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caraphernellie · 4 months

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cowboy like me // e.w. [chapter two]

summary: a modern day princess living under outdated royal protocol in which your own existence is forbidden. in a typical state visit to strengthen your country's relations with the united states, you find it harder than ever to keep your sexuality secret when you meet the president's daughter, ellie williams, and sparks fly.

an: hello guyzzz it took me ages to get off my ass and write this chapter. um i dont think i like this. as always i am very unhappy with my own writing i wish i could just take ideas directly from my head and show u guys because i feel like my writing has not lived up to that. this chapter is a lot shorter than i wantedddd and idk it feels rushed but likeee??? idk this is more to move the plot along. the juicier (angst) stuff happens next chapter tho

wc: 1.5k masterlist

cw: being closeted, having a beard/merkin, rejecting a man lmfao, being publicly embarrassed, kinda angsty? not much ellie, more focused on reader this chapter! however ellie's kind of an asshole! she's privileged as hell

cameras are on you at all times in public. so there’s no room to risk exposing yourself. no room to hold hands, or for a tantalising exchange of words into each other’s ear, or for kisses.

what the public can pick up on is at the very least a very tight knit friendship. the kind of friendship that allows you to feel like being yourself for once. they’re seeing more of your personality than ever, with ellie’s constant need to make you giggle in that way you always do. even if it’s unintentional, and she’s making a fool of herself, it’s her favourite thing to hear, therefore the public embarrassment becomes worth it.

like that time you were complaining to her about those scuffed up converse– how she could definitely afford nicer shoes, how they look out of place amidst her nicer, dry-cleaned suits, though her messier demeanour is just something very charming, very ellie. and it was the untied laces of those very converse sneakers that she tripped over and almost fell on her ass in front of everyone. you couldn’t control your laughter, snorting in a way in which royal management would scold for being ‘unladylike.’ for ellie, the embarrassment subsided immediately, blooming into a fondness in her heart instead as she guided you away from cameras with a hand on the small of your back.

☆☆☆

in that very same office you had your first kiss, you wake weeks later in a frenzy when the president barges in. scrambling to get up, off of ellie who sleeps like the dead, and calm the beating of your heart.

but you aren’t met with judgement, only his chuckling face having assessed the scene. ellie stirring awake, and you quickly standing. both fully dressed, no reason to assume anything happened.

“sorry to wake you,” president williams smirks, straightening down his tie. “couldn’t find either of you.”

it’s something everyone’s grown used to now. ellie taking you for random escapades that stresses the secret service when they realise they’ve lost you. but this was no random escapade. this was a late night guitar lesson that ended with you cuddling on the couch until sleep consumed you.

“oh, i see,” you murmur, clearing your throat and attempting polite conversation to dull the nervous thoughts in your mind. hoping to whatever’s above that people haven’t picked up on the blossoming romance between you and ellie. “we were up late last night. i’ll admit your daughter makes a comfortable pillow.”

president williams, much like said daughter who is grumbling beside you, seems to find humour in anything. he’s a more pleasant man than one would expect with the power he has. your comment leaves him chuckling again, but again you fear the worst. maybe he’s only laughing because he’s picking up on your feelings. “well, i’m glad to hear that, your highness. however i have come to tell you the king and queen have requested to speak with you.”

shit.

“oh!” you nod, smile reaching your lips. overthinking everything possible– what if it’s about ellie? what if they know? what if it’s something simple and i’m freaking out over nothing? is it obvious that i’m freaking out? what if i just look guilty about something? it feels pathetic the way you start trembling as you stand there. “thank you for telling me, i’ll get ready for the day and go speak with them as soon as possible.”

☆☆☆

it was almost worse than you imagined.

“we can’t let the public keep thinking this, do you understand?” your mother asks. “it’s not that there would be anything wrong with it, but it’s so controversial that this could very well damage our reputation.”

it’s sickening. nausea swirling your stomach, as if you’re rocking on a boat in a wild tide. you almost feel like you’re going to start sweating bullets soon.

“to clarify, there’s nothing wrong with it if the rumours are true,” the king repeats, looking at you so intently you feel like shrinking. “is it tr–”

“absolutely not,” you say quickly. “no, that would be weird. ellie is my friend, the closest friend i’ve made in a while. it’s not like that.”

quick to lie, eager to defend yourself. this feels easier than just coming out.

“alright,” your mother nods. “but we still have to do something about this. something subtle. of course it won’t be a real relationship, but we’ve had to organise a boyfriend as advised by the public relations officers. public dates, public appearances, but you won’t need anything further than that.”

and there’s no choice but to accept.

☆☆☆

you wish sometimes that ellie knew how to take things seriously because she bursts out laughing the minute you tell her you’ve got a date with your shiny new pr boyfriend tomorrow morning.

but it’s the way you aren’t laughing with her that has her sobering up instantly, brows furrowing.

“a…. pr boyfriend?” she murmurs, leaning back in her chair. ever so casual. the manspread, the arm resting around the back of the chair. her life seems simpler. she’s never had need to worry about this. “why?”

“well, apparently some people online are saying they think there’s something going on between us.”

“there is.”

“i– yes there is, but–” you look away, making a few frustrated gestures with your hands before turning back to ellie. “i told you. there is no royal protocol for a gay princess. people can’t be thinking this.”

“what makes people think there’s something going on?” ellie asks, raising an eyebrow. “it’s not like we go out kissing and fucking in public.”

if only she could take something seriously for once, this conversation would be easier to have.

“well apparently we’re just… i don’t know. i saw people saying it’s because you’re too handsy or whatever and i guess because you’re publicly out it just… makes people think things.”

“aw, well… that’s not your fault if people think that. rumours happen all the time, shouldn’t your family be used to this?”

“the rumours aren’t usually like this though,” you reply, legs bouncing, hands clasped together. “we’re big news, you know, and something like being gay is a huge controversy, it’s not like we can control how people will react. it– it could damage my reputation.”

ellie looks all but empathetic. if anything she’s blank. she doesn’t get it. “it’s not that bad. your sex life shouldn’t concern people.”

“but it does, that’s the thing,” you insist. “and as first in line, too. it’s not even clear if non-biological children would be accepted as an heir. there would be much discussion about if i could have children and what would happen there. and the people who are just blatantly homophobic would have a lot to say about my family. there’s no way of knowing what people will do.”

“okay, well,” ellie looks away for a moment. she doesn’t get it. she didn’t even have to come out– she had her first girlfriend as a teen and that was that. nobody had cared, and with her father’s liberal government nobody had much to say. “i have to sit and watch this weirdo who wants fifteen seconds of fame take you on the dates i want to take you on?”

you feel like banging your head into the wall. to tell the truth that would solve all your problems. no pr boyfriend, no more not being understood, no more having to hide yourself. “it will only be a few dates probably. just to cool things off, you know? you and i can still hang out too.”

“i still think this is bullshit,” ellie grunts, waving her hand. “so what, even if you don’t want to, you still have to?”

ellie observes you, your lips pursed into a thin line as you look around, staying silent. she moves, rising to her feet and holding out a hand.

“i’m mad for you, baby,” she murmurs. “come here.”

☆☆☆

worst day ever. ellie’s jealous. and so you were late to your first public date with the new boyfriend– she had insisted on kindly picking your dress out and of course having a quick fuck before sending you on your way with a pat on the ass. one disaster. the second disaster was the date itself.

third disaster was currently the public amusement that said disastrous date is arousing. why? the boy tried to kiss you. in public. and so clips are sent viral, of the way he leaned in, and you pushed him so gently with a hand on his chest and an awkward and polite laugh.

and in speaking of laughter, ellie found it as funny as the public did. in fact, she was the one who had shown you it. she spent all afternoon chuckling over the video and when you came back from the date, confused, she handed you her phone. and the sheer look of embarrassment on your face– the furrowed brows, the way your jaw dropped– it was all too funny for ellie. she just about lost it.

but just as humiliating as it can be when the whole world is laughing at you, you could also laugh at yourself.

only thing is the fourth disaster that had struck.

packing bags, spending one last night with ellie before being ushered home earlier than planned. see, with a date that was supposed to silence any rumour of your sexuality, rejecting the boy’s kiss is not the right move. now if anything those rumours had grown in absurdity and in popularity.

so your parents made the decision to leave the united states, head back to the palace, before any more speculation could be made. oh, and of course the boy was going to be sticking around longer, too.

tags: @dinasvampgfpgf @fadedin2uu @eurewilii @diddiqueen @machetegirl109 @craz1er4youu @divinediorss @onlinelesbo @thecowardwrites

#⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ fanfic #ellie williams x fem reader #tlou2 x reader #fem reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x yn #ellie x you #ellie x yn #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader

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pascallatte · 1 year

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Absolutely not

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x actress!reader

Summary: The Netflix interview that became "evidence". Sort of like “Proof that Y/N L/N and Pedro Pascal have been dating for years,” part 3?? I think.

Date: January 2016

Warning/s: talking about drugs, slight cursing, unspecified age gap

A/N: this is a long one, cause I really liked this Netflix interview of his. And his expression, his smiles, his laugh, everything honestly. it just feels like him.

“Tudummm…did I do it right?” you asked giggling as the video started. Leaning his forehead on your shoulder Pedro stifles a laugh and sits up, “Yeah, you did fine.”

“Ok, I’m gonna introduce myself to you. I’ll take over since you guys are clearly confused”, Chelsea Handler, your host for today began looking at Pedro. “well I am,” Pedro said as he turned to look at her.

“‘kay, I’m Chelsea Handler..”

“hi Chelsea,” Pedro said as he moved his chair closer to yours. “and you are Pedr-“ the host was interrupted.

“Pedro Pascal... and Y/n L/n”

” OK yeah you say it, say it again louder,” she encouraged.

With a smirk, “P E D R O P A S C A L,” he said slowly yet clearly. “and with me is…” Looking at you, you smiled and waved,” hello, I’m y/n l/n.”

Chelsea nodded, looking down at her cue cards,” ok, now you are a cocaine cowboy on the hunt for Pablo Escobar and you on the other hand this sultry agent that had captured all these guys’ attention—“.

“yeahhhhh~ sultry,” he said teasingly with an eyebrow raised, in which you reciprocated.

“in your series right? You’re hunting him down?” The host continued as she looked up.

“yeah…yeah,” you said followed by a deep, “correct” from Pedro.

“You filmed in Colombia, right?” She asked seemingly interested. Nodding,”we shot the whole thing in Colombia, w-“.

Chelsea added when he confirmed the former question,” and how’s that going on? What’s going on down there?”

“It’s pretty amazing, we— the base production is in Bogota, and then we moved around to different locations, throughout the country. I-it’s not totally easy to be away from home and shooting these locations but it’s probably, like the most important thing for the show to capture and you’re, the only way to actually do it is to actually be there and visually that’s the experience you know.” Pedro finished and looked at you as if telling you to share your thoughts.

Smiling to yourself, you answered,” Yeah and when we like saw a little bit of the series and it looks like it’s Colombia in the 80s—“ only to be cut off before you’ve even finished speaking.

Moving in her seat,” so you guys play what? Like a police officer? In the series?” she directly asked.

Responding at the same time, Pedro looked at you and nudged you to speak. “Go on,” he said while playing with the loose ends of the button-up shirt you were wearing.

You turned to look at Chelsea to continue,” so uhm we’re both DEA agents who are-“. An audible hum from her was heard,” and you’re after— cause that was— he was a hard guy to find right?”

“uhh.. yeah, yup yup yeah” you shifted in your seat, “which is kind of a hard thing to imagine right? Cause he was so….. huge and-“

“Like really fat,” Pedro added as he laughed. With a nod and a soft laugh, “I’m sorry” you said towards the camera as you tried to hold in your laugh.

Laughing along, “Well also like the intre— yeah, it’s not like he can run fast. And so are you— so this is a series though, it’s not a movie?” Chelsea prodded as she looked at Pedro, again. “it’s a series, it’s a 10-episode series.” he responded.

Nodding, “10-episode series and the whole time you’re looking for this guy?". “Yeah,” you both said at the same time. “and so a- are your characters based on true people?”

“yes, it is a real guy”

“he’s not fictionalized?”

Shaking his head he takes a hold of your forearm. “No, no, he’s a real DEA agent I met him, just retired in like January 2014. But-but her character though is fictionalized.”

Now directing her attention to you, she looked at you shocked, “really? so like— why did they create this character of yours and what’s in it for her, in this world of men, guns, and drugs?”

Clasping your hands together you cleared your throat, ”so she’s just like Boyd’s character actually, brought in from another place when the DEA needed help and uhm some-some to say to add more heat to the fire.”

Smirking, “heat huh, I like it. So going back to this real character. I’m surprised he didn’t get killed by Pablo Escobar.”

Breathing in, “…..I know, it’s two guys, Steve Murphy and Javier Pena, real living guys and that headed the investigation for the DEA down there.”

“How’d you like working for Netflix?” Chelsea abruptly asked as soon as Pedro finished talking. Chuckling he leans back with a huff, “It’s terrible— that’s what she kept telling me as soon as filming started”, and reached behind you to wrap an arm around your shoulders.

She looked at you two before continuing,”It’s embarrassing isn’t it?”.

“it’s so embarrassing!! It is—it’s so humiliating.”

“it’s like when people say how’s working and I’ll be like oh gosh” she laughed as she stared at him. Looking down as he thinks, “yeah, like excuse me. Netflix!! NETFLIX!!” Releasing a breath, he looks up then at you, who was already looking at him. “Yeah it’s embarrassing. Because I- we actually watch so much of it.”

“ohhh, what’re you watching?” Chelsea asked as she looked at you from the side. Pedro raised his hand to list down what he had in his thought.“We fucking watched all of it. I saw Bloodline, Kimmy Schmidt. I was watching your stand up, Uganda be kidding me..I’ve seen uhh what was the other one?” He looked towards you and asked.

Tilting your head, you thought for a bit before responding with, “oh!! House of cards”.

“ Yeah that one, we’ve seen the house of cards, caught up on orange is the new black— all of it. A complete Netflix slave,” he finished

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

Sitting up,” Can I introduce you? Do I have to say hello?”, looking around for confirmation. “yeah yeah yeah but better give it to him he’s much louder,” Chelsea said, pointing to Pedro. “Ah, ok here,” passing the cue cards to the man beside you.

“Oookay here we go. Hello, hello internet. I would like to introduce you to Chelsea Handler, Netflix’s jack of all trades,” Pedro read from the paper before looking at her. “I’m doing 4 documentaries” she immediately stated, looking at him.

“you’re doing 4 documentaries?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,..I’m almost done with them”

He continued, “so you-you’ve been shooting. Does this have anything to do with the amount of travelling you were telling me about before we started?” while pointing at her, to you then to the camera. Making the camera show the confused look you have on your face.

“Yeah, I’ve been travelling all- I’ve been bopping around. I mean I just kind of like to incorporate work with travel cause I really can’t sit still for very long, so I kind of like, kind of explore at all times.,” Chelsea enthusiastically shared while you were seen getting comfortable in your seat before leaning your head on Pedro’s shoulder as he scoots impossibly closer to you than he had been.

She continued with, “I’ve been doing- I did one with Chelsea does marriage, that’s my first one, which is all about my personal feelings about marriage and exploring it with my family. It was all- it was very personal, talking to my ex-boyfriends, talking to people who’ve been married for like 65 years-.”

As she was talking, both of you were in your own little world as Pedro looks at you and pinching your nose before leaning to the side, to rest his head on his hand.

“-talking to people who were in-“,

“65 days..” Pedro said chuckling, getting back in focus.

Agreeing, ”yeah, 65 days exactly. People who were in like a throuple relationship, like two women and a man-,” she stated as she looked at you two. “-that like operate as a couple, it’s called a throuple. That’s a thing now.”, she ended.

“Ohh..,” stunned, he looked at her. “I had no idea, did you?,” he asked as he looked at you who was still leaning on him. Moving to look up at him then to Chelsea,” Uhmmm.. I’ve heard of it but never really got the chance to look more into it.” You simply said.

Continuing, “Uhmmm we did that. Chelsea does racism which is fascinating-” She listed, which resulted in laughs from everyone.”-Chelsea does Silicon Valley, cause I just don’t understand anything about the tech world and how they operate. And then Chelsea does drugs, is the last one.” She continues as she looks up.

