#billy washington x female

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Simple Joys

An 'It's Who We Have' Oneshot

Summary: after a few months, Billy ventures outside of London to feel somewhat normal, and brings her along for the ride | Word Count: 2k~ | Warnings: just fluffy

A/N: my boyf took me to goose fair to cheer me up and I couldn't help but think of my favourite pair 😭

When she thought of her life in London, the first word that came to mind was busy. Always busy. Rubbing shoulders with people everywhere you go, fighting for your life running around tourists and least of all the incessant beeps of rowdy taxis and weaving out the way of electric bikes.

So the first thing she thought when Billy said he wanted to take her up to Nottingham one cold October evening, she thought it might be the same.

And yes, while there was a certain hustle and bustle about the place, it was like a breath of fresh air. Billy had been uncharacteristically quiet since they left London, a small, secretive smile on his lips as he glanced around the familiar city centre.

With their hands linked, fingers intertwined, she caught him looking at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement. His hair pushed slightly to his forehead from the hat he was wearing to cover his ears from the chill. Equally, she was grateful for the thick scarf around her neck. The midlands was bitterly cold.

“What you looking so happy about, eh?”

Billy shrugged, his arm moving to casually drape over her shoulders. “Just excited to show you a bit of my world. You’re always dragging me to your fancy London spots, figured it’s my turn now.”

He leaned in close, his lips brushing her ear. “You ever heard of the Goose Fair?”

She furrowed her brows at him, half amused, “assuming there are no geese involved?”

Billy chuckled, his breath warm against her ear. "Not a single one, surprisingly," he said with a smirk. "Over 700 years, and not a goose in sight. But I promise, it’s a hell of a lot more fun than it sounds. Rides, games, all the dodgy fair food you can handle."

She grinned, shaking her head. "You really know how to sell it, Billy."

He walked in front of her, the Council House coming into view behind him as he walked backwards. He seemed so aloof that she couldn't help that warm fluttery feeling in her stomach. “Proper day out with the locals.”

She found herself smiling, excited not just for the fair, but for the chance to see this side of Billy, the carefree, playful part of him that rarely had a chance to surface.

As they approached the Goose Fair, the air thickened with the scents of sugary doughnuts, frying onions, and the rich aroma of caramelised popcorn. The sound of distant screams from the towering rides mixed with the low hum of chatter from families, couples, and groups of friends wandering the packed fairgrounds. Bright lights blinked from every direction, illuminating the sprawling rides, food stalls, and game booths, all surrounded by the hustle and bustle of one of the oldest fairs in the country.

Billy’s hand found hers, squeezing it gently as he pulled her through the crowds, using his body as a sort of meat shield. 

“First things first,” he beamed, his tone playful, “you’ve got to try the mushy peas.”

“I’m fairly certain I’ve tried mushy peas, Billy,” she laughed, raising an eyebrow. But she didn’t protest as Billy led her toward a food stall, handing over a few coins in exchange for a steaming polystyrene cup, thankful then for her thick gloves.

"You’ve got to have mushy peas," Billy said, holding out a forkful with a grin. "It’s a Goose Fair tradition."

She eyed the peas suspiciously, then sighed and took the bite, trusting his enthusiasm. As the taste hit her, her eyes widened in surprise, and she froze mid-chew. “It’s minty?!” 

Billy burst out laughing at her reaction, barely holding the fork steady. “You should see your face.”

She shook her head, still processing, blinking at him with amusement. “I was not prepared for that at all.”

"Hey," Billy said, feigning offence, "this is fine dining where I’m from. Just wait until I get you on one of the rides after all this. You'll be thanking me when you’re dizzy and full of carbs.”

She laughed it off at the time, but Billy was not joking. And as they stepped up to the dodgems, she realised she might’ve underestimated him.

The ride roared to life, and within seconds, Billy’s eyes gleamed with the mischievous focus of a man on a mission. He gripped the wheel, glancing at her with a wicked grin. "Hold on tight," he warned, just as they lurched forward.

She barely had time to register what was happening before Billy veered sharply, locking his sights on a pair of unsuspecting kids in a bright red car. He slammed their car from the side with a cackle, sending them spinning. “Got 'em!” he shouted triumphantly.

“Billy!” she gasped, wide-eyed and laughing at the same time. “You’re going after children!”

He only smirked in response, dodging another car and steering straight for a teenager who had been too cocky behind the wheel. “No mercy,” he muttered, tapping the accelerator.

She gripped the side of the car, laughing through her protests. “I thought you’d be... I don’t know, charmingly bad at this or something.”

It was so so nice to see Billy happy. Carefree. No furrowed brow or distant gaze, no shadow of the weight they'd been carrying for so long. Just him, fully in the moment, grinning like a kid between lovesick glances. For so long, they had been in survival mode. From that horrific day at Cranstead Fields to the fallout that followed, every step had been a fight to just stay afloat. But today… today, it felt like they were finally catching their breath.

It was strange to think it had only been that July it happened. It felt like a lifetime between then and now. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched him laugh, a thick swallow of emotion easing her shoulders, his whole body relaxed in a way that had been rare to see. He was healing. They were healing.

Her heart swelled at the sound of it, his laugh, unguarded and free.

It was here, she thought with amusement, that he had a competitive streak, something rarely seen in any of his interactions back in London. And she saw the twinkle in his eyes reignite as they stopped by a ring-toss game booth. “Right,” he said, rolling up his sleeves, “time to win you something.”

She shot him a sceptical look, arms crossed. “Billy, these games are rigged.”

He smirked, grabbing a ring with a confident twirl. “Maybe for the average bloke,” he said, winking at her.

His confidence was admirable, and the first few attempts were predictably off-target, much to her amusement. But Billy, determined not to be outdone, narrowed his eyes and focused, launching the final ring with precision. It sailed through the air and landed perfectly on the peg, causing the stall worker to give a resigned, tight-lipped smile.

“All right, mate,” the worker said, handing Billy a tiny plush toy shaped as a goose. “She’s yours.”

Billy turned to her, a wide grin spreading across his face as he held out the stuffed goose. “Told you I’d win something.”

As the night wound down, they found themselves standing in front of a massive ride, The Stargazer, a swinging chair ride that took riders high up into the sky, offering a breathtaking view of the fair and the city beyond.

“Up for one more ride before we call it a night?” he asked, already knowing her answer.

They strapped in a loveseat, and soon, the ride lifted them high into the cool evening sky. As they soared through the air, the fair spread out beneath them like a sea of twinkling lights, the city glowing softly in the distance. For a moment, it was just the two of them, floating above it all, the wind whipping through their hair.

Billy looked over at her as his hand slid around her waist, his heart swelling with something that felt both terrifying and exhilarating. The glow of the lights reflected in her eyes, and for a moment, everything else disappeared, the past, the chaos, the danger. It was just her, the night, and this feeling.

“I’m glad we came,” he said softly, his voice almost lost in the wind. “It’s nice, having something… normal.”

She smiled, leaning into him, her head resting on his shoulder. “Yeah, it is. We deserve this.”

He let the words settle between them, a quiet acknowledgment of everything they’d been through. Now, here they were, sharing something simple, something normal, like a ride under the stars. And somehow, that made it feel even more precious.

Billy pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “We do.”

They were drunk on the night, on each other, intoxicated by the simple joy of being together, of having survived so much and still finding this lightness in the world.

“I can’t believe you took me to a fair,” she murmured, glancing up at him with a soft smile. “It feels like a dream. And you! Driving like a maniac on the dodgems?”

Billy chuckled, his grip around her tightening as he kissed the top of her head. “Hmm…impressed though?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Yes, baby, consider me thoroughly impressed.”

The path they walked together slowly became quieter, pulling them into a quieter, more suburban part of town, where they'd be staying with Billy's Aunty and Uncle for the weekend.

“You think your Auntie Jean will still be awake?” she asked, stifling a yawn as they approached the house.

Billy grinned. “Oh, she’ll be waiting up. Probably with tea and biscuits, knowing her.”

Sure enough, as they approached the front door, a soft light flickered in the window, and the smell of something sweet drifted out from the house. For a short moment he refrained from knocking on the front door, and simply held her beneath the dim glow of the porch light.

With a quiet exhale, Billy reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, cold from the night but warming under his touch. Her breath hitched slightly as his thumb traced along her jawline, and she felt the warmth bloom in her chest, the kind that only he could stir.

It reminded her of the time he'd kissed her in Cranstead Fields that summery evening. Except this time, she doubted he tasted like WKD.

He gently tucked a strand of windblown hair behind her ear, his hand lingering as his thumb grazed her skin. Her cheeks tingled, not from the cold, but from the tenderness in his touch, the quiet love that had been growing between them for so long.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Billy’s voice was low, barely above a whisper, but the sincerity in his words hit her like a wave.

She felt her heart skip as she met his gaze, her hand sliding up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. How alive he felt. “Only when you look at me like that.”

Billy’s smile widened, and without a word, he leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to hers, their noses brushing. His breath mingled with hers, and for a moment, they stood there, wrapped in their quiet intimacy.

“I’m so lucky,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers as he spoke, the words carrying a weight that made her heart swell.

And then, softly, tenderly, he kissed her. It wasn’t rushed or urgent, but slow and full of all the hardship they’d carried through every moment, every challenge. It was a kiss that promised something real, something lasting.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads still resting together, both of them breathing softly, she smiled, her eyes sparkling with quiet joy.

“Let’s go inside. Get warm,” she whispered, though neither of them seemed in any rush.

Billy grinned, his thumb tracing her cheek one last time before he reached for the door. "Yeah," he said softly, still holding her close. “After you, baby.”

The warmth hit their bones instantly, and even past the incessant questions from Auntie Jean between offers of cups of tea and something to nibble on, she and Billy would meet eyes across the room, and it would still manage to make her blush the way he looked at her.

There was no need for words. This kind of love, friendship, everything, had no need for declarations. Just the simple, undeniable truth that they were meant to be here, together.

...

General Taglist; @1lluminaticonfirmed @aemondsfavouritebastard @all-for-aemond @bellstwd @blackswxnn

@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @cl-0-vr @eddieslut69

@emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @nixiefics

@primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @sheshellsseashells

[alicesivory]

The Moon Song

Inspired by the movie ‘her’ 2013 - directed by Spike Jonze 

Pairing: Billy Washington x female! Reader

Warning: smut, angst, and teeth rotting fluff (mdni), and not proof-read lol. 

WC: 7005 

Disclaimer: I am not comfortable using [y/n] but I won’t be using any OC since it’s still an x reader fic. But I’ll slip a nickname or two in some stories ;) Oh and I took some words and sentences from my favourite scene from the movie and the iconic monologue at the end but I revised it so it would fit into the story but all credits goes to Spike Jonze. Enjoy!

“War? You don’t got a clue- what do you know about war?! War against halal butchers? You don’t know anythin-.”

Billy nodded as tears started to build up in his eyes. Of course he knew nothing. It's as if anyone gave him a chance to know something. It’s meaningless at some point, he meant his life and all this bullshit about all of this charade. Just when he felt like a somebody, of course his sister had to crumble it all down.

Or just trying to make him snap out of it from this dreamlike state he’s in as his inner self tries to justify his actions. 

He didn’t mean to be like this in the first place or mingle with those thugs. 

He never did. 

“-grow up, Billy!”

He nodded once more as a tear dropped from his eye. 

“You done?”

“Yes, I am.”

Billy kept an eye on his sister as she stomped away from his room, and finally from his apartment. 

Slamming the door. 

Humiliation weighed over his shoulders as he hung his head low, running his fingers through his sandy blonde hair with frustration. It wasn’t supposed to end up this way. Not the way he wanted it to. Taking a deep sigh, he lets go of all of his tears letting them roll down from his cheeks. Sniffling and crying alone in his dark room. But just as wanted to just curl up in bed and cry ‘till exhaustion, he heard a knock from his apartment door. 

Wiping away his tears and snot, he stood up bravely and walked towards the door. It’s probably his sister, wanting to yell or lecture him about…literally anything, really. Nothing’s good enough for her or their parents. He sighs and opens the door with no hesitation without checking who it was. 

“Coming back for mo-.”

Oh, it wasn’t his sister. 

Her name rolled off his tongue easily like he was dying to say her name for months. She looked at him curiously as she stood there with an awkward thin smile. “I bumped into Lana and…she looks pretty pissed. Did I come at the wrong time?” she asked, pointing towards the apartment hallway. He quickly shook his head.

“N-no! Not at all. We just had an argument- you know how it is.” 

It has been…8 months and 2 weeks since he broke up with her (yes he has been counting) and 2 months since he last saw her. Their breakup was hard for him and sometimes Billy believed that their breakup was the one that caused his downward spiral. He had known her since they were in university, she was his friend before he slowly developed feelings for her. His train of thoughts were snapped away by her gasp. “What happened to your hand?”

He quickly hides it away behind his back.

“N-nothing! By the way, What’re you doing here?” He asked, not wanting to tell her the truth. What will she think of him? He can’t just dump his troubles into her. 

“I know this is silly, but I forgot to take some of my stuff,” she sighed in defeat, clearly letting him brush away the topic of his hand. Billy knew what she left and he didn’t even bother to tell her since he..well..just wanted her to maybe stop by or just kind of let it stay in his apartment to remember something of her. A piece of her, some sort.

“Yeah? What did you left?” He asked, acting dumb. 

“Some books and my brown watch. Have you seen them?”

“No, not at all. Come in.”

Three years ago. 

Laughter filled the apartment floor as his pale cream couch was being moved from the first floor to the third floor. He was at the bottom end while his sweetheart was trying to pull the couch up. “It’s getting heavy, love!” He teased as he tried so hard not to laugh seeing them fail over and over again to move their couch up to their apartment. 

What’s now his apartment, used to be their apartment. 

“Hold on! Oh dear Lord-,” she cackled as she took a step back up the stairs, lifting up the other edge of the couch. 

“Alright, now push!” She ordered as they finally succeeded to drag and carry the couch unison. It took them a while to finally make the couch fit through the doorway, but they managed. Back then, their apartment was still empty. No mess or dirty clothes scattering around the floor. It still smelled like paint. “Phew!” She said before crashing onto the couch. Billy follows along, putting his arm around her, letting her lean onto him. 

“Tired, sweetheart?” He teased.

“Terribly.” 

“Gosh I think the last time you were this tired was two nights ago when I fuc-,”

“Ew, no ew stop-,” she says with a giggle trying to get away from him but he won’t budge.

“And you told me to keep going! ‘Ah harder Billy! Harde-,”

“You are so disgusting!” She exclaimed as she covered his mouth with her palm, but he kept teasing her with his stupid dirty jokes. “Really? The last time you told me that was when I gave you backs-,”

“You are so infuriating!”

The only thing to make him shut up was tickles and her plan worked. When her fingers started to wiggle on his stomach, he burst out laughing like a mad man. “Stop! Stop!” He begged her. After one last tickle, she pulled away with a satisfied grin. “You’ll be the death of me, woman.” Billy placed his arm back around her shoulders and gave her a sweet peck on her lips. “I shall be,” she replied cockily, booping his nose. He smiled at her as he admired her features that he loved more than anything. 

He didn’t know he was able to love someone this much. 

“Can’t believe we have this place to ourselves,” he said softly to her, brushing a hair away from her face. She smiled back, “Can’t believe I’m doing this with you.” They both shared a sweet kiss where no one could disturb them or interrupt them. Ever.

“I uh…I applied for the military,” he informed her as they pulled away from their kiss. “Yeah? That’s amazing..,” she said supportively, brushing his hair with her gentle fingers. “Yeah..I wanted to try, y’know? Seeing Lana on field…I  want to be like her y’know? Brave…tough…,” he listed. 

“But you are.”

Her words made him scoff. 

“You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m your boyfriend. It’s biassed.”

“It’s still an opinion,” she said gently, still brushing his hair. Seeking her comfort, he leaned his head on her shoulder. “You think I can do this?” He asked with a hint of insecurity in his voice. “Of course you can,” she reassured him, giving him a gentle kiss on his head. 

Present day

They ramage through his apartment trying to collect all of her stuff. Piece by piece they collect the stuff she left in his apartment. “Alright we have the books…wuthering heights, pride and prejudice, little women, yada yada yada, and all I need is my brown watch. And it’s nowhere to be found- you sure you haven’t seen it anywhere?” She walked towards his gaming chair and sat on the pillowed chair while he sat on the cream coloured couch. 

Normally, he won’t let anyone sit there. Even Becky, or Lana. She was the only one he trusted to touch his possessions. He smiles as he listens to her babbling and talking. He hates to admit it, but he missed it. 

“Nope, not at all,” he lied. 

Sighing in defeat, she starts rocking the chair as she looks around the room they’re in. “How you’ve been, by the way?” Billy shrugs at her question, acting all casual even if his life was basically crumbling down. No job, shitty friends, commit a minor crime, his sister, parents, even current girlfriend hates him. “Just fine, really.” 

His answer made her smirk. “Well your hand says otherwise,” she says. Her witty answer made him chuckle. “What can I say? I’m a busy man.” He always liked how easy it is to talk to her. “What about you? You doin’ alright?” He asks, his tone gentle and eager to know if she’s been alright. 

“Well, yeah I’m alright. Ups and downs here and there, y’know?”

“Compared to me, you look like you’re doing amazing,” he compliments her, leaning in to take a good look at her even if they’re a little bit away from each other.

His compliment made her chuckle. 

It always does. 

“Thanks..,” she replies, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I’m serious though..you look amazing.” His tone genuine and full of meaning into it. 

She looked at him for a moment, trying to read him before nodding. 

“Well you look like you need a haircut and a shave.”

Her comment made him laugh. Genuinely laugh. It’s been awhile since he felt that much comfort in him. 

After a while, their laughter died down and a comfortable silence swept the room. “You seeing anyone?” she asked. He nodded, “Yeah, but it’s a bunch of crap. Her name’s Rebecca and I haven’t heard from her since last week.” She gave him a thin smile, both of them knowing that they don’t want to discuss that topic further. “And you?” 

“Been on a date or two but none of them worked out,” she shrugs. He nodded again, a little bit glad to hear that. “You happy with your new book?”

“You’ve read it?” She asks with a chuckle. “Well, I saw it in a book store last week and it looks pretty cool, I might have to buy a copy after this,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I mean sure I like how it is,” she says. But he saw how she pursues her lips with a pregnant pause coming from her. “But I feel like it’s true to what I set out to do. So I’m happy with that.”

“I swear, You’re your own worst critic, I’m sure it’s amazing. Even that paper you wrote on synaptic behavioral routines made me cry.” 

“Yeah, but everything makes you cry.”

“Everything you make makes me cry.”

A sense of familiarity washes between them. How easy it was to just talk like normal people would. Alice looked into his eyes for a moment before darting away and spots his injured knuckles once more. 

“No but seriously though, what happened?” She asks, pointing at his hand hesitantly. He looked down and felt heat coming up to his cheeks.

“I uh…it was an accident.” “What accident?”

“An accident that involved me and some glass shards.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

Why is she asking me all this shit?

“You don’t want to know.”

“I would love to know, actually.”

He looked at her for a while to sense any sort of hesitation in her words but the only thing he could find in her eyes was determination. It intimidates him. She could scoop anything from the bottom pits of his heart. 

“For fuck’s sake, Ismashedawindowatabutchersh-“

“What?!” 

“It was a fucking protest-“

“—What protest, Billy?! All I see is that you’re now doing property damage-,”

“—Am not!—”

“—Then what was that for? Why on earth would you smash a butcher shop’s window?!” 

Billy was silent.

Why did he do it?

“I..”

Did he actually believe all that bullshit? Or was he just tagging along with his buddies? To be…accepted?

“Everything I do is never enough for you, is it?”

His words created this thick tension in the room. Her brows crinkled as she took his word as an offense. “Why would you say that?” She asks, her voice cracking. “Because it’s the truth-.”

“No it isn’t,” she said, stern and true. “I always felt like you wished I could just be a happy, light. ‘everything’s great’, bouncy girlfriend who always puts a smile whenever you come home either happy or angry and I’m sorry but I can’t do that, I still have feelings too-.”

Billy winces at her words and shakes his head, “No I didn’t want that.”

“You avoid me and shut me out whenever I point out something wrong about you, or us- even when we argue you never wanted to listen!—“

“—No I don’t!—”

“—It’s like as if you can’t handle real emotions, Billy—,”

“—They are real emotions, how do you—,”

“—What? Say it! Am I really that scary, Billy? Say it- How do I know what?!” 

Silence hung in the air once more. They were both seeing red and they…she...he…realized how this argument was going nowhere. Billy saw how her gaze shifted, how her brow relaxed and her eyes slowly softening. Her once angry demeanour changed into what is now left with regret and embarrassment. Rubbing her arm, avoiding his gaze. God, did he really messed up this bad?

“I was gonna marry you, y’know?” 

He didn’t even realize that he said those words out loud, avoiding her gaze as his head hangs low once more. Not realizing how her eyes softened, looking at the man that she once loved and believed was the love of her life. Maybe he is still the one she loves- but he sees that as wishful thinking. 

“I’m sorry that came out of nowhere-,”

“—Billy, It’s okay-,”

“—But I mean it though, I…really want to marry you. Back then, after I’m finally in the military or something- but turns out none of that shit worked out, so…,” he says running his hands through his hair once again. His sentence hung in the air as he shut his mouth from talking any further. 

Billy’s birthday, last year. 

“You’re so infuriating..,” she giggled lowly as she laid on his bed, in his arms, tangled in bedsheets as the moon shone bright from the window. “Me? Infuriating? Is that a proper way to say to your birthday boy tonight?” Billy teasingly replied, leaning his head to hers letting his forehead rest on hers. 

She giggles again shifting her whole body close to him as she clutches the blankets close to her chest to keep her warm. “Jeez sorry, it’s not my fault that you keep giving bad activity ideas for your birthday. Like, seriously? Skydiving? You know I hate heights, you arse!” She slaps his chest, earning a cackle from him. “It was just a suggestion, love that’s all…,” Billy grunts as he cuddles her tightly. 

“Ugh you’re squishing me..,” she complained.

“Stop whining..,” he replied, giving her a sweet kiss on the neck. “It’s still my birthday tonight, I can hug you as tight as I can..,” he murmured sleepily. Alice chuckles and slightly shifts, facing up to him. “No but seriously though, what do you want to do tomorrow?” she seriously asked. 

“I don’t know, really…probably taking you out and the lads up for a few pints. Just the usual, love,” he said, rubbing her arm. “Just wanna spend some time with the people I love.” Giving her a sweet peck on the lips.

“Yeah? You gon’ give your mum and da a visit then?”

Billy groaned as he nuzzled his face on the crook of her neck. “Knew you’d say that.”

“Oh c’mon, love…it’s been a half a year since you saw them. One visit won’t hurt…,” she said gently, running her fingers through his hair. “Yeah one visit will end up my da making fun of me and seeing my mum’s disappointment up close,” Billy sarcastically chuckled. “I won’t let them,” she whispered closely to his ear. 

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Her response earned her a smile out of him. “What’d I do without you, sweetheart?” He asked sultry before he started to kiss her jaw…down to her neck as his big hands snaked her waist, holding her gently. “I think you’d do just fine,” she answered with a sensual sigh. Billy smiled, nuzzling her cheek with his nose before capturing her lips with his. 

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him back with a low hum, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as they explored each other's mouths. Billy took his time as he slipped his boxers down and placed them somewhere in the bed. “Mm…y’know I love you right?” He asked in between kisses as he pinned her down to bed, hovering over her. “I know,” she said. His kisses trailed down from her lips, her jaw, her neck, down to her chest. Gently squeezing and caressing one of her breast while his mouth nipped and sucked the other carefully. He’d then squeeze one to make her nipples perk so he could kiss it and suck it better, leaving wet trails down to her tummy and finally finding his treasure.

Gently spreading her legs, he could see that her white cotton panties had already left a dark wet patch on it. A smile tugging at his lips and he gently nuzzled his nose on her clothed sex. “Already all wet for me, babe?” He asked, placing a sweet kiss onto it before pulling down her panties in one swift motion as if he’d done this a thousand times already.

“C’mon…where’s my sweet darling..ah there she is…,” he muttered to himself. Without a warning he kitten licked her whole sex making her gasp in pleasure. Smirking smugly up at her, he continued to tease and lick her pussy before managing to eat her out properly. Hungrily munching on her like a starved man. He rubbed her clit gently in a circle motion as he stretched her hole with his tongue, fucking her with it. 

This motion made her squirm and gasp, her brows crinkling feeling the intense pleasure that she couldn’t get enough of even if he’d done this to her more than she could count. “M gonna put a finger in, yeah?” His voice said in a reassuring and gentle tone. She nodded with no hesitation and just as she knew it, she felt his finger slipping into her. One finger then became two fingers, slipping in and out of her dripping hole as he licked her clit making her cry in pleasure. 

He took his time to help her find pleasure. He could die between her legs and he’d be happy. He groaned in delight as he licked all of her juices when his fingers pulled out of her weeping hole. He couldn’t get enough of her as he licked off her juices before he had to pull away and looked up to her. 

“W-wha- why did you stopped?” she asked. He hovers over her once more, “Need you inside of me.” Needily nuzzling his nose to her neck, sucking onto her. He then felt his body shift as now he has is back on the bed as she sits on top of him like a queen on her throne. Straddling him, he could see all of her. Caressing her sides, he saw how she looks down and groped the base of his shaft, giving it a few strokes. 

“You okay with this?” She asked.

“Mmhm…y-yeah- fuck yeah,” he couldn’t even speak properly, blinded with pleasure.

Then he felt her lining up their sexes, his cock leaking with pre-cum as she teasingly rubs the outside lining of her pussy with it. “Don’t tease-fuck!” Before he could even finish his sentence, she slips his cock in making both of them gasp in unison. “F-fuck, Billy…,” she moaned, adjusting to him. She loved how he felt inside her. Not too overwhelmingly big or small, to her it’s the right size and girth. 

“You’re made for me,” he grunted as he needily thrust up begging for any movement or friction. Billy saw how she looked at him, eyes full of lust and love as she started to move up and down and rocking him as they adjust to their pleasure.

“Billy?” she called out to him as she thrust into him, her body full of sweat. “Y-yeah?” Holding her hips with his big calloused hands. “Wake up.”

“W-what?”

“I said wake up.”

Present day, Billy’s birthday. 

The sun started to rise, but only tiny streaks of sun rays managed to peek through the blinds. Billy opened his eyes, finding his room empty, finding his bed empty. 

Fuck, he just had another wet dream of her.

He looked down, finding a dark wet spot on his pants. Of course he did. His phone kept buzzing beside his bed, probably some ‘happy birthday’ notifications from his mum, dad, and sister. Becky didn’t even bother to send him a ‘i’m leaving you’ text. Ghosted and gave up on him. 

Like the others do. 

He sighs, getting up from bed and throws a shirt on himself and changes his shorts before finally picking up his phone. Then he saw it. A notification with her name on it. It’s been months since he last saw a notification from her. What is she going to say? Should he open it now? Maybe later- oh fuck it!

Hi Billy how you’ve been? I just want to say happy birthday here and hope you have a great birthday this year🎂 Sorry for the other day, I really didn’t mean a lot of those things, just wanted to see how you’ve been.

I know it’s been 10 months since we broke up and I know you probably don’t want me in your life again but I really just want to say that I wish you nothing but the best things in life. We’ve gone through a long way, we grew up together and all that shit and I just can’t act as if you don’t exist in my life. You always do in some way and I hope that’s okay. 

Have a great birthday Bil.

