waves her off.

“Nice aim, Ravioli. An inch to the left and you would’ve scored a perfect murder.” Yunho taunts. Naima crosses her arms across her chest in indignation. Her eyes watch him intently and therefore don’t miss the way his gaze drops to get a look at her cleavage. His jaw ticks and she wants nothing more than to comment on that but Xavier interrupts by extending his hand in Yunho’s direction as he introduces himself.

“Naima, you ready to leave? I was about to call an Uber.” Knox materializes out of nowhere, phone in hand and Naima’s eyes nearly pop out of her head when she sees that it’s nearing eleven. She hadn’t realized that they’d been there for so long.

“See you tomorrow, Ravioli. Later, Knox.” She’d almost forgotten that Yunho was still here. He winks at her before he turns to walk away and, despite the fact that he can no longer see her, Naima flips him off.

Naima is still fuming nineteen minutes later when the Uber arrives. She successfully dodges Knox’s first few questions about why she’s so mad, but he eventually wears her down. She’d forgotten that Knox becomes a wannabe psychologist that likes to talk about people’s feelings after he’s had a few drinks.

“What do you have against him? You’re probably the only person at the whole company that doesn’t get along with him.” Naima rolls her eyes skyward. Yunho the golden boy is apparently loved by everyone and it makes her seethe even more. She wracks her brain for someone at the company that she can add to her side and thankfully comes up with a name.

“Fake news! Saia in purchasing called him a douche nozzle last week and I am inclined to agree.” Naima is quite pleased with herself as she settles back into the plush seating of the SUV. Her satisfaction is short lived.

“Saia doesn’t count.” Knox counters quickly. “Yunho dated her younger sister and it ended badly so that just leaves you.”

“The night before my first day at DevTech, my friends from back home came to town to celebrate and we went to this super fancy restaurant.” The red light at the intersection bathes them both in its glow which is ironic in Naima’s opinion.

She regales Knox with the store of how her friend Keyanna had bought her a ravioli entree to go so that she could have her favorite food on her first day. Yunho had snuck up on her when she was in the break room, startling her to the point that she ended up dropping a ravioli on her white button up. Of course the evil bastard had laughed about it till he could barely stand. She’d had to walk around for the rest of the day with the sauce stain on her shirt and Yunho has called her Ravioli every day since then.

“That…” Knox pauses to piece his thoughts together. “okay, yeah, I can’t say I’d be too fond of him either after that.” He admits.

“See? He’s an asshole and I hope he steps on a lego every day for the rest of his miserable life.” Their Uber driver, who had remained silent aside from the quick hello when they’d gotten in her car, snorts at the curse Naima speaks into Yunho’s life.

“You know he teases you because he probably wants to fuck you right? Men aren’t as evolved as people would like to believe.” Knox points out. Naima withdraws from him as if he just told her to go fuck herself.

“If he thinks that being an asshole will grant him access to my pearly gates then he’s a bigger idiot than I thought he was.” She and the driver exchange a high five when she chimes in with her agreement. Naima makes a mental note to make sure that Knox tips her good for being an intellectual.

A wave of exhaustion washes over Naima when their apartment complex comes into view. Thoughts of a hot shower and her fluffy pillows makes the time required to drive to their part of the complex feel like an eternity. She bids the friendly Uber driver a safe and prosperous night before all but running towards her building with a wave to Knox tossed carelessly over her shoulder as he makes his way to the building directly across from hers.

“Morning, Killer.” Yunho is way too chipper this morning especially since Naima has already had to suffer through elevator chatter about how he won a drinking contest last night. It doesn’t help that now he’s bringing up her almost homicide.

“Don’t you have something else to do? Like your job?” Yunho pretends to recoil from her remark as he follows Naima to her office. She wishes she could just haul off and smack him but that wouldn’t bode well for her professional career.

He props himself up against the wall next to her office and it’s as she unlocking her door that she registers just how close he is to her. A small shift of her weight to her right foot would push her up against his chest. Her mind drifts back to what Knox had said last night. She side eyes him cautiously before turning fully to face him head on. If anyone were to ask, Naima would blame what she does next on residual alcohol still inhibiting her rational thought.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Yunho blinks several times in shock but he recovers quickly. He flips around to take stock of the people still filtering into the office to see if anyone is within ear shot and is seemingly satisfied by the lack of people around them.

“I never pegged you to have an exhibition kink, Ravioli.” She curses herself at the way the low timbre of his voice resonates deep in her gut. The greasy smile on his face however, makes her want to puke.

“My kinks are none of your business. I’m just trying to prove a point. Now answer the question.”

“I can only imagine what that point is, but yes, I would absolutely love to ravish you.” He leans in even closer so that she can smell the minty scent of his toothpaste when he whispers in her ear. His closeness doesn’t make her recoil in the way that she thought it would and the reasoning behind that is definitely not something she’s willing to explore.

The second she gets her laptop booted up she’s tapping out a message to Knox.

NY: Lunch on me today. We need to talk.

KR: I’m all yours at 12:30

Naima is still pondering her conversation with Knox when she steps off of the elevator to go back to her office after lunch. He seems to think that the best way to get Yunho off her back is to fuck him. According to Knox and his personal knowledge of “guy logic”, that will get her out of Yunho’s system and his annoying behavior will cease. Naima isn’t so sure about that. She’s so far inside her own head that she doesn’t even hear someone calling her name until they tap her on her shoulder. Of course, it’s Yunho. Luck is just not on her side today.

“Ravioli, you should consider getting your ears checked. I called you four times.”

“And you should consider that maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.” She replies. He makes himself comfortable in her office as she drops her purse into one of the desk drawers to jump back into her work.

“Oh, don’t be that way, Ravioli. I thought we were past this animosity thing since you practically propositioned me in the hallway.” He looks so smug as he recalls her blunder from earlier. God he’s so infuriating. Naima adds this to her running list of why men should be removed from Earth. She says nothing, choosing to simply point towards her office door. Thankfully, he’s not too dense that he can’t take a hint and returns to his own office space.

She’s settled into a steady pace with her work when her computer pings with a message. The prospect of clearing out her dashboard and possibly being able to leave early is too sweet to break her stride. Two more subsequent pings from effectively breaks her concentration.

YJ: hey

YJ: you look so cute when you’re concentrating

YJ: don’t ignore me I’m sensitive 😭

She looks through the glass into Yunho’s office to see him already staring directly at her. His head being propped up on his hands suggests that he’s been doing it for a while. He blows a kiss in her which she returns with a middle finger. She raises her computer monitors so that he’s no longer able to see her face.

Next order of business: buying blinds

Naima groans out loud when her computer pings with yet another message. At this rate she’s going to have to stay late to get everything done. She halfway expects the new message to be another annoying attempt at conversation from Yunho but thankfully this one is from someone that she actually doesn’t mind talking to.

KR: hey did you hear that Yaya bought a new house?

NY: yeah she just texted me that she’s having a bbq this weekend to celebrate the closing

KR: you going? 👀

NY: don’t ask me a stupid question like that of course I’m going

KR: lmao okay so we can split an uber then

KR: wanna leave at like 3?

NY: yeah that’s fine with me!

Naima is so happy for Saturday to finally roll around that she could cry. Yaya had told her a few things on the menu on Wednesday and her mouth has been watering ever since. Her husband is a chef at some fancy restaurant so she knows that this will be the best food she’s had in a while.

Knox and Naima are both slack-jawed at the absolute grandeur of Yaya’s house as their Uber driver comes to a stop in the center of the horseshoe shaped driveway. She’d neglected to mention that her new house is actually a castle. Naima frowns when she spots Yunho’s flashy Mercedes amongst the cars already parked in the driveway, but she’s determined to have a good time despite his presence. They follow the sound of music and splashing to the backyard to see a majority of the DevTech staff in the backyard. They’re quick to strip down to their bathing suits to join in on the chicken fight in the pool.

Naima has just sent Alexis from marketing flying off of Xavier’s shoulders when Yaya announces that it’s time to eat. It’s a race to get out of the pool as everyone is hustling for a good spot in line. Naima is cursing the god awful heaviness that plagues her every time she steps out of a pool when she hears a low whistle from behind her. It’s Yunho and his eyes are trained directly on her ass. Big surprise there.

“Yellow is definitely your color, Ravioli.” He produces a large, fluffy towel seemingly out of nowhere, offering it to her. She’s hesitant to accept it but a quick glance towards the now empty table that had once held an assload of towels changes her mind.

“I think I would look just as good on you.” Yunho smiles as if he’s just hit her with the best pick up line known to man. He’s gotten quite brazen with his flirtatious attempts ever since he’d exposed his sexual intentions on Monday.

“You talk a big game but everyone knows that overly confident men are just…” Naimah trails off with a pointed look at the front of Yunho’s jeans as she takes a sip of her lemonade. “overcompensating.”

Yunho pokes at the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he considers the woman in front of him with amusement. He revels in the way she swallows nervously when he closes the gap between them. Every breath she takes causes her barely covered chest to graze against his but, to her credit, she doesn’t back away. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but being this close to Yunho is making her blood run hot. She chooses to blame it on her primitive instincts and not actual attraction, but even she knows that’s a lie.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to speak on things you know nothing about, Ravioli?” She can’t decide what she’s more mad at, the nickname or the insinuation that this asshole just said she’s wrong. She’s not.

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to lie?” She bristles. Yunho’s sarcastic little grin only grows in response to her anger. It’s like he gets off on making her want to wring his neck.

“Admit it, Ravioli. You want this just as much as I do.” Naima gasps when Yunho suddenly wraps an arm around her wait, jerking her to him. He leans down so that he’s speaking directly into her ear and in that moment, Naima knows she’s a goner. All these months of resisting him and he’s about to break her by whispering in her ear. She wants to scream bloody murder. “All you have to do is say the word and I’ll take you higher than you’ve ever been.”

“Prove it.” Naima feels like she’s put the final nail in her own coffin. Yunho has successfully worn her down. She can’t see his face, but she doesn’t have to to know that he’s smiling like he’s just won the lottery.

“Let’s go, Ravioli.” Naima expects Knox to be disappointed to see her leaving with Yunho when she waves at him to say bye, but instead he wiggles his eyebrows at her suggestively. She makes a mental note to yell at him for that later.

The ride to Yunho’s apartment is entirely too short. Naima’s shoulders are wrought with tension as she follows him up the stairs. Part of her wants to turn and run, but a much larger part is telling her to stay to see this through. Yunho has spoken quite highly of his sexual prowess and she’s more curious than not on just how much of it is true.

Yunho is on her the second she toes off her shoes by the door. One of his large hands firmly holds her jaw in place while he ravages her mouth with his own. Naima clings to his shirt to both hold him to her and ground herself in the moment. She feels lightheaded but it’s not from lack of oxygen. He uses his grip on her jaw to pry her mouth open, furthering his claim on her. The hand not covering her jaw skims across the skin above her shorts before deftly undoing the button. Her lips chase his when Yunho pulls away but he avoids her advances.

“Your lips taste so sweet. I want to taste all of you.” Naima shivers at the roughness of his voice. His normal baritone is a lot to deal with but this is downright sinful. He roughly hauls her off her feet into his arms, causing a fresh wave of arousal to flood her panties.

She busies herself with leaving marks along the column of his neck, loving the way she can feel his gruff moans vibrating against her lips. The smack of Yunho’s hand hitting the wall to steady himself when she grinds her hips against his startles her into.

“Jesus fuck, you’re killing me, baby girl.” Naima smiles mischievously, letting her lips linger on his skin. Something about the pet name he called her makes the heat simmering in her belly grow even hotter. He tosses her on his oversized bed once he collects himself enough to finally make it to his bedroom. She watches him curiously as he turns to dig around in his nightstand. His hand reappears with several foil packets in his grip which he promptly drops onto the mattress for later use.

Clothes fly haphazardly as Yunho hastily strips them down till nothing but his boxers remain in place. He smirks when he notices Naima’s playful grin drop when she takes in the size of the bulge he’s sporting. His large hands grip her hips, flipping her onto her stomach and rustling her around to a more favorable position. Finally satisfied with the way her face is pressed into the expensive Egyptian cotton of his bed sheets, Yunho buries his face in her dripping cunt from behind. He groans at his first taste of her and her answering whine is nothing but appreciative at the way it vibrates against her.

Naima yelps when Yunho’s large palms suddenly land on her ass with a resounding smack. He soothes the sting with tender caresses against her flesh. His tongue never leaves her entrance as he continues to coax a seemingly endless stream of arousal from her. She has the sheets in a death grip, moving her hips as if to separate herself from Yunho’s lethal tongue but wherever she goes his face simply follows. The slurping sounds of him feasting on her are absolutely obscene but she’s way too far gone to be embarrassed. She doubts that she would be able to form a coherent sentence of protest even if she wasn’t.

“You’re so fucking wet. I could drown in this pretty pussy.” Naima keens at his filthy words, squirming restlessly as the pleasure builds and builds within her.

It’s no surprise when she tumbles over the edge with a strangled shout, but she’d expected for him to release her once he’d made her come. Much to her surprise, Yunho doesn’t seem to have any plans of stopping. He tongues her through her orgasm, sucking gently on her clit as he thrusts two fingers into her still spasming entrance. Her knees buckle immediately from the sharp pang of oversensitivity. Yunho pulls his fingers from her long enough to land another harsh smack to her ass while his other holds her hips in place. The discomfort bleeds into pleasure until she’s racing headfirst into a second orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Let go. Give it all to me.” Naima swears she’s on the verge of blacking out when Yunho finally releases her. She collapses against the mattress when he relinquishes his grip on her, trembling from head to toe. His chest is warm against the sweat-slicked skin of her back when he covers his body with his own. He leaves chaste kisses along her shoulder as he loops an arm around her torso.

“Don’t tap out on me now, love. There’s still more fun to be had.” Yunho grinds his cock against her ass, smiling against her skin when he feels her shudder in his hold.

He pulls himself up on his knees, dragging Naima’s tired frame with him. He makes quick work of removing his boxers and rolling on one of the condoms he’d grabbed earlier. She jerks when the head of his latex covered cock bumps against her sensitive clit as he covers himself in the slick still leaking from her cunt. Yunho watches the back of her head like a hawk as he slowly presses himself against her entrance. He swears quite creatively at the way her muscles lock down on him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Yunho!” Naima drops her head to rest on her arms, doing her best to relax. He reaches underneath her to rub circles into her clits and succeeds in pushing forwards a few more inches.