That caught Pedro’s attention as he jumped up his chair and gestured to the both of you with a teasing expression on his face,” Come to our show!.”

“ So I’m finishing it that’s why-“

“maybe that’s why they put us together.” He joked towards the camera.

Chelsea lets out a laugh before continuing, “so I’m doing ayahuasca in Peru.” You perked up, making Pedro chuckle “Oh no! just come on y/n,” hearing him from behind the camera

Laughing, the camera focused on you, “have you ever done it before?”

“Nooo of course not. I was waiting to- I’m gonna do it on camera.” And weirdly, her answer had an effect on you as you were now laughing hysterically while hitting a very shocked Pedro on his midsection.

“you’re gonna do it on camera?!” He asked with a look between disbelief and interest.

Humming, “yeah that’s like the point of this whole series, is to show people. Everything I’ve done on camera’s medically supervised. Like taken Adderall, showed what happens to your brain, do like mental acuity and physical tests“. Pausing to think, “Ok ok so where was I- oh I’ve taken Ambien with lots of vodkas to see in my own house.”

A small voice was heard before the closest camera pans to you. “Out of curiosity, I’d like to try that,” you whisper to Pedro. He lets out a hearty laugh, “No, no, I won’t let you-“

She cut Pedro off suddenly interested in what you have to say, “hold on what’s happening?”

“she told me she was curious and wanted to try what you did, with the ambien-vodka mixture,” he answered for you.

“you should try it sometime—“ she encouraged, resulting in you nodding your head with a grin.

With a hand on his forehead,” no, don’t encourage her, 'cause she’ll fucking do it. I’m telling you.” Pedro looks genuinely concerned while you were laughing your ass off getting a few laughs from the production staff with you.

“I mean— it’s not a pretty sight”

Pedro nods agreeing with the host, “to see everything that you do and have no memory of it whatsoever,” he added. Looking at him, Chelsea finishes with a “yeah, just to show people how they behave when they’re not acting responsibly.”

“How did you convince Netflix to let you do it?” You suddenly asked out of nowhere resulting in a not-so-surprised response from Pedro, “See!! See!! I told you not to encourage her”

Turning to him you, “She didn’t encourage me, I’m just genuinely curious about how she’d convince them. It’s not like I’ll do it,” you said in a voice that sounded like you don’t believe what you’re saying.

Ruffling your fixed hair,” nope, I don’t believe you.” Earning himself a small pout as you leaned back in your chair.

“To answer that, I remember pitching the drug one to Netflix’s producers and said maybe I should just do drugs, have everybody see what happens— how you act on weed, on alcohol, on pills, and all the things that people abuse. Nothing really illegal or narcotic cause you can’t really film that kind of stuff and get away with it,” the host said when she interrupted your small moment.

“right”

She looks at you, “and then- or there are certain places where you can film and so ayahuasca obviously is legal in Peru so uh-“

You butted in and teasingly looked at Pedro, “I’m booking the earliest flight to Peru as soon as this wraps.” He softly lets out a breath, “oh gosh” as he dragged his hands on one cheek. “NO NO, I’m kidding,” softly chuckling while you reached to cup his cheeks.

“yeah, go do it!! Do you like the people that you work with?” Chelsea asked as soon as you were seated properly.

Looking at him, leaning on one side of the chair. “hmm, do you Pedro? Like, the people that you work with?” asked with a small smirk.

“yes very much,” he said turning to you. “But they aren’t that funny, 'cause I’m the funny one” he continues as he turns to Chelsea like he’s stating a fact.

“HUhhhh!! No, you aren’t,” shaking your head, disagreeing with him.

Chelsea with curious look, “Are you?”

“Maybe, possibly…”

“so you think you make a lot of people laugh?”

Pedro smirks he glances at you “Yeah…. Yeah I do”

“mhmm, believe what you want to believe,” you said as you looked down to avoid his teasing expression.

Laughing aloud “I don’t think she agrees with tha-” she points at you

“or cry what’s the difference” he looked around to see some nodding. “Cry??” You asked confused. “Yeah cry. You know that,” he pauses, giving you a knowing look

“Wha-Ohhhhhh, ok. I get it now,” you said looking abashed as you turned away from the camera.

“why what is it? Did he make you cry?”

“uh-haha, kind of a long story. But he did this thing that-“ covering your mouth to stop you from spilling. “Ok that’s enough. Going back, so then what are you?” He looks at Chelsea while still covering the lower half of your face.

“don’t worry about me. I’m a very loud personality. It was more important that we interviewed you,” Chelsea began, giving him a pointed look.

“no no this was- I got to kinda interview you but we should’ve-“ he says

“yes you did, a little bit. But I controlled the interview,” she stated as a fact.

“you controlled the interview-“

“because I know what I’m doing”

He nods, “because you do know what you’re doing, and I do not so meaning we should’ve interviewed this-“ he drags you to him with the same hand he used to cover your mouth, “-person right here, who was particularly interested in the drug part. why- why are you interested in that y/-“

The host cut him with, “So it was fun it was a pleasure to meet you” pointing at Pedro, “I like you.”

“I-it was a pleasure meeting you too, uhm I like you too” he answered while he was still looking at you.

Readying to stand, “yeah.. great, we’re gonna go- can we get a bag of blow?” Chelsea joked which you laughed at.

-cut-

Now standing by the door the host, Chelsea Handler, was nowhere to be seen. The cameraman walked a bit closer to where the two of you were conversing. Once close enough and you were heard, they zoomed in on the both of you.

You bumped your shoulder into him. “can we go get it though?” You looked up at him from where you were standing.

Looking back at you, he crosses his arms and steps towards you, “Get what?” Raising a brow he watches as you step closer, arms on your waist.

You gesture to the staff behind you, “the.. the bag of blow”, you said fighting off a smile.

Shaking his head at your teasing he proceeds to engulf you in a hug before dragging you out the room, “Absolutely not”.

Comments:

Fan 1 I like how Pedro literally tries to include y/n in the conversation she was purposely being left out of, why invite her if you’re only going to talk to one person.

Fan 2 Pedro Pascal is my guilty pleasure

Fan 3 No cause like why did y/n literally just jump out of her seat when the topic of taking drugs come in, girl you’re in a show where you fight against drugs and you’re curious about it like hell. Pedro’s way of stopping her like ughh

Fan 5 If Pedro looks at me in that way, he looks at Y/n, I’ll literally be in heaven.

Fan 6 The lady barely let y/n speak. Let my girl talk

Fan 7 There is a lot of chemistry between them. I am sure that had a very sexually passionate escapade. ↳ Fan 5 replied to Fan 7: Girl his GF's literally right there ↳Fan 7 replied to Fan 5: rumoured, there’s not enough proof

Fan 8 I love him. He's being so attentive and respectful when Chelsea talks about her work, and how he includes always tries to bring y/n in. And then the "I controlled the interview!" was just CRINGE as well as her cutting y/n off as soon as she speaks.

Fan 9 Y/N: I wanna try what she did Pedro: Nope Chelsea: yeah go ahead Pedro: Don’t encourage her!!

Fan 10 No cause why are they so snuggly in this interview, like the subtle touches? Also, why does y/n seem so down in this? ↳ Fan 5 replied to Fan 7: probably cause she was probably feeling bad or already sick at the time they were recording this. She posted something about being bedridden for a week.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x actress!reader

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hrryshoney · 4 months

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gyno matty on a conference call presenting his work and she’s sitting between his legs with his dick in her mouth and she tries to pull some shit and he goes insanely mean dom on her afterwards…

omg leila… yes in every way imaginable! imagining this on a zoom while he’s working remote lol. (also mean dom💕💞💓) i feel like they hve established a safe word so do w that what u will

Matty’s in his home office, and you can hear the voices from his computer. He’s dressed nicely, no lab coat but something reminiscent of a uniform. His glasses are on and he looks highly professional. You, however, are anything but.

You’ve been horny for him all day, since he left you needy this morning. His mouth on your cunt, not letting you finish but promising you that he would later. He would if you were a ‘good girl’ for him, and you waited for him to finish his meeting. You’ve been rubbing your thighs together in bed, and then trying to distract yourself.

This evidently didn’t work, as now you’re standing outside his office and staring at him from the doorframe. His eyes glance towards you, offering you a smile and nothing more. When he all but ignores you, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

That’s how you got on your hands and knees and crawled towards him, and under his desk. That is also how you’ve been sitting under his desk, cock in your mouth for what feels like an eternity. Matty had turned his camera off when you did, trying to regroup and playing it off as internet issues.

He was stern with you, telling you to keep him warm and nothing else. That he would reward you if you listened. But the throb of your pussy is too much to ignore, and you keep shifting on your thighs. He’ll cast you a few looks now and again, none of them friendly. But other than that, you seemed to be invisible to him.

Your desperation got the better of you, taking your mouth off him to lick a stripe on the underside of his cock. You hear him falter as he speaks, a slight stutter. It makes you smile, knowing you can get him like this. You bob your head on him, spitting on his cock and making it as sloppy as you can.

Matty’s hand comes down under the desk, grabbing the back of your head and forcing the rest of his cock in your mouth. He keeps his hand there, but you purse your lips around him enough to swirl your tongue around his length. You hear his breath catch in his throat, and you know you’ve got him.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry. There’s a bit of an emergency in my house, can we reschedule the last part of this meeting?” From the strain of his voice, you know Matty’s on his last straw. You hear the ushering of other doctors. They’re all supportive, telling him to take his time, and that all this is trivial, it can wait. Matty must be well above respected in his field. But, what would his colleagues think if they could see you under the table with his cock in your mouth?

You hear him click on his keyboard, the room going silent. He’s left the call. Unfortunately for you, Matty looks mad. “Can’t be good for three fucking seconds? Always have to be a slut, huh?”

He’s rough, pulling from the roots of your hair so you look at him. You can’t help but smile, the corners of your mouth upturning. “I am being good for you, Doctor. I thought this was what you wanted?” You bait him, and he knows this. The poor on your lips, and wide round eyes. But, he falls for it every time.

“I know you’re too dumb to think when you’ve got my cock inside you, but I thought you were at least a little smart. Guess I thought too much of a whore like you.” Matty grabs your jaw roughly, surely leaving bruises. “Open your fucking mouth.”

You oblige, now wouldn’t be the best time for a snarky remark. He presses his thumb down on your tongue, making you gag slightly. When he removes his hand he spits directly in your mouth You swallow without second thought.

“Shouldn’t let you cum. Should just fuck your mouth, leave you here all wet and achey. S’what you deserve.” Your whines are immediate, you’re shaking your head and protesting his words.

“N-no please, Doctor Healy. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Just needed you, and I’ve needed you all morning. Please.” Your bottom lip wobbles, and you really could cry. You’ve been so needy all day. All you want is Matty. He doesn’t seem to care though when he scoffs.

He pumps his dick in his hand, smearing the pre-cum down his length and then tapping it on your bottom lip. “Don’t start with your tears, Princess. It meant nothing to you when I was in my meeting, huh? My job’s important, can’t just fuck you all day.” He pushes his cock into your mouth, watching your lips stretch around him. When you moan, he knows you like what you hear.

His degradation is making you squeeze your thighs together, squirming in place on your knees. “Bet you wish I could stay home and stuff you full all day. You’d be so happy, right? Little girl whose only responsibility is taking my dick.” He slaps your face, only allowing you to pull back when you gag around him. There’s tears streaming down your face now, and Matty’s smiling.

Matty pulls you off of him, lifting you up to face level to whisper in your ear. “If you’re crying now.. I’m scared for you, baby. Not even started with you yet, and you’re moaning like a bitch.” And he shoves you back onto your knees.

#gyno!au #yesss guys enjoy lol #if this isn’t good then.. you don’t even see it frl #i love mean dom but i fear i’m bad at writing it!

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 6 months

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Forgive These Bones I'm Hiding (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Serial Killer Marcus Pike x f!Reader (Reader is a police officer with the nickname “Cricket”)

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: This is a Spoooooooky fic for Halloween season. Please heed the warnings; this is not darkfic, per se, but it explores dark themes and contains elements of suspense and horror. The following subjects are mentioned in the context of cases that the reader deals with. I do not go into explicit detail about any of these themes and any violence is implied rather than seen, but please heed the warnings for: child abuse, domestic abuse, alcoholism, drunk driving, implied sexual assault, suicide, drug use, drug overdoses. Whew. Okay, for the story itself, please be warned that there is: derogatory language (someone calls reader a “bitch”), murders, body horror (corpses!), Marcus Pike being a bit unsettling, Very Enthusiastic Pussy Eating, unprotected PIV sex (this is fiction! use protection and also maybe don't fuck a serial killer!)

Summary: When five paintings are stolen from their frames, an unusual crime for your small-town precinct in Hannibal, Missouri, it's easy for you to project your insecurities about being a female police officer in a tiny, Midwest town onto the handsome FBI Agent from Washington who arrives to help with the case. But as your disposition--and the solid walls you've built around yourself--begin to soften, you quickly find you have bigger problems than the charming man you can't help but develop feelings for. One by one, bodies are starting to pile up. Bodies that all seem to share one connection… You.

A/N: This story is about Marcus Pike if he were a serial killer. If this concept gives you The Ick, please do not read this and then come to me telling me that you think it’s icky. You have been warned. Dead dove don’t eat, etc. I *have* taken pains to ensure that Marcus is not a bad man. He’s a murderer, yes, but he only kills the worst that humanity has to offer. He’s a serial killer AND he’s my perfect, unhinged baby. Cool? Cool. Thank you to @littlebirdsbookshelf for encouraging this nonsense, letting me scream about it on Discord from day one, and reading through it and helping me with the police procedural bits!

Masterlist

When the call comes to your desk at 8:30am on a Monday morning, you can’t deny that your initial response is excitement.

Who could blame you? Not much happens here in Hannibal.

The waver in the elderly museum docent’s voice reminds you to temper your eagerness. With a steady, even voice, you patiently repeat the information she gives you. You don’t bother pointing out that she really should have called 911, rather than the police station directly; she’s one of many older residents in this town who prefer to skip the middle-man, so to speak, and you don’t really mind being the first voice people hear after a crisis.

“Window broken… alarm power cut… five Norman Rockwells,” you murmur to yourself as you scribble down the details on a post-it. “CCTV nonfunctional… broken… cameras for show only… Yes ma’am. Yep, I know the place. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“What was that?” Your CO asks from his office, not bothering to get up from his chair and come out into the bullpen. If you could even call it that. You’re the only regular inhabitant.

“Mrs. Ingram from the Mark Twain Museum. Someone broke in last night and cut five paintings from their frames.”

CO Hubbard squints, taking off his reading glasses and perching them on top of his head and staring at you like you’ve grown an extra head.

“Someone stole from the Mark Twain Museum?”

“Crazy, right? I’m heading there now.”

The older man grunts and nods, placing his bifocals back on his nose and returning his gaze to the Hannibal Courier-Post’s crossword.

You don’t bother turning on the lights on your squad car. The streets are damn-near empty on a Monday morning. Most of the residents’ shifts began hours ago at the factories downriver, leaving the small town to appear almost abandoned. For being the famed birthplace of one Samuel Clemens, it sure doesn’t bring much tourist traffic to Hannibal, Missouri.

Julia Ingram has been the Museum’s curator, docent, and gift shop operator since before you can remember. Despite her age, it seems as though she’s hardly changed from the time you visited the museum with your school group as a child. She greets you over thick wire frames kept in place with a whimsical beaded chain. Like most residents of Hannibal, she calls you ‘Cricket’–the nickname that’s stuck with you since your youth on account of your habit of sneaking out at night to stargaze. It’s hard to have much authority with the older citizens when they all remember you as a knobby-kneed preteen with a wild streak and a wilder imagination.

You let her lead you to the gallery of Norman Rockwell art on the second floor of the old building. You walk past old editions of Tom Sawyer, a collection of Mark Twain’s childhood possessions, and a life-sized raft similar to what Huck and Jim might have used on their Mississippi River journey.

The Norman Rockwell collection consists of fifteen paintings done for special editions of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Today, though, there are only ten. Five frames are empty; broken shards litter the floor where the thief bashed through the glass to retrieve the priceless papers within.