That text was the last straw for him. He looked around his no-good apartment, in the back of his mind he remembered everything he’d shared with her in every corner of this apartment. It drives him insane how he can’t have that now. But God he’d take it all back and do better for her. Reading her text, knowing how much of a shitty person he is, and she could’ve ghosted him and never talk to him ever again yet she decided to acknowledge him as a person. Not wanting to cut him out of her life, even he himself wouldn’t do the same thing if he was her. It drove him off. 

He hates the way he projects himself. But it is how he is.He hates everything in his life. It’s insufferable and suffocating in his own flat. He didn’t ask to live like this, but he knew the only person he could blame was him. 

Not his family, 

Not his friends, 

And definitely not her. 

He couldn’t stay in his place any longer but as he was about to just grab his stuff and leave the place, there was a heavy knocking on his apartment door.

-

Life went on for a while that summer. He jogged to his car and placed his phone on the phone holder. He opens his phone, checking if he has any texts to answer before he starts driving. He sighs as he spots her name again when he opens his messaging app. He has read her text but he hasn’t replied to her. Opening her chatbox, he realized that there were also a few things he’d like to say to her. Tapping his heel and his leg bouncing anxiously, he contemplates whether or not he should reply to her or leave it be. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered. 

Pressing down the voice message icon, he starts to speak,

“Hey uh…hey love, thanks for the uhm message, I appreciated it r- fuck why do I sound so nervous?” Billy presses the stop button and deletes it. He clears his throat, “Hey uh, I got the birthday message, I really appreciated it, ta. I’ve been doing better…thanks for asking.” He said as he starts to drive his car. 

“Listen, I…I’ve been sittin’ and thinkin’ about all the things I wanted to apologize to you. All the shit and…pain we caused each other and everything I put on you, like how you think I needed you to be or needed you to say, and I’m sorry for that..really. I think I’m just doin’ that because I want to be better for you,  even until now.  And you know what, you helped make the best versions of me. We grew up together and there’ll be a piece of you in me too, always. Whatever we are in the future, and wherever you are in the world I just want you to know that I’ll always look for you and…I…,” he paused. 

I love you and I’ve never stopped loving you. 

“...I hope you have a great day too. Bye.”

Taking all of his courage, he presses the send button. 

Letting out a big sigh, he leans back onto his seat and tries to drive peacefully. 

Maybe a gum will help him calm down. 

A year ago. 

Billy remembered it like it was yesterday. It was late at night and Billy was watching something off the old Telly. He had a terrible day. After he failed to get into the military, he tried applying for high end jobs but it didn’t work out. Did another interview today and he just knew he’s gonna flunk it. The next thing he knows he’ll get an email saying that they’re sorry and all that bullshit. He sighed, leaning his head back on the couch. 

“Billy?” She called out from the doorway. 

“Hm?”

“How was the interview?” 

“Horrible,” he grunted. 

“You don’t know that-,”

“-They laughed at me,” he snapped his head towards her to the point it sets her off. “I-I didn’t kno-,” “Of course you don’t.” He cuts her off once again before getting up from his couch, brushing her off as he passed through her. “Fine,” she muttered and went to the bedroom. “Can you just be supportive for once?” Billy snapped again as he threw his beer bottle to the trash bin. “Just for once, be supportive of me?” He emphasized, with a hint of sarcasm, bitterness and frustration. “Supportive? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing all these years, Billy?” She replied, taking his words to an offence. 

“Oh really? Well I don’t think you’ve been supporting me, more like nagging at everything I do!”

“Criticising isn’t nagging, Billy!” 

“You call that criticising? Critics are supposed to help me be better not bringing me down!”

“I wasn’t bringing you down, Billy! I was just saying the truth! Your CV was weak you didn’t put your best qualities that should’ve been the key point-,”

“--Just stop! Stop it, you’re such a know it all, aren’t you?--”

“--Me? Ha! I’m not the one who can’t accept criticism! Who can’t accept real emotions–”

“--Oh fuck you! Atleast I’m not the one who got rejected by 10 publishers just because the book you’re writing is complete rubbish!”

Her eyes widened. As much as they like to argue, Billy will never dare to say anything about her work- most of all, her book. Billy’s rage died down as he realized what he just said. He crossed the line. He fucked up. He saw how her lips slightly trembled as she wanted to speak. 

She nodded as tears built up in her eyes. “So that’s how it’s gonna be?-”

“--No, fuck- babe I didn’t mean that I’m sorry–,”

“--No, it’s fine–,”

He gently walked towards her and tried to keep her from going away from him. Trapping her in a gentle embrace. “--No, it’s not fine…I’m sorry..I didn’t mean any of that…I messed up I’m sorry,” he apologized over and over again. Placing gentle kisses onto her head. His heart sank when he heard her sniffles. Gently stroking her hair, he murmured his apology to her showering her with kisses to make it all better. “Why are we like this?” She asked in a small tone. “Like what?”

“We keep hurting each other.”

Billy’s thoughts were suddenly snapped when a notification enters his phone 

Lana: Mate, I’m with Becky. She came to mine looking for you. Call me NOW. 

Becky? Why did she came to Lana looking for him?

That doesn’t makes any sense. 

Billy brushed it off and probably thought that Becky’s there to call him off or take her stuff from his flat or something. So he clicks on Lana’s contact number and dials her after constantly ignoring her. 

“Billy!”

“Can you put Becky on?” “Where are ya? Ya sound like you’re drivin’,”

“Yeah was drivin’ to meet my mates, why? Let me speak to Becky.”

“What mates? Anyone I know?”

“Just mates, Lana.” Billy says as he takes a turn on the road. “Why, what’s going off?”

“Listen, Billy I’m not with Becky- I just needed you to call me.” Billy furrowed his brows as he listened to his sister speak on the phone. 

“What?- What do you mean you’re not with Becky?- What do you mean- what- why?”

“I need to talk to ya. You’ve not been answering my calls. You’ve not been about-wh-where are you driving to?

Suddenly his car bumped into some people who were doing some protests. Flipping him off for bumping into them. “Billy? Billy- Where exactly are you?” Lana asks again. Billy flips a protestor on his side bumping into his car. “Farringdon Tube Station,” he answered Lana, annoyed. 

“Listen, Billy, it’s important, what are you doing at Farringdon Station?”

“I was meant to meet the lads but they’re not here. Outside the tube he said, but I can’t see them. Just a load of lefty wankers.”

“Billy, why did you drive, was that your idea?”

“Nah, my mates asked me to give some of the lads a lift down. Must be some kind of joke.” 

Billy looked around not finding any signs of those so called lads. Shit, he got set up. A joke, like people would see him as. Fuck. 

“Yeah they’ve set me up, haven’t they? Havin’ a laugh, aren’t they? Knobheads,” he says with a disappointed demeanor that even Lana could detect. 

“Billy, these new mates of yours, they’re not who you think they are.”

“Lana, what you on about?”

“Nick. Nick Roberts, he’s a…he’s a terrorist. One of the Crusaders that killed Nut.”

In a flash, he finds himself in the middle of Cranstead Fields with a fucking bomb inside of his car. He could hear his heart beating rapidly, his ears ringing as it mutes everyone and everything around him. From many different scenarios in his head, Billy didn’t think he’d die like this. Trapped in a car in the middle of Cranstead Fields with a ticking bomb that’s about to go off at any minute by now. His breath ragged and unstable as he kept an eye on the timer. Swallowing a lump on his throat, he looked up to his rearview mirror. “Oh no..,” he pants to himself. Scared to death, really. He wondered if he’s ever going to survive this. Maybe he should’ve chosen better shit in his life and maybe he won’t get blown off by a fucking bomb latched onto those terrorists. If only he chose better friends, listened to his sister, he’d be at home patching things up. If he was any good maybe he’d be watching some old telly show with her. 

Fuck, he didn’t even said goodbye. 

He hasn't told his mum and dad how sorry he was for being a mop, and for everything he did. 

“Billy! I’m here! Alright it’s gonna be fine! Just stay really still for me, I'm gonna have a look around the car.”,“Yeah you gotta do something about this,” he pants, glancing at the timer that’s still ticking. “About three minutes, yeah?” Three minutes and twenty five seconds. Twenty four, twenty three..shit! He hasn't read her new book. Lana tried to take a look at the bomb as well through the window with a worried and nervous expression. But when Billy faced her again, she tried to put on a brave face for her brother. “Okay stay still, I’m gonna go have a look- Don’t touch anything, I’m just gonna check the car okay?”

“Y-yeah, yeah…just-just hurry!”

11 months ago.

Billy leaned onto the hood of his car as the night breeze swept through him. One hand on his jacket pocket, and the other holding a fag as he took a drag out of it letting out a puff of smoke into the air. Looking down at his phone, he saw that it’s 7:00 pm sharp. She should be home from work by now. He sighs, flicking the cigarette down to the ground before stubbing it as he walks to the building. After going through security, he saw his sweetheart talking to the receptionist at the lobby as she had her bag on her shoulder. After finishing her chat with the receptionist she turned around and spotted him immediately. A smile plastered on her face. 

“Heya Billy…,” she greeted with a smile, hugging him with her arms around his neck. He kisses her cheek and neck intimately. “Hiya, love.” As they pull away from the hug, he has his arm around her waist leading her out of the building. “How’s work?” He asked as they walked towards his car together. “Same old, same old,” she shrugged. 

“And…how’s your book going?” His question made her giggle and grins in excitement. “I just got an email that..they’re actually going to publish my book!” She cheers. “Told ya they’d love it,” he said to her smugly, giving her a kiss on the head. “I was so scared and nervous though…but I guess I just needed to take a deep breath with it all,” she said, opening the passenger door. “Yeah, you actually do need to do that,” he said with a pregnant pause. He kept his eye on her as she fastened her seatbelt. 

“Hey, babe?”

“Hm?”

He gently strokes her hair. “Look, I just wanted to say sorry about that night. I was a big dick to you that night, didn’t know what came over me…,” he said carefully to her. “It’s fine–,”

“Don’t say that it’s fine, bub. It’s not. It was stupid and fucked up for me to say about your book. Those 10 publishers who rejected your book were also stupid. I think everything you write is amazing. Can’t wait for the next one.” He kissed the back of her hand, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. “You forgive me?” He asked. Billy saw a smile creeping on her face, “I’ll forgive you. If you promise you’d buy a copy of my book everytime I release one.” 

“Easy, I’d buy Five.”

“Five, huh? I’ll keep your promise, Washington.”

He chuckled, giving a kiss on her temple. 

“Promise, love.”

Present day, Cranstead Fields. 

What felt like an eternity of Lana checking the bloody car, he gripped his steering wheel while glancing at the timer once more. Two minutes and fifty three seconds. Fifty two…fifty one…his heartbeat was banging like a drum inside of his chest. Breathing in, breathing out. Lana looked at the timer and the bomb through the passenger seat’s window, trying to find a solution and just..anything! To turn that stupid bomb off. But her expression wasn’t that convincing. It scared him. 

“How bad is it?” He had to ask Lana. 

Lana could only look back at him with a nervous smile. “It’s fine,” she lied. 

“I can tell when you’re lying, man! So how bad is it?!” He asked again. 

He kept screaming his sister’s name as she went away for awhile- but she can’t just  leave him, he needed his sister. Screaming out Lana’s name like a mad man, his face gone red as he cried inside his car. He does not want to die. He swore it felt like hours inside that stupid car. From the rearview mirror he saw Lana running back to him. “Billy! Listen to me! LISTEN TO ME! LOOK AT ME, YEAH? The timer means nothing! They put it there as a trick so you’ll open the door–,”

“--please–,”

“--Can you hear me?!”

“...please,” he begged again.

“Don’t touch it! Stay still! It’s gonna be fine.”

“Oh fuck,” His head hangs low as he realized that there’s no way out of this situation. 

“Listen to me, I’m your sister, okay?!”

She’s his sister.

“You need to trust me, I’m gonna go and get some stuff–,”

“--Lana please, don’t go–,”

“--You gotta trust me! It’s gonna be fine.”

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he nodded. Okay. It’s gonna be fine. It is. It is. 

He resisted the temptation and fear of opening the door. But when the timer ran out, it freaked him out. But everything was silent, no explosion or anything going off. There he realized that Lana was right. It was a trick. Okay- fuck. He has to stay focused right now. Watching from the rearview mirror once more, he saw Lana’s team hurriedly bringing their tools. 

“Alright Billy, we’re gonna just take off the rear window so you could crawl out, yeah? Stay. Still,” Lana reminded him calmly. She takes a glance at the bomb once more, giving him a thin reassuring smile. “See? It’s gonna be fine. Don’t touch anything.” Billy nodded at her words even if he was internally screaming. Slowly, he saw how her team plucked out his rear window. “Okay Billy, just slowly crawl right out. We got you,” Hass says, reaching out his arms to pull Billy out. Billy nodded and carefully crawled from the front seat, avoiding the shift gear or anything really! Not wanting to trigger the bomb. As he reached the backseat, the timer of the bomb went on again. 

“Shit!” Billy screamed, hastily scrambling out of the car. He lets his sister and Hass pull him out taking his arms. “Get me out of here!” He screamed as they all grunted, pulling him out of the car. Billy landed on the ground with a thud and the team ran from the car as the timer counted down from five.

“Fuck, ma ankle!” Billy winced as he rubbed his ankle that got twisted after he got out from the car to the ground. 

Four…

“Billy!” Lana screamed from afar. 

Three…

“Shit shit shit shit.”

Two…

Billy tried to walk as fast as he could, away from the car. 

One. 

-

Billy didn’t explode in the car, but his ankle got twisted and his leg was burned from the sparks of the explosion. Laying down on the hospital bed after consulting with medical staff in the ER, Lana accompanied him throughout the day. Not leaving his side. Even his parents came to check up on him. His mum was crying, thinking that he died or something. It made his heart warm by the fact that he had a second chance with his family. His dad hugged him for the first time in years which was also surprising. But, he liked that surprise. 

“Miss, you’re not supposed to go in there-,” he heard one of the nurses said from outside. What kind of commotion is happeni-.

And there she was. 

Panting like as if she was just running a marathon, she stood there by the ER doorway. Then she saw him. “Billy!” she sighs in relief before instantly running to him. Billy couldn’t believe it as they both embraced each other. She hugs his head close to her chest, her heart beating rapidly. 

“H-how did you-,”

“--Lana called me,” she says with a relieved smile, running her delicate fingers through his hair. Billy turns to look at Lana and saw Lana sipping her coffee with a mischievous smile that says; ‘Thank me later’ all over her face. He gave his sister a nod before turning back up to her. 

“Are you okay?” She aks, concerningly. “Never better, love.”

He was done with being afraid. Done being a coward. 

In her embrace, he pecks her lips. 

Even though she was quite surprised, he earned nothing but a smile from his sweetheart. 

“I’d say yes, y’know?”

“About what?”

“If you still want to marry me.” 

Billy smiles to her. Guess he gotta save up then.

A/N: I SWEARRRR this fic took me so long to complete cuz it’s so overwhelming to write especially the Cranstead Fields scene- I had to go back and forth on youtube to keep the dialogues and description right꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱. But anw, thank you so much for reading until the end! I hope you guys enjoyed it and I still had so much fun writing this fic. I hope this fic makes sense, cuz I really wanted to keep it as accurate as possible with ‘Trigger Point’ in the first place(゜▽゜;). I’m up for requests for any Ewan characters and if you want me to write something in the future or you have ANY fic ideas, don’t hesitate to hmu! My inbox is open :D THANK YOUU!!! 

P.S, I would like to give a little shoutout to @/targaryenrealnessdarling and the Cranstead Fields scene was also inspired by their Billy Washington series fic called “It’s Who We Have” so please check their blog as well they wrote so many amazing fics. 

That’s all! Love, Alice!ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

Tags🎀: @ladytargg @anukulee @michaelsgavey @whencokewascasual @fan-goddess

[helaelaemond]

For your Kinktober, may I please request Billy fucking his ex-girlfriend? They see each other again somewhere (maybe a party with mutual friends). Clothed sex, some dry humping if possible, Billy being possessive. You can make this dark if you want. Thank you, ily ♡

HELAELAEMOND'S KINKTOBER

Pairing:  Billy Washington x ex girlfriend!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Summary: it's the first time you've seen Billy since you've been back in the UK. It's an old friend's engagement party, and the love of your life - the one you lost - is there.

Part of It's All For You Billy!verse - reader and Billy were childhood friends, and on the cusp of adulthood, they took their friendship to a deep and meaningful love. However, as the years went by, reader tried harder and harder to build a better life despite life pushing back, whilst Billy let it overwhelm him. Despite their good relationship, reader wanted more from life than what he could offer, and she took a job overseas that he couldn't follow her to. In the years apart, he found Becky, and things got worse. Much worse. Cransted happened two years ago now, and reader is back in London, ready to continue her better life.

Dry humping, breast worship/nipple play, praise, penetrative sex

Content warning(s): infidelity, rough sex, choking, spitting, dubcon elements, angst

KINK CATEGORIES: Infidelity, clothed sex, possessiveness

Rating: E

Masterlist

"Hey, here she is!"

You laugh in delight as the front door is opened by your old friend Tommy, and he throws his arms around you. "Alright, mate?"

"God, you're a sight for sore eyes! Come on in! Party's started!"

You remember this house. It's where your afterprom happened, ten years ago now. In the front room is where Billy kissed you for the first time. Tommy used to live here with his parents, but they sold it to him a few years ago for a steal, and so it's here that his engagement party is happening. How so much can change. How so much stays the same.

His girlfriend - no, fiancée - is one of your old friends, too, and Sofia greets you. She remarks on how much the Balearics have agreed with you and you laugh at the praise. You hand her the bottle of prosecco you've come armed with and she thanks you cheerful. Together, you go to the kitchen and begin pouring it into plastic flutes. She tasks you with passing them round the guests, many of whom you know from back in the day, and you do it happily.

It's been years since you've seen most of them, but here in this house, in this time of joy, it feels like no time has passed at all. All the faces blur into one after a while. It's nice, but it's also a little overwhelming. Thankfully, most people are gathered in the kitchen and garden, and you slip into the front room for a moment of solitude. Without looking, you close the door and press your forehead against it to take in a deep breath.

"Oh. Um. Hi."

You freeze.

It's him.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Swallowing, you turn around and plaster a stiff smile on your face. "Billy! Hi!"

There's a can of Stella in his hands and he's doing his best to appear relaxed on the sofa, but the way that he taps the top of it gives him away. "How's it going?"

You could die right there, you really could. After everything, he's asking... how it's going? "It's good, it's good!" The sweetness in your voice is sticky. "Just got back, so it's kind of crazy, moving into a new place, you know, but it's exciting!"

"Hmm." He lifts his eyebrows as he nods slightly. "Yeah, heard you were back. Mum told me you stopped by hers looking for me."

You grit your teeth. Hopefully, your smile doesn't turn to a grimace. "I didn't know where else to look. And as you blocked me on everything, there wasn't much else I could do."

"You didn't have to look for me."

"I can go, if my presence is really bothering you." This is not the Billy that you missed - bitter, miserable. This is the one you tried to stop him from becoming. Maybe the old Billy is in there somewhere, but...

"Wait!" Your hand is on the doorknob when he stands up suddenly. "No, don't. I'm sorry. I just... it's a bit much."

"I didn't know you were in here, I swear," you reply softly. "I just needed a moment to myself."

He nods in understanding. "Sit with me. I won't be a dick, I promise."

"Don't make a promise you can't keep." But your words are kinder now, the grimace gone. You sit down on the sofa together, and he offers you his can. You take a grateful sip from it. It's bitter. You haven't had a Stella since you left him. God, the taste makes a whole world rush back. The tears in your eyes are sudden and stinging; you blink them away as best you can.

"I regretted it for a long time, you know?"

"What did you regret, Billy?"

His head is against the back of the sofa and his eyes are closed. The slope of his throat is smooth, the line of his Adam's apple so familiar. Memories of kissing him there flood your mind, making it hard to concentrate. His hair is the same as it always was, dusky blond and soft, flopping over his forehead. How sweet he used to sound when you pulled it.

"Not trying harder for you."

"Oh, Billy-"

"I shouldn't have let you go."

"It's all in the past now."

Licking his lips, he looks over at you. "Is it?"

You nod sadly. "Too much has happened."

"Like what?" And then, he takes the beer from your hand and puts it on the floor, and his knuckles brush your thigh. "Looking at you now feels like before."

You stand up as anger rises in you, sadness, too. "It's a memory you want, not a future."

"No, it's not."

"I know you, Billy. You want something that's easy, and memories are easier than reality."

"Don't be like that."

You face him, standing in front of him, and any softness has left you now. "I know about Becky, Billy. I know about it all."

He looks down. He's not wearing a ring. "I don't wanna talk about that."

The thin grasp on your emotions breaks. "I waited for you! When I left you, I told you that one day, I'd come back, and until then, I'd wait for you! That I'd build a life for myself that you can be a part of if you waited for me, too! And you didn't wait!"

"I wanted to. But-"

"But what?"

"How could I have believed someone better wouldn't come along?"

You blink and straighten up. "You wanted someone better?"

"No!" he says in alarm. "No, I mean someone better for you! God, I mean, look at you! You're... you're everything, and I'm just... just-"

"You were everything to me, Billy. And I waited, I fucking waited. There's been no one since you, not even a date. And yet I come back home after building the life I promised you, to find that you're married and with a kid!"

His eyes are getting red. He licks his lips and nods almost nervously. "Yeah, I'm married. To a woman I don't love, with a kid that's gonna grow up to hate me."

"Is that supposed to make me pity you?"

"I don't need anyone's pity, least of all yours."

With his words ringing in your ears, you turn on your heel and storm out of the room, slamming the door behind you. He kissed you for the first time in that room. It's not the first time he's broken your heart, though.

Sofia catches you on her way to the loo, and sees the anger in your face. She drags you upstairs into her bedroom, and you tell her about Billy. She comforts you, reassuring you that yes, this is her engagement party, but you're her friend, and she doesn't mind that you need her now.

When Billy appears in the doorway, she stands in front of you protectively. Assuring her it's alright, she reluctantly leaves you to it.

"But if you make her cry," she warns on her way out, "I will castrate you, William."

The use of his proper name makes you smile faintly. But then his gaze is on you and you're alone again, and he locks the door and it makes you shiver.

He locks the door.

He locks the door.

"What more is there possibly to say?" you ask defensively.

"I need you to understand."

"Understand what?"

This time, it's you that's sitting and him who's looming over you. He's so fucking tall, it could kill you. He used to be so heavy atop you, and you used to wonder if he would crush you. What a way to go, you used to think.

"What happened with Becky."

"Why do you want me to understand?"

He looks at you darkly. "You know."

And you do. It sends a thrill through you. "Then talk."

"The day you left, it's like... it's like something died. I knew you'd have this great life, and I'd never be a part of it again, and that killed me. Do you get that? You were the best part of me, and you left."

"I told you I'd come-"

He holds up his hand to silence you, and you hate how easily it works. His hand is so big. It used to wrap so easily around your throat. You swallow.

"So I fucked my way through the next year to forget you. And you know what? Every single girl I got drunk enough to fuck turned into you. I don't know how many of them heard me say your name. Every single one of them had the same colour hair as you, so when I took them from behind, I could imagine you."

It should make you sick. It's warped, but it makes heat bolt between your legs.

"Then Becky came along. Opposite of you. She looks nothing like you, acts nothing like you, too. We hated each other, but loved each other, too. You and me, we... we were stable. Steady. Becky offered something different. We shouldn't have stayed together, and we broke up for a bit, but then... Cransted."

"You don't have to talk about that." Your voice is softer now. "Your mum told me everything."

"No, no, it's good for me to talk about. That's what Lana says. And my therapist." He takes in a deep breath and continues. "I wasn't ready to die. And in that car, so many thoughts were running through my head. Of course, you were one of them."

You look down at your hands in your lap. What can you possibly say to that?

"Me and Becky got married a month after that. I didn't know what else to do with myself, and we were both fucking scared. We weren't careful and she got pregnant."

"You always wanted to be a dad."

"With the right woman, yeah." He sinks to his knees in front of you, and it's impossible not to notice his dark expression.

'You shouldn't talk like that. She's your wife."

"I wish she wasn't."

He rests his forheead on your bare knee. He pushes the skirt of your dress up. It makes your thighs tense. "Don't."

"I'll do whatever I want."

You stand up angrily. You'll leave him here just like you did in the living room, you don't care-

Before you can unlock the door, Billy presses you against it, his face inches from yours. "You didn't want anyone else but me, did you?"

"That's over now."

"No, it's not." He presses his knee between your thighs and you try not to shiver at the pressure.

"Let me go, Billy!" You hit his chest and try to push him away, but he catches your wrists and pins them above your head.

"You belong to me, don't you?"

"I belong to myself!"

"If that's true, why didn't you look for anyone else? It's been years, baby."

God, how much you used to love that pet name. He'd call you his baby girl, his pretty thing, his sweetheart, while you sucked his cock like you needed it to breathe. Even now, it makes you suck in air.

"Because I was waiting. There's nothing to wait for anymore."

"Liar." And then his lips are on your neck. He lifts up his leg, and your hips grind down. It's instintive. It's desperate.

"Fuck you," you whimper.

"That's it," he encourages. "Let me give you what you need."

"I don't need anything from you."

"Hmm. Such an attitude now." One of his large hands easily pins both of yours above your head, and the other wraps around your neck. Slender fingers find their old place against the vein under your skin, and he presses against it until you feel light-headed. Your eyes droop slightly, and he lets go with a smug smile. "That's it, baby. You gonna admit you want this, now?"

"I don't."

"Don't say that," he whispers against your ear. "It makes my dick hard."

Shivers go through you again. You grind harder against his thigh. "You're sick in the head."

"Sick for you."

"What about your wife?"

And then, he kisses you.

It's rough and deep, his tongue on the inside of your teeth, his lips hard and demanding. You both moan, both your hearts are racing. He forgets about the hand keep you in place, and instead, he uses both of his to yank down the neckline of your dress.

"Fuck, look at you." It's uncomfortable for a moment as he pushes your bra down, but you shrug your shoulders free of the straps, and then his hands pull you free and his fingers are squeezing you just like they used to. Your head drops back against the door, and his familiar mouth finds its way over your breast. He kisses your soft skin, biting and licking across the swell of your flesh until his lips find your hard nipple.

"Remember how I used to make you come from this alone?" he murmurs around your breast.

"No," you protest half-heartedly. Of course you remember. Over the years, you've tried to make yourself finish just by playing with your nipples, but it never worked. Not like it worked with him. "Stop it, we can't-"

"We are."

"Billy-"

"Fuck," he grunts. He pulls away his leg from between yours before grabbing your hips and lifting you up. "I need more."

"Please," you beg. Your body responds before you can even think about it, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He bends down his head to suck on your nipple against as he begins thrusting against you. Through your underwear, and his soft trouers, you can feel his hard cock grind against your cunt.

"Oh, my God," he moans. "God, you feel so good, baby."

"We have to stop!" you beg. But your legs are too tight around him. He grinds against you desperately, like a man possesesd.

"Mine. My pretty girl, you're where you belong. Look at me, now."

Dropping your head against the door, you look at him with heavily-lidded eyes. His cheeks are flushed, his forehead damp. His lip twitches as he thrusts against you.

"Open your mouth."

"No."

"Yes."

"No," you hiss.

With one arm still holding you firmly against the door, he grasps your face and presses your cheeks. It hurts so fucking much and it forces your jaw open. He spits into your mouth. Disgusting. You swallow gratefully.

"That's it," he praises lowly. "You're gonna make me come just doing this, baby."