His breath catches in his throat when she pulls her hips before pushing back against him to sink down a little further on his thick length. They work together until he’s finally seated balls deep inside her. Yunho’s eyes roll back in his head at the tight squeeze of her perfect cunt. He’s been inside quite a few women in his day, but this feels almost like uncharted territory. He hisses when she flexes around him involuntarily, tightening even further though he didn’t think that was even possible.

“I’m going to wreck this pussy, baby.” He punctuates his statement by withdrawing till only the tip remains, pushing back in with a purposeful thrust of his hips. Naima nearly chokes on the pitiful whine that claws its way out of her throat. “You’re gonna feel me in here for days.”

To his credit, he tries to keep his pace even and not too fast. He really does. His fingers are probably bruising her skin from how tightly he’s gripping her hips but it’s the only thing keeping him grounded and sane at this point.

“You call this wrecking me? I could’ve done this at home with my Rabbit.” Naima can admit that Yunho’s dick was a hard pill to swallow at first, but she’s thoroughly adjusted and in need of more. Judging by the way his hips still she’s about to get just what she was aiming for. She gasps when he grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her upright so that he can whisper in her ear.

“Didn’t I tell you to watch that pretty little mouth of yours?” He practically growls in her ear as he grinds against her cervix. The pain mixes with the pleasure in a way that’s starting to make her lightheaded.

“No, you didn’t.” She responds breathily. Her fingernails dig into his thighs painfully but Yunho doesn’t care even a little bit.

“Well, I should’ve.” He shoves her back towards the mattress not giving her even a few seconds to get her bearings before he’s rearing back to slam back into her tight heat.

She shouts his name, squirming in his iron grip but he shows her no mercy. The time for that has past. Yunho’s hips piston in out of her at a furious pace. His gaze is fixated on the way her pussy creams on his dick with every thrust. His chest rumbles in protest when manages to pull away from him enough for his cock to fall out of her.

“Don’t run from me, Naima. You wanted this dick and now you got it.” She keens at the sound of her real name coming out of his mouth. The way his husky tone wraps around the syllables should be illegal. He fists the sheets next to her head with one hand as he uses the other to reposition her hips to allow him to slide back inside. His legs straddle both of hers, giving him the leverage he needs to fuck her into the mattress.

Naima’s fingernails are leaving crescent shaped marks in Yunho’s wrists as she holds on for dear life. She’s never been so thoroughly fucked in all her life. He’s reaching spots inside her that she didn’t even know existed until now. She’s on the verge of tears when he slows his frantic pace. He lowers himself so that his larger frame dwarfs hers once more. His arms looped under hers to hold her close to him. Yunho resumes his movements, opting for a much more relaxed cadence. The purposeful grind of his hips is just as overwhelming if not more so after the intensity from before.

“This is my pussy now.” Yunho grunts into her ear. He sucks marks into every inch of skin that his lips can reach. “No one will ever fuck you this good. Never fuck you this deep. You’re all mine.”

Naima bites down hard on a pillow that she must have grabbed at some point as she clenches around him hard. It dawns on her vaguely that Yunho hasn’t touched her clit once. She’s about to come from penetration alone. A feat she’s never been able to accomplish. The very Earth feels like it’s opened up beneath her when the orgasm that had been flirting with her senses finally washes over her. She feels him grow impossibly harder inside her as he reaches his own end. Black spots dance across her vision when the throbbing sensation of him filling the condom triggers a smaller, biting orgasm.

She’s surprised that she manages to stay conscious if only barely. Her surprise only grows when she feels a warm towel gently wiping between her legs. Her shock reaches a fever pitch when Yunho’s fingers start working into her calf muscles. She chooses to stay silent out of fear that he might stop if caught being nice.

“You done pretending to be asleep? Or did I actually fuck you stupid?” She can practically hear the smile in his voice as his fingers climb higher to her thighs. So much for peacefully enjoying this massage.

“I like you better when you don’t speak.” His amused laughter brings a smile to her own face despite her attempts to tamp it down. She shivers when he places a chaste kiss on the swell of her ass before going back to his ministrations on her legs. Knox is never going to let her hear the end of this once he finds out.

She’s about to go insane. Naima’s stomach has growled twelve times in as many minutes and if she doesn’t eat something soon there will be fatal consequences. She checks her phone once more to check Knox’s location and nearly cries when it says that he’s arrived at DevTech. Just a few minutes stands between her and hot bacon, egg, and cheese croissant and an extra large caramel macchiato.

The sight of Knox navigating the sea of cubicles with her breakfast in hand may as well be the second coming of Christ. She throws her arms around her neck the second he steps into her office. He pretends to be disgusted when she pecks him on his cheek repeatedly. Knox takes a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of her desk to talk before he goes back downstairs to work. Their conversation when Yunho suddenly burst through the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” Naima is appalled at the way he’s just invited himself into her office without even having the decency to knock first.

“I should be asking you that. I asked you for the Murchison report fifteen minutes ago but I guess you were too busy with your little boy toy here to actually do your fucking job.” Knox stands, mouth fixed to defend her, but she holds up her hand to stop him.

“Knox, can you excuse us please?” Naima says sweetly. Her tone is sweet and even, but there’s a hard edge to it that tells Knox she’ll be able to handle Yunho’s temper tantrum just fine.

Naima wraps her sandwich up as she motions for Yunho to have a seat in the chair Knox has just vacated. She shrugs her shoulders when he refuses, crossing her modest office to lock the door and close the blinds she’d installed.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you, Jeong? Did you fall and hit your head? How dare you come to my office and insinuate that I’m not doing my job?.” He can tell that she’s working hard to keep from yelling at him but her words feel like a slap in the face either way.

“Look, I just need the Murchison report so that I can finish some paper-” Naima doesn’t even let him finish his sentence. She has no patience for him and his bullshit.

“Cut the bullshit, Yunho. The Murchison report wouldn’t be useful for anything other than end of year reporting which we are eight months away from so what the fuck do you actually want from me?” She’s seething. DevTech has a super relaxed company culture but HR still wouldn’t take too kindly to her punching another employee in the throat.

“Why didn’t you text me back yesterday?” Naima is taken aback. She remembers receiving a few texts from him on Sunday — how he got her number she doesn’t know — but it wasn’t anything that she felt warranted a response.

“Why would you want me to?”

The more they talk, the more Naima realizes that they went into that bedroom with very different ideas of what was going to happen afterwards. She’d intended for it to be a one time thing for him to try and prove her wrong which he’d succeeded in doing. Nothing more, nothing less. Obviously, Yunho had other ideas that went far beyond the four walls of his bedroom.

“This is new territory for me. I’ve never been jealous over women because I can get a new one in five minutes. I’ve never had a problem in that category.”

“Get to the point, Yunho.” She’s quickly growing bored of this conversation and she’s ready for it to be over.

“The point is that I want to see where this goes. Are you down for that?”

“No, you’re an asshole.”

“I mean, yeah, that’s true, but I’m cute and I’ll eat you out till you cry so what’s it gonna be?” He looks so hopeful that part of Naima wants to reject him again just to mess with him, but she’s not totally heartless. She decides to make him a deal.

“I’ll give you one week and then we’ll go from there now about this eating out business…” She trails off, looking at him suggestively.

“Come home with me after work and I’ll give you what you want and more.” The mischievous grin on his face promises another day of limping around and Naima is excited to say the least.

“You’ve got a deal. Now get out of my office.” She deadpans as she starts to unwrap the breakfast sandwich she hadn’t been able to finish earlier. He catches her off guard when he swoops in to steal a kiss from her lips as his “parting gift”.

“Later, Ravioli.”

She touches her fingers to her lips as she watches him walk back to his own office through her open door. It’s going to be an interesting week.

#ksmutclub #yunho smut #ateez smut #yunho x black oc #ateez x black oc #this is borderline pwp #plot where?#ateez fanfic #yunho fanfic #ateez yunho

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96thdayofrage · 3 years

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"First of all," Lt. Richard Zimmerman said during Chauvin's murder trial in Hennepin County District Court, "pulling him down to the ground facedown and putting your knee on a neck for that amount of time is just uncalled for."

The head of the Police Department's homicide unit added, "I saw no reason why the officers felt they were in danger if that's what they felt, and that's what they would have to have felt to have to use that kind of force."

In your opinion, should that restraint have stopped once he was handcuffed and prone on the ground?

"Absolutely."

Zimmerman said department policy requires that prone suspects who are handcuffed — as was Floyd on the night of his death — must be taken off their chest as soon as possible.

The lieutenant went through the Police Department's use of force policy and brought up several provisions that run counter to what the prosecution is contending Chauvin and other officers did wrong on May 25, when Floyd was kept-face down and cuffed behind his back for more than nine minutes as he became unresponsive and died later that night.

Prosecutor Matthew Frank asked Zimmerman whether he was ever trained to put a knee on the neck of someone in handcuffs.

"No, I haven't," he said.

Zimmerman said such a tactic would fall under the most extreme level of force by an officer, that being "deadly force."

"If your knee is on someone's neck, that could kill them," he said.

Frank then asked how much a threat a suspect would be once handcuffed.

"The threat level goes down all the way," the lieutenant said. "They are cuffed; how can they hurt you? ... You getting injured is way down," apart from possibly getting kicked, he continued.

Once the cuffs are on a suspect, "that person is yours," said Zimmerman, who joined the department 36 years ago. "He is your responsibility. His safety is your responsibility. His well-being is your responsibility."

Under cross examination, defense attorney Eric Nelson noted that Zimmerman has not worked as a patrol officer for several years and does not teach defensive tactics. He also noted that police officers sometimes need to "improvise" to protect themselves regardless of training.

"You would agree, however, in a fight for your life, you as an officer are allowed to use whatever force is reasonable and necessary, correct?"

Zimmerman agreed.

"Minneapolis Police Department policy allows an officer to use 'whatever means available' to protect yourself, correct?" Nelson asked.

Zimmerman agreed.

The lieutenant under questioning acknowledged that handcuffed suspects can still pose a danger.

"That person can continue to thrash his body around, correct, and part of the reason police officers restrain people is for their own safety, correct?" Nelson asked.

"Correct," Zimmerman said.

The prosecution rose again and sought to undermine several of the defense's points raised while questioning Zimmerman.

Most notably, Frank asked the lieutenant whether he found the circumstances of Floyd's arrest called for Chauvin "to improvise by putting his knee on Mr. Floyd for 9 minutes and 29 seconds?" To which Zimmerman replied, "No, I did not."

Zimmerman also said his review of police body camera video revealed no kicking by Floyd once he was subdued on the pavement.

Judge Peter Cahill adjourned proceeding for the day shortly after 11:30 a.m. once Zimmerman was done testifying and said court would reconvene Monday morning.

The first witness called Friday was Jon Edwards, a Minneapolis police sergeant, who has been on the force since 2007.

Edwards said he was just beginning his shift on the night of May 25, when he was alerted by the previous shift's supervisory sergeant that Floyd "may or may not live." Edwards added that he was directed to the intersection where Floyd was arrested "just in case we had to secure that area and make contact with any of the officers" still there.

Edwards said he got to E. 38th Street and S. Chicago Avenue about 9:30 p.m., met with officers J. Alexander Kueng and Thomas Lane, who ordered them to turn on their body-worn cameras. The officers then explained where they interacted with Floyd. Edwards said he directed them to up crime scene tape to "preserve any potential evidence that was there."

He ordered them out of their squad and began canvassing witnesses. He encountered Charles McMillian, one of the first witnesses to Floyd's detainment and death who testified earlier this week. At the time, McMillian refused to give Edwards his name or provide information.

"I told him he would be very valuable if he would provide us with information," Edwards said. "He told me he refused to say anything and wondered if he was under arrest; and I told him no, and he told me he wanted to leave."

Edwards explained that state Bureau of Criminal Apprehension personnel arrived and took over control of the crime scene as Kueng and Lane were escorted to City Hall for a debriefing. The officers' squad and Floyd's SUV were towed away by the BCA as evidence in what was classified as a "critical incident."

Law enforcement control of the crime scene was lifted shortly before 4 a.m., Edwards said.

The sergeant's testimony helped lay a foundation for the testimony of Zimmerman, who worked in the homicide unit at that time and joined Edwards and the other officers the scene of Floyd's arrest.

Zimmerman testified that he was at home when he learned of the incident and his presence at the intersection was needed.

The lieutenant arrived and asked, "What's going on?" to law enforcement on the scene, according to officer bodycam footage shown in court.

Zimmerman located Kueng and Lane, then "determined they were involved officers" connected to Floyd's arrest, he said.

"We needed some more people out here," Zimmerman testified telling Edwards, as well as "we need to get these two guys downtown" for their debriefing.

Chauvin is charged with second-degree murder, third-degree murder and manslaughter. The other officers on the scene, Lane, Kueng and Tou Thao, are expected to go on trial in August on charges of aiding and abetting Chauvin.

On Thursday, jurors heard from a supervisory sergeant that Chauvin downplayed his actions, at first not disclosing that he used his knee to restrain Floyd, and later that night after Floyd was taken to HCMC making that disclosure to his boss but failing to say for how long.

Recently retired supervisory Sgt. David Pleoger spoke to Chauvin on a cellphone that night after receiving a call from a 911 dispatcher about a possible use of force by officers seen on city surveillance cameras.

Pleoger's body-worn camera captured his initial phone conversation with Chauvin, who said, "Had to hold the guy down, he was going crazy … wouldn't go in the back of the squad."

Pleoger testified during livestreamed proceedings being viewed around the world that Chauvin didn't say anything about putting his knee on Floyd's neck. Prosecutor Steve Schleicher then pressed Pleoger on whether Chauvin's force was appropriate.

"When Mr. Floyd was no longer offering up any resistance to the officers, they could have ended their restraint," Pleoger said as he offered the first account of Chauvin's words and behavior in the immediate aftermath of Floyd's death.

He testified that Chauvin told him that Floyd "became combative … after struggling with him. He suffered a medical emergency, and an ambulance was called."

Also testifying were the two paramedics and a fire captain who responded to the scene that night. Derek Smith, a paramedic, checked Floyd's carotid pulse and pupils as he lay motionless under Chauvin's knee.