“Why did they have to go and break them?” Mrs. Ingram asks in a tearful voice as you snap pictures on your little point-and-shoot camera you take with you for cases.

“Takes up less space,” you shrug. “Framed art is conspicuous. The perp probably rolled the illustrations up for ease of keeping them hidden.”

Mrs. Ingram shudders at the mention of rolling up Norman Rockwell illustrations, and you give her a sympathetic look.

“I’m going to call in a forensics team from the St. Louis office,” you tell the elderly woman. “They’ll be able to dust for fingerprints. In the meantime, the museum stays closed. No visitors. And don’t go around touching anything, okay? I should be able to get a security guard to watch the crime scene until forensics is able to come in. If you need anything, you call me,” you tell her, handing her a business card with your cell number.

You rush back to the precinct with the intent of calling an old schoolmate in St. Louis to try and expedite the forensics team, but Sergeant Hubbard is out in the bullpen for once, and seemingly waiting for you.

“I promised Mrs. Ingram that I’d get a forensics team down there ASAP,” you say, trying to sidestep the man and get to your desk.

“This won’t take long,” the Sergeant promises. “And actually, you won’t be needing to send a team. I’ve got that covered.”

“You do?” you ask, frowning skeptically.

“This case is of National interest,” Hubbard explains. “The FBI has a dedicated team of Agents that specialize in art crimes, and the State has all but ordered that we go through them.”

“You’re going to involve the FBI?” You try to keep your voice calm and even, but you can hear the volume begin to rise in indignation. For once you’ve got a case that’s different, interesting even, and it’s slipping through your fingers after barely an hour of being under your purview.

“If we do this by-the-book–”

“I can handle this myself,” you can’t help but interject. “And since when do you give a shit about ‘by-the-book?’”

“No one is questioning your capabilities–”

“Oh yeah? Is that why I’m always being stuck with every domestic violence case that comes through the precinct while you always handle the bigger shit?”

“You need to watch how you speak to a commanding officer,” Hubbard growls.

“Like it or not, I’m the one with a personal connection to both Mrs. Ingram and the head of Forensics in St. Louis. The FBI is going to come here with all the subtlety of a jackhammer, and–”

“It doesn’t really matter what you think, because I’ve already contacted the head of the Art Crimes Department in Washington, D.C., and someone should be here tomorrow morning to take the case.”

Your mouth is a thin line, your jaw tensed, and your eyes dark. “Anything else, Sir?”

“The precinct is behind state quotas for speeding tickets,” Sergeant Hubbard says. “I want you to try and catch people coming from Illinois on I-72.”

“Understood,” you bite out through clenched teeth.

Armed with a coffee and bagel from Java Jive, you settle in one of your “favorite” hiding places along the interstate. After putting the driver’s seat as far back as it will go so you can stretch your legs, you take a long sip of your latte. You flip on your radar, but rather than watch for speeders, you instead scroll aimlessly through the news on your phone.

Everyone’s gonna be going the speed limit today, you’ve already decided it.

The Waterhole isn’t exactly a reputable establishment, but as the only bar in Hannibal, the options for getting a cold beer aren’t exactly pouring in. Every patron looks warily in your direction when you enter–it’s tough on your social life, being one of three cops in town–but you’re hardly in the mood for conversation. Everything about you says “Fuck off”: from your mud-covered work boots to the flannel you use mainly to take out the garbage in the winter. You can’t remember the last time you threw it in the washer, but there’s a chill to the air tonight, and everything else was either dirty or far too heavy for the weather. Your dour expression probably does most of the work, though. You scowl at the floor as you plod heavily toward the end of the bar and sit yourself on a rickety stool. The footrest is predictably sticky, and the bartop never looks clean no matter how many times the long-time bartender, Palmer, runs a wet cloth over top of it.

You hold up two fingers in greeting to Palmer, who nods cordially and hands you your usual.

The first sip is always the best–and dammit, you intend to enjoy it. You close your eyes, letting the liquid wash over your tongue before swallowing. It’s just cheap lite beer, sure, but this is the first moment you’ve allowed yourself to truly relax all day, and you can already feel your shoulders begin to relax and your jaw unclench.

Casting your eyes around the establishment (a habit you can’t ever seem to get rid of), you take inventory of the patrons. Just about everyone you’ve known since childhood. There’s Ellis and Danielle Hewitt, high school sweethearts from the graduating class just above you, in the corner sharing a plate of sad-looking nachos and twin Miller Lites. Tommy Blevins, the high school quarterback who, if you were a betting woman, was probably in the middle of telling his Tinder date about that big game back in ‘02 that cemented his reputation as a Hannibal ‘celebrity.’ Most of the men playing pool were fresh off a day shift from the oil plant in the next town over.

Yep, all of the usual suspects.

Plus one anomaly.

Once you see him, you aren’t sure how he evaded your notice from the moment you entered the bar. For one thing, he’s the only patron wearing a suit; everyone here only ever wears jeans. For another, he’s got that look of an outsider about him. You can always tell who’s from out of town: they have that subtle hint of insecurity with their surroundings that comes from being in a new place. His dark eyes look over the bar scene with a fresh, discerning gaze–seeing it for the first time, rather than for the three hundredth.

Like you, the man seems to instinctively people-watch. He’s not obvious about it, or anything, but you can see his pupils flitting from the Rams game to scan the crowd as if he’s looking for something.

Or maybe waiting for something.

Given this behavior, it shouldn’t surprise you when your eyes eventually meet. Embarrassed at being caught-out, you give him a crooked not-really-a-smile. He smiles back–a genuine one, that exposes a set of perfectly straight, white teeth and a small dimple on his right cheek.

Your manners are hard to come by this evening, but you manage a friendly, albeit stiff nod, raising your beer bottle in a silent toast.

The man’s smile widens.

A commotion from over at the pool tables draws both of your gazes to the group of men–now seemingly arguing about the score. The main agitator is, predictably, Bobby Pearson. You drain your bottle with a sigh, shoulders tensing automatically as you anticipate the inevitable way that this ends.

You can see the glassy sheen to Bobby’s eyes from where you are, the way he’s swaying slightly as he gesticulates wildly with the hand holding the pool cue. You don’t need a breathalyzer to know that Bobby is way over the legal limit. Hell, all you have to do is spend more than a week in this town to know that this behavior is the norm, rather than the exception.

You feel bad for the man, really. It’s no secret that he came from an abusive home. You remember the horrifying stories you'd heard about his father when you were his classmate in middle school. He was a nice enough kid-you remember him well–but when he grew up and got married, he wasn't ever able to escape the demons of his past. His erratic behavior was enough for his wife to leave with their two children. Last you heard, they lived in Maine. Probably about as far away as you can get from Hannibal without actually leaving the continental US. What he needs is therapy, but those types of resources are damn-near impossible to get out here. Everyone in Hannibal looks the other way as he drinks himself into a stupor every night.

Occasionally, though, there will be an incident, and Bobby has to spend the night in the holding cells. You have a feeling you’re about to witness one of those incidents right now.

The waving of the pool cue becomes more violent; he switches his grip, wielding the stick like a weapon as he continues to yell, spittle landing on his cheeks and his shirt as he slurs another insult.

Getting up from your stool, you carefully approach the scene.

“That’s enough, Bobby,” you state calmly. “I think it’s time to head home, how about you?”

“I think it’s time for you to mind your own fucking business, Cricket,” Bobby slurs back.

“Good one, Bob. Got anything else you wanna say to the off-duty cop?” You shouldn’t be taking the bait–you know it even as you say it, but you’ve had a shit day, and sometimes we all say things we regret, right?

“Yeah. I wanna say… maybe you wouldn’t be such a fuckin' bitch if you had a good dicking.”

Several of Bobby’s pool buddies back away, eyes wide as dinner plates.

“That’s enough. Go home. I don’t want to have to place you under arrest,” you say, trying to regain control over the situation.

“I could give it to you," Bobby sneers. "Give the uptight police lady a nice, hard, fu–"

With a heavy sigh, you retrieve your cuffs from the back pocket of your Wranglers and maneuver Bobby onto the nearest pool table. He's so drunk that he falls on his stomach without much effort on your part.

"Aw, fuck I was only jokin’," he mumbles into the green fabric.

"And it was real funny, Bobby. Hilarious even," you deadpan as you click the handcuffs into place. "Come sleep it off at the precinct, and you can apologize in the morning."

"M'shorry," Bobby groans as you manage to wrench him upright and guide him to the exit.

It's only then that you notice the newcomer at the periphery of the scene–standing back, not intervening, but making it clear that he's on guard should things go south.

"Are you okay?" the stranger. "Need help?"

His nosiness annoys you. "Got it handled, thanks," you snap with a little more hostility than you mean to.

It's been a shit day.

You wrestle Bobby into the car and slam the door. On the way back to the precinct, you glower at the road in front of you while the man in the backseat begins an ear-splitting rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody. On tonight of all nights, you grumble to yourself.

He's asleep before he even hits the threadbare pillow in the holding cell. You nod to your nighttime counterpart, Evan, who gives you a sympathetic smile.

"What was it this time?"

"Some argument over pool at the Waterhole. Get him something substantial to eat when he wakes up, okay?"

"Always do," Evan replies. "You all right? He give you trouble or somethin'?"

"Just a shit day."

"Go get a drink and relax."

"'S'what I was trying to do," you gripe. "In fact–shit–I skipped out on my tab. I'm gonna go back and settle, and try again in the comfort of my own home. Dunno why I even go out."

“Beer’s cheaper at home, anyways,” Evan comments with a wry grin.

“Another excellent point,” you throw over your shoulder, giving him a crooked grin as you walk back out of the building.

Palmer is waiting for you with his hands on his hips when you return to the Waterhole.

“Not sure what you’re giving me that look for, Palm, you know I always settle my tab.”

“Better late than never,” he grouses.

You bark out a laugh. “You say that like it’s been a day, and not–” you check your watch, “–an hour.” You slide your debit card across the stained counter.

“Not gonna have another?”

“Nah, I’ve got better shit at home than the swill you serve here.”

You and Palmer stare each other down for a few moments. You aren’t sure who breaks first, but it’s almost always Palmer. The bartender chuckles and sticks his hands in his pockets.

“Shit, Cricket, you know you can’t stay away from the finest establishment in Hannibal.”

“It’s a good thing you’re the only establishment in Hannibal.”

“And it’s a good thing you’re a good tipper, or I would have banned you years ago.”

“Doesn’t seem smart to ban any of your customer base, considering the local population. It’s shocking you haven’t gone under.”

“Beer is always in demand,” Palmer says with a wink. “No matter what the economy’s doin’.”

“You’ve got me there.”

You glance around the bar. The crowd has thinned out quite a bit; day shifts start early, so the nightlife is pretty limited past eight pm. A few stragglers remain, including… him. The stranger.

The newcomer in the suit is watching your conversation with the bartender with an amused smile. When he notices you looking at him, he raises his glass in salutation and gets up from his stool to approach you.

“Buy you another?” he asks with a smile.

“I just settled,” you say evasively.

“On me,” the man insists.

“Surprised you’re still here,” you comment lightly. “Shouldn’t you be back on your way to St. Louis, or something?”

The man lets out a surprised, pleased laugh. “You’re observant.”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’re not from around here.”

He gives you another one of those wide, toothy smiles as he raises two fingers to Palmer, who nods.

“Well, you’re partly right. I’m not from around here, but I’m not from St. Louis.”

“Where are you from?”

“Let’s save that little nugget for later,” he suggests, sticking out his hand. “Marcus.”

You shake his hand, still feeling a little wary of the newcomer. If Marcus is bothered that you don’t offer your name right away, he doesn’t show it.

“...Cricket, right?”

You laugh in surprise. “That’s what everyone calls me ‘round here.”

“What can I call you?”

“Officer.”

Palmer sets two bottles of beer down on the counter in front of you, and you shrug and take one of them. Marcus gently taps his own against yours and takes a sip.

“To new horizons,” he says with a smile.

“To doing the same shit every damn day,” you respond with a wry grin.

“Do you do that every single day?” Marcus asks, jerking his head in the direction of the pool tables, referencing Bobby’s arrest.

You let out a huff of laughter and take another swig. “More than I’d care to, I’ll say that much.”

“He have a history of drunk and disorderly conduct?” Marcus asks.

“He’s got a history of that, and a whole helluva lot else,” you say with a sigh. “He’s mostly harmless, though. Doesn’t do much else but drink and cause trouble nowadays.”

“He did worse in the past?”

You shrug and wave Marcus off. “It’s a tale as old as time,” you say. “Grew up in an abusive household and then turned around and perpetuated it himself when he grew up. Pushed away his family, his wife, his kids, everyone really. But now the only one he ever hurts is himself.”

“He said some pretty awful things to you earlier,” he points out.

“If words had any effect on me, I wouldn’t have made it a week in the force,” you say. “Takes a lot more than that to rile me up.”

“Can’t really imagine you all riled up,” Marcus says, his eyes twinkling with playfulness.

He’s flirting with you.

“I save it for special occasions.”

“So what, you just arrest this guy over and over again, letting him sober up in the holding cells until he does it again?”

Your smile fades. Tipping your bottle back and draining it in three large gulps, you set it down heavily on the table and give the man across from you a stony look.

“I don’t know what big city you’re from, Marcus, but this town is different. We take care of our own, no matter how difficult they’re being. We’ve done everything we can–tried to get him into rehab, into therapy programs, support groups… it never sticks. At this point, he’s spinning out, and the most I can try to do is to treat him with kindness and make sure he gets a decent meal while he’s sleeping it off in the drunk tank. Enjoy your night.”

You get up, spin on your heel, and you don’t look back at the man again.

You don’t know how you didn’t put two and two together until this moment–the minute you walk into the precinct at eight am sharp to meet the FBI Agent assigned to this case–your case.

The suit. The discerning, assessing gaze. The bravado. The big-city attitude.

Marcus is the FBI Agent.

His eyebrows raise for a moment when you walk into the bullpen, but other than that, he doesn’t appear surprised. He introduces himself as Agent Pike, sticking his hand out for you to shake as if it’s the first time he’s done so. You give him your last name–and only your last name–and grip his hand a little more forcefully than usual.

It only causes his smile to widen.

You exchange a quick conversation with Evan, who fills you in on the rest of the night (uneventful) and lets you know that Bobby is already out of the drunk tank and back at home.

“Did he say anything?” you ask.

“Like what?”

“Like an apology.”

“Should he have?” Evan asks. “Did he do something last night?”

You shake your head. “Nah. It’s fine. He probably doesn’t even remember, anyway,” Turning to look at Marcus, you add, “Ready to head to the museum?”

He takes up all the space in the passenger seat of your squad car and then some. You do your best to ignore him as you drive, but your eyes keep returning to his dark, slightly mussed hair and the way his broad shoulders fill out that suit of his. It’s hard not to notice how attractive he is.

"So. Washington."

"Huh?" Marcus looks at you, questioning.

"That little 'nugget' of information you said you'd save for later. You knew, didn't you. You knew I was the cop on this case."

"Well, it wasn't hard to guess when I had a copy of the Hannibal city directory and there was only one female officer on staff."

"Guess you've got us all figured out, huh," you mutter irritably, and the car returns to silence.

“Mark Twain Lighthouse,” Marcus reads from a road sign, breaking the quiet. “Mark Twain Memorial Library, Mark Twain Museum.”

“Bet you can guess what this town is famous for,” you quip.

“How many guesses do I get?”

“I mean, I’d hope you already knew about our claim to fame, if you read even one sentence of the case file we sent you.”

“You mean the case about the five missing original illustrations by Norman Rockwell from Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn from the Mark Twain Museum?” Marcus says wryly.

You scowl at his nonchalance. You knew it; you knew the FBI would send some big city asshole who didn't give two shits about the town's heritage.

"I'm sorry," Marcus says, suddenly looking concerned. "Did I say something wrong?"

"This was my case, you know," you mutter, keeping your eyes on the road. "Finally, something besides domestic disputes handed to 'Officer Cricket,' and I have it for less than twenty-four hours before some Washington bigwig comes and takes it off my hands."

"Wha–hey, hang on a second. That's not what this is," Marcus insists.

"Isn't it?"

"No. No, it's not like that. I'm here in a consulting role. You still get credit for being the lead officer on the case, but it'll be our forensics team and our analysts providing support. That's it."