"Don't call me that." Pleasure is mounting in you already. Just from dry humping, like you're teenagers again. But he makes you feel like a virgin again. And him calling you that doesn't help cool your passion.

"Why not?" He stills his thrusts. "Does it make your clit hard?"

It's impossible to hold back your moan. "Let me go."

He obliges - for a moment. Billy lets you go only to set your feet back on the ground, and then he spins you to press your face against the door, and he pushes up your dress. When he can't push your underwear to the side as much as he wants, he yanks it down. When you refuse to comply with taking it off, he just tears it. It leaves red marks on your thighs, the violent action, and you almost come from the senstation alone.

Fuck Billy Washington.

"God, I can smell you," he groans against your ear. "Did you think about me when you touched yourself for all those years apart?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Glancing over your shoulder, you can't hold back a choked moan. He only pushes down his joggers - couldn't even wear a nice pair of jeans for his mates' party, pathetic - enough to free his cock, and it's as perfect as you remember.

He notices how your mouth hangs open at the sight. "You want it in your sweet mouth, baby?"

"No," you whine.

"Do you suck on dildos and think of me?"

"No."

"I think you do," Billy whispers. Into your hair he presses his forehead, and he looks down as he bends you forward. You resist only a little - and then he's there, pushing you open. "Fuck, you're so perfect."

Tears spring in the corner of your eyes from the absolute need he's driving into you, body and soul. He's not yours anymore - but, God, you're still his. "Billy!"

"I wish you could feel how good you feel," he praises with a strained voice. Once he's fully sheathed inside you, he pauses, as if to drink it all in. "So fucking wet for me. So relaxed. You need this, don't you?"

Resting your head on the door, you shake it. "Fuck you."

"Hmm." He bites your ear and then blows into it, making goosebumps rise along your flesh. "Try again, baby."

"Fuck you."

"You want me to stop?"

You don't reply. The only response he gets is your strained breathing. And then, after a long moment, "no."

"Let me hear it."

You shake your head.

"Please," he whispers, nearly shaking from the restraint it takes to not lose control. "Please say those words I've missed. It'll be so good for you, my sweet girl."

Sweet girl. Baby. It's ridiculous, you know, but those names undo you. "Please," you beg. "Fuck me."

And he does.

He fucking does.

The pace he sets is relentless and brutal. He has to clamp his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet as he pounds into you again and again, pushing you higher and higher. You bite his palm and fingers in an attempt to stay silent, and the pain you cause makes him hiss.

But it doesn't matter. He's buried inside of you, his hands are all over you, and he's here, he's here, he's here. Billy, your Billy.

"Never again," he grunts between thrusts. "Not letting you go."

"Not leaving," you promise against his hand. Tears are rolling down your cheeks from the stinging pleasure of his cock, from how brutally high he's pushing you, from the years of frustration without him.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You," you babble mindlessly. "And you're mine."

"God, yes, I am," he promises.

The sound of your wet skin slapping together fills the bedroom. Downstairs, the thumping bass of the party hides your noises, you hope. He pushes two fingers into your mouth and you suck on them greedily. He gags you on them just for the delight of hearing you choke. Then he runs them, wet from your spit, down to your freed breast, and rolls your nipple between them. Carefully, he pulls on it, and it's a stark contrast to how hard he's fucking your pussy.

"Close," you moan. "Billy, yes, yes, don't stop, please-! Please-!"

His hard and fast pace is so much. He grunts against your ear, and then his nose is in your hair, and he bites your ear. "C'mon, baby, come on my cock!"

"Touch me," you beg.

And then his fingers are crooked around your clit, flicking and squeezing just how you always liked, and it has you higher and higher and tighter and tighter and the feeling won't let up and you're close, so close, there can't be anywhere else to go-!

"Billy! Billy! B-!" Your orgasm crashes over you in waves that spread through your whole body. You're spiralling, falling, writhing with it, your heart racing and pleasure exploding between your thights, up your chest, over your scalp. Your choked noises make your throat raw, the intensity makes your cheeks wet.

With your cunt still clenching and relaxing in increible aftershocks, Billy pulls out just in time to spill. Roughly, he bites your shoulder to keep quiet, but his name is on your lips. You feel him tremble behind you, how his knees are going weak.

You both stand there for a long moment, your back against his chest, his head in the crook of your neck. Slowly, he pulls your dress back down, and he pushes himself back into his trousers. After that, his hands find your waist. You try to pull away, but he won't let you go.

"Stay," he whispers. "With me."

"Billy," you murmur. The reality of what has just happened begins to sink in. "This... can't happen again."

"It will, though."

When you turn to face him, there is no regret in his face. "It can't."

He strokes your hair back from your face in a gesture that feels just as intimate as what just happened. "I won't let you go again."

"You're married."

"I'll leave her."

"You have a child."

"I love you more."

You shake your head. "You don't mean that."

He doesn't smile. 'What if I do?"

"I... you shouldn't. It's wrong."

"Don't care."

"Billy. You can't leave your wife."

"So you're happy to let me cheat on her with you?"

You wince. "This was a mistake."

"The only mistake either of us made was me letting you go. And I'm never, ever, doing that again." His blue eyes are intense, bearing into you as if he's searching your very soul.

"Never?"

He kisses your forehead. "No matter the cost. Never again."

[arcielee]

Just different stories from the Ewanverse. I will update whenever I expand like when Saltburn comes out. Please be mindful of tags and warnings!

Dancing in the Dark [World on Fire] Tom Bennett x OFC Summary: War is spilling over Europe and a route is being created to help POWs escape occupied France. Sometimes love does not last forever, but lasts long enough. Warnings: Smut/NSFW later on, some misogyny cause it's the 1940s Author's Note: This is complete, enjoy. ♥

+ + + +

It's Not Tonight [World on Fire] Tom Bennett x Female!Reader Summary: Tom Bennett slips in through your window. Warnings: Tom is a scoundrel, angst from a one night stand, masturbating, a smidge of voyeurism, kissing, grinding, sexual memories recalled fondly but also bitterly, overstimulation kinda?

Lazy Sunday [Trigger Point] Billy Washington x Female!Reader Summary: Billy enjoys a lazy Sunday with you. Warnings: Comfort fic with some smutty smut, oral (f receiving).

Billy x you drabble [Trigger Point] Billy Washington x Female!Reader Summary: This exists in the same AU as Lazy Sunday! Warnings: Nothing, just some fluff to soothe the soul.

Closing Time [Trigger Point] Billy Washington x Female!Reader Summary: You and Billy do your best to make time for one another. Warnings: Semi-public sex, kissing shenanigans, teasing, oral (f receiving), p in v unprotected.

arcie's navi

[justforbooks]

Quincy Jones, dies aged 91

Widely and wildly talented musician and industry mogul worked with Michael Jackson, Frank Sinatra, Will Smith and others

Quincy Jones, a titan of American entertainment who worked with stars from Frank Sinatra to Michael Jackson and Will Smith, has died aged 91.

Jones’ publicist, Arnold Robinson, said he died on Sunday night at his home in the Bel Air section of Los Angeles, surrounded by his family.

“Tonight, with full but broken hearts, we must share the news of our father and brother Quincy Jones’ passing,” the family said in a statement. “And although this is an incredible loss for our family, we celebrate the great life that he lived and know there will never be another like him.”

Jones was arguably the most versatile pop cultural figure of the 20th century, perhaps best known for producing the albums Off the Wall, Thriller and Bad for Michael Jackson in the 1980s, which made the singer the biggest pop star of all time. Jones also produced music for Sinatra, Aretha Franklin, Donna Summer and many others.

He was also a successful composer of dozens of film scores, and had numerous chart hits under his own name. Jones was a bandleader in big band jazz, an arranger for jazz stars including Count Basie, and a multi-instrumentalist, most proficiently on trumpet and piano. His TV and film production company, founded in 1990, had major success with the sitcom The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and other shows, and he continued to innovate well into his 80s, launching Qwest TV in 2017, an on-demand music TV service. Jones is third only to Beyoncé and Jay-Z for having the most Grammy award nominations of all time – 80 to their 88 each – and is the awards’ third most-garlanded winner, with 28.

Among the tributes to Jones was one from actor Michael Caine, who was born on the same day as Jones: 14 March 1933. “My celestial twin Quincy was a titan in the musical world,” Caine wrote. “He was a wonderful and unique human being, lucky to have known him.”

Playwright and actor Jeremy O Harris paid tribute to Jones’s “limitless” contributions to US culture, writing: “What couldn’t he do? Quincy Jones, literally born when the limits on how big a black boy could dream were unfathomably high, taught us that the limit does not exist.”

Jones was born in Chicago. His half-white father had been born to a Welsh slave owner and one of his female slaves, while his mother’s family were also descended from slave owners. His introduction to music came through the walls of his childhood home from a piano played by a neighbour, which he started learning aged seven, and via his mother’s singing.

His parents divorced and he moved with his father to Washington state, where Jones learned drums and a host of brass instruments in his high-school band. At 14, he started playing in a band with a 16-year-old Ray Charles in Seattle clubs, once, in 1948, backing Billie Holiday. He studied music at Seattle University, transferring east to continue in Boston, and then moved to New York after being rehired by the jazz bandleader Lionel Hampton, with whom he had toured as a high-schooler (a band for which Malcolm X was a heroin dealer when they played in Detroit).

In New York, one early gig was playing trumpet in Elvis Presley’s band for his first TV appearances, and he met the stars of the flourishing bebop movement including Charlie Parker and Miles Davis. (Years later, in 1991, Jones conducted Davis’s last performance, two months before he died.)

Jones toured Europe with Hampton, and spent much time there in the 1950s, including a period furthering his studies in Paris, where he met luminaries including Pablo Picasso, James Baldwin and Josephine Baker. At the age of 23, he also toured South America and the Middle East as Dizzy Gillespie’s musical director and arranger. He convened a crack team for his own big band, touring Europe as a way to test Free and Easy, a jazz musical, but the disastrous run left Jones, by his own admission, close to suicide and with $100,000 of debt.

He secured a job at Mercury Records and slowly paid off the debt with plenty of work as a producer and arranger for artists including Ella Fitzgerald, Dinah Washington, Peggy Lee, Sarah Vaughan and Sammy Davis Jr. He also began scoring films, his credits eventually including The Italian Job, In the Heat of the Night, The Getaway and The Color Purple. (He produced the last of these, which was nominated for 11 Oscars, three for Jones himself.) In 1968, he became the first African American to be nominated for best original song at the Oscars, for The Eyes of Love from the film Banning (alongside songwriter Bob Russell); he had seven nominations in total. For TV, he scored programmes such as The Bill Cosby Show, Ironside and Roots.

His work with Sinatra began in 1958 when he was hired to conduct and arrange for Sinatra and his band by Grace Kelly, princess consort of Monaco, for a charity event. Jones and Sinatra continued working on projects until Sinatra’s final album, LA Is My Lady, in 1984. Jones’s solo musical career took off in the late 1950s, recording albums under his own name as bandleader for jazz ensembles that included luminaries such as Charles Mingus, Art Pepper and Freddie Hubbard.

Jones once said of his time in Seattle: “When people write about the music, jazz is in this box, R&B is in this box, pop is in this box, but we did everything,” and his catholic tastes served him well as modern pop mutated out of the swing era. He produced four million-selling hits for the New York singer Lesley Gore in the mid-60s, including the US No 1 It’s My Party, and later embraced funk and disco, producing hit singles including George Benson’s Give Me the Night and Patti Austin and James Ingram’s Baby Come to Me, along with records by the band Rufus and Chaka Khan, and the Brothers Johnson. Jones also released his own funk material, scoring US Top 10 albums with Body Heat (1974) and The Dude (1981).

His biggest success in this style was his work with Michael Jackson: Thriller remains the biggest selling album of all time, while Jones’s versatility between Off the Wall and Bad allowed Jackson to metamorphose from lithe disco to ultra-synthetic funk-rock. He and Jackson (along with Lionel Richie and producer Michael Omartian) also helmed We Are the World, a successful charity single that raised funds for famine relief in Ethiopia in 1985. “I’ve lost my little brother today, and part of my soul has gone with him,” Jones said when Jackson died in 2009. In 2017, Jones’s legal team successfully argued that he was owed $9.4m in unpaid Jackson royalties, though he lost on appeal in 2020 and had to return $6.8m.

After the success of The Color Purple in 1985, he formed the film and TV production company Quincy Jones Entertainment in 1990. His biggest screen hit was the sitcom The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, which ran for 148 episodes and launched the career of Will Smith; other shows included the LL Cool J sitcom In the House and the long-running sketch comedy show MadTV.

He also created the media company Qwest Broadcasting and in 1993, the Black music magazine Vibe in partnership with Time Inc. Throughout his career he supported numerous charities and causes, including the , National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the Jazz Foundation of America and others, and mentored young musicians including the British multiple Grammy winner Jacob Collier.

Jones’ illustrious career was twice nearly cut short: he narrowly avoided being killed by Charles Manson’s cult in 1969, having planned to go to Sharon Tate’s house on the night of the murders there, but Jones forgot the appointment. He also survived a brain aneurysm in 1974 that prevented him from playing the trumpet again in case the exertion caused further harm.

Jones was married three times, first to his high-school girlfriend Jeri Caldwell, for nine years until 1966, fathering his daughter Jolie. In 1967, he married Ulla Andersson and had a son and daughter, divorcing in 1974 to marry actor Peggy Lipton, best known for roles in The Mod Squad and Twin Peaks. They had two daughters, including the actor Rashida Jones, before divorcing in 1989. He had two further children: Rachel, with a dancer, Carol Reynolds, and Kenya, his daughter with actor Nastassja Kinski.

He never remarried, but continued to date a string of younger women, raising eyebrows with his year-long partnership with 19-year-old Egyptian designer Heba Elawadi when he was 73. He has also claimed to have dated Ivanka Trump and Juliette Gréco. He is survived by his seven children.

Other artists paying tribute included LL Cool J, who wrote: “You were a father and example at a time when I truly needed a father and example. Mentor. Role model. King. You gave me opportunities and shared wisdom. Music would not be music without you.” Femi Koleoso, bandleader with Mercury prize-winning jazz group Ezra Collective, called Jones a “masterful musician and beautiful soul”.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[adragonprinceswhore]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for taggig me @superprincesspea & @targaryenrealnessdarling 🩵 I'm so late with this but I'm currently on a train trying to kill time!

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

5. I've written much more but deleted my old blog (and one series on ao3)

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

65,255

3. what fandoms do you write for?

I've written for House of the Dragon, Trigger Point (Billy Washington), TLK (Osferth), World on Fire (Tom Bennett)

4. top five fics by kudos

(Only have five lol) Order is: Colour My Mind, Bring Me Back, The Commune, Whatever Interests You, Rip It Up & Start Again, The Way I Feel Under Your Command

5. do you respond to comments?

Yes

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hm, The Commune? I haven't written my angstiest ending yet!

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Rumours

8. do you get hate on fics?

Hate is a strong word; I’ve gotten mean comments and unsolicited advice about why my mc was “the stupidest and weakest female protagonist” they’d ever read about 🤪

9. do you write smut?

Yes

10. craziest crossover?

Hm, Fleetwood Mac’s music x HotD?

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

No

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

No

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

No

14. all time favorite ship?

I'm not a huge shipper? Idk, right now I'm rooting for Janine and Gregory in Abbott Academy In HotD I am down to clown with any pairing tbh, as long as there's good build-up

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hmmm, continuation of The Commune

16. what are your writing strengths?

No clue. I do enjoy my own writing but don't know why. I've gotten a few comments on ao3 saying my story made them cry, that's such a nice compliment to me lmao

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Basically everything; actually writing, expressing myself, pacing, conveying emotions, writing something that sounds beautiful but not too goofy, straight-to-the-point but not too boring

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I like it but can’t be arsed myself

19. first fandom you wrote in?

House of The Dragon, last autumn

20. favorite fic you've written?

One shot: Tell Me You Missed Me & Rip It Up And Start Again

Series: Colour My Mind, Bring Me Back & Rumours (& The Commune haha I’m my own biggest fan ngl)

No pressure tags: @theoneeyedprince @humanpurposes @randomdragonfires @marthawrites @peachysunrize

@aemonds-fire @sylasthegrim @happilyhertale @arcielee @targaryen-dynasty @troublesomesnitch

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main masterlist

Lonely This Christmas Billy Washington x female character (third person perspective). One shot. Smut. Dark fic.

Imagine Being Loved By Me Billy Washington x female character (third person perspective). One shot. Smut. Angst.

Dashboard Confessional Billy Washington x female character (third person perspective). One shot. Smut. Angst.

[phillippadgettwrites]

The First Time, Every Time: Pilot

Rated X / 932 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

The first thing she does when she gets home from Bellefleur is break up with Ethan. Not because she doesn’t love him, but because the moment he picks her up from the airport he begins peppering her with questions about how she spent her time in Oregon that she doesn’t know how to answer, and when she tries to change the subject he accuses her of keeping secrets. He tells her this assignment is too much, that she’s destroying her career. He tells her that her new partner sounds like a crazy person. When they pull up outside her apartment building she asks for her key back, and that’s that.  

The second thing she does is call Mulder and invite herself over to his apartment. Her brain just won’t stop buzzing, turning it all over and over until her memories begin to feel like dreams. She needs to talk about it, and he’s the only one who will understand. He’s the only one who can understand. 

His apartment is inoffensive. Clean, but far from spotless. Tidy, but not quite organized. She finds herself looking for signs of a female presence: a pair of forgotten earrings, tampons under the sink in the bathroom, high heels alongside his wingtips near the door. She’s not comfortable directly asking him if he’s single, but for some reason it feels important to know. They make small talk and discuss the case, and the fact that Billy Miles is on his way out to Washington so Blevins himself can lay eyes on the boy and make his own assessment. 

She admires Mulder’s fish tank and asks about their names, and his finger follows them around the tank one by one as he lists them off. 

“What about this one?” she asks, indicating a mollie that is half black and half gold, as though it’s been dipped in paint. 

Mulder twists his mouth into an awkward smile and she cocks her head at him. 

“Dana, actually,” he admits, running one hand over the back of his neck. “I’m a big Sigourney Weaver fan.”

Scully laughs, sharing his embarrassment though there is no logical reason to be embarrassed that his fish shares her name. 

“What’s she like? Fish Dana?” she asks, straightening up. 

Mulder drags his bottom lip between his teeth, looking at her face, and then the fish tank, and then her face again. 

“I, uh, I guess I don’t know her very well. Hard to say,” he finally answers, and something in her belly coils up, hot and tight. 

There will always be a blank spot between this moment and the one where her bare back hits the cool leather of his couch. She will never be able to accurately recall who kissed whom, or if they stopped to consider whether this is a good idea, or when he retrieved the condom that she is now deftly sliding down his thick, steely cock. She will always remember the sharp pierce of him inside her, and the way he seems to fill her to her very edges. She’ll remember the tender way he kisses her even as he fucks her roughly, and how it feels so good she nearly cries. She doesn’t think about Ethan, or Billy Miles, or the field report she’ll have to put her name on. She doesn’t think at all. 

Maybe that’s why she came here—to forget. To feel, instead of think. To distract herself from the countless enigmas behind the door that Mulder has just barely cracked open for her. Or maybe she just wanted to be in the presence of the only other person who has Oregon forest dirt under their fingernails and the smell of graveyard rain lingering in their nose. The only other person who can understand. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he grunts, slowing his hips. “What do you need?”

The idea of coming in his presence and around his cock startles her from her reverie, and awareness washes over her like a crashing wave. What is she doing? This is her partner. Her coworker. It’s against bureau policy, as well as her own moral code. This is a terrible, terrible mistake. 

Mulder senses the change in her and pushes up on his hands, hovering over her. His expression shifts from curious to concerned, and though he is still inside her he doesn’t move at all. 

“Do you want to stop?” he asks, and she knows without question that he won’t be upset if she says yes. 

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” she tells him, and he immediately withdraws from her, averting his eyes while she struggles back into her clothes. 

She doesn’t go home right away, though she feels embarrassed and ashamed. They agree that the moment got away from them, and he makes a joke that it doesn’t really count if no one finished. When she finally feels like she can leave and still bring herself to face him in the morning, he walks her to the door and gives her an awkward little wave as she steps out into the hall. 

“See you tomorrow?” he asks, and she doesn’t get the impression that it’s a rhetorical question. 

“Yes, see you tomorrow,” she says confidently, and he relaxes a little. 

She walks back to her car with Oregon forest dirt under her fingernails and graveyard rain in her nose, and the newly acquired taste of his kiss on her mouth. And it all feels so unlikely, so impossible, so exciting. 

Despite her embarrassment, she can’t wait to go to work tomorrow and find out what happens next. 

[quokkacore]

phenomena | s.jn

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

pairing: conspiracytheorist!johnny x doctor!reader

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

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

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

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

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

X-FILE 62-J: THE PINEWOOD PATTERN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If you have any doubt about my credentials—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh boy, you thought, here we go. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 John grinned. “Awesome.”

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What just happened?”

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

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

"What are you—" 

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

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

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

 Hi-de-hi-de-hi, brother,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I… is that a—?"

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

"A chimpanzee."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A hunch," Was all he answered.

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

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

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

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

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

"Nothing scientific to substantiate," He corrected.

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

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

"'S that… ash?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I am not—"

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

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

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

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

“Uh, John, where are you g—”

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

“Fuckin’—I—WOO! WOO HOO!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Johnny, shut up!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But how do you know—”

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

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

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

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

 You frowned. “The girl in the wheelchair?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 He nodded. "You hungry?"

  "Um… yeah, why?"

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes, but didn't disagree.

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

"I… There's something in the woods."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "I was 17. I'm turning 21 in June."

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

Oh?

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

"So you called us?"

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

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

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

  "Does this normally h—"

 "Lia Choi."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Empty," He groaned.

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

"I think I know who did it."

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A-and the marks are…"

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

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

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

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

"This—Johnny, this is insane!"

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

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

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

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

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

Right into the forest.

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

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

"Shit," He muttered, "Do you think—?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brightness?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N, are you alright?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John clenched his jaw. "But—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Understood, sir," You said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don't care if Monday's blue

Tuesday's gray and Wednesday too

Thursday, I don't care about you

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, Oscar the Grouch." 

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

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

You raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Ouch."

"Any witnesses or anything?" 

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

Johnny tilted his head. "Hooves?"

You hummed in confirmation.

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

"No." 

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

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

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

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

Dressed up to the eyes

It's a wonderful surprise

To see your shoes and your spirits rise...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, but I still want coffee."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We wanted to… you know."

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you see what happened?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What did it look like?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Johnny frowned. "I think maybe—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Our investigation is ongoing."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Something to do with that girl?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Johnny—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned and crossed your arms. "Johnny—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Johnny, I—"

"Can you get out, please?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This just got a whole lot more complicated. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, and that was that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

A commotion from the kitchen cut you off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Johnny nodded. “Hopefully we’ll find—”

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

“Sheriff, what’s going on?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who called the police?"

"Clinton."

"Clinton?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Johnny tilted his head. "Why not?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Believed?"

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

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

"Who did, then?"

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

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

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

"Why even use Phoebe in the first place?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What? But—"

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

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

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

Your friend needed you.

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

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

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

Where was Johnny?

"Y/N?"

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

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

"Y/N? What's… going on?"

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

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

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

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

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

His eyebrows shot up. "He did it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is that—?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who, Mrs. Walker, who?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Johnny, what about—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed. "I mean, maybe you—"

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

"Johnny—?"

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

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

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

And two, you were being dragged by Hillary Clinton. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But—"

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

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

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

Donghyuck gasped. "Holy shit."

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

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

Then she broke out into a run. 

You forced yourself to stand still, shooting another round before she jumped over you. Out of the corner of your eye, Donghyuck swung the bat, hitting her in the leg, causing her to fall face first to the ground.

 Taking that advantage, Johnny fired another round into her back. She shrieked again, and you and Johnny took the opportunity to run out the door, pushing the kids with you.

"Go! Both of you, now," You ordered once you were in the gym again. They shook their heads. Donghyuck held up his bat.

"We're not leaving without—"

"Donghyuck, this isn't a movie," Johnny insisted, "Now go!"

 Amy grabbed his arm. "Hyuck, they're right, we have to—LOOK OUT!"

You turned to see what had once been Mrs. Walker stick its head out of the doorway. Amy was able to fire one last shot into it, with her shotgun. You didn’t see where it hit—the door shut and you heard one final wail. 

A few moments later, the lights flickered on. You stood there, clothes dripping onto the hardwood floor for a good minute or so, until you looked at Johnny, who wore a pained grimace. "I can check," You told him. "Stay here with the kids." 

"You sure?" He asked. You nodded, holding out your gun and slowly making your way towards the door. You spared the odd trio one final glance. 

Johnny—soaking wet hair falling into his eyes—was standing in front of them, aiming his gun at the door. Donghyuck was holding his bat up, Amy's MacGyver-esque flashlight gun making you squint.

Then, you opened the door. You could feel your heart hammering a mile a minute. Very slowly, you scanned the room. You stopped when you glanced at the showerhead Beatrice and Doyoung had placed you under—the same one they should have been under, knocked unconscious. You swallowed a lump in your throat. 

Because they weren’t there, and neither was Mrs. Walker. What you did see, however, were two large streak of blood dragged up the wall and to a window, staining the green tiles.

PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE, FRANKLIN PIERCE HIGH SCHOOL, BELDAM'S GLENN, NEW HAMPSHIRE—20:47 hours, Friday, February 12th, 1993

The four of you made your way back to the main building on high alert. The rain seemed to have stopped once the thing was gone. Amazingly, there wasn't even a cloud in the sky. Even the air felt different—cleaner.

Shockingly, this time when Johnny tried the phone again, it worked. In order, he called the sheriff, who had no issue believing the ordeal you had gone through. Then the principal, who was incredibly confused as to how four of her teachers could vanish in one night.

 And then, you turned to the kids and gestured to the phone. "Alright, your turn now. Call your parents, both of you."

If they were more afraid of the murderous hellspawn they'd just helped you fight off, it didn't show. "Please just let us go now, Agent L/N," Donghyuck pleaded, "My mom will never let me leave my house again after this."

Amy shook her head. "My dad's gonna kill me if he finds out I stole the gun again."

Johnny made a face. "Again?"

She turned even paler when she realized her screw up. "I'm not going to omit witnesses from a report because you'll get grounded," You told them. "You're good kids, with good intentions. You just lost someone and had another friend go through something traumatic, we get that. But what you did tonight was incredibly dangerous, reckless, and—and—"

"Stupid?" Johnny offered.

"Johnny!" You snapped, lowering your voice. He shrugged.

You sighed, trying to get them to understand. "Alright, listen. There's a Yellow Pages over on that desk. If you don't call them, I will, or the sheriff will. Which would scare your parents less, huh? Getting a call from their kids, from the sheriff's department, or from the goddamn federal bureau of investigation?"

If they didn't get it before, they definitely understood now. Amy took the fall first, telling her dad she'd brought her car to the school, had gotten into trouble, and needed him to come by to talk to the police. She left out the gun, much to your amusement.

While Donghyuck did the same, you pulled Johnny into the hallway to speak to him.

"Are you okay?" You asked, "Doyoung seemed to kick you pretty hard." 

"I'll take a few days off once we get back to DC, I'll be fine," He murmured. He leaned against the wall and winced.

You nodded, but weren't sure how to respond. Finally, you spoke again.

"Look, about last night," You said softly, and he looked up in thought. 

"What about it?" He didn't seem to want to meet your eyes.

You took a step forward. "Johnny, other than when we first met, have I ever treated you like you were crazy?" 

Your voice was quieter now, gentler in its approach. He looked to the side, crossing his arms. "...No."

