#if u don’t know Tom.. do I really know you???? /j
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Someone help me,,..,,,.,,, I keep switching fandoms it’s cray cray……….
anyways here’s some doodles I just did
I like this one 🙏🙏
moral of the blog: do NOT let me anywhere near Tom with the intention of me being his barber because I will actually mess up so bad. I’ll end up giving him either the marge simpson cut or that one subway surfers dude with the really tall flat top (cylinder cut????)
okay peace out yall
#vinicius and tom#olympic mascots#isn’t this fandom dead?#too bad 🤷#doodle#I hate doing all about me posters because I can never pick a favorite song or character#my favorites are actually Vinicius and Yingying (yellow..)#if u don’t know Tom.. do I really know you???? /j#shrimpin aint easy
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Wilbur NSFW alphabet
Warnings:NSFW (duh)
Afab
Not proof read!
+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+
A: After care
So sweet will cuddle you give you kisses gets water makes sure you use the bathroom<3
B: Belt
I SAID IT ONCE ILL SAY IT AGAIN (and maybe write a one shot about it) he will spank you with his belt and if your bad spank you on your clit
C: Cum
loves loves LOVES cumming in you likes watching his cum drip out your pussy AND WHEN YOU SWALLOW IT UGH
D: degration
Will call you his pretty little slut, whore, doll, and cum slut, things like that
E: expedition
Will take you anywhere but would rather your house/apartment
F: Face fucking
100% will make you faint by shoving his dick down your throw for too long, also because he has his weird taste thing if your self conscious about like “tasting bad” he would feel bad that you felt that and he wouldn’t really care about what you tasted like he just wants to eat AHHAAHHA
G: glutton
HEHEHEH like the other he would go DOWN just eat you up like a little cupcake
H: Hair
This is a silly one but I’ve also said this but pushing his hair out of the way as he’s rearranging your guts and just seeing his big ass four head-
I: intimacy
I feel like he would wanna go out for a little bit till you guys fuck
J: jiggle
HE WOULD LOVE CHUBBY GIRLS (I’m DEFINITELY not chubby and biased) but like seeing you cubby bouncing just AHHH
K: Kitten
This is a me directed thing, if you couldn’t tell by my user name my full names Catherine and so I sometimes go by Cat and just like him calling me kitty/kitten<<<<333
L: Length
He’s long have you seen the Tom Simon’s total wipeout vlog LIKE OMG FUCK ME TILL I CANT BREATHE
M: Minutes
I feel like the longest would be 1 hour because he doesn’t wanna hurt you
N: Neck
NECK KISSES!!!
O: Outside
Like I said he likes the privacy of your own home, but like if you had a garden-
P: Punishment
Like I said belt, but this is a little dark but like waterboarding- idk just him filling up the sink pushing your head down in the water and fucking you
Q: bitch tf starts with Q
R: Ruin
Would have a Ruin kink I don’t remember what it’s called but you know what I mean
S: Spit
On your body in your mouth on your pus-
T: Teeth
Will bite your neck and maybe clit
U: Uncut
… yeah
V: Vagina
He loves yours<3
W: Whimpering
HIM WHIMPERING
I don’t know what to do the the last three (sorry)
*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Hope you liked it
Feel free to send in requests!!!
#wilbur soot oneshots#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur dream smp#qsmp wilbur#wilbur x y/n#wilbur soot x you#wilbur soot 18+#wilbur soot x reader smut#wilbur soot angst#wilbur x you#wilbur headcanons#wilbur soot fanfiction#wilbur x reader#wilbur imagine#wilbur soot imagine#wilbur smut#wilbur mcyt#wilbur soot smut#wilbur fanart#wilbur soot#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot headcanons
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hello could I be able to request a nsfw alphabet with older Tom??
If your comfortable tyyyy!
A/n: OF COURSE. I’ve always wanted to make one of these ENJOY! <3
that’s it I’m officially screaming for him getting down on my knees rn. LOOK AT HOW HE HOLDS THAT DAMN CIGARETTE OR HIS HANDS I don’t know how much more I can take before I completely die.
𝒩𝒮ℱ𝒲 𝒶𝓁𝓅𝒽𝒶𝒷ℯ𝓉 𝓉ℴ𝓂 𝓀𝒶𝓊𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓏 <3
A=after care: he would be the best with aftercare now that he’s older would definitely give you a bubble bath some nice candles lit everything to make sure your okay.
B=Body Part (favourite body part of his and yours): it would definitely be his cock I KNOW FOR A FACT he’s very prideful about it and won’t shut up about it with you 😭 now yours definitely gotta say he loves boobs or ass depending on his mood big or small he would grab them at any time.
C=Cum: now i feel like Tom hm he would definitely use a condom butttt every once in a while he would cum deep inside you definitely would love to see it leaking out of your cunt (I can’t believe I’m writing this. 😀)
D=dirty secret of his: he’s definitely dominant but he would wanna see you dominate him once in a while (I would do that.)
E= Experience (how well experienced they are) I know for a fact that this man has fucked some bitches back then 2000s so he’s very well experienced knowing every trick to get you screaming and begging for more.
F= Favourite position: missionary and cowgirl my personal opinion he loves to see your face during sex gets him even more horny and absolutely loves your riding him gets him absolutely weak.
G= Goofy (Are they serious during sex?) yes he’d definitely make sure that you and him get the pleasure you both want but during a quickie he’d throw a few jokes here and there.
H= Hair (Do they trim?) it depends I feel like every month or so he’d shave but other than that he doesn’t really mind
I= Intimacy (Are they intimate during sex?) fuck yes he’d be kissing you all over giving you hickeys that man would go crazy
J= Jerking off 😀 if he’s away on tour that man would call you every night he’d be jerking off to your pictures while he’s away You dirty mf.