You look sidelong at Marcus. His expression is open and unguarded, and you can't detect any dishonesty in his body language.

"That's it?" you repeat cautiously.

"Is that what all the animosity was about?" Marcus asks, without any malice in his tone.

You mumble something about having a chip on your shoulder, and Marcus chuckles beside you.

"I wasn't always from Washington, you know," he says.

"No?"

"Little town called Bastrop."

"Bastrop?" you laugh. "Never heard of it."

"Little place just east of Austin," Marcus says, letting a little bit of southern drawl slip into his voice.

"You're from Texas," you say, surprised.

"Yes ma'am," he answers playfully. “I worked out of the FBI field office in Austin for almost ten years before getting promoted to HQ.”

“Congrats.” You give him a small smile as you pull into the museum parking lot. “This is it.”

Marcus charms Mrs. Ingram immediately, which doesn’t really surprise you at this point. The man seems to be made up of mostly charm, with a side of goofy jokes. The FBI’s forensics team won’t be at the museum for another hour, so Marcus takes inventory of the crime scene, snapping a few photos while you chat with Phil, the security guard.

When Marcus’s team arrives, the scene is a flurry of activity. Evidence is bagged, frames are dusted, and more pictures are taken. True to his word, Marcus defers to you, letting you run the scene despite clearly having a relationship with most of the team.

The day is a busy one–after spending the entire morning at the museum, you head back to the precinct to complete all the paperwork. Marcus buys the precinct lunch, and as you eat, he ends up launching into an informal, unintended lecture about art preservation, restoration, and how important it is to properly care for stolen art that his team has recovered. It makes you see him in a new light–not simply a representative of a faceless, uncaring organization that’s coming in to take over your case, but the leader of a team who cares deeply about every item they’re tasked with recovering. The man himself is painfully competent, every sentence out of his mouth demonstrating his level of experience and his love for the field.

Despite not knowing much about art yourself, you find his enthusiasm addictive. You can’t help but engage with him–asking about past cases he’s been on and listening intently to his stories, which range from the mundane to the incredibly dangerous.

“...so a couple of us ended up going undercover and smuggling our own recovered artifacts back across the border,” Marcus is explaining, waving the remains of his sandwich in the air as he smiles fondly over what sounds to you like a harrowing escape from a Mexican cartel.

You know you’re hanging off of every word, although you try very hard not to look like you’re hanging off of his every word. Still, the lunch break runs long, and suddenly you remember you were supposed to be back on patrol an hour ago.

“Shit,” you hiss, checking the time, making Marcus wince sympathetically.

“Listen to me, rambling on and keeping you from doing your job,” he says self-deprecatingly. “Seriously, tell me to shut up next time.”

He stands when you do, offering his hand for you to shake.

“Here,” you say, handing him your card instead, which has your work cell on it. “Just in case there’s any issues.”

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, looking into your eyes. “Thanks for entrusting this case to us–I know there’s always a level of territoriality that comes with involving the FBI, but I’m here to promise that the whole point is to work with you–not to come in and take over.”

You nod, and finally accept his hand, shaking it firmly. “We got off on the wrong foot, but I’m glad you’re here. You’re obviously more than knowledgeable about the field–more so than any of us–and I know I can speak for all of us when I say we appreciate the extra support.”

Marcus’s hand is warm against yours. The handshake might be firm, but it still feels as though he’s cradling your hand gently–as if he’s holding something delicate and precious in his palm. His eyes are endless; you feel as though you could read every emotion within them if you looked long enough. As you look, the corner of his mouth pulls up in an adorable, crooked grin.

“It was good to work with you today,” he says with finality. “See you bright and early tomorrow.”

You aren’t expecting the call that comes in the next morning–before you can even show up at the precinct to work with Marcus on the art theft case.

Bobby Pearson’s landlady, barely understandable through her hiccuping tears, explaining that she usually lets herself in to give him his mail, found the man hanging from the ceiling fan in his living room.

Your heart hammers dully in your chest as you notify the coroner and drive–lights on, this time–to Bobby’s place, with Sergeant Hubbard in tow.

“Cricket,” his landlady sobs as you get out of the squad car.

“I know,” you say soothingly, putting a hand on her shoulder to provide what little comfort you could.

“It’s awful. Oh, God, he’s just hanging there, and–”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it. Why don’t you stay out here and wait for the Coroner while we go in, ‘kay?”

You take a deep breath to center yourself, then open the door to Bobby’s little duplex apartment.

“Jesus,” Hubbard mutters behind you.

You swallow hard at the sight of the man suspended from the ceiling fan. The inherent wrongness of witnessing a dead body never ceases to unsettle you. You think you could do this job for five hundred years and still never become desensitized to death. It’s the stillness that disturbs you the most; no one realizes how much bodies move until they aren’t doing it.

You glance around the room, taking in the toppled chair a few feet away. Fuck. You knew Bobby was spiraling, but you had no idea it was this bad. You think back to the other night–were there signs that you missed? Something that could have alerted you to the fact that he was in crisis?

The flash of a camera lights up the dim room, and you flinch.

“Sorry,” Hubbard mumbles. His face is grim as he snaps a few more pictures–the rope, the chair, Bobby’s puffy, swollen face–

Feeling nauseous, you look down at your shoes.

Somewhere in the apartment, something beeps.

“Fuck was that?” Hubbard wonders.

“Sounded like it was coming from the kitchen.” You move further into the house to investigate. In the kitchen, nothing immediately stands out to you, until you realize the microwave timer is blinking the word “END” in perpetuity, alerting an occupant who can no longer hear that his food is ready.

Frowning, you open it, taking in the reheated frozen dinner sitting–cold, but unfrozen–on the turntable.

“That’s weird,” you mumble.

“What’s weird?” Hubbard asks behind you.

“He made dinner, but didn’t eat it. If he was planning on killing himself, why make dinner? Why leave it in the microwave without eating it?”

Hubbard shrugs. “Forgot, I guess.”

Your frown deepens as you stare at the colorless potatoes and rubbery salisbury steak. Awareness tingles at the base of your spine–a little nagging voice whispering This isn’t right.

The sound of the front door opening again makes you jump.

“Hoooo, boy…” the Coroner breathes upon entering. “Dammit, Bobby.”

In your years as a cop, you’ve already learned that dealing with a body is an all-day affair. The day seems to pass you by as you deal with the fallout–phone calls, paperwork, and of course, the solemn affair of cutting Bobby down from the fan in the most respectful way possible. You don’t even remember to look at your phone until just before your shift ends–so the text message from Marcus that reads, “Time to jump on a quick call re: forensics?” is hours-old by the time you see it.

You tap out “Sorry, had a work thing come up that occupied the whole day. Connect tomorrow am?”

The reply is almost instantaneous. “Buy you a drink after a rough day?”

Your thumbs pause over the keypad. On the one hand, going out for drinks with Marcus makes you feel uneasy. There’s a mutual attraction there, you can tell that much, and you don’t trust yourself not to indulge in a little stress relief if Marcus tries to initiate it.

And you have a feeling he might. Try, that is.

On the other hand, coming home to an empty house with nothing to keep you company but the image of Bobby Pearson’s oddly dangling feet that’s branded on your eyelids makes you physically recoil.

“I’d ask where, but I think we both already know the answer.”

“I’ll be there around seven,” comes Marcus’s response.

At home, you turn the knobs in the shower until the temperature causes steam to fill the entire bathroom. The water burns your skin, but the pain is welcome, and you aren’t sure how long you remain unmoving under the stream until the hot water abruptly runs out. Yelping in shock, you hastily squirt some body wash onto a rag and frantically rub it up and down your body, then spin around under the stream three times as fast as you can to remove the suds before turning off the faucet.

Shivering and dripping wet, you suddenly start to laugh.

Marcus is already seated at the bar of the Waterhole when you arrive. The suit coat is gone, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows as he nurses a whiskey. You’re suddenly conscious of the fact that you’re dressed quite a bit nicer than you were on the night you met him–you even wore the non-muddy boots… and the jeans that you know make your ass look good.

“Hey,” you say by way of greeting, sliding onto the barstool next to him.

Marcus slides an identical cocktail glass over to you. “Thought you might need something a little stronger than beer,” he comments.

You snort. “How did you know?”

He shrugs, a faint glimmer in his eye as he watches you take a sip and wince at the burn in your throat.

“Had a hunch,” he offers.

“Well, it was right,” you sigh. “Might need a few more of these tonight.”

“Must have been one for the record books.”

It’s your turn to shrug. “Not really. Just another fucking day.” You take another sip, and the burn is more welcome this time. “I think the fact that it’s so common is what so fucking depressing.”

Marcus doesn’t ask you what you mean, and for that, you’re grateful.

“I don’t know what’s worse,” you grumble to yourself. “Suicides, or Fentanyl overdoses.”

Your companion is quiet for a long time. You aren’t in any shape to try and steer the conversation, so you take a few more sips of whiskey and stare into the middle distance.

“What made you want to become a cop?”

You snort again, even more unattractively this time. “Ten years ago I would have told you it was to help people and keep the community I grew up in safe.”

“What about now?”

Only one more sip remains in your cocktail glass, so you throw your head back and drain it, setting it down heavily on the counter. Palmer glances in your direction, a question in his eyes, and you nod.

“I don’t fucking know,” you sigh. “Ask me tomorrow, maybe I’ll have a better answer then.”

Palmer brings over the bottle of Crown and pours another finger into your glass.

“What about you,” you ask, only because it seems like the correct way to continue the conversation. “What made you join the FBI?”

Marcus grins, showing those perfectly straight teeth of his. At this distance, it seems less friendly and almost… predatory. You blink rapidly, shaking your head to dispel the thought.

He tips his glass against yours, then drains it himself. “To make the world a better place, of course.” His smile is wry as he signals Palmer for another.

“How’s that going for you?” you ask. The question is tinged with sarcasm.

“Depends on the day, I suppose.”

“Ha. Fair.” You take another sip. “Guess it’s the same for me. Some days it feels like I’m making a difference. Other days it feels like I’m filling speeding ticket quotas so that the town gets enough fucking tax revenue for the year.”

“Hey now, getting the funds to fix potholes is a noble and worthy cause.”

“I dunno where it fucking goes, but judging by the state of 36, it ain’t going there,” you chuckle.

“I happen to think you’re making a huge difference,” Marcus says soberly. “You get to do real, concrete things to help real people. One of the things I had to get used to in DC was that I didn’t feel like I was helping individuals anymore. It’s so much more high-level, sometimes I feel like all I do is send emails and have meetings. That’s why I like consulting,” he says, grinning at you. “I get to go to towns like this and actually talk to people.”

You pause with your glass halfway to your lips. “I… I guess I’ve never thought of it that way before.”

“You do good work,” Marcus tells you softly. His voice is full of sincerity; his eyes are deep, endless pools, and it feels as though they’re drawing you in. Licking your lips, you can feel the effect of the whiskey already by the way the skin of your tongue tingles slightly.

“Thanks,” you say quietly. You aren’t sure what else to say.

Your second glass is emptier than you thought. Had you really drunk it that fast? You huff a small laugh out of your nose, and swallow the last mouthful of whiskey. It barely even burns anymore.

“‘Nother?” you ask, blinking hopefully at your companion.

“If you like,” Marcus replies, giving Palmer a polite wave.

“Ain’t nothing at the bottom of the bottle,” the bartender teases, refilling both of your glasses. “You two seem to be convinced otherwise, though.”

You ignore him and quickly take another sip, making Marcus laugh.

“They say there’s only two kinds of people,” he says. “Those who drink to remember, and those who drink to forget.”

“If you’re about to ask me which kind I am, then you haven’t been paying attention to the conversation we’ve been having,” you tell him.

“You drink to forget,” Marcus supplies. “You’re right, I don’t need to ask to know that.”

“Then what was the point of… of the thing you said?” you ask, frowning in confusion.

“I drink to remember,” Marcus says quietly, staring soberly at his glass.

“Remember what?”

“People. Old loves, old friends.” He takes a small sip. “The living, and the dead.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth.

“What else do you want to forget?” Marcus asks gently.

“So I dunno if you are aware,” you say, swaying slightly in your seat as you gesticulate, “but female ossifers–officers–uh, they’re often handed sexual assault cases, domestic abuse, fuckin’... fuckin’ child neglect, that kind of shit. And I’ve had… I’ve–” you break off with a shudder.

“Had your fair share of those, huh?” he says, covering your hand in his.

“Mmm, ’s'warm,” you remark, closing your eyes and basking in the feeling. “It’s… it’s the ones that weren’t brought to justice that keeps me up at night,” you whisper, eyes still closed. “Sympathetic judges who give rapists light sentences. Wives whose request for a restraining order went ignored. Kids who–” you let out a tiny sob, “–kids who are spending their childhood in foster care because both of their parents overdosed in front of them. I… I fucking tried. I fought hard for them, and in the end, does it matter? Does it matter, when they’ll be fucked up for life anyway?”

“It matters,” Marcus says, his voice suddenly firm. “It fucking matters, Cricket.”

“Every time they walk free, it eats at me,” you continue, emptying your third glass.

“Tell me,” he demands softly as Palmer automatically pours you another. “You’ve been carrying their names with you for years, maybe this is how you let it go.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal

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soapshipper · 11 months

Text

embarrassingly gullible

in which Jim Halpert dares Eileen Hayward to prank Dwight Schrute, but will he fall for it?

"Uncle Dwight, it's me- Anna Schrute! It's been so long, maybe you can come over to Germany soon and we can have a harvest festival just like old times!"

"I don't know who you are, I don't know why you think this is funny, but there is no one directly related to me with the name Anna Schrute!"

"It's Anna Schrute, Uncle Dwight!"

"Leave me alone, I am completely opposed to harming women but I know karate and I wouldn't be afraid to make an example out of you."

Dwight was fuming from the office break room as he held his mobile close to his ear. His eyes frantically darting around the room to ensure nobody over heard the conversation.

"So you'll come over to Deutschland to make an example of me, Uncle Dwight? Das ist fantastisch! Auf Wiederhören Uncle Dwight!"

"I don't know how you got my number but leave me a-" The line went dead.

***

"I don't know why, and I don't know who, but someone has been calling me on my personal cellphone for the past month claiming to Anna Schrute. My brother has no clue as to who she is, but I' m starting to believe she is my niece... she knows a startling amount!" The camera crew, who had only been at the office for a few days stood behind the camera equipment as Dwight spoke, his mustard yellow top reflected in the view finder of the camera as he flattened down his hair.

"Dwight? Oh yeah he's embarrassingly gullible, I've been calling him directly to his personal phone for the past month telling him I'm his niece Anna Schrute," Eileen smirks as she looks at the camera "Jim bet me twenty bucks that he wouldn't fall for it, but I'm going to be twenty dollars richer soon."

***

Eileen hastily pocketed her phone as Dwight made his way back to his desk and pretends to have just gotten off a sales call as she picked up the receiver phone and put it down as soon as she was in Dwight line of vision. Her eyes met Jim's as his widened and his eyebrows raised as Dwight made himself comfortable in his seat once more.

"So, Dwight," Eileen started- picking at her nails, "what was that all about?"

"Oh just my niece calling from Germany."

***

"Ka-ching!" Eileen held up the twenty dollar bill to camera pulling at it lightly twice from both sides to accentuate that she won the bet. Her dimples were prominent as she grinned.

***

"Ahh, your niece you say? I wasn't aware you had a niece." Eileen raised her eyebrows as she spoke, turning to the side slightly to hide the smirk growing on her face.

"No, I wasn't either- but it truly is a blessing to know of another Schrute. It's good to know that the Schrute name is still being carried." Dwights eyes didn't leave his computer as he typed up an email, his glasses reflected the computer screen in front of him.

Eileen glanced over at Jim giving him a look that said 'this is funny but i feel bad'. The man struggled not to laugh at her cringing face and put a finger up to his lip to make her stay quiet.

"So Dwight, uh- what's her name?" The Halpert man had a dopey grin on his face as a laugh mixed with his words.

"I don't see how that is any of your business..." Dwight muttered as rearranged the papers on his desk, the pile making an obnoxious noise as he hit the stack on the table a paucity of times to make sure they were all in line with each other.