You shrugged, before sighing. "It's not that I don't trust you. I have my scientific conclusions. You have yours. Every time I see something I can't explain I try to explain it with what I do know. Tonight was… insane, and you were right. But honestly? It just reinforced my wanting to go the scientific route every time we have a case."

He frowned. "Why? You saw Walker."

"Exactly." You crossed your arms. "If I went into every single case, expecting to see that or something even worse? God. I… I don't know how you do it, John."

He smiled, but still didn't meet your eyes. "I didn't mean what I said last night either. Y'know… that. Or at least, I didn't realize I didn't mean it until today. I… I care about you, Johnny. I really do. You're smart, and you're really funny, and you give me perspectives I wouldn't consider otherwise."

He looked at you, and you put a hand on his upper arm. "I'm glad I have a friend like you to work with," You admitted, "And I'm glad you're okay."

His smile grew, and he let out a chuckle. "There's no one else in the bureau I would rather be murdered by Hillary Clinton with," He said, with the most endearing tone possible. You burst into laughter, Johnny joining you. He stepped closer, pulling you into a hug as you continued to laugh. Your eyes shut, and despite Johnny's cold, damp clothes pressing against your cold, damp clothes, it still warmed your chest. The two of you stood together for a while, enjoying each other's embrace. His chin rested on your head, and you sighed happily. Johnny gave good hugs.

"Uhh, Agent Suh?"

Johnny and you broke away immediately. Johnny cleared his throat."Uhh, yes, Donghyuck?"Amy and Donghyuck exchanged a glance from the office doorway. "Uh, my mom said she'll be here soon. A-and I saw some police lights across the street, so…"

"Oh." Johnny straightened his tie. "Thank you."

A few seconds later, the sound of sirens came into proximity. You took a look at these two kids, and despite the stress they'd caused you, you felt an odd fondness in your heart. 

“Come on, you two," Johnny murmured, "Time to go."

X-FILE 229-B: THE SAN CEFERINO SHIFTER

FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, D.C—07:08 hours, Wednesday, July 6th, 1994

On this particular summer morning, you were enjoying the air conditioner for as long as you could wait. You'd be flying to San Ceferino, California, twenty minutes outside of San Francisco. 

The assignment was at a gated community where three women had been found dead within the span of three weeks. You and Johnny would be sent in to investigate due to a strange, unidentifiable residue being found on the bodies. A local detective had contacted the bureau for help.

The kicker? For some reason, due to some sensitivities of having their community "invaded" the head of the community had requested you be placed undercover.

So what was the bureau's idea? "Moving" you and Johnny into the community, posing as a newlywed couple. 

Yikes.

This seemed like a bad idea to you, but you didn't say anything. Because if you spoke up to your superiors, they'd ask why, and you'd be forced to explain. 

"I got the flight tickets and our fake profiles!" Johnny entered your shared office, causing you to look up from the case file.

"Oh, nice. Who are we?"

He curled his lip, making a face. "Whoever makes up these names should be demoted, I swear to god. My name is Fox. Fox Kang. Who the hell names their kid Fox—"

You stifled a laugh as you grabbed the file from him, flipping to yours. Dana Baker. A bit ordinary, but the more inconspicuous, the better, you figured. 

"God, I kind of don't want to go," You hummed, "It's hot enough as it is here in Washington. I don't wanna imagine the California heat."

"Well, suck it up," He said, but he didn't sound dismissive. "We're leaving in three hours. We still have to pick up our undercover wardrobe and get to the airport, y'know?"

Frowning at the profile, you nodded half-heartedly. It stated that your backstory was that of college sweethearts at Cornell in the 80s. He was class of 1984, you of 1986. You were moving to California two months after getting married, because "Fox" got a job offer just outside of San Francisco. 

"You're staring at that paper like you're Nancy Kerrigan and it just broke your knee," Johnny pointed out, "You okay?"

"Huh?" You looked at him, swallowing. "Oh… yeah. I'm fine. I'm just a bit… unsure about the whole marriage thing." 

Johnny shrugged, offering an amused smile. "Really, Y/N. We've been working together for two years and you still find me that unbearable?"

You laughed, standing and circling your desk to stand in front of him. "No, not at all. I'm just not the best when it comes to undercover work."

Johnny leaned against the desk, smiling sympathetically. "Well, I'm no Tom Hanks either. But if you think about it, we spend all our time together anyway. It's not that big of a stretch to say we might as well be."

"We definitely argue like one," You fired back. You both laughed, simply staring at each other in silence once it quieted down. Johnny's eyes studied you up and down, dark eyes warm. He was wearing his glasses today. 

You wondered if he was judging your outfit, because he did that sometimes with other people. Apparently, before he became interested in criminal psychology he'd wanted to become a fashion designer, or so he told you. Six months later after he'd told you that and you still weren't sure if he was joking or not.

"What are you looking at?" You asked. He shook his head. 

"...Nothing. Let's get going?"

The two of you picked up your faux suitcases—the bureau had a department full of fake clothes for agents going undercover needing to fit a certain persona. The two of you were nothing close to the white picket fence suburban life, so you were better off picking up some fake clothes.

You laughed when you saw the first outfit Johnny had been given. A pastel yellow LaCoste polo shirt, and grayish blue dress shorts. He glowered at you when he saw your face.

"Oh, yeah, very funny."

Your outfit wasn't much better. High rise, light wash jeans and another polo, this one bright red, a pair of dark red casual loafers to match. Johnny didn't laugh, but it was clear he was trying not to.

You decided to sleep on the plane. There wasn't a lot to look over, as you'd received the file the night before. By now, you knew the drill. 

You dreamt you were back in that hotel room in Oregon. Johnny was kneeling beneath you, but you still hadn't taken your robe off. He was saying something, but you couldn't understand what. His eyes were full of a warm emotion that you couldn't quite place.

Until he raised his arms to try and remove the robe. This time, when he spoke, you could hear him clearly. "This is what you wanted me to do, right?"

Your hands grabbed his. "What? Johnny, I… Well…" 

He stood, face impossibly close to yours. There was an odd smile on his face. "Don't worry," He murmured. "I want to, too."

Slowly, your hands let go of his and he began to pull off the robe. You didn’t protest. When you were bare, his hands slid to the skin of your waist, and he pulled you against him. His forehead pressed against yours.

"Johnny, are you sure?"

"Y/N," He said with a smile, "We are beginning our descent into LAX. Please put on your seatbelts and put up your trays."

You jumped awake in your seat, eyes impossibly wide. A laugh from beside you caused you to turn your head. Johnny was giggling into his palm. 

"What?" You asked, voice raspy from sleeping. 

"Oh my god, that was beautiful," He declared, "You were sleeping so peacefully and then, oh my god, that was hilarious."

"Ha, ha, ha." Your tone was devoid of any emotion. You rubbed your eyes, yawning slightly. "What time is it, here?"

"Three hour time difference. It's one PM." 

You nodded. And you still had a six hour car ride. Lovely. 

SOMEWHERE ALONG THE I-5, CALIFORNIA—15:22, Wednesday, July 6th, 1994

"Couldn't they have just flown us to San Francisco and have us drive from there?" Johnny complained after being cut off by yet another car. 

You sighed. "Budget cuts, I guess. We're not infiltrating the mafia, or taking down human trafficking rings."

"Yeah, we just fight the boogeyman and the little green men," He agreed. You laughed. 

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we hadn't gotten assigned together?" He sounded wistful, not taking his eyes off of the road. 

"I don't know." You picked at a loose thread on your jeans. "I would probably still be teaching at the academy. I think Brooks was considering placing you with Jung if I wasn't up for it."

"Jaehyun Jung?" He turned his head, making a face. "Really? He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," You insisted, "He just thinks like me, science before all, except… less nice about it."

"You sure?" He asked, fiddling with the radio, "Every time we're in a room together, I catch him staring at me like he's trying to shoot lasers into my head, the prick."

You shrugged. "He's nice to me."

"That's just 'cause he's trying to get into your pants."

You hummed. Jaehyun was pretty handsome. "Would that be such a bad thing?" 

He coughed, shrugging. "Well, it's your love life. You do you."

The air turned awkward. Johnny fiddled with the radio, but in this particular stretch of the interstate, all that came up was a Latin beats radio. Trumpets, and soft snare drums filled the car. You immediately recognized Selena's Bidi Bidi Bom Bom, a song about a girl realizing her heart went crazy whenever her lover passed by—while you didn’t listen to a lot of Latin music, you had a friend who did and always played this song when you met up.

Me tiemblan hasta las piernas

Y el corazon igual

Se emociona, ya no razona

No lo puedo controlar

"Oh, I hate this song," Johnny mumbled, reaching to turn the radio off.

"No, wait! I like it." You pushed his hand away. He groaned, but didn't turn it off. 

Y me canta así, me canta así…

Bidi bidi bom bom, bidi bidi bom bom

Bidi bidi bidi bidi bidi bom bom

Bidi bidi bidi bidi bidi bom bom

So, the two of you continued on listening to Selena, Johnny silently pouting. 

"So, what were you dreaming about on the plane?"

"Huh?" You cleared your throat.

"Yeah, you said my name in your sleep."

You shifted in your seat. "Oh… Um. I can't even remember."

He hummed, but didn't say anything. The drive continued on, both of you alternating between discussing mundane things and the case. All of them had been found in their homes, with no sign of a struggle—which suggested they knew their assailant. They'd all been strangled to death. No odd fingerprints could be recovered from the crime scenes. 

The first victim lived alone. The other two's husbands had solid alibis that were confirmed by the police. 

Which meant that it had to be someone in the neighborhood. There was reportedly a strong sense of community there, which was part of why the bureau had you going undercover. 

Around six, the two of you rolled into San Francisco, for a brief stop to talk to the detective who had contacted the bureau, a woman named Wendy Son. 

The two of you rolled into the precinct, and upon showing your badges, were prompted to the woman’s office. She had her light brown hair tied up in a ponytail, wearing a black pantsuit similar to what you would wear, had you not been dressed like a soccer mom.

"Oh, thank you for coming," She said once you sat down. "I have some extra material here that I wasn't able to fax you."

She pulled out a folder, setting it in front of you on the desk. Johnny opened it to reveal more images you hadn't initially seen. 

"We sent the sample to Los Angeles because their laboratory has a higher capacity," She told you both, "They still weren't able to identify it, but apparently it apparently has an a mild tranquilizing enzyme. That might also be why there wasn't much of a struggle." 

Johnny hummed. "There aren't any cameras in San Ceferino, are there?" 

Detective Son shook her head. "Only around the perimeter and the gates." 

"Maybe there's something there," You said, "Could we have access to those tapes?"

She looked back down at the pictures. "I could certainly get it to you by tomorrow afternoon, though. Come in past two and I should have it by then."

Johnny nodded and smiled at her. "That would be great, thank you." 

She smiled, and you'd have to be blind to not notice the blush on her face. She handed him the keys to the house that the heads of the community had arranged to have semi-furnished ahead of your arrival. The rest would be arriving tomorrow in the morning, during which time you would go through the motions of being a newlywed couple moving into their “forever home”.

Johnny apparently was blind, though. He didn't say anything about it once you were both back in the car. You couldn't really blame her. 

Johnny was… well, he was Johnny. He was incredibly handsome, and funny. Any reasonable person interested in men would find him attractive. 

"Detective Son likes you," You told him as you were getting onto the road that led to San Ceferino.

"Does she?" He answered, smiling smugly. "She's pretty."

You don't know why that ignited something in you. "You think so?"

He nodded. "She seems nice. But I'm not interested."

The odd sensation in your chest simmered down. "No?"

"Not really. I'm not interested in something long distance. Plus, I work too much to have a relationship."

You nodded. "Yeah. I understand."

You arrived as the sun was setting, around seven. The two of you pulled into the gate to the place, where you introduced yourselves with your fake names to the guard. He checked his roster of approved people and let you both in. 

San Ceferino consisted of four different cul de sacs, each house practically identical. The house you would be staying in was towards the end of the second one. The house was a pale pastel yellow, orange rays of the sunset making it seem a deeper color. Your car rolled into “your” driveway, and with a sigh of relief, Johnny turned the car off. 

“I’m so tired,” He groaned, “Should we try and introduce ourselves today or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” You said, letting your head fall back against the headrest, “These people are probably all having dinner or something, it’d be weird for us to do that now.”

He nodded, and got out of the car to open the trunk. You got out to grab your suitcase, and as you were getting out you realized that just maybe the universe disagreed with your decision to wait to meet others around the neighborhood.

A woman was crossing the street. She seemed a bit older than you both but was still dressed almost identically. You walked over to Johnny, who had his back turned, and tapped him on the shoulder. “Fox,” You mumbled, “We’ve got company.”

He turned, and upon spotting the woman flashed a comically fake smile. You offered the friendliest smile you could muster, but the way her eyes lit up when doing a once over of Johnny and then drooping in disappointment once she spotted you. If she thought she was subtle, she was dead wrong.

“Hi,” She said, impossibly enthusiastic, “I’m Anne Morrison. I’m the head of the Homeowners Association.”

You nodded in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you,” You said, holding out your hand, “I’m Dana. This is… my husband, Fox.”

“Fox,” She repeated, turning to look at Johnny, “That’s a lovely name. So, what brings you two to San Ceferino?”

“Oh, I got a job offer in San Francisco a few months ago,” Johnny answered. He was good, you decided. “We looked at some houses in the city, but it’s so busy there, you know? We were living in Maryland, so the transition between small town and big city… it’s not for us.”

She nodded, eyes wide. “I absolutely understand. My ex-husband wanted to move to the city now that our kids are in college. I don’t enjoy any of the hustle and bustle, really.” She chuckled, “So guess who got the house in the divorce!”

You and Johnny exchanged a glance, then laughed as if it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. “Oh, my goodness,” You wheezed, clutching your hand in your chest, “I can imagine!”

“So, what do you two do?”

“I’m an architect,” Johnny said.

“I’m a publicist.” You scratched at your cheek when you felt a mosquito try to land. Her eyes zeroed in on your hand.

“You two are married, right?” She asked, “How come you’re not wearing your rings?”

You froze. Did the bureau even have fake jewelry? Why didn’t either of you think of that detail?

“Oh,” Johnny shrugged, coming to the rescue. “It’s so stressful having to take everything on and off at the airport, so we decided not to wear them today. Right, honey?”

He wrapped his hand around your waist, and you nodded. “I never wear jewelry when I’m on a plane. Too much hassle.”

She nodded, mouth slightly agape. “Oh, I see.”

Johny cleared his throat. “What do you work as?”

She grinned. “I’m a chemist.”

“I hated chemistry in high school,” Johnny groaned jokingly. Anne apparently thought this was hilarious, swatting his arm. He laughed again, but it was empty, awkward. You leaned your head against his shoulder in hopes that she'd get the message. 

“Well, Anne, it was lovely meeting you,” You declared, “But we’ve been awake since five in the morning travelling. We’re exhausted, we really should be getting inside.”

Anne sighed, eyes turning away from studying Johnny’s face to you. “Oh, go ahead. You two must be so tired.”

Johnny nodded, pursing his lips. “We’ll speak soon?”

She smiled. “There’s an HOA meeting on Friday night at another member's house. You should come and see what we’re all about, consider joining.”

"Swing by tomorrow!" You grinned, "You can tell us the details then."

"Of course, of course. Well, I'll leave you two to it. It was nice meeting you, Dana." She raked her eyes over Johnny one more time, "...Fox."

When she was out of earshot, Johnny pulled the suitcases out of the trunk and scrunched up his nose. "That was... awkward."

Your hand pulled up the extendable handle of the suitcase, looking back at her to see her close the door to her house, which was at the very end of the cul de sac. 

You looked back at him. "So, a chemist. And she's involved with the community, everyone probably knows who she is."

He shrugged before closing the trunk. "Let's keep an eye on her. She gives me the creeps."

The two of you made sure the car was locked before making your way towards the front door. He fiddled with the keys

"She might even have a motive," He said, as you stepped inside. "Ah, c'mon, aren't you gonna let me carry you over the threshold?"

"Not the time," You said, picking up your suitcase to carry it to the bedroom. "We were talking about a motive. Evidently, she likes looking at… married men. If it's her, she might be doing it out of jealousy."

"Exactly," He agreed, following you up the stairs. "Maybe there's something else at play—jealousy or something. how old were the other victims?" 

"Between 25 and 35. She didn't say how old she was, did she?" You rolled into the bedroom, sitting on the bed and immediately flopping down onto it. Johnny rolled past your room, looking for the separate bed the bureau had said would be there as well.

"Finally," You sighed with a smile. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you stifled a yawn. For a second, you considered falling asleep just like this, uncomfortable jeans be damned. 

"Y/N?" 

You cracked your eyes open, frowning at Johnny who was standing in the doorway. "What?" 

"There's only one bed."

You almost stopped breathing for a moment. "Huh?" 

He shuffled on his feet. "There's only one bed," He said, speaking slower.

"What do you mean there's only one bed?" You sat up.

Johnny sighed. "I mean there's only one bed." 

"But the bureau said—"

"Well, the bureau lied," He interrupted, "Because there's no other bed."

You  crossed your arms. "I could take the couch."

"That's supposed to get here tomorrow." 

"Oh," You frowned. What were you going to do? 

"I mean, I could sleep on the floor," You said, "So that way we don't have to sleep, you know…"

"Together?" He offered.

"In the same bed," You corrected, turning your face. It felt hot all of a sudden. 

"No, I couldn't do that to you." He set his suitcase next to yours, then sat next to you. "The bed seems big enough. I'm sure we'll be fine."

You were too tired to argue further. "Sure…" You didn't sound too convinced. 

"Great," He sighed, "I just gotta tell you. I snore a bit."

KANG-BAKER RESIDENCE, SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—08:43 hours, Thursday, July 7th, 1994

That night, surprisingly, you slept like a baby. You initially thought you'd overthink it all with Johnny lying right next to you but… it was comforting, knowing he was there. You hadn't slept next to anyone since you were 26.

Life as an FBI agent was demanding. Because of this, you'd given up on the idea of having a meaningful relationship ages ago. And due to the nature of your work, it was easy to throw yourself into it to drown out the desire to have someone to come home to. The fact that whenever you did get free time, if you spent too much of it alone… 

But now, lying awake in the morning, seeing Johnny's sleeping face curled up into his pillow… You remembered. 

He looked peaceful. Even at 33, like this he barely looked a day past 27. You could make out the details on his face, old acne scars and the occasional mole. The smile lines along his cheeks and the corners of his eyes… maybe in another lifetime, another universe, you could have gotten used to—

No. You shot up, heading towards the en suite to go to the bathroom. You were still sleepy, that was all. The time difference between Washington and California was having second effects. 

You pulled down your pants, blinking sleepily, and promptly had a heart attack when you sat down. Your knees barely missed your nose, your stomach dropped, and a shriek tumbled out of your lips before you could even register what was happening. 

Standing, now wide awake, you had half a mind to pull up your pants as Johnny tumbled into the bathroom, eyes wide in alarm.

"What happened?" He asked, voice raspy from disuse. You didn’t answer, but instead stared at the offending lifted toilet seat until he got the message. 

"Oh…" His face turned awkward, lips tilting from side to side. "I got up a few hours ago. I must have forgotten to put it back down, sorry." 

You didn't answer, yawning instead. He shrugged. "I've never… lived with another woman before, so…"

"Never?"

His eyes looked down. "...Never."

"Not even with that ex-girlfriend from Oxford you told me about?"

"Mary? No."

You held back an amused grin. "Johnny, when was the last time you even went on a date?" 

He pursed his lips. "I… am starving. Do you want me to go to the supermarket to pick something up for breakfast?"

You blinked, putting your hands on your hips. 

"...Breakfast sounds great."

Johnny promptly changed and left while you got into the shower. Once you were out, you brushed your teeth, did your general morning routine and waited for the car to roll back into the driveway, doing a quick background check on Anne in the meantime. 

No criminal record whatsoever, but that didn't automatically discard her from your list. Mostly because she was the only one on it, so far. 

Johnny rolled back into the driveway just before 9:20. You helped him take the bags into the kitchen, when he said, "Think fast!" and tossed you a small box.

"What's this?" You asked, opening the box. You sputtered at the sight: two simple gold bands. He looked at you like you were a moron.

"Wedding rings," He said, plucking one of the rings out from the box, "Hopefully so Anne lays off."

"You didn't have to go out and buy actual—"

"It's fake gold." He waved his hand dismissively, sitting down at the island and slathering an ungodly amount of cream cheese across a bagel. 

You settled on some coffee after hesitating to put on the ring. As you were finishing up, a knock at the door caught your attention. You looked at him, and he shrugged. "Moving van won't be here till 10:30."

So, you sighed, but still headed to the door. Johnny followed behind, second bagel in hand. When you swung the door open, you were met with Anne and a man you hadn't met yet. A wide Cheshire grin was plastered onto her face.

"Dana, hi!" She greeted. Her eyes landed on Johnny. "Good morning, Fox."

"Morning, Anne," You said with a nod, catching her attention again. You turned your eyes onto the man and held out your hand. "Hi, I'm Dana."

He shook your hand with a friendly smile. "My name's Scott Hernandez. I'm on the HOA board."

Johnny walked up to the door, putting a hand on your shoulder. "I'm Fox," He said, face speckled with crumbs and mouth full of food. You wanted to crawl into a hole.

"Hey, man," Scott said, eyeing Johnny, "Uh… Welcome to the neighborhood!"

"So," Anne asked, eyes raking over Johnny's chest, "How was the first night?"

Johnny swallowed his bagel before speaking. "It was lovely. We just snuggled up together and slept like little baby cats." He turned to you, eyes warm. "Isn't that right, honey bunch?"

Your neck snapped to look at him, holding back a look of disgust. "That's right…" You racked your brain for something sweet to call him and a moment later came up with, "...Poopy head."

Poopy head? Nice one, L/N.

Johnny’s smile faltered for a second, but neither Scott nor Anne seemed to notice. You flashed them both a bright grin. "So! Would you like to come in?"

Scott and Anne nodded. "That'd be great, thanks," He said. You led them into the dining room, where Johnny managed an awkward laugh. "Sorry it's such a mess, we just got up about an hour ago and I immediately went to the supermarket."

"Oh, don't worry, Fox," Scott hummed, sitting at the island, "Moving is so stressful. Especially with…"

Anne flashed him a dirty look. You raised an eyebrow at the interaction. "With what?" You asked, tilting your head as you feigned innocence. Anne sighed, shaking her head.

"Three women have been… murdered over the past few weeks." Scott looked down. "Police haven't been able to catch who's responsible."

"That's horrible," Johnny murmured, standing next to you. "Did you know them?"

"We know everyone because of our HOA responsibilities," Scott answered, "I wasn't that close to any of them, but they were all very nice women. It's awful, what happened to them. You knew Yolanda, didn't you, Anne?"

She nodded, eyes glassy. "Her son and mine used to play together. She was such a nice woman. Lovely family, too. It just breaks my heart." 

"I'm sorry for your loss," You told her. She offered a sad smile.

"But what, is it someone from the community or what?"

Anne shrugged, eyes full of concern. "The police don't really know, but it would make sense if they were from the community—"

"It couldn't possibly be someone living here," Scott huffed, "Everyone knows everyone, why would someone want to—"

"Scott is just in denial," Anne said, waving her hand. "Did you two really not know?"

"Not at all," Johnny replied, eyes wide with fake worry, "These past few weeks have been so hectic we barely had time to sit down. Right, honey?"

You groaned, partially putting up an act and partially in disgust at the name. "It's been a nightmare!" 

You made up some problems, like a crappy travel agency, yard sales, things going missing, stuff like that. Johnny occasionally chimed in, embellishing your stories. Occasionally, Anne or Scott would ask a question, and Johnny would answer with something he pulled out of his ass. 

"So that's why Fox isn't allowed coffee, anymore," You said a few minutes later, rolling your eyes. Scott was cackling, Anne giggling into her palm. Johnny glared at you, but there was no malice behind it. 

"But anyway, I'm guessing you two didn't come here to hear about how anxious I get with caffeine." Johnny turned to the pair. "What brings you to the... Kang-Baker residence?"

"Oh, we came to talk to you about joining the Homeowner's Association," Anne explained, "Not everyone in the neighborhood is a part of it, but it's very convenient to join." 

They laid down the basics, and as they talked, you realized just how much you appreciated living in an apartment rather than a house. Yes, it was a bit small at times, definitely not as idyllic, but 300 dollars as an initiation fee, and monthly payments of 150 dollars? You had half a mind to call the bureau and tell them that the real crime was the extortion from the Homeowner's Association. 

You didn't really see any advantages—probably because you didn't even own this house and wouldn't have to worry about selling it later. It just sounded like a nightmare. What did they mean you could only paint your doors pastel colors if you joined?

When they finally left, you looked at Johnny. "Maybe I'm not cut out for the American dream after all. That HOA stuff sounds even worse than the time we got attacked by the flesh eating virus."

He held back a laugh. "That bad, huh?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, this is much more irritating. The moving van will be here any second, come on, let's go."

127TH PRECINCT, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA—14:29 hours, Thursday, July 7th, 1994

After unloading the furniture boxes (empty boxes with nothing really in them), you and Johnny settled on lunch—some crappy junk food—and drove all the way to the police station where Detective Son worked. 

"What did you think about that Scott guy?" You asked Johnny, who shrugged. 

"Seemed nice enough. We'd have to look into him too, since he's also involved in the community."

You nodded. "I'll run a background check once we get h—back to the house."

He glanced at you, but said nothing. "...What are you doing once this is over?"

You furrowed your eyebrows. "What, once we get back to DC?"

He nodded. "Well, yeah."

You stared ahead at the car in front of you. "Oh, well… I'm not sure. Probably finish writing that stupid report for Brooks and then curl up on my couch, watch some movies, drink some wine. I don't know."

He snickered. "What, and watch Pretty Woman for the 700th time?"

Smacking him in the shoulder lightly, you huffed. "Which is no better than watching Full Metal Jacket 700 times, and you know it, Johnny Suh."

He shrugged. "Well, if sex on a piano is what does it for you then who am I to judge?"

"Shut up." You rolled down the window, the heat too much to handle. 

When you finally got to see Detective Son again, she handed you the cassette and made her way towards the door. When she spoke, she looked only at you. "I'm actually headed out to check out another call we got just now," She explained, "But feel free to use the VCR in my office to look it all over."

She left, not even looking Johnny in the eye. You turned to Johnny, who was wide-eyed. 

"And you said she likes me."

In her office, you went over several days' worth of sped up hours of footage of six different camera angles. By the third hour of watching sped up, grainy footage, Johnny huffed. "I don't think we'll get anything," He said, "Especially considering the killer didn't even need to break their way in—"

"Hold on, hold on." You shook your head, eyes zeroing in on a dark shape in one of the cameras. You walked up to the VCR machine and hit the rewind button.

"Watch camera six."

He narrowed his eyes, fixing his glasses as he watched the dark shape run out from the treeline and up the wall, then out of the camera's view—presumably inside the community. You rewinded one last time, pausing just as it leaped onto the wall.

"There."

"That's too big to be a cat," He murmured, standing to get a closer look at the grainy black and white still image, "Right?"

"Could be a big cat—bobcat or a lynx, maybe, but…"

"It's movements are too… jerky for it to be a cat."

You hesitated, before nodding. 

"Could this be the thing we're looking for?" Johnny asked, and you crossed your arms, giving the dark blob a skeptical look.

"Looks like we have some digging to do."

One more hour of poring over the footage, plus another hour of looking at the archives of the police department turned up nothing on big cats in the area. There'd been no calls to 911 to report big cats in the neighborhood, and looking over the tape again showed nothing else, not even the thing leaving.