"I looked to my partner. I told him, 'I think he's dead, and I want to move this out of here and begin care in the back [of the ambulance],' " said Smith, noting the agitated crowd of bystanders. "In a living person, there should be a pulse there. I did not feel one. I suspected this patient to be dead."

Smith told the court that despite never sensing a pulse, they continued trying to save Floyd. "He's a human being," Smith said. "I was trying to give him a second chance at life."

Fire Capt. Jeremy Norton testified about meeting up with the ambulance at E. 36th Street and S. Park Avenue, where he saw Floyd being treated by the paramedics and Officer Thomas Lane.

"He was an unresponsive body on a cot," Norton said of Floyd.

After Floyd was brought to the hospital, Norton told his department supervisors what happened. "I was worried that a man had been killed in police custody," Norton said.

The day's testimony started with 45-year-old Courteney Ross recalling her relationship with the strong, physically active man she called "Floyd."

Ross talked about their mutual oxycodone addiction that started with prescriptions for chronic pain and led to purchasing street drugs. She said they were off and on the drugs and by May she believed Floyd was using them again.

The defense is trying to raise the possibility that Floyd died of a drug overdose from pills obtained by Morries Hall, who was with Floyd at Cup Foods the day he died.

Ross said she and Floyd got pills in May that reminded her of "the same feeling" she had from similar pills she took in March, a stimulant that kept her up all night and left her jittery.

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throughthewwods · 3 years

Text

100 Days of Productivity 🏖 . Day 19-21

💙 I let my mind relax

💚 I let my body relax

💜 We did mom-daughter bonding stuff

🐾 lots of GSD training

Working more on him walking alongside me instead of in front of me, which he is stubborn AF about.. so much so that he has learned the sound of my feet when I’m about to correct him, but doesn’t care enough to stop 😆

did loose leash training and off leash training.. loose leash I have to remind him to start pulling a lot. Irritating. He does great off leash, which is delightfully surprising.

The socialization is working. He is rarely skittish of people and other dogs now. He’s also gotten better about not disjointing my shoulder when he wants to greet another dog or child.

His self restraint has improved greatly, which is to say that before it was almost nonexistent. Now when I ask him to sit, stay etc. he listens much better for longer.

He’s much less barky

💚 Did a lot of walking

💙 skin care is finally paying off.

A lot of the cystic acne has cleared up and I’m feeling comfortable going places without make up again, which is really nice for my self esteem..

🧡 had a couple more sessions with people on the helpline,

which finally went a little deeper. Unfortunately, both of those people only have a couple sessions left before their part in the study is over. I explain to my research Director that in future studies if we’re only going to offer hour long sessions, which is reasonable, then we should probably offer more weeks because it’s harder to go deep over text when an hour flies by so quickly. Since this has to be entirely non-directive, it’ll usually be chitchat for the first 45 minutes before something of content is shared for me to build off of, but by then I don’t want to open a sensitive topic then leave them hanging. I think our original plan to have ‘on demand’ support, divided up as volunteer shifts behind the scenes, probably would’ve gone better.

⭐️ returned a laptop we had out on loan

📚 got feedback from my stats professor and watched a couple lectures about my final project

🧡 got a reply from my department chair about my letter of recommendation

He said he would work on it next week, which I really appreciate. There are so many things as a first generation student that would’ve been helpful to know that.. you often don’t know you don’t know until the mistake has already happened... Even my efforts to ask people ‘who’ve been there’ questions hasn’t really been enough to circumvent the lack of knowledge that gets passed down from generation to generation. For example… many have emphasized the importance of building relationships with relevant people and that I will need strong letters of recommendation. However, nobody mentioned that when asking for a letter of recommendation, it’s usually with a month or more’s notice. also there are some quirks about the application process that nobody elaborated on.. I’m sure they would have explained, but I guess I didn’t ask the right questions or they assumed someone else would tell me.

So.. My ignorance has me feeling like a bit of an ass and grateful for everyone’s flexibility.

😬😅

The kindness of my department chair got me to thinking about the last appointment with my counselor, which left me adrift with a realization about myself, but no idea what to do with ‘that’. I have no idea what could help with the feelings of despair when I am floundering, barely hanging on wishing I had a support system then having to digest all over again that no matter how hard I work to better my circumstances blows keep coming and no matter how hard life gets, no help is ever coming (mainly grieving that I come from a family that is extremely dysfunctional, so although I feel dauntingly alone at times fending for myself as per usual, ‘this’ is still the better option or that my own familiarity with dysfunction and poor boundaries selected a toxic village; which I’ve since estranged myself from for years now.. These choices are surely healthier, but the isolation is particularly heavy when I’m barely hanging on) … then I shut down, rest until I have it in me to yet again fight the good fight and rise up from the ashes (not a secure foundational to build on.. lots of putting out fires and damage control then rebuilding)

Moving on to less depressing thoughts… 😺🌈🦄🍰

Most of the time I enjoy my alone time, so I rarely get lonely in the conventional sense.

Maybe I could try joining special interest groups on Facebook again for the camaraderie?

RB helps. He is thoughtful in many ways, but mostly it helps to have a best friend again or to feel like there’s finally someone ‘with me’ in this, which has never been the case.

Maybe I could ask fairy godmother for help more often before I’m buried?

However, I don’t like having so many eggs in one basket. I need to branch out. At the same time, Covid prevents me from ‘mingling’

So… my ‘behavioral’ and ‘social’ solutions are what they are..

That leaves the Cognitive

That is the wall I’m not sure how to get around.. For a lot of people the solution is leaning on God/s, which is probably not going to work for me at this phase of my life where I don’t believe in a humanized deity that is concerned with human drama or wellbeing. I can’t change who my family is, but I do make a point to not talk to them, particularly my mother, very much when I am going through a hard time because it pokes the wound and exacerbates the depression. I guess I could work more on processing my grief, but that doesn’t help me with the finite stressors that are actually triggering the hyper arousal stress response. I do have people in my life I can call to chat with, which sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t depending on the severity of my circumstances because their well-intended platitudes feels a lot like someone clapping for you from the dock as you’re drowning, “We believe in you!” Thank you I guess? 🤷🏻‍♀️ 😅 After nobody bothered to call me when I finally was accepted into grad school I have decided several one-sided connections aren’t worth my emotional energy anymore where when we do talk they go on and on about themselves, but clearly couldn’t give a damn about me. It’s ok, but I don’t need that drain.

So these are things I can do for myself that reduce negatives pecking at my attitude.

I just don’t know about adding positive buffers because… refocusing on the people I can count on tends to just sort of remind me how very few there are.. heh. And self-pep-talks, “something something what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger” is already burned up fuel at that point of despair.

Then today I realize that i’ve been terribly sad at times that I don’t have supportive friends and family,

but I’ve overlooked how understanding, supportive, and flexible many professors have been.. people within the administration who have been willing to work with me even when I make mistakes and help me find solutions.. supervisors willing to take a chance on me. my caseworker who has known me for over a decade who has always vouched for my character and is going to support my petition for the masters degree scholarship..

💙

when I think about all that cumulatively, I feel..lighter. No, I can’t invite any of these people over for dinner. They’re not the shoulder I cry on,

but their support has been invaluable. I could not have gotten this far without their help and encouragement.

I have not been so alone on this journey.

#journal #my writing #writing #motherhood #parenting #100 days of productivity #studystudystudy #positivemindset #depression #anxiety #generational trauma #trauma recovery #trauma

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your-rose-highness · 4 years

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Tell Me What Is Love (ch-5)

The breakfast was rather awkward. Hye Hee’s post- drunk brain was failing to comprehend the situation and Baekhyun only made small talk with Jane, very interested in her family whereabouts and her struggles of the past. Hye Hee scanned him the entire time, reading his every move. Baekhyun caught her eye a couple of times while he spoke to Jane, only to quickly look away, which made it look even more suspicious.

“What was Baekhyun doing in my dingy apartment so early on a Monday morning?” she thought to herself.

The three of them did the dishes and chilled in the living area before Jane left to go for the shift. Baekhyun and hye hee stayed silent for a long time before Baekhyun asked, “why have you been drinking so much?”

“I’m a grown woman. I can drink when I want to.`` she sternly replied.

“That's not what I meant. And you know that.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I can’t come to visit..?”

Hye Hee sat quietly. Baekhyun began twitching beside her when she looked over at him.

“The sofa is uncomfortable….”, he whimpered.

“I’m sorry it doesn’t suit your royal ass.”

“Why did you drink?”

“... I can't switch things because you don't like them…”

“Hye Hee, stop avoiding the question... Why did you..?”

“... plus why are you here anyway? Go run back to Taeyeon.”

“Excuse me? You were the one who suggested that I pretend harder..`` Baekhyun said, his voice rising.

“Pretend? When the hell…?”

“You know what, I'm leaving. You don't need me.”

“Yeah, run away Baek. That's what you did in the past. Do it again!”

“What did you say?”, Baekhyun looked at her furiously.

Hye Hee left the kitchen and walked to her bedroom, avoiding any confrontation. But Baekhyun wasn't having it.

“I left? Me? You never even tried to come back. That's how much I meant to you huh?”

“Yeah, you’re right!!! You never meant anything.i was happy to have gotten rid of you... Baekhyun this is my room, get out.”

“No.”

She exhaled slowly and began pushing him. Baekhyun didn't budge.

“I’m not leaving. Your place is my place.”

“Why are you doing this?!!” she exploded, even though Baekhyun was smiling.

It was like they were back in school again. He reached out for her hand, his eyes full of concern when he knew his best friend was hiding something really bad, “What’s wrong? Will you tell me now that you’re done yelling?”

Baekhyun was taller than her now, something she still wasn't used to yet. Her shoulders relaxed and she fought the urge to hug him. He was there for her, but he was someone else’s. The thought only made her want to cry but she tried with all her might not to.

“I miss you…”, she barely managed to say, her voice cracking.

Within an instant, his arms wrapped around her, his palm supporting her head, as he rested it against his chest.

“ I do too. Why do you think I'm here? You may be strong enough to avoid seeing me, but you know I'm not.”

He made her tea later, while both chatted about a job possibility in his company.

“Won't that be troublesome?”, She questioned.

“No… not really…” he trailed off, “at least better than someone we don't know. Teacher Sooman is more scared of sasaengs in the disguise of staff than anything else.”

“That's a good point.”

“Anyways, you have my recommendation. So there's a big chance you'll grab the job plus, your resume is a bonus.”, He stated, proud.

“It’s almost past 9 pm, don't you have to go home?”

“Well, I should… but Taeyeon and Sarang both are not home. So …. I'm free for dinner with you…”

“I didn't say I wanted to have dinner with you though,'' Hye hee responded cheekily.

Hye hee offered to make dinner this time, with Baekhyun as her assistant. They were discussing the amount of milk to add in their pasta sauce when he received a call. His expressions gave grim instantly, and he walked out to the balcony. Hye hee didn't want to trespass but she found herself a little too alert, trying to catch some words.

“..... really?... okay… yeah, you know… with the guys…. Don't wait up. Hmm.. okay.”

Hye hee wondered who it was on the other side. Taeyeon maybe? Baekhyun hung up and leaned against the wall for a few minutes before he left a deep sigh.

Hye Hee quickly made her way back to the kitchen and innocently asked, “Who was that?”

“Taeyeon.”

Bingo.

“Oh? I thought you said she was not gonna be back till a few days?”

“Yeah, she decided to come back sooner I suppose. Anyway, let's have dinner and I’ll have to leave..”

“Yeah, sure.”

His one sentence had summarised their position in each other's lives. No matter how much they wished to spend time with each other, no matter how much they meant, Baekhyun was somebody's husband and his priority was never going to be Hye Hee.

They quietly finished dinner and Baekhyun offered to wash the dishes with her, but by this point, Hye Hee didn't want to keep him away from his real family any longer.

After a few days, while Hye hee was shopping for some groceries, Baekhyun called her.

“Hello?”, She took his call, while also trying to put the pack of perilla leaves in her cart.

“Hye hee, do you have time tomorrow?”, his voice sounded urgent.

“Umm. For what??”

“The opening for staff at SM I told you about? I heard a few staff members discuss that it was the last day. What say? You want me to put you in?”

Hye Hee had a hard time saying yes, but a girl's gotta eat right?

“Yeah, okay. Fine. I'll come tomorrow for the interview.”

“Great! Alright, I'll text you the time okay? Okay, gotta go now, bye babe.” He hung up, excited like a puppy.

A faint smile played on Hye Hee's lips.

"What?!", Jane exclaimed over the phone, making Hye Hee move her phone away from her ear. She had called her on the way to her interview the next day.

Reposing herself, Hye Hee continued, "So as I was saying, I have no confirmation about the job! can you calm down?"

"No! No! Okay, do this, once you get in, can you get a spot for me too?"

"Okay, we're going in circles! Look, I'll call you after my interview, my stop is here."

Hye Hee got off in a hurry, only 10 minutes before her expected time.

She found the SM building with ease, no one could miss the tall building with a swarm of fans standing out in the hope of seeing their favorite celebrities. Hye Hee was guided to the staff entrance, on showing her interview mail on her phone.

The office was a beauty. The interiors were largely based on pastel shades and the minimal decoration gave it a very chic appearance.

I could be working here... It's so pretty...

Snapping out of her daydream, a staff scurried over to her, leading her to the exceptionally large waiting area. She and 20 others sat nervously, waiting their turn through the huge glass doors.

After which seemed like an eternity, Hye Hee was finally called in. Taking a deep breath in, she opened the door to an exceptionally large room. Her legs wobbled a little as she took small but decent steps towards the large desk that had some of their artists and also Baekhyun’s manager. Just like her, he seemed taken aback by her presence but quickly reposed himself. Hye hee took the seat in front of the panel after she greeted them all.

She quickly recognized the handsome Yunho at the left of the table and couldn't help being starstruck by his beauty.

“So, Song Hye Hee…”, boomed one of the member’s voices and also snapped her back to reality.

“You’ve quite an impressive resume and also an experience. I hope you know that the current job openings do not call for such expertise. Though we could use you for the international language department occasionally…”, he said, glancing at the other stern panelists with doubt.

“Oh yes, I know that the job doesn't entail or call for my previous work experience. I was looking to enhance my resume when I applied for this job..”

“Have you had any managerial responsibilities at the last post?”, suddenly enquired Yunho, looking straight into her eyes that could make even the non-guilty shiver.