"Oh it really doesn't, I just wanted to take interest in one of my fellow salespersons lives..." He faux innocence as he busied himself with typing on his computer, scratching the back of his neck to add to his act.

"Her name is Anna Schrute, she speaks broken English, she is German, lives in Germany yet is confined to the time zones of Pennsylvania..." He pauses for a moment, before typing something into his computer.

His hand bangs onto the table as he pushes back from his desk and spins on his chair once. He stops and points at the woman in front of him, a glare besmirched on his face.

"You!," he pointed at her "It was you!"

"Huh, what?"

"You're Anna Schrute!"

"No, no- what?!"

"I knew I could hear typing in the background, she sounds exactly like you Eileen!"

"But Anna lives in Germany, was there any background noise- other than the typing?"

"There was traffic sounds- wait." Dwights eyebrows furrowed as he typed something into the computer.

A few silent moments later, everyone in the office can hear the sound of passing cars and the occasional German shout.

"Aw that's what Eileen listens to when she gets stressed," Phyllis began- pointing awkwardly at Dwights computer "She's stressed quite a lot..."

Eileen sucks her bottom lip in, and clamps her top teeth over it. Pointing her head down, her fringe covers her face but Dwight can still make out her silent laughter through the shake in her shoulders.

"Michael. MICHAEL!," Dwight starts standing from his chair "She's done it again!"

Michael can be seen leaving his chair, pinching his forehead as he approached his office door.

Dwight grins, exposing his teeth, and turns back to Eileen.

"You're fired! You are so fired!"

Their boss gets a hold of the door and pulls it shut much to the amusement of Jim who lets out a quiet 'ha'. Michael then proceeded to shut all the blinds in his office and return back to his desk.

#the office x reader #the office imagines #jim halpert #dwight schrute #jim halpert x reader #jim halpert x oc #dwight schrute x reader #dwight schrute x oc #the office #oc #the office x oc #one shot #imagine #jim halpert imagine #dwight schrute imagine #michael scott #michael scott imagine #the office imagine

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orchidbreezefc · 7 months

Text

blue lies: whomst the fuck is red

here's the Big theory: blue lies introduces a new, red-coded entity to the world of clock 0ut. this one owes a lot to @quotesandmiracles , @reflingthefox , and most of all to @featheredbirblet , whom i didn't speak to directly at all but whose insights pretty much form the backbone here.

this first observation is all i need to conclusively prove the existence of the red entity imo. like, putting aside all the rest, this here is enough. here's the camera when the narrator is monitoring stanley from the control room, displaying his signature yellow:

and here it is in blue lies, when the narrator is decidedly not monitoring from the control room:

like. when the narrator is monitoring things, the camera is lit up yellow. now he's not monitoring things and the camera is lit up red. and the camera is moving, so somebody's in control of it. somebody represented by red. QED.

i do have more though. the whole video is structured around film--which, of course, is the medium a camera uses. film is the force that attacks stanley in blue lies in the absence of the office, which doesn't take an active role like in yellow zone, only collapsing.

the film is what apparently captures(???) and attacks(?????) the narrator:

but less obvious is the fact that just before this, the force that rushes to attack him is red:

which tells me the red entity and the film are the same, or at least working together. the film is also what manifests stanley as he appears at the end of blank decay (note his clothes, his longer hair, and his wound)--but with red eyes.

of course, this raises the question of who or what the red entity is. i like @featheredbirblet 's theory that their appearance as BD!stanley may indicate the narrator's unconventional reset at the end of BD, or perhaps the broken-game status of BD in and of itself, led to a corrupted save. film is, after all, just another way of saving and recording data. maybe this is an improper save of BD!stanley "haunting" the files.

my first instinct is that the red entity is the timekeeper, just because it's one of the other entities within the stanley parable and the only one we see use power independent of and equal to the narrator. it could also be the curator, who after all keeps records of the game, but she's more passive. i have no evidence for either, they just seem logical for a new entity coming into play in a story inspired by TSP.

P.S.: note how the title of each video refers to the color associated with the person in possession of the clock at the time. the narrator has it in yellow zone; it doesn't exist at all in blank decay; and stanley has it in blue lies. i very much anticipate a red video in the future.

i have one more post in me of bits and bobs, observations and details i have yet to fit into a coherent point. if you missed the previous one, you can find it [here]. EDIT: bits and bobs post is [here]!

#clock 0ut #clock 0ut meta #c0 meta #sage speaks #the stanley parable #once more i apologize to tsp tag goers #forgive me my organizational trespasses #meta #sage original post

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songmingisthighs · 11 months

Text

Ignominy

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. lxiviii - hearing

hybrid!san × human!reader

buy me coffee ?

everyone wants to belong, it's basic human need to connect with people around them. what happens when you're responsible for someone who belongs to two worlds but at the same time belongs to neither ? worst part is, what happens when it's your ex ?

Seconds felt like hours, minutes felt like days, and hours felt like weeks.

You sat in front of your laptop with so much anxiety and uncertainty. It had probably been only a couple hours but it fely like forever and it didn't felt good at all. It didn't help that you couldn't sleep much the other day not just because of the damn email looming in your mind but also because of your stupid ankle that decided it wanted to have a big fucking rave with all the pulsing and the heat that caused the area to twitch. So you were anxiety riddled and in pain and to be quite honest, a lot pissed that neither San nor your work friends were answering your text. You wanted to ask about what happened the other day and also if any one of them knew what the email was about but of course you didn't get any answer. It was like being kept in the dark about something major that was affecting everything and everyone.

The email was so sudden and you were worried if it had anything to do with what was happening at High Breed. Who would've guessed that the day you took a day off from dealing with your ankle, some major shit happened to the office and then you suddenly got a hearing from HR. All you could do at that moment was simply to convince yourself that you would be okay and that it was just protocol. Nothing big, nothing to worry about.

As soon as the clock chimed 9, you saw that the Head of HR and the General Manager got into the meeting room with their camera on and San in attendance with his camera off. Your heart beats harshly against your chest in worry, noticing how the meeting was attended by high ranking staffs so there was a chance that the issue at hand that somehow involved you was an absolute big one. But despite your gut screaming that something was wrong, you sucked the anxiety in and just think positive thoughts. Maybe they wanted to tell you that you passed your probation early and the reason it involved high ranking officials are because you worked directly with the CEO's son so they took things seriously.

Here's to wishful thinking.

"Good morning, everybody," you greeted, smiling brightly to mask the nerves bubbling in the pit of your stomach. Unfortunately your greeting was met with silence, not even a single sound of acknowledgement. Chills ran down your spine from dread and embarrassment, the situation just became much much worse just from that exchange and your confidence almost slipped completely away. Luckily, the Head of HR spoke up but in a very uninterested tone, "Good morning ladies and gentlemen, we will begin our disciplinary hearing momentarily," the words she said made your eyebrows furrow in utter confusion, "Excuse me, disciplinary hearing for what exactly?" You cut her off which was completely ignored as she kept rambling on about who was present in the meeting. Next to speak was the General Manager who cleared his throat and tipped his glasses down slightly, "If you had been more patient, miss, we would've explained that we conducted this meeting to inform you that as of today, you are put on a temporary unpaid administrative leave until the issue you have caused be resolved."

If your eyebrows were furrowed before, now they're knitted so tight a sweater had formed. "Whoah, I don't understand, what issue did I cause??" You asked, obviously not knowing what they were talking about. "Okay, we'll bite," the General Manager said which you took notice of and didn't feel great about because the mannerism indicated that they didn't believe you about something. "It has come to our attention that you have been sharing personal information about Mr. Choi San to the media which is a complete breach of your contract as Mr. Choi San's personal assistant," he said. You waved your hands in front of the camera to stop the guy from talking more because the confusion wasn't resolved, it doubled. "Okay, I really don't know what you're talking about because I've never talked to the media before, I never shared my boss's personal information, not even with my friends," after the words left your mouth, you realized how flimsy of an excuse that was and those people could've easily misunderstood you as making up excuses or just simply disregard you. Then again, they could take your explanation masked as a flimsy excuse as suspicious behaviour despite you only telling the truth.

"As crude as it sounds, we do not care about what you talk about with your friends outside the office but this particular action has affected the company negatively especially since it affected Mr. Choi San," then the Head of HR clicked on something from her screen and presented some pictures, "Now, miss, do you recognize these?" Your eyes barely scanned through the file but you immediately took notice of it. "It's my company database account," you answered, still not understanding what their point was. "What about this?" She then showed the next picture and you saw your account information at the top and a bunch of numbers and letters listed under it and next to them are other numbers that look like specific dates. "My account and random numbers? I'm not sure," by now you have a bit of an attitude and it's mostly because of the fact that you had just been accused of something and you didn't appreciate it.

With a raise of his eyebrows, the General Manager leaned forward in his seat and sighed, "This, Miss (y/l/n), is proof that your account has been accessing important data and files from the company database that detailed Mr. Choi's private information including his medical report which if it turns out to be true, is a direct violation of the privacy law and you can be penalized," he stated firmly. "Wait," you tried to interject, wanting a moment to take the revelation in and made sense of the situation. Unfortunately, the General Manager kept going on about what you supposedly did and which files you accessed. Words thrown at you floated in your brain and none of them stuck, you couldn't process the explanation as your brain was trying to remember when and why you opened those files. Sure, some of the files that were on the list you actually accessed yourself but you remembered that it was under the direction of other superior officers. Files like San's most recent medical record that San himself requested to be sent to his family physician, or files like the company's pharmaceutical records that include sales, testing, production dates and locations, issue report, etc. that was sent to you by the lab supervisor for you to compile so San won't have a hard time looking them over. But other things like employee attendance, employee login timestamps and information, company finance report, patents, MFDS clearance, legal reports, and much more files that were under the record list, you couldn't remember ever accessing nor do you even know how and where to access them. Despite the defence bubbling in your head, your were frozen, you couldn't say the words you wanted to say because at that moment, you were being bombarded by two people while San was watching.

Why wasn't he saying anything?

"...That being said and with the evidence stacked against you, the company has decided, as we said earlier, to put you in unpaid administrative leave until the issue is resolved," the Head of HR said. As it seemed like they were about to conclude the meeting, your body reacted as quickly as it could and you called out to them. "Hey, wait!" thankfully, it seemed like it managed to catch their attention momentarily, "Don't I get to defend myself first? This is a lot to take in and you can't just make a decision for yourselves," it was hard for you to keep your voice stable because all you want to do was scream at them for accusing you of doing something so ridiculous but you knew full well that if you let your emotions get the best of you, they wouldn't take you seriously. The General Manager sighed before answering you, "Yes, in a less dire situation, we would've let you defend yourself, but as this issue has become public and seemingly uncontrollable, we have to take immediate action to prevent further issues from arising." To make matters worse, the Head of HR just HAD to comment in her faux low voice that you were pretty sure she wanted you to hear. "You should have thought of that before doing something so reckless," and before you could've said something, she called out to San, "Is there anything you wish to add, Mr. Choi?"

Almost embarrassingly quickly, your eyes flit to San's account and you saw him opening his mic. Seconds pass awfully slow as you waited, hoping for him to defend you, telling both people who seemingly had it against you that the company shouldn't be rash, that they should take a moment to assess the situation better before putting you on leave and treating you like a criminal. You believed that he would come to your aid because he knew you wouldn't have done that to him. After all, you have been covering for his ass and you have done nothing but a good job in the office as his assistant. Not to mention the fact that you let him fuck you whenever he wants which shouldn't be the main reason but it kinda felt like it should. So why would he assume that you even wanted to hurt him?

But all hopes you had were lost when your screen suddenly returned to your browser, showing that the meeting has ended without any more addition. Without San saying anything to defend you.

"He... Ended the meeting..." you muttered to yourself in disbelief. He didn't even say anything, he didn't even have the decency to say something to you, something comforting or just something that acknowledge the fact that you were in that situation and it was such a shit situation. He just dismissed you like that.

Your chest tightened and your hands shook. Emotions mix together, emotions you can't even discern, and emotions you've never felt before.

Standing up from your desk, the first thing you thought of was to get a glass of water to calm yourself down. Your injured ankle forced you to limp to the kitchen and you suddenly chuckle to yourself, thinking about how ridiculous your luck was for giving you an injury and putting you in such a difficult and absurd situation. You try to make sense of things but at the same time you didn't want to think about it just yet, you didn't want to have to deal with the issue as quickly but how could you not when it affects you greatly? Does this mean you can't go to work for the foreseeable future? Does this mean you're replaced? You accepted the job in the first place because you wanted something to do and now you were being denied of your own decision. With this happening, do you want to stay? Can you stay? You're willing to be everyone else knows about this issue so it's safe to assume that even if you did come back to work, say you were proven not guilty which was the truth in the first place, you will be a pariah. Those who knew about the details and believed that you were the kind of human being who would do such a thing would not treat you nicely. And apparently, one of those people is the boss who you've been fucking. Working for him would be different after this issue no matter the truth. It was too much for you to handle alone and you didn't want to have to handle it alone. But what could you have done? Contact your friends just because you're in a shit position? Is that how you want to treat your friends?

The water you poured for yourself felt heavy like lead down your throat and your body couldn't help but want to expel it. You coughed and coughed the liquid out and while doing so, you accidentally knocked your glass over and it shattered. In between fits of coughs and blurry vision, you saw the mess you just made and suddenly the pain in your chest doubled.

What are you going to do now?

taglist :

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bmckay1120 · 6 months

Text

The Victor and the Survivor

Summary: When Bellatrix Rose is chosen as the female tribute for the 55th Hunger Games she is forced to trust Haymitch Abernathy to get her through it. With her own sister going into the Games and Haymitch coming out instead, will she have the same fate?

Pairings: Haymitch Abernathy x Bellatrix Rose

Warnings: None this far

A/N: I’ve wanted to write this for a long time so I finally settled down and did it! For all of you that are reading the Healer series, don’t worry I haven’t given up on it! I just need a little more time to start finishing things up! Also not my Gif but all my writing!

A crowd should never be this quiet. With the entirety of the district here there should be some kind of sound. Shoes on the gravel. A cough. A sneeze. Murmuring. Anything at all. But as my name was called by the Capitol official, a roaring silence took place.

My heart was in my throat. It seemed as if time was frozen. I’m dreaming. It’s just a bad dream.

Wake up. Wake up.

Two Peace Officers came into my line of visions with stunning clarity. I forced myself to move before they could drag me to the stage. I would not have that video playing on repeat for the next weeks to come. I refused to be marked as a weak link by the others right off the bat.

My footsteps sounded across the yard. Sallow eyes looked at me with relief. Grateful that it wasn’t them. Happy that it wasn’t someone they were close to. I couldn’t blame them, I had done the same thing every year previous to this.

The man at the stage smiled down at me as I stepped onto the platform. His purple eyes matched his lips. That seemed to be Darius’ theme this year. I’d never noticed his eyes though. I wondered if they were contacts, or one of the many surgeries the people of the Capitol had done. He reached his hand out to me, smile plastered to his face.

“Hello, lovely Bellatrix. What a beauty you are,” he purred over me. Running a hand through my long red hair. Unusual for the Seam. “Do we have any volunteers wanting to take the place of beautiful Bellatrix Rose?”

I don’t know why they asked this question every year. It was useless, and always answered with the same thing; nothing.

Three seconds ticked by. Everyone looked at me, but no hands raised. No one dared to move an inch in fear that it would be misinterpreted.

Darius squeezed my hand. I think he left a little bit of glitter on my fingers as he moved on to the other giant bowl that held the names of thousands of boys.

I looked out to them. As I was trying to pick which one would be my partner so to speak something caught my eye at the bottom of the stage. Below me and directly to my right a flash of blonde hair flashed. It moved gracefully as the drunk man slammed back the remnants of a flask. My mentor.

As if feeling my eyes on him his blue orbs looked up to me. Looked me up and down. Took note of my dress and tilted the flask towards me. I could almost hear the phrase on his tongue, Welcome to the Games kid.

I forced my eyes forward as Darius covered a few of the name cards in glitter before picking one up. Slowly, because this day wasn’t tortuous enough, he made his way back to the microphone.

“And the boy representing lovely District Twelve… Xander Lexton,” Darius said brightly. Purple eyes now searching the crowd for the young boy who would stand beside me.

A tall but slender dark headed boy stepped forward. I had seen him a few times in school. He was just a grade ahead of me. His girlfriend was my age and they were talking of getting married after we graduated.