Which made Johnny’s theory that it was still there weigh even more.

By 7:30PM or so, Detective Son had returned. "I brought coffee," She said, entering the small space, "Find anything?"

You shrugged. Johnny looked at her. "We saw a weird blob go inside. It never came out and we couldn't figure out what it was."

She frowned. "There haven't been any reports of wild animals there in years. Not since that huge military base opened up."

Johnny's eyebrows knit together. "Army base?"

She nodded. "Fort Talbot. It's about fifteen minutes west of San Ceferino. There aren't a lot of roads that lead to it, they're pretty private."

You locked eyes with Johnny, who was probably thinking the same thing as you. Military base? That was new.

 “I don’t suppose you could take us to see it?”

She shrugged, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, we could try, but there’s a fence around the perimeter about a mile or two away from the actual base. They’re not gonna let you in.”

“No, we’re not military,” You sighed. “But thank you for telling us about that.”

SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—20:44 hours, Thursday, February 12th, 1993

When the car rolled into the driveway, the two of you had found that Anne was at your front door. You shot each other a quizzical look when she turned at the sight of your headlights. “What’s the cougar doing here?” He sighed, and you elbowed him.

“Hush. Be nice.”

She reached the car once you’d both stepped out. “Oh, I was wondering where you two were! I wanted to invite you over to have dinner. The spinach quiche I made was a bit too big for just me!”

At the mention of the meal, your stomach panged in hunger. All you’d had since you left the house was that coffee Wendy had given you. Plus…

Johnny seemed to read your mind. “We’re starving. Quiche sounds great, thanks so much, Anne.”

She beamed at his praise. “Oh, come on! Wouldn’t want it to get cold.”

Anne took the both of you into her house, leading you to the dinner table where she’d already set up spots for the both of you. “It’s not too much, is it? I’m sorry if I’m being overbearing. I really do want you to ease into the neighborhood, and plus, living in this big old empty house gets… lonely.”

As you sat down, you frowned in sympathy. You watched as she began to slice the quiche for you both. “Don’t worry, Anne. I understand where you’re coming from. It’s so lonely in my—or, it was so lonely in my apartment before Fox and I met. Sure, you can distract yourself during the day with all of the stuff you have to do, but at the end of the day you come home to… nothing.”

She handed Johnny a plate, and he took it. “There you go, Fox.”

He smiled, handing the plate to you. “Thank you.”

Her eyes followed his hand, and blinked when she spotted the ring on his hand. “Oh, I see you have your rings now.”

Johnny’s smile grew into a grin, as he held out his hand, flashing the band around his ring finger. You did the same. “No more pesky metal detectors,” He declared, “So why not?”

Anne nodded, eyes lowered. She handed him another plate, then served herself. And then, finally, you all started eating. It occurred to you as you took your first bite that if she was she easily could have laced the food with whatever was in those women’s systems when they died. But that would be too different from the killer’s modus operandi. They only went for women and they killed them in their home. Autopsies didn’t find anything recent in their stomachs at the time of death, so you concluded to take a bite. 

Besides, it smelled good. If you were going to die, then it would be nice to die by the hands of some good quiche.

“So,” You began, “You said your kids were off at college?” 

She nodded, digging around her food with a fork. “My oldest is in grad school at USC. He’s currently in South America doing research on bats, or something, I really can’t remember. My second is off backpacking for the summer, she’s graduating from UCLA next year, and my youngest left for college two years ago. He managed to get a full scholarship to Duke, can you believe it?”

You smiled, nodding. “Wow, that’s impressive.” 

She sounded proud, but there was a sadness behind her gaze. “It’s hard, it really is. Especially trying not to worry. They rarely call and only come home during the holidays. Drives me up the wall not knowing what my kids are up to!”

Johnny laughed. “My mom was the same when I went to college. My freshman year she called me once every day. My roommates always made fun of me for it.”

She chuckled. “Oh, that’s how all moms are,” She turned to you, “I imagine it’ll be the same when you two have kids.”

You almost choked on the food in your mouth at her words. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Johnny go white. Somehow, you managed to hold it back, hitting your chest lightly as the food made its way down. “Oh, well… it’s a bit early for that, I think.”

“We only got married six months ago…” Johnny murmured awkwardly. 

“Oh, I totally get it,” She said, “But, y´know, accidents happen. Especially when you’re still in the honeymoon phase after the wedding. I had my first less than a year after we were married, we weren’t even trying!”

You chewed on your lip. “Well, if something happens…” You met eyes with Johnny, whose gaze was unreadable, “Something happens.”

Not looking away, Johnny licked his lips subtly, before picking up a napkin. Anne didn’t notice, surprisingly, and seemed satisfied with your answer.

You ate a little bit more, when Anne asked, “So, tell me, how did you two meet?”

Remembering the file, Johnny perked up. “We met at a party in college. I was in my junior year, I think? Right, honey?”

You shook your head. “Your senior year,” You corrected, “Because I was in my sophomore year. I remember it like it was yesterday. He came up to me and was wearing this horrible button up shirt—”

“You ended up stealing it from me!” He joked, and you held up your index finger.

 “I use it to sleep. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that in public. Much less to attract a mate.”

Anne cackled, and the two of you laughed too. Again, you managed to make up a story: he was drunk and accidentally spilled some punch on your pants. He’d tried to help you by washing it in the bathroom but only made it worse.

“When I got back to my dorm, it was around three in the morning, my leg was sticky and I was miserable, but we ran into each other a few days later and he was very apologetic about the whole thing.”

“I was mortified,” He said, “I mean, here’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life and I managed to screw it up by ruining her pants. I was so sure I’d screwed up.”

Anne raised her eyebrows. “So, you knew from the start that you liked her?”

Johnny’s eyes landed on you again, turning wistful. He leaned over and grabbed your free hand. “The moment I first laid my eyes on her, I knew. She was the one.”

You tried to smile, but suddenly your chest felt like it was caving in on yourself. You let your hand rest in his for a moment, before pulling away. “Oh, Fox. Don’t get all sentimental on me now.”

Clearing your throat, you didn’t miss the way Johnny’s eyes fell slightly. “If you’ll excuse me, where’s your bathroom?”

She pointed up. “Upstairs to the right.”

This was your chance to get some dirt on her, and put some space between you and Johnny. As you walked away, you touched a hand to your cheek and it came away burning. 

“Get it together,” You muttered to yourself.

The quick search yielded nothing. She had nothing in her drawers, all of the papers on her desk were related to her work at a hair care company. You always could have missed something though. You couldn’t take more than a few minutes, you certainly couldn’t risk her coming up to check on you and finding you sifting through her work documents.

Before you came down, you did your best to leave everything as you found it before heading back downstairs. 

When you sat back down at the table, things were a bit more tense. You sensed it immediately. “Everything alright?”

“...Yeah,” Johnny mumbled. 

“Fox and I were just talking about how… difficult marriage can be.”

You nodded, wondering if that was all that had happened. “Oh, it’s no walk in the park, that’s for sure.”

The rest of the dinner was not as lively. There were more awkward silences, more lulls in the conversation, less laughs. When you finally left, his elbow intertwined in yours, you looked at him. “What happened while I was gone?”

He shook his head as you both crossed the street. “I don’t like her,” He told you in a hushed voice, “She started talking about how it won’t be like this forever and it’s only fun now because we just got married or whatever.”

“What, was she trying to open something up between you and her?”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t exactly been subtle, so it wouldn’t surprise me if she was.”

The two of you marched up into your house, and while Johnny was showering you did a background check on Scott Hernandez. Nothing also. A perfectly ordinary citizen, no criminal record at all. 

Then, it was your turn to shower. As you did, you couldn’t help but think back to Anne’s words. The whole situation, feigning domesticity was proving to be bad for you: you couldn’t help but imagine a small child with his wide eyes and your nose, his lanky limbs and your hands. 

The amount of time you put into your work made you fully aware that it would make having children difficult. Truth be told, you hadn’t really put much thought into settling down. The right person had never been there.

But what if he had? What if he’d been by your side for the past three years?

He had to be putting on an act when he’d said it.

The moment I first laid my eyes on her, I knew. She was the one.

Thinking back to the moment you’d first met him, and he’d come across as slightly patronizing and dismissive of your conclusions. But thinking about when he’d first turned to look at you, that particular morning in 1992…

You turned off the shower. Alone time wasn’t doing you any good, either.

When you emerged from the shower, you sighed as your eyes landed on the toilet seat, which was lifted. You set it back down with a huff before getting dressed.

Once you stepped out of the bathroom in your pajamas, toweling your hair, your eyes fell to the pile of dirty clothes on the bed. “Please don’t put your sweaty clothes, where I have to sleep,” You told him, tossing the clothes into his face. He let out a soft groan, picking them up. 

“Oh, come on,” He grumbled, “They don’t even smell that bad.”

After he set them off somewhere (you didn’t see where as you were shutting your laptop off), he sat back down on the bed, leaving a space open for you. "So, what if we looked into Scott tomorrow?"

“That sounds like a good idea. Tomorrow night there’s that HOA thing we need to go to. We might be able to pick up some more stuff there.”

He nodded, and as you stood in front of the bed he waggled his eyebrows and patted the spot next to you. “Come on, Dana,” He murmured sarcastically, “We’re married now.”

You didn’t smile. He took that as a sign to continue. 

“Plus, if something happens, something happens.”

You grabbed a pillow and flung it into his face. “You’re the worst,” You grumbled. He laughed, but it was muffled from the pillow.

Slowly but surely, you realized with the sound of his laughter, this feeling was soon going to become something you couldn’t ignore.

HERNANDEZ RESIDENCE, SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—09:02 hours, Friday, July 13th, 1994

When the door opened, Scott Hernandez had a welcoming smile on his face. “Dana,” He said, “Good morning. Did you need anything?”

“Oh, I just wanted to ask if there was an official guidebook or anything for the HOA? Fox and I are still considering joining, but we’d need to go over everything.” You scratched at the cardigan you were wearing. Why did the bureau have to give you something so thick and scratchy when they knew you were coming to California in the middle of July?

“Come in! I’m sure I have a rulebook. Plus, if you have any other questions you could always just come over.”

He led you up the stairs. “I keep all of my stuff in the office,” He explained, “That way my kids don’t mess it all up.”

You offered a soft laugh. “Oh, you have kids?”

“Yep.” His voice was warm. “Two kids, a nine year old and a six year old. They’re not here right now, though. My wife took them up to Washington to see their grandparents.”

“Ah, that’s sweet.” As he led you into the office, your eyes studied the room. A picture frame behind him of a professional family portrait, a houseplant in the corner a big clunky computer on top of the desk, and a cabinet pushed to the side of the room.

Your eyes fell onto the things placed on top of the cabinet, a stapler and some other office supplies. But when your eyes caught a different type of metal that wasn’t the standard gray color, you focused on it. A small medallion, decorated with a ribbon. When you recognized the logo, your eyes widened slightly.

“You’re military?” 

His eyes turned to you, eyebrows raised. Then he looked to the side. “Oh… no. My brother was. He passed away in the Gulf War.”

You looked down, but something about his tone didn’t sound quite authentic. “I’m sorry for your loss,” You answered anyway. 

The silence hung overhead for a few moments, before he pulled out a small booklet. “Here’s a copy of the rulebook.” He held it up, waving it back and forth, “This has pretty much everything.”

“Oh, really?” You straightened your posture, feigning a smile. When he handed it to you, your smile grew bigger as you looked down at the small book. “I’ll be sure to show Fox when he gets home. I really appreciate it, Scott.”

He waved his hand. “Don’t mention it. If you need anything else, just come on over. I work from home, so I’m here pretty much all day.”

Scott studied your face, and a second later you looked away. “So, I should get going,” You murmured. “I’ll see you tonight? I don’t think nor you nor Anne said where it would be.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Here, actually! Tonight, at 7.” 

“Great,” You answered, “I’ll see you tonight.”

When you got back to the house, you walked to the office, where Johnny was waiting. “Hernandez has military links.”

His head shot up. “He does?” 

“There was a military medallion on his cabinet in his office. He looked like he was gonna piss himself when I asked about it.”

“And what did he say?”

“Said his brother was a Gulf War veteran. I didn’t believe him for a second.”

“So could he be our guy?”

You took a deep breath. “Honestly? I don’t know. I could try to look through his office tonight at the HOA thing.”

“You?” He shook his head vehemently. “You fit his profile. All of his victims were around your age. You’re not going somewhere you could be alone with him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Then what?” 

He looked at you as if you were dumb. “I’ll go.”

“But—”

“No.” His gaze turned stern, before walking all the way up to you. He put his hands up on your shoulders. “Y/N, he could kill you.”

“Has that ever stopped me before?” You asked, tilting your head. “Johnny, it’s in the job description to deal with people who could kill me. What’s so different now?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. His eyes were wide, urgent, and his face was inches away. You shook your head, trying to prompt him to speak. “What?” 

Johnny pursed his lips, studying your face. And then, finally he shook his head. “Nothing.” 

He stepped away, and left the office, leaving you speechless. You leaned against the desk thinking about what just happened.

For the rest of the day, he was relatively distant. During lunch—you went out to buy some sandwiches—and he barely said thank you, before you ate in tense silence. You could only wait until 7 o’clock rolled around. In the meantime, you placed a call to Detective Son, telling her to look into Scott Hernandez and his family. You typed up the rest of your preliminary report, and then all you could do was wait. 

When five thirty rolled around, you started to get ready. You took only about five minutes, before stepping out, fully dressed. When you stepped out of the bathroom, Johnny had his back turned to you. It was almost as if he hadn’t noticed you were right behind him, because he was humming softly to himself, tapping his foot to a non audible melody. You could hear him humming it though, and after a few seconds of listening. you were able to recognize the song.

He froze when he heard your giggling. “What?” He asked, turning his head.

“Is… is that Bidi Bidi Bom Bom?” You asked, leaning against the wall. He straightened his posture before shuffling on his feet. 

“...No.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “Sure, it isn’t.”

He raised his eyebrow, but it wasn’t as serious as he had been before. And when you spoke again, his mouth grew into a crooked smile. 

“You like Selena,” You sing-songed. 

“Alright, enough. We’ve got a job to do.” He was biting back a laugh. You knew him too much to believe the opposite. 

When the two of you finally walked the few houses towards Scott’s house, he held out his arm for you to hold onto. Taking a deep breath, your hand hesitated before it grabbed onto him. Approaching the house, you could tell that it was alive with a lot of people on the inside. You wouldn’t necessarily say it was overflowing, but you could tell it was definitely close to filling up. 

“Let’s go?” He asked, and you nodded. He led you to the front door, where he rang the doorbell before the two of you waited. 

A minute or so later, Scott opened the door with a grin. 

“Hey, you two! You’re just in time.”

You put on your best smiles. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Johnny sighed. You didn’t miss the tense undertone in his words.

The two of you made your way into the room. Across the room you heard someone call for you both. You held back a groan. You really didn’t need this right now. 

“Hey, over here!” Anne called, beckoning you over. Johnny heaved the sigh of a man ready to end it all, and then you both made your way to her and her group. All of them seemed to be the same age as her. 

“Ladies, these are our new neighbors I was telling you about.” She pointed at the both of you .”This is Dana Baker, and this is Fox… the architect.”

Oh boy. 

And the talking began. You and Johnny having to rehash the same details over and over again. It felt like having to navigate a minefield. You had to recall all of the lies you’d told Anne and Scott, this time in front of an audience of women very clearly ogling the man who they fully believed was your husband. 

You made idle chit-chat after that, but eventually, about twenty minutes had passed until they sat everyone down. The living room was full of grown ups, including a few young children. The thought of everyone being in such close proximity to someone, something that could hurt them all the way it had hurt those other women.

It was easy to tune them all out. It was then that you realized that suburban life would never really be for you. This was all so dull and monotone. You were sure that if you had decided to actually go into the medical field and settled down… you would probably lose your mind. 

They went over some things you didn’t pay attention to: lawns and whatnot. It was so tiring you had to stifle a yawn on more than one occasion. Anne was going on about some infraction that didn’t even sound that bad to you, when it occurred to you to slip away, Johnny be damned. 

You patted Scott on the shoulder as Anne went on. “Where’s the bathroom?”

He nodded back once, “Upstairs. Green door. We’re almost done, though, are you sure you can’t wait a little longer?”

“I had the genius idea to drink two whole bottles of water before we left,” You murmured so as to not make too much of a scene, “I really don’t think I can.”

He sighed, before nodding. “Go ahead.”

Gotcha. You slipped up, sparing Johnny a glance. He was glaring at you. If looks could kill, you didn’t even want to know where you’d end up going. You made your way up the stairs, remembering the way to the office from this morning. You slipped into the office, making your way to the cabinet. The medallion was gone, which made you wonder why he had done so. 

As you shuffled through the drawers of the cabinet and came up with nothing, you had to remind yourself to keep count of how long you’d been up here. You moved on to the desk, shuffling through the papers on the desk and then the ones on the drawer. In the first drawer, you found an ID: Alma Hernandez, Lazarus Programming.

In the second drawer, nothing. 

In the third and bottom drawer, you found something: a pair of dogtags. Neither of them said Hernandez. Instead, they read Simon Walsh. 

Simon Walsh? That was new. You stashed them back into the drawer, suddenly remembering how long you’d been up here. Probably a bit over five minutes. As you made your way back down to the living room, you ran into Johnny. 

“Hey,” He said, “I was just coming to look for you.”

He looked disappointed, bordering on anger. In the small space, you could feel his proximity. You couldn’t help but shake your head.

“I had to take the chance. I wasn’t sure if there would be a chance after this.”

He sighed. “I can’t believe you. Come on, they’re serving pizza.”

You laughed, letting him grab your hand as he led you back into the living room, where you two ate a few slices of pizza. Enough to feel satisfied, but not enough to feel too full. In theory, if you had to make a detainment or worse, have a confrontation then it’d be a bad idea to have stomach cramps. 

You two kept to yourselves, occasionally speaking to other couples who introduced themselves to you. Once you’d finished gorging yourselves on the food, he kept his hand around your waist the entire time. It was a gentle touch, but comforting. You couldn’t help but feel tense.

“After we get home, I’ll tell you all the details I saw.” You looked up to see his face, watching you tentatively. 

“Alright,” He murmured, leaning closer to your face, “But I wanna talk about something together first.”

Raising an eyebrow, you leaned away from him. “What, are you okay?”

Johnny nodded, smile reassuringly. “Yeah. I just realized something earlier today.” 

KANG-BAKER RESIDENCE, SAN CEFERINO, CALIFORNIA—21:17 hours, Friday, July 13th, 1994

When the two of you left, Anne had bid you both goodbye. She’d said Scott had gone to bed with a headache, which made you feel a bit uneasy. The entire way home, Johnny kept himself relatively close. The entire way home, he was silent. It wasn’t until the both of you were inside of the house that he leaned against the front door. As he led you to the couch )which had finally arrived), you tried to remember all of the details you’d seen as you looked through Scott’s office.

When he sat you down, you placed both hands in your lap. He scratched at his shoulder, before meeting your eyes.

“Simon Walsh.”

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes widened at the same time his had. “What?” You asked, shaking your head. You were suddenly aware of everything going on. You were in an ongoing murder investigation. It was quite possibly linked to a very secretive military base. Three women had been murdered. A fourth would be soon if you didn’t hurry.

“Johnny, I don’t think…”

“No, please. Just a few minutes, okay? I’ve been dealing with this for years. I need to get this out of my system and then we can talk about this back in DC. Please, Y/N.”

Your gut felt heavy at the same time your heart felt incredibly light. It was by far one of the strangest sensations you’d ever felt. Letting out a shaky breath, you nodded. 

“Alright, John. Five minutes. Then we talk about what I found.”

He nodded with a small smile. Gently, Johnny grabbed your hands, rubbing the knuckles with his thumbs. He was silent for a while, tilting his head back and forth as he tried to figure out what to say. 

“What I said last night at Anne’s. I meant it. That first time I saw you, I… I knew. I knew we didn’t get along initially, but I just had this feeling in my chest. You were so smart, and eventually we realized how much we clicked…”

He looked up, leaning closer. You swallowed softly as his eyes met yours again. He managed a soft chuckle. “Y/N, I tried to hold it away. But it got stronger every single day. You understand me. Even though we push back against each other, you don’t think I’m crazy. You take them into consideration and don’t brush them off. I really appreciate that. I look at you and… I’m home.”

Looking to the side, you sighed. “Johnny, I really don’t think this is appropriate. Especially not right now—”

"Y/N, I know what your dream on the plane was about."

You inhaled sharply, alarmed gaze meeting his own. His eyes had turned soft, warm. You knew you had to push him away. The name Simon Walsh was on loop in your head, but you couldn’t find it in you to push him away.

“What?”

“I heard you moan my name,” He sighed, “Trust me, Y/N, I know what I heard.”

He leaned even closer, cupping your face. You could feel his breath puffing softly onto your skin. His eyes were knowing as his voice dropped to a whisper. 

“You want me too, don’t you?”

When his lips met yours, you couldn’t find it in you to pull away. He pulled you closer, and your arms found their way to wrap themselves around your neck. His lips were soft, but demanding. You could tell he’d been waiting for this a long, long time. 

You don’t know when he laid you down onto the couch, but honestly… you didn’t really mind. Johnny was warm, comfortable. And yes, July in California was hot, humid, but… up until Johnny put his hands on you, you’d never realized how cold you’d been, even before your arrival here.

He deepened the kiss, hands sliding down to your waist. They toyed with the hem of your blouse, humming against your lips. You gasped against him, hands sliding into his gelled hair.

Your eyes snapped open. Johnny never used this much gel in his hair.

Two things happened in the next two seconds. You pushed Johnny off. Johnny would never prioritize his feelings like this over a case. You hadn’t seen Scott as you left. All of this pretending, playing house had gotten to you. You were in real danger now.

The other thing that happened? Johnny burst through the door, wearing clothes he hadn’t been wearing when you first left. He was panting heavily. There was a bruise on his cheek and his wrists were red.

You backed away from Not Johnny, who turned to you, gaze now furious. A wave of nausea passed over you, breathing heavily. Whatever Not Johnny had in his system, he had passed onto you with his spit, and you could feel it settling into your system. You looked up at Johnny, before pulling out your gun. Taking a deep breath, you looked at your work partner, closest confidante, love of your life.

“I had a feeling,” You mumbled, realizing how the sinking feeling in your stomach was actually dread.

Stumbling, you heard Not Johnny let out a ghastly screech. You fired your gun at him before passing out. 

SAN FRANCISCO METROPOLITAN, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA—10:39 hours, Saturday, July 14th, 1994

The room smelled sterile. You knew this smell. You’d lived it for several years before in medical school rotations. This had to be a hospital, you realized. Slowly, you let your eyes open. You let out a soft groan at the discomfort of having been stuck in one position for so long.

“You awake?” A deep, familiar voice asked. Your vision was blurry, but you could still recognize it was Johnny. His eyes were rimmed red from exhaustion, but he looked relieved. 

“No. I died, actually.” Your voice was raspy. Johnny scoffed, shaking his head.

“You’re impossible,” He mumbled, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“What even happened after I passed out?”

Johnny took a second to gather his thoughts before speaking. “You hit him in the face. It wasn’t pretty. He freaked out a bit, and then he took off. I couldn't catch him. Called Son, she came in with the precinct and they looked through Hernandez's house."

His gaze turned somber as you sat up with a soft huff. Your muscles were stiff.

"They found the real Scott Hernandez, his two kids and his wife, in their basement. Autopsies are being performed today, but it looks like they've been dead a few weeks."

Your eyes shut. Two kids, a man, and another woman. Seven victims total.

"And that thing is still out there," You mumbled, "If only I hadn't been so stupid—"

Johnny put his hand on yours. "Don't say that. Even if you hadn't gotten knocked out, he would still be way too much for just the two of us to handle. Y/N, you shot him in the face and it barely stopped him. He wasn't human anymore."

You shook your head, burying your head in your hands. "Still… I know you, Johnny. I should have seen the signs, but he was so—somehow he knew everything—"

"It's something to do with touch," He said with a nod, "He knocked me to the ground and locked me in a closet before he found you. I was a bit out of it, but I remember he touched my wrist for a few seconds and then he turned into me. My head still hurts, too. Maybe he can also copy some memories from the people he touches long enough."

When you didn't answer, he grabbed your face. He looked desperate. "Y/N, you're only human. I would have fallen for it too."

"I fell for it because he told me exactly what I wanted to hear," You whispered, feeling tears spring to your eyes, seemingly out of nowhere, "He played me like a fucking fiddle and I fell for it."

His thumb brushed away a tear. "Don't think about the what-ifs, Y/N. It's already happened, and now we need to focus on what's gonna happen next. We need to find a way into Fort Talbot. Somehow. Turn your report into the bureau and we can figure it out from there. There’s something going on there. Human experimentation on soldiers, or something."

"We're never gonna get clearance to search a military base, Johnny. It's impossible."

He shook his head. "Y/N, if you were able to convince Brooks to let me, Spooky Suh, FBI's most unwanted? keep running around hunting ghosts and aliens and Bigfoot all over the country, you can figure out a way to get access in there. I know you can."

You were shaking now. "We won't be safe if we do. You think the military won't retaliate? We'd be dead, Johnny," Your words were garbled and your voice wouldn't stop cracking, "There has to be another way."

He shook you gently, shaking his head. "Dammit, Y/N, I can't do this without you."

"They placed me with you for a reason, Johnny," You snapped, "To debunk your work, to reign you in and shut you down—"

"But you saved me," He insisted, "You did exactly the opposite. And as a result we kept working together, and you kept me honest. You… you've made me a whole person."

He rubbed his face with his hand, pushing a strand of dark hair out of his eye. "Y/N, as frustrating as it's been sometimes working with you, your stupud science and rationalism have saved me a thousand times over. I owe you everything. Y/N, you owe me nothing."

His forehead brushed yours, and his eyes fluttered shut. "I can't do this without you," He murmured. And despite the fact that you knew that this was your Johnny, you shook your head. The deja vu was making your head spin. 

"Tell me something the real Johnny would know," You whispered, putting a hand on your chest.

He thought for a second, before sighing. "I had three moments when I realized I was in love with you. When you first walked into my office that morning, I had a feeling," He said, voice full of conviction, "It grew into something concrete when you told me my glasses were crooked. And the moment I knew—I mean, I already knew from that first moment but this was when it truly hit me—was when you told me you'd kept that stupid fucking nasal implant in your sports bra so that you wouldn't lose it."

He laughed warmly, obviously thinking back to the moment. "No one else has ever believed me the way you do. And I doubt anyone else ever will. You're my one in…" He looked to the side, trying to remember the number, "Five billion."

Your hand came up to caress his face. He seemed to melt against your touch. 

This time, when your lips met, everything felt right, despite the feeling that the world was crumbling around you. His hands squeezed your face gently, as if you were about to disappear. When your hands slid into his hair, it felt slightly sweaty still, but it wasn't tacky with gel. 

This was your Johnny. You knew it with your entire being.

Yes, Johnny was sarcastic, stubborn, eccentric and had low impulse control. But he was also highly intelligent, empathetic, hilarious and yes, you could now admit that he was the most beautiful human you'd ever seen in your 30 years on this planet. 

If it had to be him and you against the world, so be it. The truth was out there. You and Johnny would just have to be the ones chasing it.

taglist: @doderyscoffee​ @always-wishing-for-rain​

[casualwriters]

Request open/ send them please | Prompts !!