Swinging between forming her sentences to answer and not being able to directly meet eyes with Yunho, “ Yes, I was head of the entertainment reporters team for a year…”

“Well… that’s not the kind of skills we’re looking for…”, mumbled the man on the far left, shuffling through the papers in front of him.

“Yes, sir. I have never said that I can't learn the work. My reporting job wasn't exactly my forte. But I learned the skills required for the job quickly after my supervisor helped me. I am more than sure that the responsibilities you bestow upon me will be dealt with to the end and with the utmost professionalism.” hye hee insisted.

Hye hee’s demeanor vibrated through the room as the panelists thought over what she said. It was rare even for them to have an interviewee be that direct and to the point. The employees at the company were especially strict with their new recruitments due to past such incidents when they had toxic fans pose as recruits.

Yunho seemed to be quietly talking to Baekhyun’s manager, occasionally glancing at her direction. Hye Hee couldn't be sure if it was accidental with the questions being showered on her from either end.

Boarding the bus closest to the company after filling a few more details, she headed to meet Jane for lunch at the closest ramen restaurant. Once again, thoughts clouded her mind and she found herself weighing the consequences if somehow they dug out her history with Baekhyun. Soon her phone lit up from a number she didn't recognize. She quickly dived to pick it up, expecting the company.

“Hello?”

“Song Hye Hee-ssi?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“I’m Jung Mu, Baekhyun’s manager. I was wondering if we could meet later today? I have some things to discuss with you.”

Hye Hee’s heart raced from the moment she heard him say his name. Baekhyun had mentioned his manager hyung's a million times before and continues to do so. Jung Mu had been a very quiet encouragement for him since the day he was assigned to manage EXO. he had helped him from many sticky situations and quite so even when he was out on dates with her.

“Umm sure. There’s this tiny cafe on the 17th..”, she told him but was only cut short.

“Yes, I’m aware of it.”, Jung Mu quickly responded. “I’ve dropped him close to the cafe a million times.”

Hye hee an irritation in his voice that was hard to brush off.

It reminded her of the rare occasions when baekhyun would get mad at her for nothing in particular. The sour memories clouded her, cueing the tears instantly. As she hung up, she contemplated if her working at SM would be the right choice after all. She was denying to herself that this step was taken to stay close to baekhyun and be able to see him every day, lying to herself that it was a big field break into the entertainment agency.

But, the truth was, this would only further the distance more. Materialize it. The celebrity, married to an equally popular singer, and she, a struggling writer. Nothing but a layman.

She hurried over to Minseok’s cafe soon, informing him about everything that had happened. He, being the good friend that he was, agreed in no time, however, did think that working at SM could cause trouble. Not just for her, but baekhyun as well.

“Why do I need to close the cafe for a staff?”

“Fans stalk the manager too, Oppa. I’m sorry. But this is the only safe space I know of.”

He let out a sigh and shook his head in disbelief. He soon handed her the pomegranate tea, her favorite for times when stressed. Minseok was usually very mindful of the people around him. The kind gesture made hye hee smile, he smiled at her and softly tapping her shoulder giving her courage to face what lay ahead.

She watched him walk into the low lit cafe soon, accompanied by someone she hadn't anticipated. The two dark figures approached her as they spotted the only person seated.

“Song Hye Hee?”, asked Jung Mu extending his hand towards her. But Hye Hee’s eyes only followed the other tall man behind him.

Suho.

She couldn't think of him as an old friend at that moment. His expression was too grave to be addressed as the man who would smile so gently at her whenever they met.

When hye hee didn't respond at his words, Jung Mu just drew the chair opposite to her. Suho slid into the chair next to him, without meeting eyes with her the whole time. Hye hee silently tried to read into the situation, partially terrified. Minseok appeared minutes later to ask if anyone needed anything. Suho took one glance at him and said, “Lemonade, no sugar.”

“Can we trust him?”, Jung Mu whispered to hye hee after he left, briefly meeting eyes with hye hee, concerned.

“Minseok is a very close trusted friend of mine. You’re safe here.”

Minseok quickly hurried over with the drinks and left them to talk alone, shutting the small staff door. The room where she had met Baekhyun after all those years.

Sipping from his drink, after which his face scrunched in sourness, he quickly reposed himself.

“Hye Hee why were you at the agency today?”, his clear voice boomed in quiet space.

“Baekhyun said I could apply…”

He smirked with disbelief as she spoke, turning to face Hye hee, his eyes pierced into hers.

“Are you kidding me, Hye hee? After all, this while, don't you know? If someone ever finds out about the two of you, it won't just destroy him and you. It’ll take all of us down.”

He paused for a minute before whipping out his phone, showing her a twitter update.

Hye Hee picked up the phone bewildered.

“He’s already been spotted.”, Suho hissed. “You are VERY lucky that even though they are suspicious, the angle makes it hard to be sure. Isn't this your apartment, Hye Hee? Baekhyun refuses to handle this maturely, but Hye Hee, you? I expected better out of you. I cannot allow this. I’m sorry. I need you to minimize your contact with Baekhyun, and eventually, fade him out.”

He was right. What was she thinking? She was low key yearning for Baekhyun, expecting miracles where he would abandon his family for her. He wouldn't ever. Everything that he had built over the years was at stake and so was the entire group.

“Fine.”, she whispered, a voice soft yet unshaken.

“Fine?” wondered Jung mu.

“I will fade away from his life, his memory. But I will need your help.”, said she, with eyes dark and resolute.

#tell me what is love #baekhyun exo #baekhyun scenario #byun baekhyun #baekhyun angst #baekhyun fanfic #kpop fanfic #exofanfic #baekhyun fanfiction #chapter 5

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thadelightfulone · 4 years

Text

The Firm - Chapter 11

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

Summary: Erik has been hired to find an embezzler for an old friend. The whole gang is back at GBI, ready to fight an old enemy and save their friend.

Pairing: Erik x Black!OC

Genre: Suspense

A/N: *steps up to the mic* Hello everyone! I want to thank everyone who has supported this story. Also, to let you know that this story is coming to a close. I will be dropping a chapter each week until its conclusion.

LaNyah stares at the older women whose hair is much longer and darker than when she helped her out in the parking lot, however long ago that was. Then she looks over at Laura, who is rocking back and forth, whimpering about not wanting to die. Why would she even ask such a thing? What does Laura know about this woman that LaNyah doesn’t? How does she know her? Did Gina say before her friends arrive? Does she mean Alex, Ashley, Stacey, and Erik? LaNyah tries to hold back her smile and closes her eyes to focus on keeping calm while this lady begins her tale.

Gina sitting in the center of the couch, looks between the two stunned women. “As I was saying, this story took place almost 20 years ago. There was a decorated officer who had a loving wife and kids.” She swoons at the memory of her loving brother. “He was the leader of a special ops team until an unjust allegation was brought against him by a team member. Someone he trusted and chose to be on his squad,” Gina snarls out. “He was under investigation during his last mission, and it would have led to a court-martial.” She rushes out before waving her hands in the air like it didn’t matter, “Anyway, before that could happen, members of his team took matters into their own hands. He was brutally murdered, and someone made it to look like an enemy ambush.”

“How do you know that it wasn’t?” Laura asks from beside her.

Gina taps Laura’s upper leg, “Oh dear, it was too perfect. The killing was too clean, everyone’s story was just so– in sync. Nothing about a military death is like that unless it is a cover-up.”

“Maybe, they were trying to spare the family’s feelings, you know, like friendly fire in combat or something?” LaNyah interjected.

“SHUT UP!!!” Gina shouts, startling both Laura and LaNyah. She takes a few deep breathes and smooths out her skirt, “It was not that. My twin brother was callously killed while overseas by members of the team he built.” LaNyah and Laura share a look, and Laura starts crying all over again.

“What does that have to do with us?” LaNyah somberly asks while staring at the crying pregnant woman over Gina.

Sniffling, Laura nods at LaNyah, “Yeah, I don’t know anyone in the military.”

LaNyah looks away, putting her head down at what Laura said because she knows that is not true for her. She only knew of one person until a few weeks ago. Gina can’t mean any of them, right? She inhales sharply, unaware that Gina has been watching her intently since Laura made that last statement, a small smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

She looks over them, “This is my favorite part,” a full smile breaking through while Gina takes Laura’s hands in hers before continuing. “Which brings me to why you two are here. I am going after those responsible for my brother’s death.” Gina rubs the tops of her hands, “Laura, your fiancé works for one of them.”

Laura closes her eyes at this, tears still falling and mutters, “But LaNyah was supposed to be the fall guy, not Matthew.” Gina’s eyes widen at that.

“When did he tell you?”

“What? Wait, he set me up?”

LaNyah and Gina blurt out at the same time. Laura rolls her eyes at LaNyah, “I told you this was all your fault.” LaNyah opens and closes her mouth before looking over at a laughing Gina. She can’t believe it. Minding her own business and she became the ultimate pawn in someone’s game of revenge. What is her life?

---

“Babe, stay here with Stacey. Let us handle this.” Alex moves to keep Ashley from coming with them. Kill is on the other side of the room, tying his combat boots while talking on the phone. Stacey is at the conference room table, pulling up floorplans to the warehouse. Alex and Kill changed into dark military fatigues in preparation for the battle zone they are entering.

“Fuck that! I already told you what I would do when it came to LaNyah.” She gets in his face, “I need to be there when you find her! So, don’t you dare try to keep me from being there!” Ashley snatches up another pair of fatigues and pushes past him towards the bathroom, slamming the door. Alex stops short as the door nearly misses hitting him.

Kill finished with his last call, turns towards him. “Green, stop.” Alex walks back over to him, “Just accept the fact that she is coming with us. You can’t stop her, and even I wouldn’t try to stop her.” Kill walks by Matt, who has been untied and snatches him up. “Come on. You got some more talking to do.”

Everyone packs into the fully loaded Chevy Suburban that one of Kill’s connects dropped off after Matt gave them the location for the warehouse where Gina is keeping the girls. Kill throws the keys to Green so he can drive. Bridges jumps into the front passenger seat. Kill drags Matt to the second row of the SUV; he is behind Green, and Matt is behind Bridges.

Once they hit the freeway headed south to San Diego, Kill turns in his seat to look at Matt. Clearing his throat; he waits until Matt’s attention is on him. Matt’s bloodshot eyes make direct contact with Kill. His petrified stare meets Kill’s murderous scowl. Bridges looks back, turning around in her seat to watch what happens between the two.

“I’m only gonna give you one chance to get this right. From the beginning, when you first met Gina and started working for her. GO!”

Matthew sputters to a start, clenching his hands into fists as they sit on his lap. “She didn’t give me all the details at first. All I know is that she was looking for someone to help her bring down Mr. Green. It was no secret that I had gone out for every single special project, and he never picked me. I know he knew who I was, and even my supervisor helped me become a lead analyst so that I would be on his radar. So, it was no love lost on my part to do something to Mr. Green for how he treated me.” Ashley sucks her teeth, “I swear I didn’t know she was after you when I first started.”

“What was her plan for GBI?” Kill asks him.

Directing his answer to Bridges, “She knew you were married to Mr. Green and figured the easiest way to get you was through him and the company. I was supposed to help her embezzle money from various accounts into her offshore accounts. Make sure all roads led back to him, showing that he was stealing from his own company leading to a prison sentence. My supervisor was her first inside man at GBI when she brought me on to begin the embezzlement, and she killed him.”

“So, Alan didn’t just quit as we all thought? Wow,” Green remarked as he listened to the conversation about Gina’s plan to take down him and GBI.

“No, his job was to find someone who had put in some time with the company and disliked you enough to make her plan a reality, then vouch for me. When that was done, so was he.” He starts to hiccup, struggling to get the next part out. “She said he served his purpose and shot him right in front of me. Not even 10 minutes after I met her.” He shudders and breaks eye contact with the group.

“What about LaNyah?” Ashley jumps in to ask. “Why her?”

Running his hand through his hair, “Convenience, I guess.” Matt shrugs and looks up at Ashley who glares at him, “It was supposed to be Stacey. Gina didn’t care who was in that position; she just needed to know that I was checking their work and would be able to change the reports and move the money. I only had been working for her about 6 months when Mr. Green hired Stacey as his assistant, causing a delay in the plan to search for a new fall guy. Once he hired LaNyah, I passed over whatever information I had to Gina, and she told me when we would start.”

Matthew explains that he only had the background check that HR completed on her. So, it contained the information that Gina would have needed to complete a deep dive of LaNyah, similar to what Kill did when he found out he would be working with her. They all knew what that meant, even if he didn’t.

With LaNyah being new and a personal hire by Green, it made her the perfect scapegoat because everything links her position and working for the company to Green. The money starts disappearing after she began working there, and no one would know because he was altering the reports after she completed her weekly data entry reconciling all the accounts her team handled.

“We started skimming money from the Scholarship account about 3 months after LaNyah joined the company. It would be believable since she needed time to learn the system before manipulating it.”

“So, she’s after Bridges and Green? Anyone else?” Kill asks Matt, wondering if he is the one who gave her the information she needed to track him down finally.

Matt’s eyes lift as he thinks about the question. “You know what, I think she might have, but I have no way of knowing. She only tells me what she feels I need to know when it matters.” He briefly pauses, inhaling deeply, “All I know was she asked me to increase the amount of money we were moving about 3 weeks ago. I told her we needed to be careful because I figured out that Mr. Stevens was here auditing the accounting department.”

“How did you know that?” Green speaks up.

“I am supposed to watch LaNyah, too, and noticed she was meeting with you often before your big trip. Then after you were gone, she was always disappearing to the 35th floor to ‘work’ with Stacey on some project. It didn’t make sense to me because she never stays in the office past 6 like the rest of us. But I do recall walking by her office one Friday afternoon, and she was on the ground surrounded by old reports, muttering to herself.” He loosens his tie, “I never thought she would double-check her work, so that could only mean that she may have figured out what was happening. If that was true, then I knew she probably went and told you,” looking at Green, “and Mr. Green must have hired you to look into it.” Kill nodded his head. “When you warned me to back off of her, I wasn’t sure if you worked for Gina. But I would only see you at GBI, so I guessed you were Mr. Green’s man.”

“When did you tell Gina about Erik?” Ashley asks through gritted teeth. He was the only one she could not find from the entire team all these years, and as soon as she finds him, LaNyah goes missing. Matt hasn’t said anything about kidnapping to make her believe that was part of her original plan. She more than likely planned for her to go to prison along with Alex, leaving Ashley by herself.