Xander was led beside me. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t dare to look up into the cameras. Didn’t move as Daruis uselessly asked for volunteers. No one moved.

With another ferocious smile Darius grabbed my hand along with Xander’s. “Ladies and gentleman, I give to you, the Tributes of District Twelve!”

No applause ensued. No one moved. A woman wailed in the back. Most likely his girlfriend or his mother. They all looked at us with hungry and painful eyes. Our great goodbye with the sound of silence.

****

The train was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It moved at a fast speed, and yet nothing jarred or moved out of place.

Food sat out on decorated tables. Mounds of it. Meats and vegetables I didn’t recognize. Pastries that looked to be so delicate they would melt at my touch. Chocolate. Coffee. Tea. Anything I could think of in food was on a table in the train car.

Darius urged us to eat something before we retired to our separate rooms for the night. Though neither one of us dared touch it. For one it was too pretty to eat. And secondly, we no longer had an appetite.

I had the faint notion to eat as much as I could before going into the arena. However I was sure that if I put anything in my stomach I would most likely throw up.

“They won’t poison you until you make it to the arena. You’re no good to them dead yet,” Haymitch’s voice boomed in the car. Shoes now gone and a lightness in his wobbly steps.

His eyes fell to me again. Going over my red hair. He stopped himself from reaching out and touching it. I hadn’t been this close to the man in a long time. I saw the recognition and sadness flood his eyes.

Since birth I had been told of how much I looked like my sister. Of how we could be twins with our hair and freckles. Our green eyes that were identical.

Leihla had gone into the arena with Haymitch five years ago. Him seventeen and her sixteen. It was odd to think that I was older than she was now. I didn’t doubt that this was some Capitol trick. Having Haymitch mentor his fellow tribute’s younger sister. It was poetic. Funny, almost. Either way the Capitol won. Whether I lived or died the media would spin it to their advantage.

I forced a smile to my lips. He looked away.

Xander still hadn’t looked up from his shoes.

“It’s good to see you, Haymitch,” I said.

“You’ve grown up,” he said, seemingly sobering up.

The last time I saw him I was thirteen. When he came home with food and grain. Then the crowd had been loud. I remembered his apology to my mother.

“Um, what should we do,” I questioned, not really knowing where to start.

“Eager, are we?”

“Anxious.”

Xander’s leg began to tap. Occasionally he would hit the table with his knee. He didn’t look at or address Haymitch. My best guess was that he was still in shock. Still reeling from his name being called. I wondered what his goodbyes had been like.

Haymitch sized him up for a second. Sadness filled his eyes. More than anything he looked… tired. I wondered when he had slept last. Something told me not for a few years. He went on, grabbing a cake from the table and setting it in front of me. “Relax, for one. Then we can move on to other things.”

He pulled a canister of dark amber liquid from the bar and finally took a seat across from me and next to Xander. He poured a drink for my fellow tribute then one for himself. To my surprise Xander took it with shaking hands.

I left the pink cake alone. Though I could smell strawberries. I’d had them all of once in my life. Someone had picked them out in the woods and brought them back. Leihla had traded her favorite scarf for them.

“Take a bite, it’s all she would eat while she was here,” Haymitch coaxed. Though he wouldn’t say her name.

I didn’t like to think of her in the Capitol. Didn’t like to think of her on this same train or anything close to the Games. I preferred to remember her with me. Walking me to school. Or braiding my hair. Smiling down at me while we raced back home. She always let me win.

Pushing the cake away I looked back up to Haymitch. “What should we do before we get to the Capitol? Do we start training right away?”

He let out a huff and leaned back into the chair. Xander finished off his first glass and reached for the bottle to refill it. “You meet with your stylist first. They’re going to give you an image, help the people get to know you. Your stylist is your ally here, work with them.”

“What image works best?”

“It varies year to year. Just be likable. Get people to like you, that’s how you’ll get sponsors. You’ll need that later on.”

“How do I-”

Haymitch held up his hand. It was steady and almost as big as my face. “We’ll have time for all of this later. Right now, enjoy the peace. You won’t have it very much longer.”

#the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #the hunger games fic #haymitch abernathy #haymitch x reader #thg haymitch #the hunger games imagine #Haymitch Abernathy fan fiction #fan fiction #imagine #imagines #original character

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raedear · 1 year

Text

@the73rdpostscript said something about soap opera au Nicky and Joe and then my brain spat this out:

'Okay Joe,' Nile's voice was firm and Joe really should have been paying attention, but Nicky had just slipped in the studio doors behind her, and he was trying to catch his eye. 'I need you to be angrier than you've ever been before in this scene. We need you furious. Hands shaking, veiny forehead, the works.'

'I don't have a veiny forehead!' Joe snapped, his attention neatly drawn back to Nile.

'Just like that but angrier,' she said, nodding cheerfully. 'Let's get this done before lunch, okay?'

Nicky was doing everything he could to stay out of sight behind the cameras, but Joe was patient. He couldn't avoid him forever. Eventually, he'd have to sit in his seat right in Joe's eyeline.

'Can we get this moving?' Keane said from right behind Joe's shoulder, making him jump. 'I don't want to be here all day.'

'We'll start when the crew is ready,' Joe said, far calmer than he felt.

'Crew's ready when you are I think,' Nile said, glancing around herself. 'Oh no—Nicky? Are you ready?'

'... Yes.'

Nicky slunk out from the shadowy corner behind the boom store, shuffling his way to his seat with none of his usual confidence. Joe bit his lip at the sight of him, choking on everything he wanted to say.

Nike smiled at them as Nicky took his seat, script and pen in hand.

'Okay, guys,' she said, clapping her hands together lightly. 'Let's keep it respectful. Places please.'

There was the usual pre-shoot shuffle. Joe and Keane found their starting positions in the office set, the cameras found their focus points; everyone not essential to the scene melted into the background as much as they could. When the room fell completely silent, Nile nodded again.

'Action!'

Keane slammed his hand on the desk, and Joe didn't have to act out flinching in response.

'Explain yourself,' Keane barked, glaring at Joe. As always, Joe was glad he didn't have to affect an accent for his role. Keane's Welsh accent sounded exhausting to keep up. 'How could you do this to me? To us?'

There was a whole speech right on the tip of Joe's tongue. Nicky's words, memorised and rehearsed and ready to go.

But, beyond Keane, just out of sight of the cameras, Nicky was watching him. He was rubbing at his mouth, and his eyes weren't as wide or as bright as they usually were when he watched Joe work.

'I had to,' Joe said, and Nicky sat up straighter, pen twirling in his hand, getting ready to write down everything Joe said. Joe hoped he would, at least so he'd have a chance to remember it after.

Keane frowned.

'I had to do it,' Joe said again, looking past Keane to look Nicky directly in the eyes. 'I had to because I love you. I didn't do it right, and I made you feel like I didn't, and I'm sorry. You're everything to me, and I'm sorry if I made you doubt that for a second. I won't make excuses, but I hope you'll let me explain myself. Even if you don't, I wanted you to know. I love you, and I'm sorry.'

Joe's hands shook. Not in the way Nile had wanted them too, but they did all the same.

There was a long silence. Even Keane seemed too shocked to speak. And then—

'That's not what I wrote, you dick,' Nicky said. He sounded stuffy, like he was about to cry. Joe could see the shine in his eyes from halfway across the room, and he laughed as he crossed the set towards him.

Nicky met him halfway, dropping his script and pen to the floor in favour of wrapping his arms around Joe's waist.

'I love you,' Nicky whispered, before Joe dragged him into a kiss, both of them laughing and both of them crying and both of them so happy it felt like they'd never come down.

'Uh… reset please? No rush you two but we do actually need to film this scene today.'

Nile was laughing at them. Keane was grumbling something Joe couldn't hear. The makeup team was giggling.

Joe gave them all a thumbs up, and kept on kissing Nicky.

#joenicky #immortal husbands #kaysanova #Nicky is the writer/script supervisor #Joe is the star who likes to ad-lib #they hate each other until they don't‚ naturally

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ask-zerotrio · 1 year

Text

Story So Far...

//Taking a drawing break briefly as my wrist has started aching again lol. Thought this might be a fun little summary post! This doesn’t contain everything I’ve made for them, but eh.

Major plotpoints/lore (marked by key art pieces I suppose) are noted with * and bolded.

Clavell says hello! Sada and Turo butt in too. It’s introduced that this is a post-game universe where Clavell/Sada/Turo are a polycule who raised Arven together.

*The trio are revealed to have been childhood friends. >>

The nature of their relationship is revealed a little more. Their family is a strange one. >>

Turo learns what DILF means. >>

* We see a glimpse of domesticity in the Lighthouse. >>

Clavell reminisces about how the trio have known each other for so long. It’s revealed that Sada and Turo occupy the empty lab area of Clavell’s office, and have artificially created Miraidon and Koraidon. >>

Glimpses of the trio raising Arven all together. >>

Clavell learns what DILF means (sort of.) >>

* How Clavell got Sada and Turo to leave area zero is revealed. He had his Gyarados and new team of water pokemon flood Area Zero. The place is no longer visitable. >>

* Clavell explains how the three of them got romantically involved. >>

Arven shares a bit about how being their only son is like. It’s also revealed that he is a Champion in this universe, and doing quite well with all his friends. He’s hoping to use the Herba Mystica to heal the two raidons (and got grounded for fighting titans during his treasure hunt lmao) >>

* Clavell gets a migraine, after discussing the possibility of an assailant harming his family. >>

Sada shares a little bit about her starter pokemon, Fuecoco. >>

Arven calls Clavell Pops! >>

* Clavell is becoming more and more sick, for an unknown reason. >>

Arven thinks everyone should stop trying to kiss his dads. >>

* Clavell is asked about how he feels knowing other realities where he didn’t step in to pull Sada and Turo out of the crater, breaking down by the end of it. >>

* Turo apologises to a sleeping Clavell for an unknown reason. >>

Turo doesn’t know what Gigachad means. >>

Something silly of how the trio’s confession went. >>

* Clavell doesn’t know what babygirl means. Sada tucks him into bed, expression solemn. His condition is worsening. >>

* Both Sada and Turo apologise to a sleeping Clavell. >>

* Clavell talks about how the grief felt so real, despite not living those other lives. >>

Turo shares how he crushed extremely hard on Clive and Sabine, whilst dressed as Trent. >>

Clavell speaks owo. >>

Sada loves her boys haha. >>

* Sada shares a bit about how she was when she was in college, and how Clive might’ve been partly inspired by her. >>

* Sada and Turo pull a slightly better Clavell out to see Mesagoza’s sunset... asking some peculiar questions about treasure. They kiss him, and it feels like an awful goodbye. Clavell passes out after coughing blood and a sharp pain lancing through him. >>

* The trio are no longer answering asks directly. Instead, only the Zero Lab’s log file search is available. >>

CCTV footage of the Zero Lab Canteen being on fire due to Turo’s poor cooking skills. >>

Sada and Clavell share a tender moment during her pregnancy, Clive makes an appearance to cheer her up once more. >>

Flood query does not exist. >>

Flutter Mane query results in footage of them. >>

* Sada’s Personnel File. >>

The trio celebrate Turo’s birthday. >>

The lab’s inhabitant’s daily routine. >>

Baby Arven is hushed to sleep by Clavell. >>

Baby Arven and Turo share a peaceful moment together, watching some Glimmora and Glimmets. >>

Baby Arven eats a camera. >>

Sada throws Arven’s diaper at Turo’s face in an argument. >>

Sada asks for kisses. >>

* “Miraidon & Koraidon” search entry. >>

“Safety” query shows Sada, Turo, Clavell and a baby Arven resting. >>

* Search for “casualties” results in footage of Sada and Turo talking. >>

* Arven’s first birthday is celebrated in the labs. >>

A conversation between Clavell and Turo is recorded. >>

* Scream Tail identified in Station 4. Password required for further access to zero lab footage.>>

An email between Turo and Arven is found. >>

* Password Authenticated. Slitherwing, Roaring Moon, Iron Moth, Iron Valiant identified in footage. >>

* Clavell’s Gyrados identified in footage. >>

Sada sends Arven an email. >>

12 Masterballs have been recently 3D printed. >>

* “Locate Clavell” Search query reveals Clavell facing off Sada and Turo’s Koraidon and Miraidon. >>

*Alternate Zero Lab Footage located. Clavell is injured. 4 other videos remain locked. >>

TBC! :D it’ll be a while till the conclusion, meanwhile I hope y’all are enjoying this little ride into delving into these characters’ history together/lore.

#director clavell #professor sada #professor turo #zerotrioshipping #clavell x sada x turo #clavell/sada/turo #//i am enjoying the use of an ask blog to tell a story extremely muvh #//haven't done much rp yet #//but this plot is so fun to slowly unveil haha

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autumn-sweet-fae · 2 years

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Drayden being impressed that one of his twiggy train nephews finally gained some muscles. XD

He knew his boys had it in them! 🤣

Also, speaking of Drayden, you know how I earlier mentioned how I like to think that Leon’s family still has Professor Laventon’s old camera as like a family heirloom? They also would have an old photo album full of pictures that were taken with that camera throughout the generations. The earliest and most delicate photographs having actually been of Laventon and his office and co workers in Hisui. Leon’s parents were given the camera and album as a wedding gift from his grandmother, Draydens now late wife.

Which brings me to my point, imagine Drayden as a young man, him and his future wife moving in together for the first time and he finds the box holding the her family heirloom. She shows it to him, flipping thought old photos of her family going farther and farther back. Until they reach the the last couple pages, where it shows the man who this entire family line traces back to. In the first picture featuring him, he is a very old man holding his newborn great granddaughter. Just as before, in every new photo, he and his family look younger and younger. After turning past the page of him and his serious looking wife’s wedding photo, they see something odd.

In the photo is Drayden’s fiancé‘s ancestor, Professor Lavinton, standing in a group photo directly next to a man who looks a strikingly similar to Drayden. Perhaps a bit older and not as broad as Drayden himself is, but the similarities are downright uncanny.

The man is only featured in one other photo, this one in a much more casual setting. Their sitting at a table covered in plates of food. Professor Laventon and a teenage boy on one side, Laventon‘s future wife sits in a chair between them all at the head of the table, and Draydens historical doppelgänger and a teenage girl sitting opposite the professor.

Any names that had been written on the photos have long been worn away with time.

#submas wanted au #drayden #Ingo #professor laventon #captain cyllene #pokemon #leon #hop

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err0rsx · 7 days

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𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻.

Millicent's office at ICHIBANGASE //. EISHER CORP ; ━━━━ Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan. for @cainhood //. 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄.

❝ 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑! 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑! is it true that there has been a burgeoning question of leadership in the company amongst you & your older sister since your mother had officially stepped down a year ago? ❞

THE THING ABOUT MILLICENT EISHER, whose silhouette has shadowed the television screen with a practiced vulnerability, whose RUTHLESSNESS will one day strike it with stunning tyranny, is that she is always living a truth.

Even now, withdrawing a cigarette from its pure gold art deco case & setting it against the cupid's bow of her lip as she reviews her earlier press conference from the perch of her desk, she watches as she leans in to a statement that should've stabbed an icepick of fear into her heart for someone KNOWING, with a sincere hike to her brow. ❝ i don't know about that. here at ichibangase / eisher, we focus on always operating in a polished and professional manner. the support between all of us is very prevalent. ❞ Her televised self says. There's none of Malvina's canary-catching coyness in the way she replies.

There's no game to be in on.

You're well-practiced — have your own rules to fit into the system of safety ; you know how to wear the right thing, to never falter in your reactions, you can curtsy & smile & play up to the game with the best of them.