Peaky Blinders

Raising a little girl with John Shelby

Being Luca sugar baby 

Finn Shelby with a S/O who part of the Circus 

Beautiful in all shapes Bonnie 

Finn with a Naive S/o 

Boys dating someone who is Def 

Hogwarts Moodboard 

Protester John Shelby 

Jealousy Finn Shelby 

Telling Micheal your Pregnate 

Outerbanks 

JJ Catching you Dancing 

Them with a Shy Chubby S/O 

Topper dating there S/o who struggles with PTSD 

Outerbanks in Percy Jackson House Moodboard   

JJ being mad when he see you with Topper 

The Lost Boys 

Polly Lost Boys X Nonbinary reader who has piercings and tattoos 

Rainy day Polly Lost Boys X Female reader 

There S/o who lost someone close to them 

Full Moon Gone wrong Paul x Reader 

Eddie munson S/o being apart of The Lost boys 

The lost Boys with a werewolf partner 

Lost boys going to the murder house 

being the oldest Emerson sibling and sneaking out to see Paul.

Horror and More  

Polly  Lost boys with piercings and Tattoos 

Slasher with a tall S/o 

Billy Loomis liking Stu Older sister. 

slasher taking there s/o home when there drunk

Slasher characters s/o dealing with rascism

Slasher falling for there S/O who a mermaid 

Slasher character with a demon S/O

Jason Dean with a naive s/o

playing in the leafs with Walter De’ville 

Being the third De’ville bride 

Sons of Anarchy 

S/o being Ima sister and dating Happy 

Video Games

Drawing a portrait of them ( Life is strange ) 

( Nathan Prescott ) S/o who has bad anxiety 

Josh Washington  prompt ( Until Dawn ) 

Reader helping Nathan with a break down

 Euphoria 

single mother | Fez x reader WARNING ABUSE   

Enemies  | Elliot x female reader 

Stranger things 

( Billy Hargrove | I Won’t go away 

Billy with a Witchy s/o 

Shoot to Thrill Billy x female reader 

Marvel & Dc Fandom

Dancing in the rain - Bucky Barnes 

Claimed as mine (mid smut )   - Bucky Barns  

Kara Danvers helping you out of a meltdown [ Autistic reader]

Dick Grayson stuck in the elevator with reader

Love on the Line of fire ~ Roy Harper

Dc boys giving readers hickeys when jealous

The witcher

Arrange marriage drabble / Cahir

Baulder Gates 3

Oh yeah, we're parents ( Gale X Teifling fem reader)

My favorite Tav's Moodboards

Suprise Vistor - Halsin

Harry Potter

Sirius finding out that Lilly and James died the same time, he found you were a death eater.

Marduares Characters having to deal with there rival sleeping in the same bed has them

[szchaql]

Total Opposite (part 4)

PAUL LAHOTE X SWAN READER

Part 3 Masterlist

(Y/n)'s POV

The journey home with Jacob full of silence. He didn't say anything, just driving the car. The memories of big grey wolf, baring his teeth, growling, keep appearing on my mind. What exactly happened? I glance at Jacob who focus on driving, trying to ask him.

"It'a okay, (y/n)... it's fine. We all will be waiting for you until you are ready to listen the whole story. And Paul didn't have any intention on hurting you.. you are too precious for him..." Jacob beat me in breaking the silence.

"But the look on his face was like he want to murder someone.... will i be fine??"

"He just angry.. Paul is known for his hot head and short tempered man. But he really try his best not to let his temper exploded when he near you. But today, i think he just couldn't help it and phase..." Jacob glance at me. "I may not like Paul... but i know he will protect you at all cost... believe me.. you will be safe with him rather than with any of us."

I raise my eyebrow, confused. "Why??"

He shake his head. "It's not my place to tell you that. Be patient. Right now, all you have to do is calm down and take all of this slowly.. we will tell you when you're ready.. don't force youself to understand it in one day.."

"Take a hot shower and calm down, okay?? I have to go pick up Bella and maybe tell her about it." He said as we arrive at my home.

I nod and get inside, luckily Dad isn't home yet. I immediately go to my room and lay down the bed. There's must be something, and it's a serious one. But why Jake said that i'll be safe with Paul? He nearly killed me today...

I decided to take a hot shower to clear up my mind. Taking a hot shower help me to calm myself. I drift myself to sleep soon after my body hit the bed after shower.

In the next 2 weeks, i totally ignored Bella, Jacob and all of the wolves. Seeing them just keep reminding me of that grey wolf. I just keep hanging with the Clearwaters and Tiffany. Even at school, when Jared, Paul, Jacob and Bella try to approach me, i always took different path and avoided them. I'm not ready yet.

Today, having nothing to do at home, i decided to walk on the forest. I know it's stupid because it's dangerous, but i need some quite moment. Seth and Leah are having a short vacation to Washington with Sue and Harry, Tiffany is having a family day. Bella is out with Jacob, as i keep refusing to talk to her. Part because what happened that day at Jacob's and part because she's having a relationship with vampires despite she knew about my traumatized. I bet Edward is a vampire, knowing they had a relationship before.

I keep walking deeper into the forest while thinking about everything that happened to me. Not realize that a massive creature are walking behind me, watching me. Until the sound of a broken twig that i immediately look behind. My breath hitch when i see the same grey wolf, standing not to far, eyes lock at me.

I gulp and freeze. What should i do? If i run, will he chase after me? Or should i just stand here? Without realize, i step back slowly.

Seeing me like that make the wolf whine loudly while he lay down on his stomach, ears flat, slowly crawling into me, eyes keep looking at me. When he close enough, he poke my leg with his large snout. He whimpered when i didn't give a respones.

"You won't hurt me, right? You won't kill me, right?" I ask as the wolf shake his head, whimpered. I slowly reach his head. When his suprisingly soft fur meet my hand, i can't help but to stroke it and without realize, i smile. He lean more into me and whimper softly, enjoying the interaction.

After quite some moments, he retreat and walk into behind one of the tree. The sound of bones make me flinch and short after Paul walk with his human form, shirtless, wearing a cut short jeans, and old shoes.

I look into my feets, embarased. "Hey..." his soft voice make my look up at him. He smile softly at me, hands on his pocket.

"Hey..."

"What are you doing in here, alone? You know that it's dangerous." He scolded me softly.

"Sorry... i just want to have some quite time and forest is always my place to think too.. so.. yeah... Bella is out with Jake, the Clearwater are out to Washington. And i'm alone." I chuckle and look up at him.

I realised that i'm so short compared to him, just barely reach his wide shoulder. He has this brown eyes that confusingly full of love and adoration.

"Mind if we walk together? I can't leave you alone on the woods, there're so much dangers.. and i know some amazing place." He ask, blushing.

I nod at him and we walk side by side in the forest.

"Mind to tell me what exactly happened? What are you guys?" I look at him. He look hesitated. "Is this really a serious matter?"

"More or less.. are you sure about this? We can wait until you are ready. No pressure at all.. we decided to ask Harry to tell you all about this thing.."

"Uncle Harry?"

"He is one of our tribe elders, alongside Billy, Sue and Old Quil. Since you are close to the Clearwaters, we thought that it best to have him tell you about the legend and the tribe." He explained, looking slightly hope that i listen to him.

"I think it's better you who tell me first. Later i'll ask Uncle Harry if i have questions that you can't answers. Okay?" He nod.

Paul tell me the tribe legend and everything behind the shifting into wolf. How they are decendants of the first shape-shifters. The Quileute.

"So, you are all wolves? Shape-shifters?"

"Only the lucky one who have the gene that can phase."

"Then... Seth and Leah can shift too?"

"Yeah.. maybe not with Leah, since we never have a female shape-shifter. Seth can phase one day, even if we don't want that to happen."

"Poor, Seth... but isn't it great to have an ability to shift into wolf? It's cool, you know.." i chuckle softly.

"Yeah, but we always put our life in dangerous, to protect people and the tribe. And imagine children shifting into one.. how hard is it for them. It's already hard for us, but the children.. can't even imagine it."

"Anything else? About the tribe or the wolf thing?"

"Then there is one more thing about being a shape-shifters..."

"I'm still listening."

"There's something called an imprinting. It's not like love at first sight, really. It's more like… gravity moves… suddenly. It's not the earth holding you here anymore, she does… You become whatever she needs you to be, whether that's a protector, or a lover, or a friend. To sum it up, it's like our way of finding a soulmate." He look down at me as we stop walking, standing in the middle of a forest.

"Why are you telling me all of this? All of this are secrets, right?"

"Yeah. But you are part of our tribe member. Since the day on the beach..."

The beach? What happened at the beach?

"You are my imprint, (y/n).. when we looked each other at the eyes on the beach.. it'a the day that i imprinted on you... as an imprint, you have the right to know everything about us, the world around us. Even the vampires thing.. you have to know about all of this, so you are aware of the world you are living as an imprint." The word imprint shock me even more.

Me? An imprint? How? Why?

"Why me? How?"

"We don't know.. and we can't help who we imprinted on.." he shrug and we continue walking.

"I want to ask about something.." i look down at my feet as we walk. He hum as response.

"Maybe this is a little out of topic, but is... Edward.. a vampire??"

"Yeah.. all his family, the Cullen are vampires.. but they considered themself as vegetarian. They only drink animal blood..." Paul explain about the Cullen.

So, Bella was having a relationship with a family of vampires. I want to be mad at her, but i can't. The way she so heartbroken when Edward leave her, they must be had a very good relationship before. And most importantly she's happy.

"Bella want to tell you about the Cullen.. but she never found the time to explain it. You already find it by yourself, so maybe it'll be easier for her to explain. She want you to be safe, (y/n).. don't be mad at her. Yes, she was wrong to had a relationship with vampires, when she alone is a human. But the reason she didn't tell you is because you past. She afraid that you can't accept it and she didn't want to loose you."

"Even if i want to be mad at her, i just can't. She's happy with Edward and to me, her happiness is everything.." Paul chuckle softly.

Short after, we arrive at a beautiful sceneries, the cliff. The ocean beneath it is so beautiful. "We used to cliff diving in here. But when we walk toward the other side, it have the most beautiful sceneries. Come on, hold on to me, okay. It's dangerous." He strecth out his hand and i take it. The warm from his hand make me comfortable and feel safe. No wonder Jacob said that i'll be more safe around him. Even if he has an anger issue, I believe that he don't have any intention to hurt me. The way he talk and treat me with so much love and adoration is great.

"Here we are." He said after we walk about 10 minutes. My eyes lit up when i see the scenery. We can see the mountains around us and forests beneath us. It's so beautiful. Well, beside the cold wind, everything is great.

We both sit down, near the edge. Paul sit really close to me, giving his warmth to me. "Do you like it?" He look over me, smiling softly.

I smile back at him. "Totally.. how did you guys found this place?"

He shrug. "When we are doing patrol, Embry found this. But we rarely gather in here, we usually doing cliff diving. But never going alone, okay? The road is rocky and steep. Ask the boys if you want to come here, if i'm unavailable. Okay?"

I chuckle softly. "Is all of you always this protective? Not in a bad way, though.."

"Of course. Imprintee is always our number one priority. They are our everything. Even alpha order didn't work on us if it regarding of our imprint. And after what happened to Emily, we usually always be careful around them."

"I never knew we are this valuable... what if the imprint die? Or reject you?"

"We cannot live without them. We will be so heartbroken, so lost. It's like we lost our other half... that bad.." he look at the scenery ahead us, looking serious.

Even though imprinting is an amazing thing, it also hold a very important factor on the shape-shifter life. I can't imagine how much it hurt if their imprintee reject them or die.

We talk with each other, getting to know each other well and enjoying each other presences, until it's dawn and we head back home. Paul walk me back to my house as it almost dark.

"Let's see each other again?" I ask as i look into his beautiful brown eyes.

He nod. "Tomorrow i'll pick you up? Let's go to Emily's and since tomorrow is Sunday, we always have picnic at the beach. Want to come?"

"Of course."

He smile softly and kiss my forehead. "I'll pick you up at 8, in the morning. Okay?" I nod, smile at his behaviour. "Get inside. Don't forget to eat okay? And sleep well."

"Okay.. see you tomorrow, Paul. And thank you for today, for everything.. i totally enjoyed it." I said as we then say goodbye and part ways.

As i lay i bed after took a shower and did my homework, i can't help but smile at what happened today. First i was so scared around Paul, but now i totally love being with him. Maybe it'a the imprinting thing, i don't know. I should ask Emily about this.

Tag : @calling-dips-on-j-hope @ivettt

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

It's Who We Have | Part Seven

Summary: A cruel twist of fate has brought them together, and it might be enough to push them apart | Word Count: 5.6k~ | Warnings: mentions of terrorism, that episode of trigger point 🫣

A/N: guys we finally made it. The scene that made me start this series 😘 enjoy!

General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Despite knowing Billy had endured a rough night on the sofa, the morning revealed the aftermath in his dishevelled hair, longer stubble, and tired countenance, as if he battled a tempest in his sleep.

Surprisingly, slipping into his bed felt oddly natural, shedding only her jeans and bra before nestling beneath the sheets, enveloped by the familiar scent that wrapped around her like a tender embrace. Despite the temptation to invite him to share the bed, she resisted, though her heart tugged against her rational mind.

The tension between them simmered beneath the surface, palpable in the silences punctuated by sporadic conversation and the noisy sips of tea. The oppressive heat of the day seemed to sap the air from her lungs, despite every window cracked open in Billy's flat. And yet, each time she stole a glance at him—clad in nothing more than worn joggers and a shirt clinging to his chest with sweat—her mouth inexplicably grew drier, amplifying the unspoken desires lingering between them since childhood, heightened by the previous night's fleeting kiss.

After freshening up a reasonable amount, she gathered the things she’d bought with her, ensuring it was alright if her car was left in its spot while Billy offered to drive her to Farringdon Tube Station. It felt like they were making up for the awkward flirting and silences from when they were teenagers, and she cursed herself for how easy it was for him to make her cheeks warm without seemingly doing much at all.

She sighed as they left the street-level door, the heavy weight of humidity dragging her down to the earth with every stifled step. Billy’s car wasn’t fancy, as she’d found out the night he’d driven her home from the pub with Abi and Libby strewn across the back seat and the way the weight of them made his car scrape against every speed bump on the way home. They smiled at one another awkwardly over the roof of the battered Vauxhall as Billy unlocked his door and both slid inside, groaning once again at the air inside the car somehow even worse.

“Why don’t you put the air-con on?” she asked, sliding into the passenger seat, plopping her bag between her feet.

Billy scoffed with a boyish smile, the key needing two turns before the engine fired into life, “fucking air con. They just blow hot air at you.” 

God, it was nice to see him smile.

Nothing was said about the night before. She figured he might need a moment to collect his thoughts, as Billy often did.

He was a thinker. Quiet. Always had been. And though age has wisened him somewhat to this behaviour, some things never changed. 

She didn’t mind. All she had was time. And if needed she’d wait for him to broach the subject whenever he was ready for it.

It only took twenty minutes for him to pull up to a slow stop beside the tube station. It was busier than usual, but being a Saturday, it was rife with people and groups of all types, and not only that, but she furrowed her brows at the group of people gathered in the middle of the road, with signs held high, and angry expressions.

“Bloody hell, what’s all this about?”

Billy sighed, his thumb rubbing his his forehead in annoyance, “fucking protest.”

She hummed and gathered her bag from the footwell, apparently seeing Billy was in no mood to delve into the confusion mix that was his emotions. 

But her hand barely brushed the door handle.

“Wait..” he practically breathed without effort, fiddling with the gear stick as if he needed something to do with his hands “Can we…at least try and talk about last night?”

She couldn’t really read his expression. And she felt her heart beating so hard in her chest she was sure he could sense it. A sort of dread pooling there at the thought he hadn’t meant any of it, and that he was too drunk at the time to speak clearly.

She still felt his hand on her stomach, fingers barely stealing beneath the waistband of her jeans.

Billy wet his lips, his sandy blonde hair falling into his face. Her heart raced with uncertainty, hoping that her not moving an inch and her hand falling from the car door was enough of a reply.

“I just…I need to know if last night meant anything to you.”

Her breath caught, emotions swirling in her gut like a hurricane. A barrage of feelings made her feel nauseous, remembering how she had slept, with his scent permeating her senses, unable to sleep with the tingling to her lips and the inescapable idea that there was no going back. 

If she had known that Billy had done somewhat the same. Laid on the sofa, arm thrown over his eyes, confused and pent up in equal measure, unable to relax at the idea that the woman he’d kissed, and bared all for, was asleep in his bed. 

“Of course it did,” she replied softly, her eyes fluttering with vulnerability, “but…did it mean anything to you?”

He swallowed hard, his gaze falling to the floor before meeting hers again, as if her question directed back at him had taken him off guard, “Yeah,” he confessed. “It meant everything.”

A wave of relief soared through her so much she felt weightless, coupled with a sense of longing she was now unable to suppress. 

“Then what now?” she asked, her voice laced with uncertainty and yet hope.

He sighed through his nose, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, in a gesture that made her heart squeeze, “I don’t know,” he admitted, his thumb lingering to graze her cheek, “But…can we figure it out together?”

With a hard swallow of her own, she nodded sincerely, and feeling a surge of courage, she leaned in closer, her heart pounding as she leaned in to close the distance between them. With a gentle touch, she pressed her lips to his, a silent affirmation of their unspoken connection. But the only affirmation Billy needed. 

Billy’s breath caught in his throat, his hand still lingering on her cheek as he returned the kiss, his lips meeting and moulding to hers with a tender urgency. In that moment, all doubts and uncertainties melted away, leaving only the warmth and promise of what lay ahead, whether it was a difficult path to pave or not.

The angry beep of the horn from a car behind them made them break apart with a stifled and awkward giggle, cheeks all warm, but a silent understanding lingering. He let out a low chuckle, “I’ve always wanted to do this with you.”

She smiled warmly back at him, her heart fluttering with newfound excitement mingled with a touch of nervousness. "Me too," she confessed softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she reached for the door handle. “Still promise?”

For a moment, he looked lost, until he remembered what he would do to break himself from the hatred and judgement of the people he was currently involved with. And he nodded, “promise.”

Her fingers pulled the clunky door handle.

“Hang on, Lana’s ringing. She’s been calling me all bloody morning.”

She looked back and waited, watching as Billy put Lana on speakerphone, already seemingly annoyed with the conversation before it had even started.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Lana sounded ragged on the other end, as if she were walking quickly, “where are you? Sound like you’re in the car?”

“Yeah was driving to meet my mates, why?”

“What mates? Anyone I know?”

She furrowed her brows. When was Lana ever protective of Billy? It wasn’t like her at all. Usually she’d want as little as possible to do with whatever Billy busied himself doing. Although she couldn’t deny, perhaps his big sister was just as afraid for what he’d got involved in as she had been.

“Just mates, Lana. Why what’s going off?”

“Listen, Billy, I just needed to call you. You’ve not been answering my calls. You’ve not been about-wh-where are you driving to?”

Billy nearly stalled the car, lurching it forward slightly and bumping one of the protestors, and all at once they were surrounding them, with angered faces and patting at the car windows.

“Billy. Billy.”

He sighed, flashing two fingers to a protester on his side, “Farringdon Tube Station.”

“Listen, Billy, it’s important, what are you doing at Farringdon Station?”

His fingers gripped the steering wheel, flashing a confusion expression to her across the centre console at how worried Lana sounded, and how his sister was doing a piss poor job of hiding it in her voice, “I was meant to meet the lads but they’re not here. Outside the tube he said, but I can’t see them. Just a load of lefty wankers.”

“Billy, why did you drive, was that your idea?”

“Nah, my mates asked me to give some of the lads a lift down. Must be some kind of joke.”

She did have a glance around, surmising that these ‘friends’ should have been here by now. 

Why was dread pooling in her stomach?

Something felt wrong. Like it was pulling her to the spot she was sat.

“Yeah they’ve set me up, haven’t they? Havin’ a laugh, aren’t they? Knobheads.”

There was that little pang of sadness again. The familiar sound of Billy being let down.

“Billy, these new mates of yours, they’re not who you think they are.”

He rubbed his nose, scrunching it as if his sister could see, “Lana, what you on about?”

“Nick. Nick Roberts, he’s a…he’s a terrorist. One of the Crusaders that killed Nut.”

That dread began to mutate into fear then.

Her fingers started to shake.

“You’re winding me up, aren’t you.”

“Do I sound like I’m fucking winding you up?! Have any of them been near your car? Look around, is there anything different about it?”

“Got a mate fixing up my car.” he’d said just the day before.

She felt as if she might vomit.

“Eh?”

“For fucks sake, Billy! Listen to me! I need you to check the car for me, okay? Have a look under the steering wheel or under the footwell, anything you can see that might be unusual.”

Fear invaded Billy’s voice then, and it made her feel no better about her own, “right…yeah…”

She watched her friend. Her friend? No. The man she loved clawed about his car with shaking hands, dropping various bits onto the floor. A sponge fell from the dashboard, revealing the old, used lipstick tube that Becky must have owned. Packs of ibuprofen. Scrunched up receipts.

Every bit of Billy's daily life crumbling apart in search of danger that lingered inside.

And all she could do was watch on in horror, unmoving.

Her trembling feet shifted across as if she were cowering, when Billy lifted the foot mat and he himself, froze with parted lips.

“Lana there’s some masking tape underneath the foot mat.”

Lana's reaction over the phone mirrored hers, and she heard a hard breath crackle on the other line.

“Alright, okay, can you…really carefully lift up the masking tape?”

An acrid fear bubbled at the back of her throat.

“There’s…there’s a wire, Lana.”

A pause.

Come on Lana.

“Can you see where it’s leading to?”

The way Billy held the wire between his fingers so lightly made her want to shut her eyes right and never open them again. It lead to an opening between the glovebox and the door, such a tiny hole that nobody would have noticed unless they looked closely.

“The…the glove box…”

Their eyes met briefly. His stuttering voice made her want to weep and even more so the look of wide-eyed horror in his gaze.

Come on, Billy. 

She swallowed dryly, as his fingers tugged the glovebox open with a haunting click.

Silence enveloped her, suffocating in its intensity.

Her gaze fixated on the ominous device nestled amidst the tape and wires, its menacing presence choking Billy's car in a miasma of dread. Each heartbeat echoed louder than his fading voice, each second stretching into an eternity as she grappled with fear's paralysing grip.

Her fingers, entwined around the car handle, hovered in limbo, caught between fleeing into uncertainty or surrendering to the looming threat. A call from Lana had shattered the fragile peace, leaving her teetering on the precipice of terror.

With a quivering exhale, she released her grasp, her hands trembling with a raw, primal energy. The world outside, once vibrant with life, now seemed tinged with an ominous shadow. Farringdon Tube station teemed with unsuspecting souls, oblivious to the danger lurking beneath the surface.

Dread clawed at her insides, a nauseating churn of realisation settling in her gut like vomit. These people, innocent and carefree, were now unwitting pawns in a deadly game. Families frolicked, children laughed, teenagers revelled in their youth—all oblivious to the impending peril.

A chill swept over her, a cold sweat tracing the length of her spine, pushing her seat back as far as it would go to distance herself from the danger staring back at her. Billy's panicked voice crept back into her ears, a stark reminder of the impending catastrophe that loomed ever closer.

“Fucking. Hell. Shit, shit, shit, it’s hooked up to summat…looks like a bomb” “I’ve got to get out the car, if it explodes I’m done for man, I’m gonna die-”

“No! Billy! Do not get out the car! Do not get out the car. You just need to stay calm and listen to me, alright?”

She reached out with urgency as Billy made the move, calmly pulling him back with a softened gaze, “Billy, hey, look at me. It’s alright, I’m here…”

Lana's urgent tone cut through the tension like a knife, her concern palpable even through the crackling phone connection. "Billy, who's in the car with you?" she asked suddenly, her voice sharp with urgency.

Billy was still trying to catch his breath, so she replied, “it’s me…Billy was giving me a lift to the station, I-I didn’t know-”

“Shit…”, her heart raced as Lana's voice crackled through the phone once more. "Listen to me, both of you," Lana said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I need you to stay calm and listen carefully. Keep the line open and put it on speakerphone so I can hear everything."

"Okay... okay..." she whispered to herself, her voice a mere murmur of reassurance amidst the chaos. With a gentle touch, she rubbed Billy's shoulder, offering him what comfort she could, prioritising his well-being over her own rising fear.

He swallowed his breath, attempting to keep it in his chest as he looked over at her with glassy, blue eyes, realising he had not only put himself in danger, but both of them. She saw the guilt and dread fall in his gaze.

"Right, we're gonna go to Cranstead Fields, Billy, you know it, yeah?" Lana's voice echoed through the car, her words a lifeline in the darkness of their situation.

“Yeah…I know it,” his voice was resigned, his fingers finding the steering wheel with anxiety.

“I’ll meet you there, it’s gonna be okay.”

But despite Lana's constant encouragement, she could sense the distrust emanating from Billy with each passing moment. Doubt clouded his features, scepticism shadowing his every move. He didn't believe her.

He didn't believe her.

What almost scared her more was Billy’s erratic driving, taking corners too quick and being generally careless. His crumbling belief he’d make it out of this alive swallowed by dread.

“You’ve got to tell Mum and Dad I’m sorry, yeah?”

“Billy, tell them yourself, you’re gonna be fine!”

She pressed her legs together as if trying to curl herself into a ball of safety, hands braced on the seat, trying to calm the heavy beating of her heart.

Her eyes screwed shut at the exchange between Billy and Lana, whispering so quietly to herself for him to calm down and drive carefully.

Her eyes flew open and Billy leaned over though as something within the glovebox beeped. A light illuminated several numbers on the screen, showing all 0s, before settling and counting down with a harrowing beep from 08:00.

“Shit…”

“What’s happened?”

“There’s a timer, Lana…it’s a fucking timer.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Sanity slipped with every second. And she's ashamed to admit she jumped when Billy punched the steering wheel.

“Shit! Shit! Fuck!”

“Listen, Billy, I'm gonna help you, but you need to focus, okay? You just need to concentrate on getting to the park. When you get there, drive straight onto the field, you'll be fine. I promise.”

She exhaled shakily, wanting desperately to believe Lana on the other end, but gripping the passenger seat so hard her fingernails were digging into the material, and Billy's reddened and panicked face made it all the more difficult.

And as if it couldn't get worse.

“Fucking hell, my battery's gonna die,” Billy uttered in a tremor, watching as his phone went black screen just as Lana was about to say something.

Billy breathed through his nose loudly, chest moving with laboured breaths, he whispered, “come on, please, say something, talk to me, please.”

He begged like a mantra.

And though she couldn't trust her voice to sound at all comforting, she tried anyway, “we’ll be fine…Lana knows what she's doing, okay…she'll know what to do…”

Billy must have heard the sheer terror in her voice, and as he glanced aside, the way the tears were just starting to glitter her cheeks, he reached over and squeezed the skin above her knee in an attempt to make her feel safe and grounded.

Her hand simply joined his, interweaving their fingers momentarily. Gripping to him like he was the last thing on earth she could feel.

She shifted in her seat as Billy took the corner into Cranstead Fields, tyres screeching as he drove out onto the green, parting a friendly football game as he beeped for them to move out the way. She spotted one single police car as he passed it and felt her heart clench.

Even when they came to a stop, she caught sight of them running angrily towards her in the side mirror and immediately used both hands and all her strength to pull the door towards herself.

“Get away from that car!”

The lads surrounded them, sweaty hands pawing at the windows with annoyed grunts. Billy quickly pushed his lock down, and she closed her eyes as one particular lad stopped at her window and attempted to pry the door open. It felt as if she were breathing so loudly that blood was coating her tongue.