“About 3 weeks ago, when Gina called me about doubling the funds, I told her about the audit, and I gave her your name since I couldn’t find much about you on my own.” Matt removes the tie from his neck, placing it in his lap. “She screamed about something –” He jumps in his seat, “OMG, it’s you! She’s after you, too! Said something about you being the missing link.”

“Calm down, Matt.” Green rolls his eyes while watching the man panic through the rearview mirror.

“Gina has always scared me, but that call made me even more paranoid than usual. I just wanted to make sure Laura was ok. I made her go and stay with her mother in Bakersfield, 2 months ago.” Twirling the tie in his lap, “I decided to visit her after the call and walked in to find Gina sitting right next to Laura talking shop like this woman wouldn’t have all of us killed with a snap of her fingers.” Tears blur his vision, and Matt’s voice cracks, “Laura knew I was doing some illegal shit behind Mr. Green’s back, so I came clean about what she didn’t know and told her who she just met. Gina called me back that night and told me exactly how much she wanted to move the next time. A week later, I had everything in place to move more than a million from the account.”

“And it takes two weeks before the money moves from the scholarship account. That was what I saw the night before we came back home.” Green states.

Kill closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “You were right, Green, she was planning to make her move which is why we saw the major movement from the account. She wanted us to notice.” Clenching his fists by his sides, “We just didn’t know that by the time we saw it, she already had LaNyah.”

“Laura and my son,” Matt squeaks out. Everyone looks at him as he breaks down.

---

Gina moves away from Laura on the couch, focus bouncing between the two of them. This is going to be better than she thought. Laura pissed at LaNyah. LaNyah upset about what she just found out; that she is a doll in this game. And yet, she still doesn’t even know how big a part she plays. With loathing, Gina gazes at her.

Turning to the right, now fully facing LaNyah, Gina’s smile morphs. Gina’s voice laced with all the malice she could muster, “You, Miss LaNyah Cole, have a relationship with every single person on my list.” Laura gasps and shrinks back on the couch, glad she is not in her place. Now, she and the baby stand a better chance of making it out of this place alive.

Tearing up, LaNyah whispers out, “What?”

“My brother was accused of sexually assaulting the only female member on his team, Ashley Bridges.” She stands up and walks to the other side of the table, looking down at both of them. “You both would recognize her by her married name, Ashley Green.”

LaNyah squeaks out, “Ashley! What do you want with her?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, LaNyah, darling. I did not go through all this trouble for Ashley alone.”

“She wants Mr. Green, too, idiot.” Laura huffs out. LaNyah rolls her eyes at her, growing irritated by this whole situation. She didn’t ask to be put in the middle of this. But it seems everyone around her knew something that she didn’t, and that bothers her.

“You want the whole company to go down?” Gina starts slow clapping. LaNyah puts her head in her hands. Of course, she does. It is why she was the perfect patsy. Blame this on the girl who was like the daughter of the two people she held accountable for her brother’s death.

“You are a brilliant woman, Miss Cole.” She walks to her standalone chair and leans against it, “But you are missing the most important thing or person rather. The only person with the skills to kill my brother like that and clean it up so well. A man who, up until a few weeks ago, I only knew by his nickname, Killmonger.” No, no, no, please do not let it be him. LaNyah’s big, confused brown eyes meet steely grey ones, “Mr. Erik Stevens.”

The tears that she was holding back started rolling down her face. LaNyah clutched her chest with both hands while trying to stay seated in the chair. Her breathing was coming out in spurts between her loud sobs. Gina held her hand up to Laura, who was struggling to get up and go to her. She leans over and starts to rub circles into LaNyah’s back. LaNyah flinches at first but just closes her eyes to find something else to focus on to help her breathe.

“I know, sweetheart. It’s hard to find out that the man you like is a stone-cold killer.” LaNyah’s body tenses at her statement. She peeks over at Laura, who has a look of sympathy on her face as she watches LaNyah breaking down at what she learned. Gina closes her eyes as she continues to speak low, still soothing LaNyah with the circles on her back. “He hurt me, too dear. More than you could ever know.”

---

“Did she pay you well for this suicide mission?” Kill demands harshly, Bridges and Green grimly laugh as Matt turns green. “Matthew, you know if we handed you over to her, she would kill you herself. I mean, she did kill the guy you were supposed to replace when she hired you. The money had to be exceptional, right?”

“3 times my annual salary at GBI,” he meekly responds, “and she told me I didn’t have a choice.”

“Let me guess; she threatened to kill you on the spot? Over Alan’s dead body?” Green interjects. Matt just nods his head. They all shake their heads in understanding. It was gonna be him or someone else. But Gina was gonna execute her plan regardless of how many casualties lined the path.

The mood shifts in the SUV as everyone disappears into their thoughts. Ashley is sniffling upfront, swimming in guilt for putting LaNyah in harm’s way. There was no way she knew anyone was coming for her husband or her, but still, Nyah is like her daughter. And in her haste to find LaNyah something to be in control of and help her build a career, Ashley never considered how Nyah working under her husband could lead to such a moment.

Alex looks over at Ashley and grabs her hand, kissing it. “Stop beating yourself up. You could not have known this was gonna happen. We didn’t know McCoy had a twin who would seek vengeance for his death. There is nothing that could have prepared us for any of this. We deal with it now, together as a team. Just like we always have, ok?” Ashley squeezes his hand in response, not trusting her voice at this point.

Kill looks out at the passing fields, controlling his breathing. Gina knows about LaNyah’s connection to Green and Bridges. What else could she know? If Gina is thorough enough to uncover his identity and know that he was involved compared to the rest of the team, then she knows he was the one who killed her brother. She is gunning for him specifically, but she wants to take everyone down – Bridges, who was her brother’s victim; her husband and protector, Green; and their ‘daughter,’ LaNyah. She is using her as bait to bring all three of them to her. No one is supposed to make it out of there alive, except for Gina and her goons.

LaNyah. How is she handling all of this? If he didn’t push her so hard, he could have been watching her like he was supposed to be. Instead, he had hoped his updates from Stacey, as infrequent as those were, would provide him with enough information to know she was doing fine and safe from harm. But this is something else altogether; she was kidnapped in broad daylight by a maniac with no regard for human life. Kill laughs to himself, just like him back then – one goal, one focus, by any means necessary. He runs his hands through his dreads, grateful that he decided to braid them back today. There is no room for any mistakes here and too many lives at risk. It’s LaNyah or bust. He’ll deal with all the other bullshit later.

Snapping his fingers, Bridges and Matt look at him. “You know you’re done, right?” Matt nods, “Good. You’ll serve time in federal prison, but at least you will be alive to meet your son and maybe save your family.”

Matt sighs, “I just wanted to provide for my family. I understand, but I am grateful to be alive.” He glances up at Green catching his eyes in the rearview mirror, “I’m sorry for everything I did to you, sir. To your business and your family, including LaNyah.” Green acknowledges his apology.

Green turns off the road into an industrial complex, leading to Gina’s warehouse. Kill slaps the back of his seat, an old signal from when Green used to drive during other missions. The mission has started, and nothing else matters until they get back into the SUV. Releasing Ashley’s hand, she watches the two of them, Killmonger and Green. The two men who saved her all those years ago are back and ready to do it all over again. She smiles to herself, and they are going to save LaNyah, too.

“You know she’s probably expecting you?” Matt says that like wasn’t the most prominent thought in all of their heads as they approach lot near the warehouse. Everyone was smart enough to keep it to themselves.

“We know.” Green declares.

“And we are ready for her.” The sound of a gun rack sliding catches Matt’s attention, and he looks over to see Kill holding a Glock.

Chapter 12

Taglist: @killmongersaidheyauntie @muse-of-mbaku @panthergoddessbast @youreadthatright @princessstevens @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @stark-red19 @kreolemami @bidibidibombaclaat @iamrheaspeaks @missumuch1918 @simplyyamberr @cheychey10142 @ajspencer1892 @chrismarcs @loosewindmill @sydneebleu @semianta @eyeknowmywrites @alexundefined @itsjustmezari @goddessofthundathighs @guccixcucci @kissmyafropuff @gimmeface @fd-writes @jozigrrl @soufcakmistress @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @shaekingshitup @localtrapgod @post-woke @theesotericqueen

#erik killmonger #erik killmonger x oc #black panther fanfiction #the firm #thadelightfulone

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imtryingmyfuckingbe · 4 years

Text

Werewolf of Portland

Pairing: Dean x FBI!Reader

Word count: 10K

I’m not good a summaries, but I drew inspiration from anytime the boys give actual FBI Agents the “talk”, as well as that episode where Jody calls them out for using Bobby as their “supervisor”. This is a repost because I accidentally deleted the original, but it gave me time to edit it better. I’m thinking of doing a second part if I get enough feedback or requests for it, so please, please, please tell me what you think. I’m hungry for feedback haha. Also I know nothing about Portland or official FBI Badges so please keep that in mind as you read.

Warnings: Canon violence, profanity, and a plot twist I didn’t even see coming

Werewolf of Portland

The repugnant, putrid scent overcomes the clearing, spread by the gentle breeze. Despite the green grass littered with wild flowers, the unforgiving scent of rotten eggs clings to the workers’ hazmat suits. Flies buzz incessantly around the body, like that of an opaque blanket if adorned with beady eyes and veiny wings.

While the forensic cleaners work to gather the corpse’s remains for transportation, Agent Y/L/N stands at the edge of the control zone. Her day started at 4:39 in the morning, wherein she spent the next five hours scouring the field alongside her team. Even with her duties tended to, she refuses to leave the scene. The sparse clues yielded in the first examination plague her mind.

No fingerprints, no shoe prints, no footprints, no DNA; the list of what they don’t have extends further than what they do.

The body itself— what little the attacker left of it, at least— covered the majority of the scene. Torn to pieces, heart removed; remains scattered. She hopes the coroner can get something from her examination. The lacking evidence in addition to this being the fourth body found places an insurmountable weight on Y/N’s shoulders.

The public’s outrage cries for the FBI to put the criminal behind bars, but they’re no closer to identifying witnesses, let alone a culprit. Y/N signs, running her hand through her hair. No matter the amount of cases she faces, no matter how gruesome, she never lets it desensitize her. If she becomes numb to the pain of blood and guts, she fails to invest herself in solving the case.

Turning from the scene, she instead takes in the myriad official vans and workers putting about. Her partner speaks with forensics, gathering whatever helpful information they can provide. A small side glance her way and the lift of his hand by his side, he beckons Y/N over. However, her lead feet refuse to move. Still engulfed in the horror show behind her, she takes a moment to collect her thoughts.

Y/N struggles to keep her emotions in check. Rage courses through her veins at the heinous acts humans commit, to fulfill sadistic pleasure or cure one’s demons. Unfortunately, in the FBI, she must swallow her anger and sadness, replacing it with a monotone voice and calculated expressions. Taking a breath, she departs from the border and heads towards Agent Colt.

He finishes speaking with the worker, who leaves the partners in peace.

“They’ve got nothing. We’ve got nothing. Not for this one, not for the past three.”

She already knows this. A thought tickles the back of her mind, but she cannot name it. “All right. Maybe they got sloppy; maybe this time the coroner will get something. Anything.” Elijah rolls his eyes, pursing his lips and rubbing his chin. Y/N knows he’s saying We can’t base our investigation on maybe. Another sigh. “Fine, let’s run through this again.”

Elijah leads the way to their company car. “So, the heart. That’s the main focus. It’s missing.”

“Yes. This points to it being personal. It takes a lot of passion and hatred to rip through someone’s chest and remove their fucking heart. Which, another thing, the hearts aren’t just removed. They’re taken.”

“Right. Okay, haphazard blood splatter; no pattern. I’d say our killer is disorganized. Listless.”

“Not completely. I mean, there’s an even month between each murder. That leans more towards organized. There’s ritual. It’s not really first come, first serve, ya know?”

Elijah pauses at his door, fingers clasped tightly around its handle. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, staring off into the distance. Y/N knows that look. She’s seen it in herself, survivors and fellow agents. He’s not looking at the clearing, but trying to connect the dots. Perhaps the weight of solving this doesn’t rest solely on Y/N’s shoulders.

As Elijah returns from his reverie and yanks open the car door, Y/N hears a deep, raspy voice greet the local law enforcement. Her partner settles into his seat, staring at her with drawn eyebrows and pursed lips. She holds up a finger.

Casting a quick glance behind her, Y/N finds two suits mid-introduction with the sheriff. The pair hold up identification booklets, much like the one in her pocket. Their suits hang too loosely off of their bodies, their dress shoes too scuffed. The longer she watches their body language, the larger the pit in her stomach grows. She turns around to lean against the car, keeping focus on the men. They talk for a moment more before the sheriff nods in her direction.

Y/N watches their shoulders tense, standing taller from the rigidness. Yes, she muses, something is off.

The window she leans against pulls on her coat as Elijah rolls it down. “Hey, you coming?”

Pondering for a moment whether she should let him in on her instincts, Y/N decides against it. “Yeah,” she leans down, poking her head through the window. “I’m going to stay here, actually. I want to see if I can squeeze anything else out of the uniforms.”

Elijah chuckles. “We’re uniforms too, you know.”

She returns the laugh. “Right, well, you head back to the office. Make a fresh pot of coffee, too. I’ll meet you there.”

He holds two fingers to his forehead before dramatically sweeping them across his face. “Aye, aye, captain.”

Y/N stands as he rolls the window back up, patting the roof. Elijah peels off while she returns her attention to the still-gawking men. Their postures only straighten as she nears; if they stood any more rigid she’d swear they were wax figures. “Harold,” she acknowledges the sheriff. He nods. “How’s it going on your end?” Y/N keeps the men in her peripheral but focuses on Harold.

Harold’s eyes shift to the pair, then back to Y/N. “As I was telling your fellow agents—” at this statement, the men share a glance, “—still nothing.”

“Right, well I want to go over everything again. Give me a moment.” She finally turns to greet the supposed agents. “Gentlemen, to whom do I owe the pleasure?” Scanning their faces, she studies them for any quirk of the lips or perspiration on the brow.

The taller one speaks first. “I’m, uh, Agent Pert and this is Agent Bonham,” he gestures next to him.

Pert and Bonham? Really? She refrains from rolling her eyes.