❝ perhaps you should learn to pay attention to the right things instead, watanabe-san. ❞ Millicent snares at the reporter in the center lens of her stare. Her gaze is a STEEL PIERCE set behind the careful art of mascara’d lashes lined to perfection. A poised, painted lip curls around her next comment as it leaves under a rehearsed emphasis. ❝ what we’re doing here is very important. ❞

In a showman’s flourish, she flicks both hands out to the cameras. ❝ we are one of the largest tech corporations worldwide & who better to represent the future than us, no? ❞ the plasticine smile straining at her lips says there’s no room for disagreement. When Millicent speaks again, her voice dips its register like she’s speaking directly to the people watching. ❝ i can’t see any reason why you wouldn’t want to be a part of that. ❞

Millicent turns it off, sighs & swerves in her chair, overlooking Tokyo's skyline. This hour of the night is dipped in neon shades of blues, pinks, and greens & so her rich hum runs indigo with its assent. It’s a typical spring evening replete with a thick fog rising up from the ground hanging under the moon’s dutiful watch. She thinks: a cut between the shoulder blades is a lesson to be learned to always watch one’s back, to never feel a depth of TRUST to the point where vulnerability is on display to receive the deep sheath of a sword between its slats.

She has the ENTIRE WORLD at her fingertips & endless hours to peruse it. Her mind is more than a lockbox of all the information pored over, more than all the moves & twists & insults thrown that she used to ingest only to learn how to mock her own body into the fray. Millicent's flippant fingertips bat at the air in a simple gesture that begs the question: could she have done better?

It's not an inquiry she is given the chance to further deliberate when she makes note of footsteps echoing against the marble floors of her office. Foolishly thinking she had been the only one around, she'd left her door open.

❝ jack. ❞ She turns to face him, a lacquered nail taps the cigarette at the end of the ashtray. An elegant, one-two rap. With her left hand, she reaches for the drink she'd made herself some time ago. ❝ shouldn't you be at home getting your beauty sleep? ❞

#﹠⠀ ⠀ 𝗺. 𝗲𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗿 ⠀ ⠀ 〳 ⠀ ⠀𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.#FEAT. 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄 #me? knowing how to do short starters? nevaaaaaa

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leggerefiore · 1 year

Note

Halloween requests anyone? How about we start with a classic vampire Emmet and Ingo x Reader (together or separate I don't mind)? Maybe reader stumbles upon the abandoned Gear Station and its resident vampire guardians?

cw: vampires, blood mentions, more comedic than anything, poly (Ingo/Reader, Emmet/Reader)

You were not certain why you agreed to help your friend with this. The abandoned location was disturbing in appearance as its once glorious exterior showed lack of care and age. Ripped flags blew in the wind as you stood, distressed. Elesa spoke eagerly into her camera as she explained the locale to her audience. Seriously, why did she want to stream herself exploring a place like this? You could not understand her interest.

“Hey, let's go inside now,” she called out to you as she headed up the stairs into the building. You followed close behind her, a bit distressed about everything still. The inside was not much different than the outside, yet you felt it had a strange order to it all. Spider webs decorated more locations than just an average few would do. The air felt strangely temperate inside and thick. You felt a pit settle into your stomach as Elesa started walking again.

You both wandered around the place, exploring the tunnels and seeing the tracks that were dated further back than either of you could imagine. She often stopped to speak to her audience, but you found yourself more curious about a Joltik that had come from seemingly nowhere. It squeaked when you spotted it and jumped off to some other location. That was the source for the webs. Its moving across the floor led to you noticing how well cleaned it was. In fact, despite the inordinate amount of webbing, most things in this station appeared quite clean. The screens used to show the train arrival time and which platform goes where was easy to read, but blank. No dust or smearing effected the board.

Somehow, in your fascination to figure out how this place was so nicely kept, you had become separated from Elesa. You could hear her getting further from you as she continued to speak with her chat. It would be a moment before she noticed your disappearance, if her chat did not tell her first. You felt annoyed at her and yourself. Seriously, maybe the city just took care of this place in the off-chance they may start using it again. Trying to follow her voice, you wandered around on your own.

The place you ended up did not have Elesa, but you were now fascinated with it. An office area sprawled before you, with papers left about in orderly piles. You walked around for a moment before stumbling on a pile that seemed more recent. It almost looked like a modern copy paper more than anything. Picking up the top sheet, you felt the edge of the sheet slice open your finger. You hissed and retreated back your hand. Blood dripped from the small cut. Annoyance flooded your brain.

Then, a chill crept down your spine. Someone was standing directly behind you. You could feel them hovering and peering over your shoulder. It was easy to presume it was Elesa, but it was much too silent to be her. Slowly, you turned your head to see whoever was there. A smiling man gazed at you with iridescent eyes and slit pupils. He tilted his head and hummed. “This is private property,” he told you, “You are trespassing.” You screamed with long bat wings spread out from his back. Before you could even make a run for it, he grabbed your hand. Your mind raced with worst-case scenarios before he popped your bleeding finger into his mouth. You felt gross as his tongue swirled around the wound, and he sucked at it to force out more blood.

It was then you realised just what stood before you. Only spoken of in legends, a vampire licked your paper cut clean. He removed it after your blood stop flowing out of it. His eyes became lidded as he pulled you into an unexpected hug.

“Oh, my mate! I finally found you!” he cooed, “You literally wandered into my domain!”

The vampire was quick to tug you around the station before ending up in an area that seemed more closely resembling a living area of sorts. Emmet, the vampire, brought you in. Why had you let him lead you around? Well, you really did not want to involve Elesa in this, and his excitement left you not afraid. He was much too cute in his babbling about how long he had been waiting for you to arrive and how delicious your blood was. You were supposedly his blood mate, equivalently a soulmate.

You were sat down at the couch, which was clearly much older than even something from your grandmother's generation, and told to wait. Doing as you were told, you gazed around the candlelit room. Most flicked with a normal orange blame, but a few were violet and seemed to move. You chose to ignore that. Emmet disappeared off someone, white and green cape flowing behind him. His clothes were also quite antiquated, even for this station's time of building. An exchange was heard in the other room before Emmet brought out a clone of himself that frowned. You were confused, as was he, apparently.

“… You don't normally show me your meals,” the clone gave him a strange look, “What is your goal here?”

“Brrrrrrother, you did not listen!” Emmet whined, “They are my blood mate! I tasted their blood and instantly became more entranced. That witch really came through.” Witch? What were they talking about? You clearly looked confused because the newcomer quickly explained.

“Did you come in with a woman who has long, black hair?” he asked.

“Elesa? Yeah, why?” you felt more confused, “There's no way she's a witch. She's a model.” Emmet laughed while the other sighed.

“She is,” he explained, “Ah, how rude of me. I never introduced myself. I'm Ingo, a vampire lord.” Ingo held his gloved hand to you politely. You took it normally and shook it. To which, your paper cut started squirting blood.

“Ah. You hit a capillary.”

He then also drank your blood.

You felt light-headed and annoyed now.

In actuality, both of these vampire lord twins were your mates. You supposed that was not so much a boundary as they seemed to understand your interest in taking it slow and normal about dating. They even helped guide you back to Elesa, who was waiting for you at the interest, boredly. She perked up when seeing you three, however. Quick on her feet, she met you half-way.

“Told you I could find your mate, Em,” she blew a raspberry at him, “Yours, too, Ingo? I suppose you guys are genetically the same and like two halves of one soul.” You now had more questions than ever with the fact that Elesa's status as a witch was confirmed. “You should, like, stay here,” she told you suddenly, “It's nicer than your apartment, and those two double as guard-dogs.”

“… Elesa,” you sighed, “What the hell?”

In the end, the witch had been correct. You did end up living in the station with the vampire lords. While Ingo certainly tried his best to make you feel loved and cared for, you would not say the same for Emmet. He was extremely physically affectionate, but most hugs were a secret attack to drink your blood. Though, Ingo's denial of it was admittedly a bit worse.

Still, however, you had yet to forgive her for pretending to ignore you and focus on her stream.

#ingo x reader #emmet x reader #emmet/reader #ingo/reader #ingo x reader x emmet #ingo/reader/emmet #vampire au

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altheasmeadow · 1 year

Text

Symphony

Summary: Old feelings rising when she needs a place to stay after a domestic issue

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse (Not Chan), Mentions of stalking kind of, Mentions of bad parenting.

"Hey guys do you mind if my friend comes to stay with us for the month?" Chan wondered as he reread the message from his mother.

"Wait what?" Hyunjin wondered, looking at the elder man a bit confused.

"My mom texted me saying that my friend is currently trying to get away from Australia for a bit, and asked if I could take her in for the month while everything gets sorted."

"And your friend didn't ask because?" Changbin wondered a bit confused as to why the person hadn't asked him directly.

"She hates asking for help, so it must've been serious if she ran to my mom." Chan explained, the boys grew a bit concerned for the girls safety, not sure if Chan was exaggerating but looking at his expression, they didn't think he was.

"Can we meet her over the phone first? That way we're not taken by surprise by anything." Han wondered a bit about a person staying with them, everyone else nodded in agreement.

"Yea, and don't worry I'll take the couch for the month. She can have my room so you don't have to worry about walking out on her sleeping and trying not to wake her up." Chan noted making everyone smile a bit at his consideration.

Chan called Ember first only to have the call declined making him sigh, so he FaceTimed his mother

"Hello?"

"Is she with you mom?" Chan wondered, earning a nod from the woman who was wearily watching the woman she saw as a daughter cry in her actual daughter's arms. "Can I speak to her?"

"Honey, Chan would like to talk to you, is that okay?"

"Channie?" He heard her broken voice asked, making his heart break momentarily, however his whole heart was crushed when she came into view of the camera and he saw her teary eyes.

"Hey flame, want to tell me what happened?" He said not knowing if he should have this conversation in front of his friends but he figured he'd cross that bridge later he was more concerned with her situation.

"He showed up at my work, he grabbed me super tight and tugged me to the ground. My coworker Zane threw him off but when I got home that night he was there, he wrecked everything and when I pulled out my phone to call the police he took that and broke it. He choked me until my neighbor finally came in and hit him with his cane. Said he had called the cops and if he didn't want to get arrested he had to leave. I ran to your mom's house as soon as the police were done with me, I told her not to worry you though." She mumbled the last bit, turning her head to look at the older woman who was smiling sheepishly, however that wasn't where his attention was, he could now see the bruising on her neck and he was furious.

"I want you on the next flight to South Korea." He blurted, making her look back at him in confusion.

"I can't just leave Chan, I have my office and my dads going to be pissed."

"I don't care, your dad is the reason you're in this mess in the first place, and you're obviously not safe at the office. Get a new office here and we can go from there. You can stay here and take my room." He pleaded and the boys honestly wanted to plead with him after hearing the story.

"You have roommates Chan."

"We completely support this decision." Hyunjin cut in, popping his head into the camera view.

"Oh god they heard the whole thing?"

"Yea I'm sorry, I didn't think it would be as bad as it was." Chan said shyly but Ember simply shook her head with a fond smile.

"It's okay Chan, they'd find out sooner or later if I did come."

"Will you please?" He whined before turning the camera to Changbin and Han who gave her puppy dog eyes to try and convince her.

"I'll think about it, okay?" She offered only to earn grins from the four men.

"Anyway I'd like to formally introduce you to my roommates, the other four are at their dorm, but this is Han, Changbin and Hyunjin, guys this is Ember."

"Ember? As in the girl who beat you up in 3rd grade?" Changbin asked, making everyone giggle at the memory of the story.

"That's how we met, he took my favorite drink from me. So I punched him and took it back. Then the next day I bought a second one and shared it with him." She explained with a grin.

The interaction between the two best friends was heartwarming, everyone saw the way she cheered up when she started talking to him. The bond was so pure that nobody really could look at them with anything but gentle eyes. Chan's mother was beaming when she saw the effect her son took on the girl, hoping her secret notebook of wedding plans would one day get put to use.

"I really need a more gentle touch in the apartment, these guys just sit around half naked eating chicken all of the time." Hyunjin whined, making Ember laugh.

"Oh you wouldn't believe the amount of times I've walked in on Chan sitting on his floor naked after he took a shower, the man would just pull me next to him and start talking about anything on his mind, not even minding that he was in his birthday suit." She retold making everyone chuckle in response they knew Chan was hardly shy about his body around those he loved so this wasn't the most shocking thing in the world.

"Have you ever visited him in South Korea?" Han wondered genuinely not having ever seen her before.

"A few times, we met up at hotels to avoid dispatch. I only came for a couple of days each time though. Had to get back to work."

"What do you do for work?" Changbin wondered.

"I'm an influencer ." She smiled remembering Chan encouraging her to get into the field.

The group continued talking and getting to know each other until Ember had to give the phone back and head to sleep in Chan's old room.

"Goodnight guys. Chan I'm stealing the clothes you left here."

"I left them, for you anyway idiot."

She had no idea why she agreed to this, why did everyone agree to this.

She gripped her bags nervously as she looked around the airport, she would've rented a car but Chan assured her that he'd pick her up. She had a cap on her head, sunglasses on and a mask hoping to avoid any form of recognition, though she knew she'd be safe she wasn't as popular in South Korea most of her content was in English.

Chan was running through the airport trying to get to her gate, he had gotten caught up in something and completely lost track of time until Hyunjin yelled at him to get Ember, leaving the other four members a bit confused since they had no clue about the new situation. It had been a week since he dropped the news on his roommates, but all of them were so focused on making preparations that they completely forgot to inform the other four.

He eyed the figure in all black, not knowing for sure if it was her until he glanced at the sweatpants and noticed that they were his. He took off towards the woman and pulled her into the tightest hug he could muster. They spent a couple moments hugging and just taking in each other's presence until Chan pulled away and tilted her chin up to look at her throat, it was healing but not nearly as fast as he'd like, it was still a light purple color and the hand print was very much visible. He could see bruising on her arms too, it would've been covered by her shirt but the sleeves rode up with the movement from the hug.

"Let's get you home." He offered, grabbing her bag and wrapping his other arm around her shoulders to lead her.

—

"So he invited his childhood best friend to live with you guys and didn't tell us?" Jeongin gasped.

"I give it two weeks before feelings surface." Seungmin bluntly stated.

"You think he has feelings for her?" Changbin questioned not really having thought much on that since they were really just focusing on her situation.

"Oh 100%, I've seen the pictures of them he used to have set as his lock screen. The way he looked at her? It was like she had just produced his favorite song in front of him.” Hyunjin shared. The romantic inside him let loose as he smiled dreamily remembering the eyes the two shared in the picture.

Ember sighed as she finished hooking up the bits of her PC, Chan sitting on his bed not really knowing much about her computer to be able to help.

“So, how long are you staying?” Chan wondered as he watched his best friend begin making sure all of her systems worked properly.

“Probably a month, then my friends in the UK wanted me to go stay there, and then some in California invited me to stay with them after.” She explained, absentmindedly fiddling with the bracelet one of her online friends had given her.

“Do you actually know these people?” He asked a bit concerned but when Ember chuckled and nodded it made him feel a bit better.

“I flew out to California for a few events and interviews and met a good bit of them.” She was about to explain more in depth when her phone rang. She checked the name and almost laughed out loud at the irony.

“Hello ugly duckling.” She greeted in English, after answering the call.

“You jerk, you didn’t tell me you landed safely. My mom was blowing up my ear drums waiting for me to tell her you texted me.” Chan tilted his head at the unfamiliar voice filtering into the room.

“Tell her I’m sorry, after I got off the plane we grabbed some food and came back to set up my PC.”

“It’s okay Mi amor, I was just worried.” The warm Spanish voice now took over the call, making Ember squeal happily, “I miss you, you left me with my least favorite child.”

“Hey!”

“Oh I know he’s such horrible company.” The two teased the male a bit more before bidding each other farewells and the boy once again took over the call.

“You’re safe, right? Cause I swear I’ll fly my ass to South Korea right now.”

“I’m safe, I’ll text the group chat a bit with the rules. I can’t have anyone knowing where I am in case he tries to track me down again, I won’t put these guys in danger, so I need your help making sure it doesn’t get out.”

“No problem, I have to go, Mama just called for dinner. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay bye, I love you!”

“I love you too!”

The call ended and Chan watched his friend smile sadly at her phone for a moment before looking at him, he opened his arms letting her make her way between his legs and pulled her tightly to him.

“Which one was that?” he wondered, knowing that she had way too many friends for him to keep up with.

“Alex, He’s in Mexico with his parents for the week since it's his break from school.” She grinned, her mind being brought back to the incident where they had climbed trees together and she ended up getting hurt, so to cheer her up he ended up taking her back to that same tree and holding a mock trial.

“Ah the tree guy.” Chan chuckled, he remembered the story because he almost freaked out when he called her while she was in her hotel in California only for her to be cut up. Once he heard the whole story he felt content that she had someone looking after her and caring for her as much as he did.