Only when they ran off did a man in uniform stop at Billy's window, a man she didn't recognise but he must have.

“Billy, Billy look at me, it's Hass. Stay still, okay? We're gonna work around you.”

Fuck. He spoke as if he had no clue what to do.

Lana's car grew in the distance, and she breathed partly in relief as Hass moved away towards her.

“Hass, I'm fucking losing it-” Billy started.

She shifted aside and reached out to hold his arms, “Billy…Billy, look at me,” she had to hold his face for him to finally hear her, “just you and me…it's alright…”

He shook his head, “I-I'm so fucking sorry, I-”

“Stop. Just breathe, okay…it's just you and me…”

She was almost shocked by her own words. Inside, she felt as if she were already dying and gasping for air. Only finding oxygen when Billy's eyes softened only slightly and he nodded, leaning his tacky cheek into her hand.

She blinked when Lana's dishevelled head popped around Billy's window.

Lana forced a smile, “I'm here. It's me. It's gonna be fine. Just stay really still, I'm gonna have a look around the car. Don’t touch anything, I’m just gonna check the car okay?”

Lana side-stepped wearily around it, and something changed in her gaze when she did, as if slipping right into work-mode before their very eyes. Her hand was still resting on Billy’s shaking forearm, while he leaned over her side with a mortifying sense of curiosity and foreboding, checking the numbers tick down on the display.

Lana didn’t say a word as she zoned in on the passenger window.

“How bad is it?” Billy asked, as if in desperate need of some good news.

If there was one thing about Lana she knew, it was that she was fucking horrendous at lying, “it’s fine.”

“I can tell when you’re lying, man, how bad is it?!”

If it were any other situation, she would have laughed at them both. And the brief glimpse into what would have been their normal sibling banter did make the battering of her heart slow somewhat. 

She could tell by the rising intensity of Billy's voice and the way he couldn’t relax that he was slowly losing it without the comforting words of his sister. And it did nothing for her nerves either when she watched Lana disappear to the police car in the distance and she noticed with a shrill freeze of her heart, a sniper aimed towards the car, in case either of them made a move to escape.

For Billy’s sake, she didn’t say a thing. And she felt more and more powerless the more Billy’s eyes watered, face reddenned in primal fear, “Lana, fucking get me out the car!”

His sister’s expression was stern, constantly fighting a battle between having to be professional and calm for work and yet comforting and loving as a sister to her little brother who gripped the steering wheel tight, and stared at her, wanting nothing more than to open the dreaded door into false freedom.

“Listen to me! Look at me! The timer means nothing. They’ve put it there as a trick so you open the door! Can you hear me! Don’t touch it! Stay still! Listen to me, I’m your sister.”

Billy had long checked out of reason. He just began to plead ceaselessly. Lana’s constant reassurance that she was his sister didn’t seem to mean a whole lot to him at this moment.

“Just trust me”, Lana begged wearily.

She shook her head. He doesn’t.

Even with those words, she saw the way Billy pleased ‘please, please’ as a means of self-soothing, unable to help himself from glancing over at the dreaded glovebox. She felt his control fading quickly.

Beeeeeeeeeep.

Both of them froze, watching the timer disappear off the screen.

“Lana?” Billy called pitifully.

Vomit rolled in her gut when after a few moments, the timer beeped once more back to life, tauntingly counting down from 30.

“Lana, do something!”

She’s too far away, she can’t hear us. She thought.

Billy’s palm smashed against the steering wheel in both grief and desperation, “Lana!”

“Billy, look at me,” she pleaded quietly at first.

Time slowed into a slow drag as Billy’s body turned his body, fiddling with shaky fingers to the lock at the corner of the window. Both dread and panic rolled in her, glancing at the sniper primed to discharge, and felt the hasty need to save Billy from himself, as she had done before. 

“Suspect is unlocking door. I repeat, sus-”

“Billy!”

Had it been different, she would have apologised for the way her nails dug into his flesh as she wrenched him away. And at first, it scared her how much he flailed and fought to escape her, until she took his cheeks in her palms and forced him to look at her.

“For fucks sake, Billy, look at me!”

His blue eyes were wide and glassy, red rimmed with tears, rosy lips parted to suck oxygen into his lungs, hands wrapped around her forearms so, so tightly. The beep of the timer only seemed to taunt them, with the reminder of how little time they had left.

And she thought with some ache in her chest, that if these were indeed her last few seconds, she would be fine with that, looking into Billy Washington’s desperate eyes as they flitted over her face. She hadn’t realised that the tears had quickly made their way down her own, emotions and panic pushing the control from her.

Time was slipping away, their fate hanging by a thread, and she could feel it unravelling beneath her fingertips.

She shook her head, eyes fluttering, “u-um…think of a nice memory, come on-”

He tightened his grip, blinking a few times, “O-okay…y-your first day of school.”

Despite everything, a smile threatened to break across her face. 

“Okay…okay…” she nodded, “do you remember how you were there for me then?”

He nods, “yeah, I do-”

“Now let me be here for you…okay?”

All Billy could do was nod to her, and she took the brief opportunity his eyes were closed to steal a glance at the sniper, now relaxed, seeing through his viewfinder that there was no longer immediate danger. The man she remembered was named Hass was trying his best to hold Lana back, waiting for the inevitable.

For either the timer to go off, and the car would be filled with flame and heat. Or nothing.

She sniffled, “you remember? I was covered in mud…I still remember you blushing going into the girl’s toilets.”

He sobbed loudly, shaking, head bowed against her chest, his whole body covered in perspiration with stress.

“Mum fucking bollocked me for that you know,” she adds with a watery laugh.

He rested his head against her chest, seeking comfort in the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath his cheek. His hands encircled her waist, holding onto her as if she were his lifeline, and she reciprocated, clutching him tightly, her fingers tangling in his damp, tousled hair.

“It’s always been us, right? It always will be,” he whispered, his voice quivering with emotion.

“Always,” she affirmed softly, her own voice trembling with unshed tears.

“You're everything,” he confessed, his words choked with emotion, the impending threat of their demise hanging heavily in the air.

Their embrace tightened, the outside world fading into oblivion as they held onto each other, finding solace in the precious moments they had left together.

The timer continued its relentless countdown, each passing second felt like an eternity. She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable explosion. The tension in the car was palpable, suffocating them both as they braced themselves for the worst.

But as the timer reached zero, there was only silence. No deafening blast, no fiery explosion. Just the sound of their ragged breaths filling the air, mingling with the faint hum of the engine.

Confusion washed over them, disbelief etched into their expressions as they exchanged bewildered glances. Had they miscalculated? Was this some twisted twist of fate?

The bomb hadn't gone off. 

They were still alive.

She turned to Billy, her heart pounding in her chest, and found him gazing at her with a mixture of disbelief and relief mirrored in his eyes.

Without a word, he leaned in, his lips pressing urgently against hers in a desperate kiss. It was a frantic, desperate attempt to grasp onto life, to affirm their existence in the face of imminent death. Every touch, every caress, was a silent plea for more time, a fervent prayer that they had not cheated death in vain.

The lingering danger remained, tucked into the glovebox as they broke free from the kiss, trying to paw back control between themselves.

For a brief moment, Billy thought, what if she hadn’t been here?

He jumped when EXPO began to surround the car, but didn't break free from her. They stayed like that for long, long moments, not wanting to part from this delicate balance.

She couldn't really even pay attention to what they were saying. It was all meaningless jargon to both of them. All they knew was that they took were clinging to the hope that two people would not die today, it wouldn't be them.

Lana murmured to Hass, “extract Billy first through the rear window, he's the most unstable-” 

“No! Get her out first!” Billy protested.

“Billy, calm down, we'll get you both out, okay?” Lana replied calmly, her tone trying to diffuse the situation. Her hand gripped Billy's tighter as he argued.

“Fuck no-”

“Billy,” she whispered, tracing his knuckles with her thumb, “it's okay, I'll be right behind you, okay?”

She thought, she wasn't doing a very good job getting the shake out of her voice. But she implored him all the same to just do what she asked of him. He would be safe…

The EXPO team managed to pry the rear window without shattering the glass, and as it thunked to the floor, cooling air pooled in, making the sweat sticking to her clothes feel chilly.

“Alright, Billy, very slowly, put your seat back as far as it will go-that’s it-so it's nice and flat-” Hass instructed calmly, and she watched him with bated breath, “now slowly, if you can, climb over towards us…”

Billy licked his lips, pulling every strength he thought he had deep inside. His legs felt heavy. Body wracked with stress. And every step he took, he felt as if he was on the precipice of passing out.

Hass and a uniformed officer were the ones who pulled him free. And as soon as she saw Billy disappear out the rear window to safety, she felt that sinking feeling of loneliness once again settle in her chest.

She could even hear Billy's protest, fighting against the police officers trying to push him towards the ambulance, “I'm not going anywhere until she's out- get her out!”

She swallowed thickly and blinked quickly, trying to steady the quivering of her hands in mid air. Her eyes kept being pulled to the tightly wrapped package in the glovebox in front of her. Voices fading into nothingness.

Hass knocked on her window, and she jumped in her spot.

“Okay now, I need you to really slowly, like Billy just did, tilt your seat back.”

She nodded but it was merely out of sheer instinct. The words were scrambled.

Her legs felt like jelly as she slowly pushed the seat back, her airways feeling constricted from the force of her tears. Turning her body she gripped the headrest and rested her knees on the seat, trying her hardest to breathe deeply.

“Come on, it's alright, you're totally safe,” Hass soothed from the view out the rear window. Billy was not far behind, beside Lana, watching with a face of worry and bloomed by the harsh sun.

One leg stretched forwards, with arms on each headrest, seeing freedom, her movements were too quick, and her foot slipped between the seat and the gearstick. She tugged a few times, frustration and panic only exacerbating her grief at the last hour.

“Come on, you're doing so well, baby,” Billy's soft, airy voice was closer. She saw his face with blurry vision out the rear window, his figure bathed in warmth and light.

His hand outstretched. But she couldn't reach it. She was frozen in limbo between the swallowing darkness of the bomb behind her, and the open and safe closeness of her dear friend, and the man she loved.

Years of adorning that mask of self reliance, of building the walls high around her heart seemed to melt off of her. And when she saw Billy's face looking at her through the rear windscreen, she thought that she simply wanted to be the little girl in the green coat, even if it was just for one last time.

She nearly sobbed when Billy crawled back into the car, blatantly ignoring the protests behind him, she felt his hands around her waist and ribs, to pull her gently free.

Her arms hugged him frantically, the fresh grass and the familiar Billy scent enveloped around her. His form swamped her, his breath kissing at her neck where his head was buried in her shoulder as he lowered them to the ground.

Over his shoulder, through the clarity after her tears, she glanced at the spot where so many times Billy had done just this. 

Comforted her. Kissed her. Loved her.

“You're everything to me,” he whispered lovingly. Her eyes fluttered shut at his words, a soft whimper muffled by his shoulder as she buried herself in him.

“Billy…”

Not even the urgent commands from first responders could tear them apart, their grip on each other only growing tighter as they were ushered away from the car.

And when the controlled explosion echoed through Cranstead Fields, sending shockwaves through the air and coating the grass in a blanket of blackened debris, they remained steadfast in their bond, their love burning brighter than the flames that engulfed Billy's car.

Even as the flashing lights illuminated the darkness, and the blaring sirens pierced the silence, they held onto each other, their hearts beating as one against the chaos that threatened to tear them apart.

Billy's eyes scanned the chaos, desperately seeking her familiar face amidst the flurry of activity. But she was already being ushered away, swallowed by the darkness of another ambulance, her figure growing smaller with each passing second.

With Lana's comically small stature pushing Billy gently, he saw through the sea of heads and mischief, her eyes, bright and glimmering with tears as he had always known her.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies

[dykevillanelle]

savannah "dykevillanelle"'s 2021 reading list

books read: 86 pages read: 26,910

top 5: 1 (best). Gideon the Ninth / Harrow the Ninth (Tamsyn Muir) 2. Lolita in the Afterlife (edited by Jenny Minton Quiqley) 3. Carceral Capitalism (Jackie Wang) 4. Detransition, Baby (Torrey Peters) 5. Plain Bad Heroines (Emily M. Danforth)

bottom 5: 1. The Other Woman (Sandie Jones) 2. Meddling Kids (Edgar Cantero) 3. Haunted (Chuck Palahniuk) 4. Come With Me (Helen Schulman) 5 (worst). The Mask of Sanity (Hervey M. Cleckley)

full list and my ratings under the cut:

Plain Bad Heroines (Emily M. Danforth) ★★★★★

The Honey Month (Amal El-Mohtar) ★★★★★

Stamped From the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America (Ibram X. Kendi) ★★★★

Black on Both Sides: A Racial History of Trans Identity (C. Riley Snorton) ★★★★★

The Milk Lady of Bangalore: Adventures With My Milk Lady (Shoba Narayan) ★★★

Mules and Men (Zora Neale Hurston) ★★★

Ring Shout (P. Djèlí Clark) ★★★★★

The Friend (Sigrid Nunez) ★★★★★

The Body is Not An Apology: The Power of Radical Self-Love (Sonya Renee Taylor) ★★★★

Meddling Kids (Edgar Cantero) ★★

Fade Into You (Nikki Darling) ★★

Queer Brown Voices: Personal Narratives of LGBT Latino/a Activism (edited by Salvador Vidal-Ortiz, Uriel Quesada, & Letitia Gomez) ★★★

The Fifth Season (N.K. Jemisin) ★★★★★

Her Body and Other Parties (Carmen Maria Machado) ★★★★★

Clock Dance (Anne Tyler) ★★★

The Other Woman (Sandie Jones) ★★

The Obelisk Gate (N.K. Jemisin) ★★★★

The Windfall (Diksha Basu) ★★★

The Freezer Door (Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore) ★★★★

Carceral Capitalism (Jackie Wang) ★★★★★

Watchmen (Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons) ★★★★

Lolita in the Afterlife (edited by Jenny Minton Quiqley) ★★★★★

The Stone Sky (N.K. Jemisin) ★★★★

The Mask of Sanity (Hervey M. Cleckley) ★

Grand Union (Zadie Smith) ★★★

In West Mills (De'shawn Charles Winslow) ★★★

The Farm (Joanne Ramos) ★★★★★

Jane: A Murder (Maggie Nelson) ★★★★

Inside This Place, Not Of It: Narratives from Women’s Prisons (edited by Ayelet Waldman & Robin Levi) ★★★★

Live Through This: On Creativity and Self-Destruction (edited by Sabrina Chap) ★★★★

Other Voices, Other Rooms (Truman Capote) ★★★★★

Moses, Man of the Mountain (Zora Neale Hurston) ★★★

The Weight of Ink (Rachel Kadish) ★★★★★

Two or Three Things I Know For Sure (Dorothy Allison) ★★★★

Clean and White: A History of Environmental Racism in the United States (Carl A. Zimring) ★★★★

The Grass Harp and Other Stories (Truman Capote) ★★★★

Sybil Exposed: The Extraordinary Story Behind the Famous Multiple Personality Case (Debbie Nathan) ★★★★

Without a Net: The Female Experience Growing Up Working Class (Michelle Tea) ★★★★

The Devil Finds Work (James Baldwin) ★★★★

Seed Sovereignty, Food Security: Women in the Vanguard of the Fight Against GMOs and Corporate Agriculture (edited by Vandana Shiva) ★★★

Women, Race, & Class (Angela Y. Davis) ★★★★★

Mermaid in Chelsea Creek (Michelle Tea) ★★★★★

Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans from Colonial Times to the Present (Harriet A. Washington) ★★★★★

Freshwater (Akwaeke Emezi) ★★★★★

Summer Crossing (Truman Capote) ★★★

The Adventure Zone: The Crystal Kingdom (Carey Pietsch, Clint McElroy, Griffin McElroy, Justin McElroy, Travis McElroy) ★★★★★

Barracoon: The Story of the Last “Black Cargo” (Zora Neale Hurston) ★★★

Women, Culture & Politics (Angela Y. Davis) ★★★★

Superior: The Return of Race Science (Angela Saini) ★★★★★

In Cold Blood (Truman Capote) ★★★

The Keeper of Lost Things (Ruth Hogan) ★★★★

The Chosen and the Beautiful (Nghi Vo) ★★★★★

Mexican Gothic (Silvia Moreno-Garcia) ★★★★

On the Come Up (Angie Thomas) ★★★

Capitalism: A Ghost Story (Arundhati Roy) ★★★★

Blues Legacies and Black Feminism: Gertrude “Ma” Rainey, Bessie Smith, and Billie Holiday (Angela Y. Davis) ★★★★

The Fire Never Goes Out: A Memoir in Pictures (Noelle Stevenson) ★★★★

The Travelers (Regina Porter) ★★

Mister Impossible (Maggie Stiefvater) ★★

Honey Girl (Morgan Rogers) ★★★★

The Daylight Gate (Jeanette Winterson) ★★

Women in the Qur'an: An Emancipatory Reading (Asma Lamrabet) ★★★

Music for Chameleons (Truman Capote) ★★★★

Abolition Democracy: Beyond Empire, Prisons, and Torture (Angela Y. Davis) ★★★★★

Trans Love: An Anthology of Transgender and Non-Binary Voices (edited by Freiya Benson) ★★★★

The Left Hand of Darkness (Ursula K. Le Guin) ★★★★

Black Women and Popular Culture: The Conversation Continues (edited by Adria Y. Goldman et. al.) ★★★

The Meaning of Freedom: And Other Difficult Dialogues (Angela Y. Davis) ★★★★

Inside the Cell: The Dark Side of Forensic DNA (Erin E. Murphy) ★★★★

Detransition, Baby (Torrey Peters) ★★★★★

Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me (Mariko Tamaki & Rosemary Valero-O'Connell) ★★★★★

The Magicians (Lev Grossman) ★★★

decolonizing trans/gender 101 (b. binoahan) ★★★★★

Gideon the Ninth (Tamsyn Muir) ★★★★★

Harrow the Ninth (Tamsyn Muir) ★★★★★

Come With Me (Helen Schulman) ★★

Geek Love (Katherine Dunn) ★★★

The House That Race Built: Original Essay by Toni Morrison, Angela Y. Davis, Cornel West, and Others on Black Americans and Politics in America Today (edited by Wahneema Lubiano)

The Only Good Indians (Stephen Graham Jones) ★★★

Too Brief a Treat: The Letters of Truman Capote (Truman Capote, Gerald Clark) ★★★★

The Call (Peadar O'Guilín) ★★★★★

An Untamed State (Roxane Gay) ★★★★

Haunted (Chuck Palahniuk) ★★

Anger is a Gift (Mark Oshiro) ★★

Ayiti (Roxane Gay) ★★★★★

Witches, Sluts, Feminists: Conjuring the Sex Positive (Kristen J. Sollee) ★★

[helaelaemond]

REQUEST TIME Because of your beautiful, beautiful mind, this idea came up after reading your amazing Billy fic (Only worth living if somebody loving you).

How about a Billy who, as you showed, is turned on by taking care of his SO, but turned on so much that he cannot help but cum from this?

I know it'll be great, as the idea mostly came from you and the EYE CONTACT will break me.

thank you for this wonderful prompt, and for trusting me with it! In @myfandomprompts I believe!!!!!!!

Title: This Is My Idea of Fun - part of the It’s All For You series but can be read as standalone

Pairing: Billy Washington x female reader

Summary: You've come back from a week long holiday with your friends, and your boyfriend Billy has missed you. He's missed taking care of you, touching you and tasting you, giving you everything you need. And in giving you everything you need, he finds his own satisfaction.

Cunnilingus, breast worship, nipple orgasm (female), hands-free orgasm (male), mild praise kink, pet names, established relationship, fluffy smut.

Rating: E

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: references to Lana Del Rey (this whole series is based on Video Games - the lyrics and the vibes. JUMPSCARE I GUESS)

Tag list: @sylasthegrim / @myfandomprompts/ @arcielee / @babyblue711 / i forget who else might want Billy tags <3

"Billy!"

He grins as he waits for you at Stansted arrivals with open arms, and you fly to him. "Hey!"

Catching you in his embrace, he peppers your face with kisses, not caring that you're feeling gross from your flight, not caring that you smell of the stale aeroplane air, not caring, not caring, not caring. Behind you, your friends meet their partners, too, although none are as welcomed so lovingly as you (not that it's a competition - but it still feels good).

"I missed you!"

His heart leaps when you say that, and he runs his fingers over your hair. "Hmm. I missed you too. Didn't know what to do with myself all week. God, you look good. Look at your tan!" The Mallorca sun has warmed your skin and left you glowing, and he kisses your forehead. "You wore sun cream, right?"

"Of course!" you laugh, batting away his worries. "Factor fifty, three times a day."

"Hmm. I'm not sure it counts if you're adding tanning oil on top of it."

"Shut up!"

He grins and grabs the handle of your suitcase, and although you protest, he takes the rucksack from your back, too. When you turn towards the train station within the airport, he grabs your hand. "Where you going?"

"Aren't we-?" you gesture to where your friends are meandering to head back to central London.

"Absolutely not. No public transport for my girl."

"For God's sake!" you laugh again. "It's only a half hour train! You didn't have to drive. Couldn't wait to get me alone, huh?"

Billy ducks his head but gives you a glance. "You joke, but..."

You shove him playfully. Leaving him for a moment, you hug your friends goodbye and promise to see them soon, and then you go back to him. Arm in arm, you walk out of the airport. It's only been a week away from him. But you're giddy being back with him.

After some convincing from your side, you'd agreed that you'd text every day, but not go into detail about what you're up to - that way, when you got home, you could tell him everything. At first, it made him nervous, but now that you're animatedly telling him everything as he drives down the M11, he's glad.

It's magic, seeing you like this. It's a beauty to listen to you talk about anything, let alone something that makes you so happy. He listens almost in a trance, and as he sits at a comfortable seventy-five in the outside lane, he rests his hand on your thigh. God, it's good to have you back.

By the time you've returned to the flat you rent together, you've told him all about your week-long holiday. Inside, it's clean and tidy, and on the living room windowsill is a fresh bouquet of lilac and lavender.

"Oh, Billy."

He smiles and kisses your temple. "Welcome home."

"Thank you."

You hug him for a long moment, just happy to be in his arms. But then his kisses move to your neck, and you squirm away. "No, stop. I need a shower. I feel gross."

Billy's nose scrunches as he beams at you. "Alright. Want me to unpack for you in the meantime?"

You think about telling him no, that he doesn't have to worry, but he strokes your cheek, and you're reminded how much he likes to take care of you, in his own way. "Could you?"

He nods.

"Thank you."

You take your time in the shower. You scrub every inch of yourself clean in an attempt to scourge travel from your skin and hair. By the time you've finished, Billy's unpacked your bags and stuck a wash on. It makes you feel all warm inside, the little gestures he performs that show he loves you. That you're his person to look after. You wrap yourself up in a towel and pad into the living room.

"All better?" he asks from where he's sitting on the sofa.

"Yeah. I need a proper brew, though. Want one?"

"Go on, then."

In the little kitchen, you pull out two mugs. They're ones you painted together on a date when you were still teenagers. He painted sprigs of lavender on his. It's what you smelled of on your first date. It's his favourite smell now, and your favourite flower. The memory makes you smile.

Strong arms encircle you as the kettle boils. A sharp chin finds its place on your bare shoulder. You put a tea bag in each mug, and a teaspoon of sugar in yours. Where Billy's mug has your signature lavender painted on it, yours has yours and his initials in a purple love heart.

"Shouldn't I be the one making you a drink?" he asks softly. His voice is low and smooth, every bit a comfort as a cup of tea.

"You've done plenty for me! But you can wash it up later, if it makes you feel better."

He laughs lowly, and kisses your neck. "Mmm. You smell nice now."

"Yeah, I didn't enjoy stinking of eau de Ryanair."

"Mm. Much better now. All clean. Just in time to make you dirty again."

You lean back against him as you cackle in delight. "That's a shit line, Billy! You'll have to try harder than that."

The kettle shakes as it comes to a loud boil, and you pour the hot water, followed by milk. The tea bags can stew for a few minutes.

"You want me to try different lines?"

"Hmm. Depends what lines you've got."

"I don't think I've got any."

You turn to face him and give him a smile. "You must have some. You know the right things to say in certain contexts."

He tilts his head down almost bashfully. "That's different."

"Yeah?"

"It's easy to say the right things when you're already half out your mind."

Heat flushes your cheeks, and you rest your hands on his shoulders to pull him down for a sweet kiss. "That's true. And you always know what to say then, anyway. How do you know what to say?"

Billy gently presses you back against the counter and places his hands on it either side of you. His gaze roams down your neck and to your exposed collarbones and shoulders. "Dunno. You just make me want to say them."

"Well, I'm glad that you do. You know, Sofia told us that Tom doesn't even talk during sex?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. Sometimes she has to even beg him to go down. He doesn't like doing it that much."

Billy meets your gaze with surprise in his eyes. "Really? Tommy?"

You nod.

"Huh. Maybe I need to get better friends."

That makes you laugh. "You should give him some tips!"

"I dunno. You think I've got anything worth sharing?"

You swallow. Butterflies have burst into your stomach. Just talking about it makes your skin tingle. And it's been a week. A week away from Billy might as well be a year. Yeah, a holiday with friends was really nice, but it had its drawbacks. On the second night you had cried because you missed him. Of course, your friends had laughed and rolled their eyes, and you'd got yourself together quick, but- but Billy.

"Yeah. You're alright at it, I guess."

His smile is so sweet as he leans closer to you. He tilts his head down and cocks it slightly to the side. "Only alright?"

You lick your lips. "Well. It's a better way for you to use your mouth than trying shit chat up lines."

"Wouldn't you prefer it was that way round, though?"

You try - and fail - to bite back your laughter. You're still blushing. "Yeah... when you put it like that."

"I missed it while you were away, you know?"

"'It'?"

He kisses your lips softly, nipping ever so slightly. "Your taste."

The power he holds over you is unreasonable. When he pulls away, your breath is still held. "My...?"

He watches your face for a moment, and then grabs the cups behind you. "C'mon. Let's go sit down."

Where he goes, you so happily follow. Back in the living room, you sit on the sofa next to him and cradle the mug in your hands. You blow on the top of the tea, and take a sip. Mm. Tastes like home.

"So what did you do with yourself while I was away?"

Billy positions himself on the cushions so that he's close to you, facing you, his knee touching yours. "Work. Saw Lana."

"How is she?"

"Settling in, I think. Mum and Dad are happy she's home."

"Bit of a different climate to the Middle East, though." You smile.

He sips his drink, too, as his fingers ghost along your shoulder. "Hmm."

"How's work?"

He doesn't answer. But his expression is soft. His sweet blue eyes follow the line his finger traces on your skin, up the side of your neck, and then down to where the towel is still wrapped under your arms and over your body.

"Billy?"

"Work's fine."

Another sip. And then he leans in and kisses your throat. The tea makes his mouth hot, and it draws a quiet noise from you. "I'm so glad you're home."

"Me too."

As he kisses your throat again, you take another sip. It's sweet, refreshing, soul-warming. The tea is nice, too. You smile softly.

When Billy's fingers carefully tug the towel open, you let it fall with a certain amount of relief. Since you came out of the bathroom in it, you've wanted him to do this. To welcome you home properly. From the moment he gripped your thigh in the car, actually, your heart has been quicker.

"Give me your cup." He takes it from your fingers, half empty, and rests it next to yours on the table. Another intimate gesture, a sign of him taking care of you.

Your body is dry now, clean and smooth and fresh. He runs his hand over your stomach and up your side, and his thumb caresses the swell of your breast. The other hand turns your face by the chin to look at him. He smiles slightly. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I missed you."