Instead, Y/N doesn’t respond, using the pressure of silence in her favor. Harold clears his throat, uncomfortable with the tension. She ignores him, keeping focus on the men before her. Most of her suspects break under her gaze; very few can sustain their façade in an encounter with her steely eyes and stiff posture. Harold excuses himself, unable to withstand her harsh eyes. The men continue to stare, neither willing to relent. Unfortunately, this renders them at an impasse. She, too, will not look away or speak.

Agent Pert concedes, taking the lead. “Right, well, we’re here from DC to investigate the murders. What have you got?” His voice imperceptibly wavers— if untrained, Y/N wouldn’t notice the quiver— the corner of his lip twitching.

Ignoring his request, she commands, “Let me see your badges, agents.”

Another conversation through a shared look before they hand them over. They’re good, the badges. A smidgen off center of authentic. If not for the incorrect serial code and too high insignia placement, Y/N would accept them at face value. She closes the booklets and pockets them, earning a small Hey of protest from the short one. Cocking an eyebrow, she dares them to challenge her.

“Impersonating a federal agent is a crime, I’m sure you know.”

“Impersonating a— call our superior and check! Let me see your badge!” Crew cut exclaims, indignant.

“I’ll lend my badge after I’ve talked to your superior officer.” She wonders how far they intend to take this rouse.

With their business card in hand, she retreats a few steps. As she dials the number the little whisper in the back of her head pesters her further. The questionable agents and unsolvable case remind her of… something.

“Agent Willis,” a voice grunts.

“Willis? What’s your outpost?”

“Headquarters. Who is this?”

“Agent Y/L/N. It appears I have two of your agents here; I’m sure some wires crossed when you sent them down? What were your orders for Agents Tyler and Grohl?”

“Who are you to question my authority, Agent?”

His growl pulls the pressing thought to the forefront of her mind. 2005, in Cincinnati on her first case. Similar to her case today: bodies piled up with no leads and peculiar circumstances. She ran into someone claiming to be FBI, too. Fresh from the academy with the weight of the world on her shoulders, she accepted his excuse of bureaucratic miscommunication; why don’t we work the case together?

She laughs. “Wait, hold on. I know you.”

“Noyoudon’t,” he spits out, too quickly.

“Yeah, I do. Fuck, what’s your name?” she mumbles, more to herself than him. “Singer! Ohio, we worked a case together. Culprit never caught and you went on your merry way.”

He blubbers, failing to produce a proper excuse. “I don’t know a Singer, Agent.”

She rolls her eyes, finally turning to face the men. The stricken look on their faces only further points to the truth. “All right, Willis. Even if that were true, you also don’t know your agents’ names. They introduced themselves as Pert and Bonham. Really, Singer? Rockstars’ names?” The humor of the situations drains, replaced with its severity. “All right, I’m taking your men in. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay put and wait for mine to come get you.”

“Wait— Y/L/N, right? Hear me out,” he pleads, urgency ringing clear in his voice.

“You have ten seconds.”

“Listen, they’re there to help. Your attacker ain’t what you think it is. I closed that case in Cincinnati, thanks to your help. But, it wasn’t a person. It was a vampire.”

She laughs again, this time wild and unbelieving. “Yeah, right. And this one is a fucking Chupacabra.”

“No, it’s not. We think it’s a werewolf.”

“You’re fucking nuts. No, I’m calling this in.”

“Y/N. Wait. Talk to them, please. People are still in danger. Their names are Sam and Dean. Winchester.” The desperation in his voice settles with unease in her chest. Her time on the force yields too much experience in discerning honesty from duplicity.

Rather than respond, she ends the call and returns to the newly named Winchesters. They stand unmoving, shoulder to shoulder; if not for the wind tussling the tall one’s hair, she’d think they were statues. “So.” They squirm under her gaze. “Which one of you is Sam and Dean?” Their eyes widen at her remark, startled by her knowledge of their true identities.

Crew cut juts his chin out and squares his shoulders. “I’m Dean. That’s Sam. Why don’t you tell us who you are and how the hell you know our names?”

“I’ll be the one asking questions, gentleman. I’ve half a mind to put you in cuffs. First, you impersonate a federal agent; second, your pal Singer brings up werewolves? Sounds like three peas in a pod headed for St. Christopher’s Asylum to me.” Neither respond. “Thirty seconds, boys. You have thirty seconds to make me believe you or the only way you’re leaving is in cuffs.” For emphasis, she pats her hip, whereupon the cuffs hang.

The pregnant silence leers on.

“25.”

Sam sighs, running his hand through his hair. “All right. There are things in this world that you don’t know about; that not many people know about. The bumps in the night, the clichés; most of them are real. Have you had anything happen to you that you can’t explain? Or had an unsolvable case?” He pauses for her answer, but she only looks on, hands on her hips.

Vampires? Werewolves? What the fresh fuck? Her mind reels with the implications of his statement; even still, it doesn’t feel wrong. A few cases come to mind instantly: the serial killer who left victims’ eyes burnt out, people torn to shreds in supposed animal attacks by nothing from these parts. How many victims faced the unknown rather than human wrath? She can handle psychopaths, serial killers, the insane. She knows that evil; deals with it regularly. But the supernatural? No.

“Right, well, we hunt those things. We take them out,” he gestures between himself and Dean.

Y/N’s hands drop from her sides, falling limp at her thighs. “Just you two?” She whispers, cold and disbelieving.

“No,” Dean speaks up. “Not just us. There’s a lot of us out there.”

“Listen, I’m going to need more than just your word. I don’t know you, and I sure as hell don’t trust you. What can you give me that will make me believe you?” Despite not wanting it, she needs proof. Plus, if they turn out to be nuts, she can lock them up and toss the key; no harm, no foul.

They nod once, curt but understanding. Sam takes a step forward, hand raised in her direction. “This’ll take a leap of faith, Agent…”

“Y/L/N.”

“Agent Y/L/N. Let us work on this with you,” Sam implores. “And if we’re wrong, you can book us yourself.”

“Sammy, hold up. Who’s to say we can trust her either? She’s just some Fed. Who’s to say she won’t cuff us anyway?” Dean protests, turning towards Sam.

While the two quietly argue, Y/N takes a step back. Running her tongue over her teeth in concentration, she ponders the options. Even if Sam offers her control, she knows their type: they won’t let her actually take the lead. Dean reminds her of her father, and that man never relinquished supervision. In order for this to work in her favor— seeking the truth, protecting the public— Y/N must fulfill the role as the dutiful public servant. Perhaps they’re not fucking lunatics, and this thing turns out to be real, she’d be way out of her element anyway. Still, she refuses to give up control.

Staring off towards the field, where the body once laid, she contemplates the little evidence recovered. Vics torn to shreds, no prints, no DNA. Local PD swears it’s a cougar, an animal indigenous to the area. Even still, animals are simpler than humans. They kill for sustenance or safety. The brutality of this kill, the length of the claw marks, lack of fur, ritual occurrences; it all points in the wrong direction. Y/N would quicker say some furry decided killing offers more sexual release over cosplay than call it a fucking cougar.

“If you expect me to try to trust you, or at least what you say, then I need your trust, too. This goes both ways,” she interrupts. The men cease their heated discussion, turning towards her. “I don’t like what you’re telling me. I don’t want to believe it. But… I trust my gut, and I think you guys are either great liars or telling the truth.” Sam smiles, but Y/N holds up a hand. “However, I will not put my eggs in one basket. I need insurance that you’ll hold up your end of the bargain. This means I’m taking point, and you guys are consultants. Anything you know, you tell me. Anything you find, you tell me. Anything you do, you tell me. Capiche?”

Sam nods before Dean, nudging his side to encourage his agreement. Dean tosses his hands in the air. “Fine. Where to next, Agent?” Venom drips with each word.

“I need to get back to the station. My partner, Agent Colt, will be—”

“Colt? Agent Colt? The irony.” Dean interrupts. Sam elbows him again, and Y/N chooses to ignore him altogether.

“I’m going back to the station. I’ll talk to the Uniforms and tell them to give you anything pertinent to this specific scene. Anything to do with the others can wait until tonight. Meet me at Carlton’s, off of Hamilton street. I’ll bring the files for the other Vics.” She hands Sam her business card, not trusting Dean to keep it.

“What about our badges?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, exhausted. “Fuck, man. I’m trying my hardest to ignore the federal crime you committed right in front of me. Prove you’re right and you’ll get them back. Until then, you’re consultants employed by the Bureau.”

She pushes passed them, heading towards Harold. Their boots crunch on the gravel as they lag behind her. He halts his conversation with one of deputies upon their arrival. “Sheriff, these two are fresh blood from the academy.” She juts her thumb over her shoulder. “HQ thought this would be a good case for them to learn on the job. Tell them anything you know and let them case the scene. I’m going back to the station to meet up with Elijah.”

“But—” Harold begins. Y/N levels him with sharp eyes and pressed lips, stopping him in his tracks. “Right. Okay. Follow me, Agents.” Sam and Dean shoulder passed Y/N, catching up to the Sheriff with a few long strides.

Y/N stands for a moment, hands in her jacket pockets, watching the two men. If this turns out to be a rouse— if she let two criminals onto the field with her permission— that’s her head. Shaking the thought away, she turns. She’s able to hitch a ride back to the station with the forensic profilers.

———————————————————————————————————

Elijah spared his questions when she returned, thankfully. Instead, he shoved a hot cup of cop shop coffee into her hands before continuing their earlier evaluation. “Right, can’t be disorganized, but he’s definitely passionate. That shows connection to the victims.”

Y/N sips her coffee. Forcing the bitterness down her throat, she also swallows her new knowledge. She must work this case like any other, for it might be. “You think it’s a man?”

Around the bite of an apple, he says, “Yes. Female offenders aren’t typically serial murderers; they’re passion killers. Black Widows, Angels of Death, you know the type.”

“I do, but Wuronous diverged from the typical female murderer.”

“Yeah, that’s one of many. Most other women utilized poison for their kills. The ME didn’t find any traces of cyanide, arsenic, or tetrodotoxin— nothing. Doesn’t fall in line with what we know.”

Y/N simmers. She knows this, of course. “Let’s keep the possibilities in mind.” She sifts through the crime scene pictures, lining up the photos of the different victims side by side. “Placement doesn’t seem to matter, so that leans away from obsessive compulsiveness. The offensive wounds support this, too.”

“Y/N, what are we reaching for? We don’t have a profile, a motive; nothing.”

“Not true. Let’s lay it all out, one more time. Hearts are taken, gruesome attack wounds, lower body left alone. Maybe these are passion killings, and the only thing in common with the victims is the killer. I mean, people come and go all the time here. Maybe they knew the Unsub outside of Portland. The ritualistic pattern of the murders makes me think the killer stalks the victims in the month down time; gets to know their schedule, comings and goings. They’re all aged between twenty-five and thirty-five. Maybe the killer is attracted to the ages rather than physical descriptions. Also—” Y/N stops, sighing.

Even as she tries to string everything together, she knows Elijah is right. Too much of the evidence contradicts any profile they could scrape up. Ritualistic but not obsessive, disorganized but keeps to a schedule, passionate murders between unrelated victims. Nothing points them in any definitive direction. They’re grasping at straws here.

Sam and Dean creep to the forefront of her mind. She downs her coffee in one go. It heats her stomach, and she blames her rising temperature on the beverage rather than brimming anger. Clenching her fists, she crushes the paper cup. Elijah reaches over to rub her shoulder, massaging her tense muscles. “It’s okay, Y/N/N. We’ll catch this son of a bitch,” he encourages, misunderstanding her frustration.

She rubs her eyes, forcing them open. Wordlessly, Elijah fills hands here a new cup of coffee, topping himself off as well. They sit in silence, pouring over their respective files. The victims must have connections; even if Y/N allows herself to believe the Winchesters, she can’t believe monsters don’t have rituals. Psychology reaches further than humanity— scientists observe it in animals. In order to keep hope and keep going, Y/N trusts in the knowledge that all things in existence operate off of some code.

Another sigh, another gulp. “One more time. From the first victim. Elijah, there has to be something.”

He purses his lips, clear indignation warring his exhaustion and winning. Even still, he nods. “All right, Vic One: Stephanie Lane, age 27. She worked at the local vet clinic on Broad Street. Usual nine to five, Monday through Friday. Killer got her leaving work Thursday night, July Fifth, around six p.m. Scratched her up, took her heart. Passerby found her body two days later.” He wets his lips, staring at her file.

Y/N nods in confirmation, already well aware of the facts. With a fine-tooth comb, they revisit each victim after Stephanie Lane. Jonathan Grism, Marcus Kent, and, the most recent, Gabrielle Shaw. All with varying occupations and seemingly no connections, aside from enjoying the casual run or grueling hike. Despite their apparent love of nature, the Unsub chose to kill them in their daily routine.

On a whim, Y/N searches each date (July 5th, August 3rd, September 2nd, and October 1st) for any similarities in the dates, coming up short and further exasperated. Elijah keeps to himself while she abuses her keyboard, refusing defeat. Only on her fifth page of Google searches does she find anything worth noting; unfortunately it supports the Winchesters. Each murder occurred on a full moon.

She slams her laptop closed, finishing her coffee and crushing her cup. “I need a break, Elijah. Just some time to clear my head and get fresh eyes.” She stands, tossing her cup into the wastebasket. Elijah leans back, clasping his fingers behind his head. “I’m getting some sleep. You should too. You look like shit.”

Elijah laughs. “Thanks, Y/N/N. You don’t look too much better yourself.”

She shoves his shoulder as she passes, shouting a goodbye over her shoulder. Elijah hollers something back, but she’s already out of the front doors. The crisp air helps the fog in her head, supplementing it with aches in her bones. Her boots crunch leaves with each step, and she forces her focus onto the noise.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Werewolves?

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

The supernatural?

Crunch, crunch— smack.

A broad chest stops her, calloused fingers grasping her upper arm to steady her. Y/N looks up, palms pressing against a soft t-shirt, into effervescent green eyes. Dean grins down at her, the left corner of his lip tilted in an almost-sneer, if not for the mischief in his eyes. She rolls her eyes, pushing back against his firm chest. He releases her, hands up in mock surrender.

“Agent, fancy seeing you here.”

“Where? Outside of the station where I work? Must be kismet.” Sarcasm drips from her words like venomous honey, sickly sweet and sticky.

“Well, to be fair, you did say to tell you anything we find, so here I am.”