“Yeaa the tree guy.” she chuckled at the name given to him.

Their peaceful moment was destroyed when they heard the front door open and lots of yells for Chan to stop hogging the woman. Ember pulled away from the embrace first, making Chan throw his arms around dramatically with a loud groan.

“Noooooo.” he had whined but Ember just laughed and took off out of his door until she hit the living room where the other 7 members stood around impatiently yelling.

“Hi!” she greeted filtering herself back to Korean.

“Oh my god she’s gorgeous.” Felix gasped out, eyes wide and jaw dropped as he took in her physique, she stood probably a couple inches taller than Chan, her skin tanned beautifully and her blue eyes contrasting her skin tone strikingly. Her body was fuller than most women in Korea, not in a bad way she was very fit, but her hips were wider and shoulders broader and pushed back to make her seem more confident. Even the boys who had caught a glimpse of her before were taken aback by the beauty in front of them.

“Hey! I’m Hyunjin but you met me on the phone!” The tallest of the group greeted being the first to snap out of his shock, Ember smiled brightly at the man making Felix and Chan, who had just arrived, almost melt.

“I’m Jisung and this is Changbin you met us too.” The tanner boy from the group greeted next, opting to hug her in greeting. They pulled away pretty quick and Felix was the next to approach, taking in her beauty carefully under the watchful eye of Chan.

“I’m Felix! I’m from Australia too!” The boy excitedly exclaimed, pulling her into a hug as well, though it might’ve just been an attempt to feel how soft her hair was if he was honest.

“Hi I’m Minho!”

“I’m Seungmin!”

“I’m Jeongin!”

The three voices tried talking over each other pushing each other around eliciting a throaty laugh from the girl.

“I know who everyone is, I will say though, Seungmin is my bias so if he doesn’t hug me I’m going to go cry.” She joked, earning sounds of protest from all of the other members except the boy who had tinted cheeks. The mischievous side in both of them sparkled as they took in the others discontent, and after sharing eye contact and a grin, the two ran at each other and quickly entered an embrace.

“My favorite person!” They both cooed at each other, acting really affectionate to make the others pout.

“No no no that's not allowed.” Chan uttered, grabbing the two and pulling them apart. “I’m her favorite person always.”

After the group settled down, Ember looked at the guys sympathetically.

“I know being here is going to be tough, but I seriously can not risk anyone finding out I’m here. I have only told a select few of my friends where I am right now, and when I go visit them next month it’ll have to continue being a secret. Nobody is allowed to know I have even left Australia until I go to California. It’s dangerous, Okay?” She explained making the ones who were unaware of the situation a bit confused but the others nodding understandingly.

“Can we ask what happened?” Seungmin was not really comfortable with having a dangerous situation so close.

“Hmm bad ex fiance and bad father.” She vaguely explained not wanting to go into details, some of which were obvious as the foundation she sprawled on her body with Chan’s help was beginning to wear off.

Chan comfortingly placed a hand on her back and the rest of the night was spent getting to know each other.

“Wilbah!” The Australian accent sounded through the call. The fluffy haired brunette excitedly began to bounce in his seat.

“Oooo Wilbur!” The other male in the call greeted, chatting as Wilbur’s smile only grew hearing from his two close friends.

“Quackity! Fire!” He chirped happily farming awes in chat.

-Stream Highlights-

“I don’t think we can manipulate, mansplain, malewife our way out of this one man.”Wilbur sighed as he watched the woman glaring at them through the video call that only the two could see.

“Manslaughter it is.” Quackity jumped rushing to kill the woman’s character, only to be easily killed since she was way more experienced.

–

“You’re ugly!” Quackity yelled after the two had thrown numerous insults back and forth at each other.

“At least I didn’t come up with a country that everyone hates after they join. Yes, attack on both of you.”

–

“Emmy!”

“Karl my husband how are you, my beloved?”

“Now now wait a second here, what about me?” Sapnap whined, he and Karl just joined and he got no attention.

“Sapnap My other beloved! Let’s all ditch Quackity and live happily ever after, one of you already forgot about him anyway.”

“WOAH! Hey!”

–

“I really don’t see how people go to casinos and spend thousands, if i even lost 5 dollars I’d be considering blowing the whole place up.” Purpled had commented, it was now his turn to spend time with Ember, everyone deciding to switch out throughout the day while she had the house to herself so she didn’t feel alone, and the two were simply talking about how stupid people could be.

–

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised.”

“Wasn’t Purpled with you?” Punz asked, taking in the destroyed world the group had made together to unwind.

“In my defense, I was ALSO left unsupervised.”

–

“If Tubbo and I were drowning, who would you save?” Tommy asks, trying to rebuild what Purpled and Ember broke after having locked her up in an obsidian jail.

“You guys can swim.” She grumbled but neither boy liked that answer.

“This is us trying to see who you love more with a hypothetical question.” Tubbo whined but Ember chuckled sadistically.

“I’d save my time and effort.”

–

“I have been working on this crossword all day, I need a five letter word for disappointment.” Alex or as the world knows him Technoblade sighed over the call.

“Tommy.”

The sound of Tommy joining the call made both of the adults stifle their laughter.

“HEY!”

“It fits.” Techno added playfully before kicking the new adult from the call.

–

“Are we flirting right now?” Ember cackled as Foolish attacked her in game.

“I’m literally stabbing you!”

“That does not answer my question, a man as beautiful as you is paying me attention.”

– END-

Ember exited the room hoping to get water after dealing with half of her friends in the past few hours, she nearly stumbled back when she saw Chan sitting on the couch working instead of at the studio.

“What are you doing so early?” she questioned after catching his attention and motioning for him to remove his headphones.

“Lee Know, Felix and Hyunjin are working with the choreographers, Seungmin and Jeongin stayed at their dorm today to rest and Changbin and Han are in their rooms, we have filming coming up so we’re trying to rest as much as possible.” He explained, accepting the water she passed to him.

“Ah well I’ll leave you to it.” She smiled, beginning to walk away but Chan grabbed her wrist and tugged her to sit next to him.

“Nope you’ve spent all day in front of your computer, both of us are going to take a break.” He grinned, pushing his laptop closed and to the side with one hand.

–

How the two went from being sprawled out on the couch cuddled up to having Changbin, Han, Seungmin and Jeongin all playing the floor is lava is a wonder.

“Oh god!” Chan gasped as he took in the sight of Seungmin and Ember standing on the counter back to back actively shoving Han and Changbin off of the stools and onto the floor, before cackling loudly.

“You guys know there can only be one winner right?” Han pouted not agreeing with the two teaming up, they were sure they’d be able to overpower them but Ember was strong.

Seungmin and Ember shared a look, before looking over at Jeongin and Chan who were hoisted up on the couch. The two grinned evilly as they devised a plan, Seungmin helped her get to the wall where there was a cutout in the wall, after making sure she got there safely he went back to silently intimidating the duo on the couch.

Jeongin didn’t even hesitate as he saw the woman skillfully avoiding the floor like she had never walked on it in her life, he threw himself off of the couch and ran to get out of the crossfire.

Chan was way too stubborn to lose yet again to her, so he held his ground, that is until she jumped from the coffee table onto him and knocked him to the ground. Despite his efforts to grab her and pull her with him, he fell alone, leaving himself sulking as the remaining three members entered the dorm with bags of food.

“What the?” Felix asked as he took in Ember and Seungmin glaring at each other from their raised positions, Chan sulking on the floor, Jeongin hiding behind Han, and Changbin eating a snack as he watched the battle.

“We’re playing, the floor is lava.” Chan explained, not happy with the events.

“Chan, I don't think you understand the rules of the game.”Hyunjin snickered as his leader glared at him.

Lee Know groaned, setting the food down on the coffee table before grabbing Ember off of the couch and onto his shoulder before going to the counter and grabbing Seungmin the same way. He set them both down, and then went to place the food on the counter.

“Way to ruin the fun,” Seungmin groaned, “What an old man.”

The last sentence made Lee Know simply hold Seungmin’s food over the trash can as a threat, making him yelp and go to grab it quickly.\

The group of nine sat around the living room to eat together, Ember seated between Seungmin and Chan, all of them picking off each other's plates.

The group observed the group silently, they hadn’t seen Chan acting as carefree as that in a long time. It was like Ember reignited the spark of life in his exhausted brain, he was no longer focusing on their needs like a lifeline, he felt free to be himself and relax. If there was one thing they were all sure of, they were going to do everything in their power to get her to stick around.

She really thought she’d have more time.

The only people who knew were Phil, Alex, Techno, Wilbur and Chan’s mother, so how on earth she came back from the gym with Jisung to see a giant blonde toddler on the doorstep was a mystery.

“Tommy?” Her accent broke through the silent hallway as Jisung eyed the stranger wearily.

“Ember!” the brit exclaimed, hopping up and rushing to hug her, she looked at him oddly but still hugged him tightly.

“What’re you doing here? How’d you know? Where’s Wil?” The questions flew out of her mouth, her eyes moving to check over his body to make sure he was 100% safe.

“Wilbur and the rest of Lovejoy are still in Brighton, I stole his phone because I was planning on pranking you but then i saw the messages about what happened, also something else happened and I kind of need you right now, so while everyone was trying to keep Ranboo, Tubbo, Freddie, Aimsey, Jack and Billzo from following me I ran.” Tommy proudly exclaimed, as Jisung opened the door to let the two in, Tommy clung to her arm as he listened to her lighthearted scolding about how stupid he was to come without being able to speak the language.

“How’d you get the address?” Jisung wondered, being aware that Ember hadn’t given it out to more than two people and it definitely was not the child in front of him.

“Well, after I called Wilbur and told him where I was he panicked and called Alex who by the way wants me to tell you that you better call him soon or he’s going to fly over here and jump your ass. Anyway, Alex sent me the address and I googled translated my way with a taxi before poof here I am.”

Ember took in the boy in front of her, noting the redness in his skin, and the anxious itching he was doing on his arm, not to mention his rambling trying to keep his mind from racing.

“What happened?”She asked firmly, gripping his arm and leading him to sit at the kitchen island where she gave him some water to help calm him.

Jisung, sensing the serious moment, ruffled Ember’s hair before heading off to shower.

“He’s hot.” was the last thing the man heard before he turned into the bathroom earning a boisterous laugh to erupt from his chest.

“Tommy…”

He sighed hearing the serious tone knowing he needed to come clean, he ran his fingers along the rim of the glass wishing he could just share the information easily.

“Phil and Will have been talking a lot, they were being really secretive. I thought at first that it was about you, but I caught a glimpse of it when I was on Wil’s phone. The blade is in the hospital again, his health is declining. The chemotherapy isn’t taking like it should.”Tommy explained quietly, fidgeting with anything he could to try and keep his mind from thinking more about the situation.

“Tommy don’t be ridiculous, he would've told me.'' She assured having faith that one of her bestfriends would have more respect than that but Tommy shook his head, fighting tears that had formed at her denial.

“It’s true.”

Indifference was an odd feeling, Ember was almost always sure of how she felt. She had become very self aware during her neglectful childhood, if nobody else would acknowledge her emotions, she would. However, for the first time in a long time she couldn’t place what she felt.

Anger, sadness, disbelief, betrayal, panic, and grief all hit her like a freight train, her body leaning forward on the counter to support her weight that seemed to way a ton to her knees at the moment.

She sat holding the blonde boy for hours as he cried into her arms in fear that he’d lose his friend before he got the chance to meet them, and she knew what she had to do. As soon as the boy fell asleep on the couch, where they had moved in order to be more comfortable, she grabbed her laptop off of the coffee table and began looking at flights. If Alexander was going to pass, he wasn’t going to be alone.

Chan, Hyunjin and Changbin walked into their dorm to find an unknown blonde boy talking to Jisung while Ember stood in the kitchen on the phone.

“Uh…Hello?” Chan greeted in English, making both guys look up at him.

“Oh wow!” Tommy gasped taking in the men’s beauty in front of him, he was far from gay but he’d happily appreciate the beauty of the men in front of him.

“Tommy! Stop checking out my friends!” Ember scolded from the kitchen before going back to her conversation.

“It doesn’t matter, okay? You should have told me. I shouldn’t have to learn from an 18 year old hopping on a plane and showing up at my friends house….Yea well apparently I wasn’t meant to know either. Screw you.” She argued frustrated , sending all the men into a panic since they didn’t want her to be angry. If she got angry Chan was sure to follow. Chan tentatively approached her as she hung up the phone and wrapped his arms around her from behind, placing tender kisses on the back of her head to calm her.

“What happened?” Chan asked worriedly, as the blonde teenager made his way over to her, actively declining the call to his phone.

“My friend from America has cancer and the chemo isn’t taking like we thought it would, apparently his dad reached out to Wilbur and Wilbur said he’d tell me but he and Phil were trying not to stress me out more with the situation. Tommy found out and hopped on a flight here after getting the address from Alex.” She said, turning to shove her face in her bestfriends chest.

“If it makes you feel better, everyone is kind of frustrated with him at the moment.” Tommy softly spoke which made Ember smile, he rarely spoke like that.

“I know, Alex has been texting me since I told him you got here safely.” She chuckled at her friend's antics.

“We’re going to make a quick trip to America. Tommy hasn’t met Techno in person yet and I really don’t want him to miss the opportunity.” Ember explained, pulling away from the embrace to look at Chan, sparing a quick glance at her new friends who were pouting at the information.

“Awe man, we just got you.”Changbin expressed, making Ember grin again.

“When is your flight? I can take you.”Chan offered but Ember shot him a disapproving look almost immediately.

“As much as I love you, dispatch follows you like a lost puppy, I still can’t risk it. Tommy coming here was risky enough.” She explained making Chan pout this time.

“You’re still going to come see us next month right? Even though you’re mad at Wil and Phil?” Tommy asked, suddenly remembering a serious point in this situation.

“Yes, My trip will line up for when Karl and Jimmy are going to be there for the soccer thingy, so Karl and I will fly to California together after where Sapnap and Alex will be waiting, I think Foolish and Punz will be there as well.” She grinned, really excited to see Alex.

“You have plans for when you get to California right?” Chan wondered making sure she was prepared.

“Of course! Alex said he’d let us stay the first night with him, then he’d drive us to San Fransisco so we can all see him for a bit.”

It did not take long at all for Chan to go back to his gloomy and exhausted self after Ember and Tommy flew off, the boys got annoyed very fast.

“Definietly less than two weeks.”Seungmin grumbled as he eyed the oldest working Han and Changbin pretty hard with the raps.

“Maybe his feelings never went away, I mean he saw her while he was here so it’s not like he was ever actually without her.” Hyunjin suggested as he swirled the straw around in his drink.

“It most definitely didn’t help that she gets along with all of us, he’s never brought a girl around that we all bonded with so well, even though she was only here a week.” Minho added as he continued typing updates to Ember who told him that he better keep her updated.

“How is she?” Felix asked as he watched the elder type away.

“She landed safely, apparently that tree guy showed up to the airport in a maid costume to cheer the two up.” He chuckled a bit as he showed the group the picture he got sent.

“She’s got some awesome friends.” Jeongin giggled as he lounged on the couch with his head in Seungmin’s lap.

“She really does.”

As soon as she stepped foot off of the plane the woman was scooped up into her bestfriends embrace, being held as if she’d turn around and leave again.

“Channie It’s okay.” she hummed into his ear, embracing him just as tightly.

“Nonono it’s not okay, you left. And I know you left for a good reason, but my heart would not calm down the entire time. I talked with the guys, they helped me realize why I was feeling this way and I-” he choked up as his nerves got the better of him.

“Chan love, if you’re gonna confess your undying love for me can you at least do it when we’re not in an airport.” She giggled, pulling away from Chan who had a pout on his face.

“Who blabbed?”

“Well first it was Seungmin, then Han, then Jeongin, honestly everyone except Minho probably.” She shrugged innocently as she leaned her face down a bit, glancing around before tugging her mask down and giving him a chaste peck.

“Wait, I wanted our first kiss to be a real one.” He whined as the woman pulled away and went to grab her bags.

“Maybe you’ll get a real one if you can confess without clamming up on me.” She teased, her walk turning into a job as Chan began to chase her, her giggles filtering into his ears like music, and boy was it his favorite symphony.

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