It never gets old, hearing that. "I missed you, too."

He kisses your mouth again. You close your eyes, and give into him.

How beautiful it is when you give into him, he thinks. You're clay under his hands, ready to be moulded, shaped, turned into something divine with the help of his touch. How you part your lips when he guides you makes his heart leap. He sighs when your tongues meet lazily. It's a hot and wet pressure that sends bolts of lighting down his spine.

He could kiss you all day and all night and never get bored, never need more. You're so soft and pliant under him. How sacred it is, to be wanted like this. Billy keeps hold of your chin as you share deep kisses, while his other hand spreads fingers wide and caresses your side. After a long moment, he guides you to lie back on the sofa.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes against your cheek.

You laugh breathlessly. "Even with these tan lines?"

Smiling, he traces the line over the top of your breast. Your skin is so supple here. "Yes."

"They look stupid."

"Better than there being no tan lines at all."

"I'd never sunbathe topless."

Just the thought makes his arms tingle. It makes him bite gently against the shell of your ear. His breath is hot against it. "You'd better not. Your body is for my eyes only."

That earns a soft sigh from you. "Says who?"

It's a poor attempt on your part to tease and challenge him, but already it's under his control that you've fallen. "You. Every time you give yourself to me like this, it's a promise that you're mine."

"You don't own me." But your voice is gentle, your smile wide.

"No? Then why have you stopped breathing?"

It's satisfying how you gasp under his touch. He kisses you deeply a final time before his lips find a path down your skin. He follows the curve of your jaw and the slope of your neck, and at your collarbone, he leaves careful bites to the bone. Between your breasts, he presses his nose and breathes hard.

Across your lower back, he splays his fingers and lifts you up slightly. You arch closer to him, and he hums lowly at the grasp on his sandy hair.

"So beautiful." He can't help telling you again and again. "You're so beautiful."

You laugh softly. "Stop being so sweet." But your eyes are closed, he sees as he glances up, and you're preening at his words.

"You want me to be cruel?"

Again, you laugh. "Alright. You can keep being sweet."

"That's my girl."

Billy kisses the underside of your breast, and brings one hand to the other to carefully massage it. He bites the delicate skin here and there, and makes a pattern of kisses around your flesh. As he neglects your nipple, you feel your areolas tighten at the stimulation and anticipation.

"Please," you whisper.

"There's no rush," he soothes.

"But I want you."

He kisses your sternum harder than before. "I know, baby. Just relax. I'll take care of you."

You whimper quietly. He's doing everything right, except this time he's being slow about it. He drags his pretty lips down your stomach and you tense, but then he returns back up to your neck.

"Relax," he whispers.

You try to let the tension go, but it's difficult when anticipation is coursing through you. You open your eyes to see him looking down at you. Against your waist, his thumb runs soothing circles.

"Take deep breaths for me," Billy murmurs. As he leans over you, his short hair falls over his eyes, and it makes you smile. You stroke his face affectionately. You do as you're told.

"That's it. In, and out, nice and slow. Good job, baby. Just like that."

As the tension slowly melts away from your body, Billy is satisfied. Barely holding back his hunger, he returns his attention to your breasts. As you lie comfortably on the sofa, focusing on your breathing, he strokes up and down your sides, fingers ghosting along the swell of your breasts. Circles replace strokes, the tips of all four fingers trailing wide over your flesh.

When his touch glides over your pebbled areolas, you sigh and smile. The expression on your face makes his stomach tense. God, he could come from that alone.

"Does that feel nice?"

The deep breathing you've been practising has you finally relaxed and almost in a haze of desire now, and you nod. Words are out of your grasp, but you give him an encouraging hum. The anticipation no longer feels like a burden - now, it's just a promise.

"It feels nice for me, too." Closer and closer, Billy's fingers get to where you want them. And then, with a careful grasp around the bottom of your breast, he licks over your nipple. The stimulation makes you whimper and arch up. He runs the tip of his tongue around it, watching your face carefully for your reaction. Against your other breast, his fingers mirror the action of his mouth.

Billy blows cool air over where his tongue has been. He smiles when you toss your head to the side in response. After taking a long sip of warm tea, he takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks. The heat and rush of blood is so good.

You try to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the tension, but his knees are between yours and you can't. Instead, as the tension at your chest makes your mind foggy, you clench and unclench, driving your pleasure higher.

He notices. He can read you. "Easy," he whispers. "Breathe." His eyes bear into yours, blue flame, and you nod, obeying him. He smiles. "Good girl."

Another whimper sounds in your throat. He rewards you with his mouth again.

"Oh, God," you sigh. "Yes. Please."

Not a single touch has drifted south of your navel yet, but that doesn't matter. The attention at your breasts is more than enough. Pleasure builds deep within your body at the touches Billy lavishes on you. Soon, your steady breaths are not so steady anymore. Your jaw is slack, your hands fists at your side.

"Yes, yes, yes!"

He pulls off your nipple only to latch onto your other one. His fingers replace his mouth quickly and between his finger and thumb he carefully twists and pulls on you. Teeth catch puckered skin, and the sensation sets your whole body aflame. It drives you higher and higher.

"P-please!"

His free hand is firm around your back and he holds you firmly in his strong arm. You're drunk on his attention, seeing stars, consumed by him, by your Billy. The attention on your nipples is everything you need, and it builds and builds and your vision blacks out, you lose all sense of the world, and, and-!

"Fuck! Fuck, Billy! Yes, yes-!"

"Good girl," he hisses with your nipple between his teeth. His eyes are fixed on your face. "Just like that, baby. You're doing so well-!"

"Oh, shit-!"

As your orgasm erupts within you, you swear and writhe, burning. You twist and turn and arch, pleasure washing over you and making you cry out. It's overwhelming. It rips through every cell until you're shaking and mewling.

Billy's attentions slow, and after a long moment of taking you through your long peak, he presses his forehead over your heart. Hands stroke your sides soothingly, down your hips and thighs, and back up to your arms.

Silence follows. It's only punctuated by your heavy breathing, his quiet noises of encouragement.

"That was so good," he praises softly. "You're so pretty when you come."

You sling an arm over your eyes, but laugh softly at the praise. With your orgasm, some tension has been relieved from your body, but the haze in your mind remains. "Billy..."

"You want more?"

With flushed cheeks, you nod.

"Where do you want me?"

You trace your skin and drag a long line down your chest, your stomach, your hip. You spread your thighs and rest one foot on the floor for balance. The other is thrown onto the back of the sofa.

Billy lets out a shaking breath. "Oh, baby. You're so generous. All for me?"

The arm that was over your eyes now reaches for him, and you hold his hand. Lacing your fingers together feels as intimate as anything else. The butterflies in your stomach take flight again. "You."

"I missed your taste so much." He slinks down your body and kneels in front of the sofa. Strong arms twist you so that your legs come to rest on his shoulders. "Look how ready you are for me. Oh, you're so pretty."

His mouth is watering at the sight of you. Glistening, swollen, hot. His toes curl.

"Please," you whisper.

"What do you want me to do, baby?"

The pet name makes your thighs twitch. You used to cringe when you heard people call their partners 'baby', but in the most intimate moments with Billy, it feels so right. You're his. "Your mouth."

"Should I use it for 'shit chat up lines'?" And despite the overwhelming desire that shrouds you both, he grins.

God, it's so pretty the way his lips pull up like that. It makes his eyes sparkle, brings out smile lines on his cheeks. He's so loveable. "No. The other thing."

"What other thing?"

"You know."

He kisses the inside of your knee where it rests on his shoulder. "I know. But I want to hear you say it."

You blush - you hear your heartbeat in your ears. You feel it rush between your legs. "Please, Billy. Eat me out."

He almost growls in relief. "God, you're such a good girl. Thank you for using your words for me."

The praise makes you whimper. He's so good at it.

Between your thighs, Billy bites his lip. And then he closes the distance, and he's home. There's no home without you, not really, and this is the hearth. Warmth, fire, comfort. He loves your soul - but it's your cunt he worships.

His fingers make a 'v' shape at the apex of your thighs to spread you wide for him. The sight of your swollen clit, red and wet, makes him groan quietly. He tilts your hips slightly and presses his tongue first to your entrance, and the briny saltness of your readiness makes his eyes close. Your taste. Your fucking taste.

"Look at me." Your voice floats in the air like a song. His eyes open quickly and meet yours. It sends bolts of pleasure through him to hold your gaze as he runs his tongue up your length. Beneath it, your pulse rushes. A testament to how much you need him. How desperate he makes you. It's a love letter, every beat.

His tongue is soft while he pries at your entrance. The nerves there are stimulated in response, and your stomach tenses and relaxes in a familiar rhythm. Like he did around your nipple, here, he circles in a steady pace until you're arching closer for something more. As he sucks on your soft folds, you throw your head back and whine.

"Billy," you moan. "That feels so fucking good."

You're rewarded with a long lick up to your bud. He can't resist ghosting his teeth over it, and when you squeal, he smiles against your cunt. Each time you glance down at him, you meet his gaze. He can't take his eyes off your face.

Between his legs, his cock is neglected and aching. There is no stimulation for him, no relief. But it's like he's sharing in your physical pleasure now. He applies pressure with the flat of his tongue to your clit and rubs it back and forth, and the pleasure that builds for you also does for him.

Then, he pulls back.

"Shit, Billy-!" You glance down at him, panting, and see how wet his chin and lips and nose are. It makes you proud. All for him.

He can't keep away from you for long, though. Only a few seconds of respite are given to you before his tongue finds its place back on you. You're so warm and silky against his mouth, it's heaven. So slick and wet, too, impossibly ready. Billy nods his head up and down - still holding your gaze like his life depends on it - and lets his tongue pry against your entrance. Just a little angle change, and his nose catches the underside of your clit.

"Yes!" you beg. "Just like that, right there!"

But he can do more for you. He can be better, always better. With your thick scent filling his nose, your salty taste filling his mouth, he nips at your folds and then finally, finally, seals his lips around your clit.

Stars pop in his eyes now, not just yours. His cheeks hollow out as he sucks on you. Arms clamp around your thighs, biceps straining to hold you fast. Your own hands bury into his sandy hair to stop him from moving, too. You're locked together, bodies and souls.

"Yes!" you encourage again. "Billy, I'm so close, I'm so close, keep going, please, pl-!"

His mouth fills with your taste, with his own saliva, and he keeps suckling on you. Pressure is building in your stomach and his, and your cries and moans and begs push him, push him, push him. It's too much, he'll crack soon, he can't last much longer, not with your own climax imminent-

"Billy! Billy! Oh my God, oh my God! Billy! Bill-"

The lips around your clit wrench an orgasm from you that makes you scream. Your knees tighten against his ears and your whole body shakes. It washes over you for five seconds, ten, fifteen-! Your throat is raw from the gutteral cries, your cunt is throbbing from the tension and release, tension and release.

And then Billy is moaning between your thighs. His blue eyes are fixed on yours. But they're blown wide, and his hands are trembling, and then his jaw is slack, and his whole body jerks once. You whimper when you realise what's happened. It's the hottest fucking thing you've ever seen.

He’s come just from eating you out alone. No touch, no stimulation. Just making you finish has him spilling in his fucking trousers.

After a while, you both go limp. He barely has the strength left to climb on top of you on the sofa, but somehow he manages.

Minutes go by. Your breathing steadies. It matches up. Your hearts beat in tandem.

Peace reigns in your home.

After a while - minutes, hours, who knows? - you return to your body. The weight of Billy on top of you helps. Your hands find their way back into his hair, and you slowly massage his scalp.

"Mmm."

You smile at the noise he makes. "You're brilliant. You know that, right?"

His face is tucked into your neck, sweaty and sticky. "For that?"

"For everything."

"Mmm?"

"Yeah. I mean, you're good at that." You laugh quietly. It makes him shake a little on top of you. "But everything else, too. You picked me up from the airport. You made sure the flat was spotless. You bought me lavender."

He kisses your neck softly. "This is all I think of."

"Mm?"

"It's you, all for you. Everything I do."

You pull him closer and smile, letting your eyes close in bliss. "You're my heaven."

Billy strokes your sides. "You're my home."

[arcielee]

Closing Time

Summary: You and Billy do your best to make time for one another. Paring: Billy Washington x Female!Reader Word Count: 1895 Warnings: Semi-public sex, kissing shenanigans, teasing, oral (f receiving), p in v unprotected. Author's Note: This is in the same universe, just a smutty continuation inspired by the wonderful, the brilliant @helaelaemond. I cannot thank you enough and I hope I did your husband justice. Thank you to my brilliant beta reader Angsti, my beloved. 💜 Dividers by @saradika 💜

Billy could be considered your favorite customer.

There was a bias, of course, since you lived together, though lately your schedules were conflicting. You had made the choice to finish your degree while continuing with your shifts at the coffeehouse, to help with income but also because your boss liked you enough to flex with your academic schedule. Meanwhile, Billy had finished his suspended sentence and had impressed enough to receive a job opportunity to work at a warehouse, though its shifts were a bit grueling with four days on for three days off. 

But it allowed you to find time together with the fourth day becoming something habitual between you two: he would come in to wait around until you were done with closing, and then you would walk home together. Eventually, your boss allowed Billy to remain indoors once the seasons changed, but only after he had insisted on paying for the free flat you had poured him. 

“Such a nice boy,” she tutted along with her permission, though you knew she preferred having a second closer that did not require a separate payroll. 

This night felt different. You were aglow from the moment he dipped through the door frame, his cheeks pink from the growing cold outside. Winter was pressing in and the time shift now tucked the sun away earlier, making the days shorter and encouraging a homebody mentality overall.

Billy was seated with his mug–a holiday treat made by you–and his eyes rapt to you, watching as you escorted the last customers out, locking the door behind them. 

You were well aware of his unwavering stare throughout your shift, now following your movements as you ticked off your closing duties. You were playing into his want, into his desire that swirled and mixed with the black consuming the blue of his eyes. A smile hints at your lips with the sway of your hips, your languid steps that saunter towards a neighboring table, bending over to unduly arrange the holiday decoration. Your lips curl upwards when you hear him finally stand up. 

His chair scrapes against the linoleum floor, the light switch flipping off to cast the coffeehouse in half shadows, half golden glow of the street lights spilling through the windows. His muted steps come up behind you and you feel the press against your backside, his large hands touching your hips and moving to pull you upright, wrapping around until you are flush to his chest. Billy tucks his head into the curve of your neck with a deep inhale, a gentle kiss. 

“We’re closed, sir,” you tease, turning in his embrace to face him. 

He hums in response, his large palms now resting on your hips with a tantalizing squeeze that sends a jolt towards your core. “I’m almost done, Billy,” you continue with your coy tone, “I think I just have this table and then the bartop–” 

He stops you with a kiss. His mouth is warm with the taste of peppermint and chocolate, a drink he only enjoys when you make it for him. Billy steps closer to you, his hands following your curves to cradle your lower back, guiding steps until your backside presses against the solid oak table. 

A sigh accompanies your smile now and his tongue curls into your mouth, moving in tandem with your own in response. It is slow, it is searching, it is swallowing your soft noises that threaten to spill and dragging the air from your lungs. 

You are dizzy when he pulls away. “Billy…” is all you can manage, your voice barely a whisper.

His nose and cheeks are stained crimson, a crooked smile as he looks you over. “I missed you,” is all that he offers before he captures your mouth again. 

Your arms reach to wrap around his neck and he circles your waist, crushing you against his chest. You can feel the heat of his palms following the slope of your back and cupping below your ass, lifting you enough until you are seated on top of the table. 

He kneels in front of you and you peer down to watch his long fingers untie your laces, removing one shoe. You quickly toe off the other. Billy looks up, eyes glittering, shining with his desire. “Look at you,” he breathes, standing up to slot himself between your plush thighs; your breath hitches, your fingers grappling to unbutton your jeans; his fingers dipping into the waistline and peeling them away. “So beautiful.” 

Your felicity that has been thrumming beneath now rises to the surface, a flush of red that spreads from your face to your neck and lower. “Billy,” your tone is soft and you reach to tuck your fingers in the waist of his joggers, pulling him to close the space created between, “I need you, please.” 

His palms cup your face. “So needy,” he murmurs and then kisses you again with a new tensity that curls your freed toes. Billy then pulls away to remove your uniform top over your head, his hand pressing to your chest, “I wanna go slow. Lay back for me, pretty, and raise your arms above your head.”

And you do just as he asks. 

One hand wraps around your wrists, holding them to the table, and then Billy leans forward until his lips are barely flitting across your skin, his hot exhale causing it to rise. He takes his time, nipping and kissing and licking, careful to cherish your soft curves until your blood simmers to the surface, until your writhe and plead beneath him. 

“So beautiful,” he murmurs again, pulling back so his other hand can dip between your thighs. He cups your still clothed cunt and you cry pitifully. His hum is low: “I love the sounds you make,” he admits, his dimples lining his cheeks. 

He finally releases your wrists and your hands move to clamp the edge of the table to brace as you lift your hips, allowing him to finally pull away your underwear. You tilt your chin to your chest, blinking, your eyes wet from your want, watching his smile spread still when he tells you: “I want you to spread your thighs for me.”

They tremble when you do and Billy grabs a chair, pulling up to the table. Your skin pickles when his warm hands press to the insides and push further, dipping his head between. His hold dimples into your skin, pulling you closer to the table edge, his tongue finally tasting you. You mewl tearfully and his moan reverberates your bones beneath, his mouth finally latching to the bloom of nerves above. 

Billy knows you, knows your body. His tongue follows the intricate grooves, a merciless suckle until your pleasure is splintering into your bloodstream and returning with vigor to your core. You gasp from the craftful curl of his finger, coaxing that spot within you that has you seeing stars. 

He feels the flutter of your walls and hums against your cunt, his tongue continuing to pull a pleasure that courses through your veins. It flares to the ends of your nerves until you feel alight, aglow, and you cry out with your release that pulls the air from your lungs and splits you into a thousand pieces, now floating above. 

It is the warmth of his palm that grounds you, guides you, returns you back to your flesh again, aflame and breathless. He is standing now with his hand pressing between your breasts, feeling your heart bruising against, feeling the rise and fall as you slowly catch your breath. 

Your name sounds far away and you look up to Billy. “Good girl,” he praises, his voice low, gravelly. 

You feel dazed, a chill from your post-climax sheen. You also see the swell of him pressing against the crotch of his joggers, his hand dipping to grab the base and pull it above his waistband. There is a genial glide as he sinks into your warm heat, a fill so satisfying that you can still feel the aftershocks of your peak pulsing around his girth.

Billy takes a sharp breath, pausing to compose himself, a red stain on his cheeks with his concentration. “You feel perfect,” he rasps, his hands moving to the outside of your thighs, coming to hold onto your hips. “You’re just…perfect.”   

He moves, his pace brutal but unhurried, and filling you with each thrust. You see flashes of color in the darkness of the shop, your pleasure now white and hot, building and bursting in front of your eyes with each snap of his hips against yours.

“Billy,” you whine, your ankles hooking behind him.

He presses his thumb to your bottom lip and you take it in your mouth, your tongue quick to suckle and coat with your spit. Billy pulls his hand away and presses with intention to a spot he knows so intimately. 

Your back arches with his touch and his other hand grips into the softness of your hips. “I got you,” his voice is low, hoarse, punctuated with how his hips rut against you. “I know, I know. I can feel you,” and he draws a shaky inhale, “and you feel so perfect…” 

You shatter with his words, a tensity that pulls lower, deeper, until it rattles you to the marrow of your bones. Billy follows after you with the hot pulse of his cock buried in your velvet walls, and your cunt clenches with his release, your thighs tightening around his slender waist. 

After a moment, Billy leans forward with golden curls of his sandy locks on his damp brow. He presses a kiss to your hairline and his movement sends another trill of pleasure through you, faint but delicious. His hands grab hold of your thighs and rests them on top of the table where you lay, boneless. 

“I believe you might be one of my favorite customers,” you finally say, pushing to your elbows to watch as he tucks himself back into his joggers.

He chuckles. “I wonder how I can become your favorite?” He bends over to grab your puddle of clothes, coming back to give a chaste kiss on your mouth. “Where did I put your shoes–?” 

You push to sit upright, your fingers clawing into his shirt and pulling him back towards you. Billy looks at you, his brow lifting in amusement, but follows, allowing you to wrap your arms around his waist and burrowing your head onto his chest. He wraps his arms around you and presses another kiss to the top of your head.

“Let’s go home, Billy.”

His hands drop to both sides of you and your arms fall away, looking up to meet with his eyes. The blue has returned, still brilliant in the shadows of the shop. “We should probably wipe this table off first.”

And you dress quickly, remembering to count down the till, peering over to watch his lean form hunch over the table, thorough to wipe away the smell of sex that was pungent in the crisp air filling the coffeehouse. 

Outside, your breath is white and dissipates quickly above. You lock the door and then knit your fingers with Billy’s, which he tucks away into the warmth of his coat pocket. You press close, smiling as you begin to walk home. Together. 

Taglist [Tumblr kindred spirits]: @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @sylasthegrim @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl

arcie's masterlist

[ceeceerae]

Mary William Ethelbert Appleton "Billie" Burke (August 7, 1884 – May 14, 1970) was an American actress, famous on Broadway and in early silent film and subsequently in sound film, best known to modern audiences as Glinda the Good Witch of the North in the movie musical The Wizard of Oz. She was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress in 1938 for her performance as Emily Kilbourne in Merrily We Live and is also remembered for her appearances in the Topper series. Billie Burke was the wife of Broadway producer Florenz Ziegfeld, Jr., of Ziegfeld Follies fame, from 1914 until his death in 1932. Her voice was unique in intonation, which she accentuated in her later character roles as dim-witted, spoiled society types.

Billie Burke was born Mary Burke, the daughter of William "Billy" Burke and Blanche (née Beatty 1844–1921), in Washington, D.C. She toured the United States and Europe with her father, who was a singer and clown and worked for the Barnum & Bailey Circus. Her family ultimately settled in London where she attended plays in the West End. In 1903, she began acting on stage, making her debut in London in The School Girl. Other London shows included The Duchess of Dantzic (1903) and The Blue Moon(1904). She eventually returned to America to star in Broadway musical comedies.

Early life

Career

Burke went on to play leads on Broadway in Mrs. Dot, Suzanne,The Runaway, The "Mind-the-Paint" Girl, and The Land of Promise from 1910 to 1913, along with a supporting role in the revival of Sir Arthur Wing Pinero's The Amazons. There she caught the eye of producer Florenz Ziegfeld, marrying him in 1914. Two years later they had a daughter, Patricia Ziegfeld Stephenson (1916–2008).

Billie Burke in the Broadway production of Arthur Wing Pinero's The "Mind the Paint" Girl (1912).

The actress's beauty and taste made her a major trendsetter throughout the 1910s and 20s. Much of her wardrobe, on screen and off, at this time was provided by the leading European couturier Lucile (in private life Lady Duff Gordon), whose New York branch was then the fashion mecca for socialites and entertainment celebrities.

Burke was signed for the movies, making her cinematic debut in the title role of Peggy (1915). Her success was phenomenal, and she was soon earning what was reputedly the highest salary granted a motion picture actress up to that time. She followed her first feature with the 15-part serial Gloria's Romance (1916), another popular and critically acclaimed vehicle. By 1917 Billie Burke was a favorite with silent movie fans, rivaling Mary Pickford, Lillian Gish,Clara Kimball Young and Irene Castle. Billie Burke starred primarily in provocative society dramas and comedies, similar in theme to The "Mind-the-Paint" Girl, her most successful American play. The star's girlish charm rivaled her acting ability, and as she dressed to the hilt in fashionable gowns, furs and jewelry, her clothes sense also won the devotion of female audiences. Among the films in which she appeared during this period were Arms and the Girl(1917), The Mysterious Miss Terry,Let's Get a Divorce (1918), Good Gracious, Annabelle (1919), Away Goes Prudence (1920) and The Frisky Mrs. Johnson (1920).

In 1933, Burke was cast as Millicent Jordan, a scatterbrained high-society woman hosting a dinner party in the comedy Dinner at Eight, directed by George Cukor, co-starring with Lionel Barrymore, Marie Dressler, John Barrymore, Jean Harlow and Wallace Beery. The movie was a great success, and revived her career. She subsequently starred in many comedies and musicals, typecast as a ditzy, fluffy and feather-brained upper-class matron with her high-pitched voice.

In 1936, MGM filmed a sanitized biopic of Florenz Ziegfeld (The Great Ziegfeld), a film that won Academy Awards for Best Picture and Best Actress (Luise Rainer as Ziegfeld's common-law wife, Anna Held). William Powell played Flo Ziegfeld and Myrna Loy played Burke, which infuriated Burke because she was under contract to the studio and could have played herself, but MGM considered her too old to cast in the part despite her obviously having the look and mannerisms down perfectly otherwise.

Despite her success in film, Billie Burke eventually returned to the stage, appearing in Caesar's Wife (1919), The Intimate Strangers (1921), The Marquise (1927) and The Happy Husband (1928). But when the family's savings were wiped out in the Wall Street Crash of 1929, she took up screen acting again to aid her husband.

In 1937 Burke appeared in the first of the Topper films, about a man haunted by two socialite ghosts (played by Cary Grant and Constance Bennett), in which she played the twittering and daffy Clara Topper. Her performance as Emily Kilbourne in Merrily We Live (1938) resulted in her only Oscar nomination. In 1938 she was chosen to play Glinda the Good Witch of the North, in the musical The Wizard of Oz (1939), directed by Victor Fleming, with Judy Garland. She had worked on a Garland film, Everybody Sing, in which she played Judy's histrionically hysterical actress-mother. Another successful film series followed withFather of the Bride (1950) and Father's Little Dividend (1951), both directed by Vincente Minnelli and starring Spencer Tracy, Joan Bennett, and Elizabeth Taylor.

Burke wrote two autobiographies, both with Cameron Van Shippe, With a Feather on My Nose (Appleton 1949) and With Powder on My Nose (Coward McCann, 1959).

Radio and television

In 1932, Burke made her Hollywood comeback, starring as Margaret Fairfield in A Bill of Divorcement, directed by George Cukor. (She played Katharine Hepburn's mother in the film, which was Hepburn's debut). Despite the death of Florenz Ziegfeld during the film's production, she resumed filming shortly after his funeral.

Burke joined the cast ofEddie Cantor's radio show in 1948

On CBS Radio, The Billie Burke Show was heard on Saturday mornings from April 3, 1943 until September 21, 1946. Sponsored by Listerine, this situation comedy was initially titled Fashions in Rations during its first year. Portraying herself as a featherbrained Good Samaritan who lived "in the little white house on Sunnyview Lane," she always offered a helping hand to those in her neighborhood. She worked often in early television, appearing in the short-lived sitcom Doc Corkle (1952). She was a guest star on several TV and radio series, including Duffy's Tavern.

On television, Burke starred in her own talk show, At Home With Billie Burke, which ran on the DuMont Television Network from June 1951 through the spring of 1952. She was one of the first female talk show hosts, after the hostesses of the earlier DuMont series And Everything Nice (1949–50) and Fashions on Parade (1948–49) which both included some talk show segments.

Burke tried to make a comeback on the New York stage. She starred in two short-lived productions: This Rock and Mrs. January and Mr. X. Although she got good reviews, the plays did not. She appeared in several plays in California as well, although her mind became clouded, and she had trouble remembering lines. In the late 1950s, her failing memory led to her retirement from show business, although her explanation for that was, "Acting just wasn't any fun anymore."

Burke's last screen appearance was in Sergeant Rutledge (1960), a Western directed by John Ford.

Source - Wikipedia

@ceeceerae