Her heart stutters, excited. They found something. This could be the end of the murders. Straightening her back and returning to Agent Y/L/N— locking Y/N into a tight box at the back of her mind— she faces Dean head on. “All right, what have you found?” Her voice lacks the previous emotion, all business and no play.

Dean sighs, a look flitting across his face and disappearing before Y/N can place it. “Walk with me.” He turns on his heel without awaiting her response, starting down the sidewalk.

She follows, despite the annoyance burning the bottom of her feet with each step. They continue down the street in silence, save for their steps and the seldom passing cars. While she wants answers, Y/N knows pestering delays the process. Dean seems like a man who has been through the ringer a couple times. If he shares similarities with herself, he won’t share anything until he’s ready— another form of control she wants to rip from his fingers.

By the time they reach the doors to the Sunshine Diner, Y/N must clench her fists to bury the frustration of unanswered questions. Dean holds the door, motioning for her to go in. In the back right corner of the restaurant sits Sam, typing furiously on his laptop. So. It appears Dean did search for her once they found something. Pleased at the notion, she lets some of the annoyance roll off her shoulders.

Dean settles in next to Sam, Y/N taking the opposing side of the booth. “So, get this,” Sam begins. “Your murders started four months ago, right? Well, turns out a small werewolf pack traveled from Washington to Portland because they drew too much attention to themselves. One of our connections in Seattle worked the case until they completely disappeared, no trace, no nothing. Within a month of leaving Washington, the Portland murders began.” He finished, peering at her through the too-long tendrils of his hair.

Y/N schools her face into indifference, despite her racing heart and sweating palms. He sounds so sure and calm, like they run into werewolves grocery shopping. Dean looks at her, too, sharp eyes searching for anything in her expression or body language.

For a moment of reprieve, the waitress approaches the table. Rushed and rough, the trio relay their orders: Sam an egg white omelet, Dean the Bacon Supreme, and Y/N another black coffee; she ignores her shaking hands and clammy skin. The server jots down their choices, rushing off to the next table.

Y/N clasps her fingers together, leaning forward. “That sounds like a nicely wrapped present with a bow on top. I need your process. How did you come to this conclusion? Who is this supposed hunter?”

Sam squints at her, mouth agape. “Those are your questions, really? Nothing about werewolves?” He turns to Dean, bewildered. Dean shrugs, looking all too comfortable for the topic of conversation.

The server returns with their drinks, setting the three coffees and one orange juice in front of the respective customers. As if purposefully slow, she takes her time to offer creamer or sugar, unaware of the tension. Dean taps one of his fingers on the surface of the table while Sam makes polite small talk with the waitress. Y/N continues to study the men before her. Finally, the server leaves once more.

“Listen, if I’m going to believe your bucket of crazy, then I’m going to believe it. So, no. I’m not going to ask about werewolves, I’m asking about the details of your research. I need to know how credible you are.”

This time, Dean leans forward, staring straight into her eyes and speaking low. “The hunter we know in Washington, Richard, kept track of them enough to know their comings and goings. He put out the word through the Hunter grapevine that he needed help with the… extermination of the pack, but by the time anyone could come to help, they migrated south. To here. We know it’s this pack because the victims share the same hobby: doing shit in nature. Runners, hikers, whatever. It makes them easy targets—”

“— Except they weren’t killed on hikes or runs. They were killed after work or errands or—”

Dean continues speaking, as if she hadn’t interjected. “—This specific pack only eats the heart, a common characteristic of werewolves. However, a lot of them eat more of the body, and depending on what they eat points to which pack is most likely to be the attacker. These sons of bitches blend in, except on the full moon, where they go apeshit for hearts. Richard identified the pack leader; Sam found where they’re holed up in. Good enough for you, Agent?”

She wants to slap the pleased look straight off of his plump lips and pretty green eyes. Instead, Y/N props her head up in her palm, keeping her eyes level with Dean’s, swallowing her ire and replacing it with feigned kindness. “Yes. When are we going to get them?” The thought of coming face to face with a monster rushes like winter water through her veins. She reminds herself she deals with monsters on the daily; hers only lack claws and fangs, and whatever else. The circumstances only vary slightly.

“We? There is no ‘we’, sweetheart. We kept you in the loop, like you asked, but you don’t know Jack from Shit about how the gank these fuckers. You do your job, and we’ll—”

Y/N raises her hand, silencing Dean. “Listen, sweetheart, I know the area. I’m guessing they’re staying at the Crest Apartments off of 205, right? Developers left it abandoned when the surveyors refused to clear it due to landslide likelihood. I know the woods, the city, everything. As for what I don’t know, you can teach me. I may not be trained in proper monster lore, but I know how to fight.”

Dean leans further forward, meeting her at the halfway mark of the table. He lowers his voice, speaking gruffly as if to admonish. “You might be an agent in the normal world, but to us you’re just a civvie. No matter what you think you can do, no matter what you think you know, you’ve never faced these things in real life. I’m not about to put your stubborn ass in danger just so you can prove a point.”

Y/N opens her mouth to retort, but Sam grabs Dean’s collar and pulls him back. “Enough with the pissing contest. I get it: you’re both badass,” he interrupts, at his wits end. “Listen, Y/N,” he begins, softer. “I’m sure you’re good at what you do. You got the location correct without any intel, save for what you know about your city. But Dean’s right. If you come, you’re more of a liability than helpful.”

Y/N closes her eyes, taking a deep breath and holding it for five counts. When she exhales, she forces a smile upon her lips, albeit a bit sardonic, and opens her eyes. The men stare at her, awaiting her response. She stands, instead, straightening her jacket. “Gentleman, I’ll see you tonight. Bring an extra weapon, seeing as I’m sure normal bullets won’t kill a werewolf. Nine o’clock?” Rather than wait for a response, she nods her head and departs onto the street once more.

———————————————————————————————————

From the moment she stepped outside of the diner to the moment she parked her car behind Sam and Dean, her phone rang. Y/N assumed the alternating unknown numbers belonged to the brothers, likely wishing to dissuade her from joining their crusade. She ignored them, deleting any voicemails they left. She knows they’re right; she doesn’t know left from right when it comes to monsters. But it’ll be a cold day in Hell when she lets some terror run rampage in her city.

Instead, she chose to bide her time researching werewolf lore between several more cups of coffee. Luckily she came across a duo well versed in their knowledge: the Ghostfacers. Although they posted their most recent content a year ago, she assumes lore stays the same. Silver bullet, shot to the head or heart, werewolf down for the count.

Y/N alights from her car, closing the door. Sam and Dean stand at their trunk, rummaging through— an entire arsenal of weapons? Y/N still has half the mind to arrest them. First impersonating federal agents to knives and machetes and guns in a hidden compartment of their car? She forces anxiety down, instead choosing once again to believe Sam and Dean are not raging psychopaths. Every bone in her body screams to cuff them and book them; her entire career banks on capturing nuts jobs like these two.

Still, she makes her way to their car, stopping at her front bumper to lean on it. “So. Silver, huh?”

Sam turns to face her, loading his .45 absentmindedly as he takes in her appearance. Gone is her official suit, in its place jeans, boots, and a well-worn long-sleeve. Dean rummages through the trunk, ignoring her presence. “You researched,” Sam replies, more so a statement than a question.

“I don’t go in half cocked. Pun intended. Got any leftover bullets? I’ve got a .45, too,” she muses, patting her hip for emphasis.

Dean sighs, rubbing his temple with his free hand, the other occupied with a magazine. “For the last time,” he begins, turning to face her, “I don’t want you here. We don’t want you here. If things get hairy in there, we can’t protect you, Y/N. You’re a liability. You don’t know—”

“— Jack from shit, yeah, yeah,” she dismisses, waving a hand. “Stow the crap, I’m coming. Now, do you want me going in defenseless or do you have silver to spare?” She stands straight, squaring her shoulders and holding her head high.

Sam covers a laugh with a cough, his attention trained on Dean. Y/N forces her unwavering gaze onto him, who in turn rolls his eyes. His shoulders sag in defeat as he returns attention to his trunk. Wordlessly, he passes her a simple pistol, already loaded. She adjusts her grip, searching for a comfortable hold.

“Thanks.”

Dean barely nods his head. Y/N leaves the pair for a moment, returning her own gun to the glove box and locking it.

Upon her return, Dean closes the trunk with a deafening slam, leaning against it. “All right, let’s get some things straight. We go in first, you follow. We’ll call clear and then we move forward as a group, understood?” Y/N wants to roll her eyes— Dean seems to forget she works raids on the regular— but she nods. “Good. We counted five. You see someone who isn’t us,” he motions between Sam and himself with his gun, “you shoot. Bullet to the heart will do the job.” He delivers a pointed look in her direction, awaiting confirmation.

“Got it.”

He looks at her for a moment, his eyes alight with enough fire to bore holes into her clothing. A familiar look hides behind his façade of rage; it rests on the tip of Y/N’s tongue. Perhaps a concoction of grief and hope. She sees it in herself when a case grows too heavy; grief for the pain and hope for the end. In this moment, Y/N feels like she knows Dean.

The moment breaks when he shakes his head and walks heavy footed to the building. Sam falls in line with Y/N, resting a hand on her shoulder to slow her. She cranes her neck to look him in the eye, skin burning whereupon his palm rests. “He doesn’t want casualties. He doesn’t have the best way of showing it, but Dean cares about people. He’s got enough blood on his hands.” Sam squeezes her shoulder, sparing a tight lipped smile, before dropping his hand.

A few long strides puts him next to Dean, shoulder to shoulder. Y/N hangs back, processing Sam’s vague confession. She understands the need to protect others. The most pressing motivation for joining the Bureau stems from this desire. These men fight in a war separate to her own, but not dissimilar. They’re two sides of the same coin, both Y/N and Dean aching to save, save, save.

She shrugs her shoulders, pushing the nerves building in her chest down to her toes. If Sam and Dean tell the truth of the awaiting horrors, she needs to ready herself. In matters of life and death, anxiety only increases the chances of death. Adrenaline only carries her so far before it peters out.

Dean stands at the front door, gun raised and legs parted. Sam stands to the side, hand on the handle. Y/N, as promised, stands back and behind Dean. With a nod from Dean, Sam pulls the handle, opening the heavy door. The brothers file in first, flashlights illuminating the unfinished floor and walls.

Their footsteps echo as they clear each room, a foreboding cadence through the empty halls. Dean looks back at Y/N, ensuring she still follows. She keeps her gun pointed to the ground and her senses open. At the first corner, Dean holds his arm out. Sam and Y/N flatten themselves against the wall while Dean looks around the corner. He nods, stepping out into the open once more.

A crunch from the right hallway drags Y/N’s attention from the brothers proceeding to the left. Peering down the corridor, she finds it empty. Just as she turns to catch up, another crunch sounds, followed by a squelch and a footstep. Looking behind her, Y/N finds Dean and Sam halfway down the hallway. “Dean!” she shouts as quietly as she can. He doesn’t turn. “Dean. Sam!”

Nothing.

She sighs, frustrated. One side begs her to run down the hallway to warn them; the other implores her to follow her gut and the noise. Another wayward glance in their direction and Y/N turns right. She steps carefully, avoiding debris. Heel, toe. Heel, toe.

The further she travels down the hallway, the darker it gets. Footsteps and low voices grow closer as she reaches another left or right turn. She presses against the left wall, sparing a glance down the right corridor. Empty. The left hallway, however, offers cover to three silhouettes crowding in front of a closed door. She startles back, heart hammering against her ribs.

Y/N holds her breath, calming the relentless anxiety in her chest. Breathe in, hold four seconds, breathe out. Rinse and repeat. She looks back to where she last saw Sam and Dean; they’re gone. Great. Now she's truly dug herself an early grave.

With one last breath, Y/N turns the corner, aims and shoots. One of the people— werewolves— yowls in pain, collapsing to the ground. Yellow eyes glow in the dark, the only light from their end of the hall. Guttural growls roll from their chests as they stalk towards Y/N. She fires again. It hits the plaster, sending dust and shards flying.

“Fuck.”

The monsters pick up speed, running full force in her direction. She fires one more time, hitting one in the leg. It crashes to the floor, knees hitting the ground with a sickening crack. The other continues. Y/N whips around, running down the hallway towards Sam and Dean— she hopes. Her feet thump with each step and she pays little mind to the trash and tools on the ground.

A foolish mistake, it seems, as she stomps on an empty chip packet. Her right foot slips from beneath her, sending her careening to the ground. The side of her head smacks against the concrete. Her vision blacks for a moment before the pain spreads in webs from her cheek to her neck, down her back. The heavy footfalls of her pursuer sound muffled compared to the needling throbbing in her head.

With a groan, she pushes herself onto her hands and knees. A hand on the wall stabilizes her, she clambers to her feet. An unfortunate time to do so; the werewolf runs full force into her, slamming her onto the ground once more. Autopilot takes over as she raises her palms to the man’s chest, pushing as hard as she can.

He snarls, snapping his teeth as he tries to reach her neck. Y/N blocks his throat with her forearm, using her spare hand to blindly search for her gun. Instead of the handle, she grasps a wrench. Good enough. With as much force as she can muster, she clobbers the werewolf’s head. He falls off of her, a hand pressed to his bleeding forehead.

In the second of reprieve, she spots the pistol a few feet away. She throws herself through the air, grabbing the handle before turning onto her back, the gun pointed towards the monster.

He dives after her. Bang. The shot rings out through the hallway. His body tenses before relaxing completely, eyes half lidded and empty. Y/N rolls out of the way as it collides with the floor. Her breaths come ragged and short, but the fight persists. The unforgiving footsteps of her aggressors afford little time to catch her breath; she pushes herself up once more.

Panting, but not yet done, she turns towards the thundering steps. Sam and Dean race towards her, guns at the ready. “Oh, thank God.” She drops her guard and lowers her pistol to her side, leaning against the wall to catch her breath.

Dean reaches her first, fire in his eyes and coating his words. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I told you to stay with us, Y/N!” He grabs her chin, calloused fingers tilting her face to get a better look at her wounds. He pulls back, lifting and examining each arm. Y/N, too spent, lets him search for whatever he wants to find. She feels the welting of a bruise on her right cheek and a trickle of blood from her forehead.

“I got— I got three,” she gasps, watching Sam turn the werewolf over.

Dean releases her, shaking his head. She touches her cheek, wincing at its sensitivity. “Oh, how nice. You also almost got yourself killed. I swear to—”

“—Dean,” Sam warns. “There are two more. We can worry about this later.”

“I got— I killed one of the others, but the third one I just hit in the knee.” Admitting to killing something, despite it being a monster, settles heavily in her stomach. She presses her hand to her lips, forcing her lunch to stay put.

No time to puke, Y/N, she scolds herself.

Shaking her head, she compels herself to focus. She nods at Sam and Dean, who take their positions at the front once more. This time she has no intentions of abandoning their protection. They stalk forward, albeit not as carefully as before; the ruckus certainly alerted the rest of the pact to their presence. Turning the corner, they find the werewolf Y/N shot first. A trail of blood leads the room they convened outside of, the door open this time.

The trio step lightly and quickly to the room. Dean peers in before entering. Inside, the wounded werewolf leans against the wall, a hand pressed against his thigh. Dean shoots him on the spot, wasting no time. Another body lies in the corner, torn the shreds. Aside from the two corpses, the room yields no tell-tale signs of the rest of the pack. Even still, Sam and Dean survey every nook and cranny. Y/N hovers by the door, working on slowing her breath and calming her heart.

She peaks out into the hallway, just in case. The darkness limits her view, but she can’t hear anything either. Her ears ring, a relentless low buzzing from hitting her head and firing her gun too closely. Dean places a hand on her lower back as he passes, alerting her to his presence. The warmth spreads through her body, even when he lets go and walks ahead.

“Do you think they left?” she wonders aloud. It’s what she would do, but packs could think differently than humans.

Sam walks next to her, looking at her in his peripheral. ��Maybe. But we want to clear the whole building, no stone left unturned and all that.”

She nods, instantly regretting it. Her brain tumbles around her head, hitting the walls and throbbing. Y/N rubs her temple, but says nothing. Lord knows Dean would already have a smartass retort on the tip of his tongue. Instead, she concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other.

They clear the first floor easily, no signs of the last two. Dean leads them back to the front of the building to the stairwell. The door refuses to open, no matter how much force they use. The handle turns, but something on the other side blocks its pathway. Sam and Dean brace their backs against the door, plant their feet on the ground, and push as hard as they can. It budges slightly, only enough for them to see inside.

One of the railings torn from the stairs leans against the door, while another, wedged between the railing on the door and the first step of the stairs, holds it in place. They’d have to get in there to open the door. The brothers try once again, opening it a smidgen further.

As Sam and Dean discuss the next step, Y/N formulates her own plan. She knows the boys, Dean in particular, won’t like it. Stepping closer to them, she chooses to stand next to Sam, hoping for his support.

“Listen,” she interrupts. Both brothers run their attention to her, Sam’s eyebrows raised and Dean’s drawn down. For a moment, she wonders if they have other facial expressions or if they always look this perturbed. “I can fit in there,” she motions to the opening in the door, a crack about a foot wide. Dean opens his mouth to disagree, but she holds up a hand. “I’ll get in there and move the railings so you guys can get in too. Quick and simple. Won’t go off on my own, promise.”

Sam and Dean meet eyes, silently coming to an agreement. Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Fine. Be quick.” He sets his steely gaze upon her face. “And, I fucking swear, Y/N— if you go off by yourself I will kill you.”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure, you will.”

She shoves passed him, knocking his shoulder on purpose. He grumbles something under his breath, but moves out of the way. A deep breath in, Y/N sidles through the opening. She barely makes it, struggling to get around the railing. Once inside, she grasps the leaning railing, using her whole body to pull the steel from where it’s wedged. Inch by inch, she gets it out of the way.

It hits the floor with a reverberating clang, settling in the alcove beneath the stairs. The other falls to the ground, closing the door with its force. Y/N sighs, throwing her head back in frustration. Fists bang on the other side of the door, Dean shouting her name along with profanities.

“I’m fine, you oaf. Give me a second,” she yells back, exasperated.

“Hurry up, Y/N.”

She groans, sinking to her knees for more leverage. Breathlessly, she retorts, “I. Am. Trying.” With a grunt, she pushes the steel into a vertical position. “All right, you should have enough—”

“Need a hand?” a low voice taunts from above.

Y/N looks up. An unassuming woman stands at the platform of the first level, hands on her hips and an all teeth grin baring her lips. “Dean?” she yells, urgent and frightened. The door opens with enough room for Sam and Dean to squeeze through.

Dean barges in first, gun raised. He casts a glance at Y/N, following her gaze to the landing. Mechanically, he pulls the trigger. The woman falls with a thud. Y/N lets out a breath, hands white knuckling the railing and eyes trained on the body. Sam grabs the metal while Dean pries Y/N’s fingers off, more gently than he’s been with her all day.

She looks at him, eyes wide. As much as she wants to act fearlessly, she’s seen more people— things— die in front of her today than in her entire life. Dean nods, as if to say It’s okay, we get it. She steps back, letting him take the railing. Together, the brothers shift it to rest upon the other.

Y/N closes her eyes, clenching and unclenching her fists. Her nails dig crescents into her palms, the stinging centering her. Okay. Okay. I can do this. Her skin burns under the gaze of Sam and Dean, even if she can’t see them herself. Opening her eyes, she focuses on the men before her.

“You good?” Dean asks, warm and low, a hand reaching out to her.

“Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go.” She motions before her, allowing them to take the lead again.

Four down, one to go, Y/N reminds herself with each step. The task seems less daunting with the odds in their favor at three against one. On the second platform, they exit into the hallway. The builders didn’t get so far as to hinge a door to the opening, thankfully. The trio stalk down the corridor, straining to hear anything out of place.

The end of the hallway yields a wall and two doors opposite of each other— one opened and one closed. The brothers broach the entryway of the open room, clearing it with a quick sweep. Similar to how they entered the building, Dean stands in front of the closed door while Sam grasps the handle. Pushing it open, Dean rushes in, Y/N and Sam following closely behind.

The door slams shut behind them. Y/N whips around, ready to fire and finish the job. She stumbles, lowering her weapon, jaw dropped. Dean steps in front of her, half blocking her from— “Elijah?” Dean looks back at Y/N, brows furrowed and lips parted. Sam rests a hand on her shoulder, steadying her.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he taunts, almost as if scolding her. “I see you’re running around with scum. I thought you were better than that.”

She shakes her head, struggling to wrap her head around the man before her— her friend— being a monster. “What— how…”

He rolls his eyes. “Wah-how? Blah, blah, blah. You were always so naive.” He twirls a knife between his fingers, a small smirk dancing on his lips. Y/N looks away, unable to handle Elijah being the culprit she sought so long to capture. “When they came to town all those months ago, I caught one of them. I was ready to cuff ‘em and book ‘em, like we’re trained. But Eddie, the one you shot in the leg, Y/N, presented an offer I couldn’t refuse.” His voice glides like silk over her skin. It takes everything not to vomit.

“Only downside is once a month I’d get a little craz—”

The shot rings clear in the air, stopping Elijah’s tirade. Y/N’s head shoots up in time to watch him crumble to the ground. He settles with a soft finality, folded over himself. Dean turns around, saying something, but she can’t hear him. She shakes her head, tears stinging her eyes. Her knees give out, collapsing. Sam falls with her, softening the blow.

She pushes off of him. “Get off of me, get off of me,” she screeches, banging her fists into his chest until he releases her. He holds his hands up in surrender as she scrambles a few feet away.

Y/N rests on her knees, forehead touching the cool ground as if in prayer. Dirt and dust grind in her wound, she knows, but she can’t feel it. She can only replay Elijah’s fall. The separation of the man she knew and the man who he became felt too small. She never noticed a difference. He acted the same: kind, funny, a good agent. A good friend.

Her sobs wrench in her chest, burning her throat. She wants to scream, but it comes out strangled, reverberating from the ground back to her— furious and despairing and inconsolable. Running her fingers through her hair, she grips the roots needing something to hold. Everything feels new in a terrible, sickening way. Just yesterday she believed she and Elijah would put the murderer behind bars. Now, she knows monsters exist. She fought one. She knew one.

Y/N breathes in, steeling herself. The man she knew died four months ago. She pushes herself onto her hind legs, wiping her tears. The burn of her fingers against her wounds calm her. Dealing with physical pain numbs the emotional. She presses her fingers to the bruise, hissing but reveling in the tenderness.

She struggles to her feet, all too aware of the aches in her legs, and turns to face Sam and Dean. They stand by the door, leaning on the border. In her moment of desolation, they moved Elijah somewhere. Out of her sight. Not wanting attention, or Are you okay’s, she pushes past them, avoiding contact. Silently, they follow her to the stairwell and out onto the street. The cool air dries her tears and fills her lungs. For the first time since peering around that godforsaken corner, she can breathe.

Sam and Dean keep a respectable distance, letting her lead them to the cars. Wordlessly, Y/N returns the gun to Dean’s grasp, leaning against her front bumper. She tilts her head back to gaze at the waning moon.

“You good?” Dean asks, settling next to her.

She looks at him, really looks at him, for perhaps the first time. The green of his eyes highlight the bags beneath them. His laugh lines contradict the exhaustion heavy on his lips. His shoulders hang low, weighed down by the knowledge of darkness and pain.

Y/N sighs, accepting the beer he offers her. “I’ll be all right.” She means it. Maybe her monsters don’t have fangs and claws and familiar faces, but they’re monsters all the same. “You know what’s funny?” Dean raises an eyebrow, taking a swig of his El Sol. “I’ve seen worse,” she giggles.

Dean looks away, shaking his head with a low chuckle. “Yeah? Like what?”

She sips her beer, too, thinking of a good story. “One time there was this weird inbred family that captured people and hunted them down. Had a barn with cages and shit. They kept their victims cars in a junkyard-graveyard thing, and—”

Sam and Dean share a look before busting out laughing. She glances between them, offended at their mockery. “All right, I’ll keep my stories to myself, then.”

“No,” Sam gets out between bursts. “No, we, um— we hunted those guys. Thought they were monsters. Turned out to be hicks with too much time on their hands.”

It’s Y/N’s turn to laugh. “No fucking way! Must’ve just missed each other.” She shakes her head, taking another sip.

“Small world,” Dean whispers into his bottle.

They settle into a comfortable silence, the tension from the day drained. Y/N lets her mind wander— from meeting these men to now, and everything between. She tries to think back to before all this; before yesterday. The person who stood on the outskirts of the caution tape versus the person who sits on the hood of her car are miles apart.

“Oh, that reminds me.” She pushes off of her bumper, unlocking her car. From the inside door she grabs two small booklets. Y/N passes the fake badges to the respective users. “A few tips: don’t use famous names. That’s the first thing that gave you away. Secondly,” she takes Dean’s badge back, opening it up. “Your official federal insignia is too low. It should be square with your picture. And your serial code is the wrong date. The first number—sometimes letter— is the year this was manufactured. We get new badges every two years, alternating between numbers and letters. Right now,” she says, opening her own booklet, “we are on letter Q.” She passes the badge back to Dean, who pockets it.

Sam nods, “Thanks for the information.”

“Yeah, I just love helping people—”

“— impersonate federal officers,” Dean and Sam interrupt, saying it in unison.

She laughs. “I’m glad you guys didn’t turn out to be crazy.”

In another pocket of silence, they finish their beers. Dean grabs the empty bottles, tossing them into a beat up green cooler while Sam turns to rest on the side of the Impala. Y/N readies herself to say goodbye, ignoring the ache in her chest. She refuses to admit it aloud, but she wishes she met them under different circumstances. She wishes she met Dean under different circumstances.

Despite only knowing him for two days, Y/N can see herself in Dean. He bears the same weight she bears. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that his eyes remind her of fresh cut grass at the beginning of fall. Paired with his smell of cinnamon and gunpowder (a scent she knows all too well), she can’t help but want to know him. If they had met in a bar, she would definitely have taken him home.

Dean returns to her side, this time shoulder to shoulder. “You think you can handle that?” he inquires, pointing to her forehead and cheek.

She touches it gingerly. “Yeah, I think so.”

He nudges her shoulder with his, and she looks up at him. “You did well, tonight. Better than I thought you would, honestly.”

She grins, shaking her head. “Yeah, that’s what you get for doubting me.”

He looks ahead again, and she does, too. The sky brightens as the sun returns for its reign. The fatigue from the last twenty-four hours settles in, and, without much thought, she rests her head on Dean’s shoulder. He tenses for a moment, and she feels him look down at her, but he lets his shoulders sag again. He places a hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently, as if to say I’m right here. I’ve got you.

At least, she hopes that’s what he means.

The sun finishes its creep into the sky and the stars fade into a blanket of pink, orange, and purple. Y/N and Dean hop down from the hood of her car and Sam meets them between the bumpers once more. Sam dips down to hug Y/N first, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and squeezing tight. She fights not to groan when his grasp aggravates the aches in her bones. He releases her, casting a smile in her direction.

“Thank you for your help, Y/N. Here,” he passes her a torn piece of paper with two numbers scrawled across. One has an “S” next to it, the other a “D”. “These are our numbers. Call us if you run into anything else.”

She nods, grinning too. “The same applies to you guys. It doesn’t hurt to have someone on the inside.”

He pats her arm before taking his leave, settling into the passenger seat. Y/N turns to Dean. He doesn’t look like much of a hugger, so she extends her hand for a shake. Rolling his eyes, he grabs it, but wraps it around his waist. Dean envelopes her in his arms, holding tighter than Sam with one hand in her hair and the other barred across her shoulders. This time, she welcomes it, in spite of the pain.

He lets her go, but keeps his hands on her shoulders. “I mean it, Y/N.” His voice is low and sinful. “If you need anything, call us. Call me.”

“Anything?” she drawls playfully. He nods, regardless. “Even just to talk?”

Dean laughs. “Yeah. That’d be nice.” His right hand travels up to her neck. She wraps her fingers around his wrist, not entirely sure of his intentions but welcoming anything. He pulls her close, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Get home safe, Y/N,” he mumbles upon releasing her.

“You too, Dean.”

She waits for him to get in his car before she clambers into her driver’s seat. Her bones creek as she settles. Twisting her keys in the ignition, she rolls the windows down and heads home. Werewolves of London blares across her speakers, and she laughs. Yeah. She’ll be all right.

Taglist:

@angelicthreads

#dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #fbi!reader #supernatural #supernatural fic #SUPERNATURAL AU #werewolf of portland

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