K= Kinks (one kink or more) OKAY NOW i feel like Tom would just have a little bit of a praise degrading kink maybe a breeding kink (somethings wrong with me. 😭) he’d praise and degrade the shit out of you at the same time
L= Location (Favourite places to have sex.) For Tom I would say definitely a car or maybe a hotel anywhere at anytime.
M=Motivation (turns them on what gets them really going etc.) he’d get horny at anything you’d do sitting on his lap kissing him anything at all.
N= No (something they definitely wouldn’t agree too) i feel like Tom would not definitely not wanna do pegging
O= Oral (receiving giving) he’s definitely into receiving he loves seeing your face messed up with drool and his cum but, he would absolutely devour you he’d overstimulate you until you can’t take it anymore.
P= Pace (Slow and sensual or rough?) he’s a bit of both honestly he’d go slow until your whining and begging him to go more fast then he’ll go rough.
Q= Quickie: this man is down for a quickie at any time.
R= Risk taking: Tom would absolutely take the risk he would not care about getting caught if you both are really horny he’s down for it anywhere.
S= Stamina (How long can they last?) he could last for hours on end but after like 8-9 rounds he’d tap out
T=Toys (would they own any?) hm yes and no he loves using his fingers and everything else to pleasure you but if he had an interview or anything he’d definitely use one on you.
U=Unfair (teasing) Tom is absolute asshole when it comes to teasing he’d have you all worked up whether it’s kissing your neck whispering dirty things in your ear anything at all.
V=Volume (how loud they are) he would love loud girl he loves hearing you moan scream etc, depending on how into it he is he’ll moan but other than that a few groans.
W=Woman (what type of woman he would date) he would go out with anyone personally he said in an interview himself “I just love women” so basically any woman.
X=Xray (what’s packing down there) a lot man has got a whole package.
Z=Zzz (how fast they would fall asleep) he would fall asleep after you fell asleep making sure your looked after while he just holds you in his arms.
A/n: I absolutely loved writing this keep sending requests in!! Mwah bye cuties <33
Taglist:
@bunniesthoughts
@memzyyy
@itsmealaiah
@madzandmore
@il0vet0mk4ulitz
@jadedchar
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WE NEEEEEED NIGHTWALKS JOEL ABC’s 🧎♀️🧎♀️🧎♀️
Fair enough! 👖 A few are from the ones I did before.
NSFW 18+ Misc / x fem!reader / night walks master list
A = Aftercare - Takes a minute for his dirty talk to taper off. . . He’ll say something about how bad you wanted it or how bad you want it.
B = Body part - Obsessed with his own equipment. Loves your whole body but the first thing he noticed about you was your ass and he can’t resist pressing himself into it whenever he sees you anywhere. Also loves your thighs, can’t keep his hands off them.
C = Cum - He doesn’t want a drop wasted.
D = Dirty secret - Peeping Tom.
E = Experience - Very experienced. Never had a girl as bad as you, though.
F = Favorite position - Variety is the spice of life but he likes to be able to see how much you’re enjoying it.
G = Goofy - No, no one is goofy lmao. But he may tease you / rub it in about how much you want his cock.
H = Hair - Hair still mostly dark, not much gray down there. Better groomed than you might expect - he's kinda vain.
I = Intimacy - There isn’t really a romantic aspect. He’s enraptured by your horniness for him.
J = Jack off - Used to do it on his porch while you walked around the block. Now sometimes does it in your backyard while he watches through the window. Otherwise, he likes porn where the woman is super cock hungry. Also cock worship. Believe it or not he also likes porn with plot lmao. Specifically, scenarios that involve strangers like repair men. He likes it because the woman is secretly so horny and all it took was the right man to activate her. He HCed you that way as soon as he saw you, and he knew he could activate you.
K = Kink - Voyeur, breeder. You’ve had to start doing better at taking the pill. If you’re starting to enjoy it, don’t let him know you’re on birth control.
L = Location - Enjoys coming onto you and feeling you up in public. Would be glad to take you anywhere and thought it was super hot the time he fucked you in the parking lot of the gas station, and went down on you in the bathroom of the restaurant. But there’s also something about having you in his basement that really turns him on. Reminds him of the first time after he tricked you there and you just couldn’t resist him.
M = Motivation - He likes to make you desperate for his cock and he wants to hear how good you feel. He gets off on bringing out the naughtiest side of you. He can sense you have a bad, bad girl in there and it's his mission to tease it out. Likes to feel like an aggressor. Likes control hence locking you in, restraining you, etc. Even if it's something you could escape from like an indoor lock.
N = No - Willingly pull out, or stop pursuing you.
O = Oral - He’s good at it, he prefers to be inside you but definitely wouldn’t mind being blown.
P = Pace - Starts slow, pays attention to how your body responds, adjusts accordingly, often getting faster/harder.
Q = Quickie - Definitely in favor especially if he’s seducing you into doing it somewhere risky.
R = Risk - Definitely gets off on getting away with stuff, so yeah. He’s super confident.
S = Stamina - He can last if he wants, and if you want, but is usually eager to come. His recovery period is like 15-20 minutes aside from extenuating circumstances where he might be able to go sooner. But otherwise plenty of time for a smoke or drink in between.
T = Toys - Doesn’t own any but likes to watch you use yours and would enjoy using yours on you.
U = Unfair - He’s not much of a tease, but he loves to hear how bad you want his cock so he might try to draw it out of you.
V = Volume - Grunts, groans, talks dirty. Intimate volume but not a whisper.
W = Wild card - Wears PJ pants all the time and he just gets away with it . He has a bunch of different ones, too.
X = 19 cm (7.5") base to tip erect, and on the girthier end of average. Just barely curved upward for your pleasure. He's a shower not a grower. Tan, smooth. Huge balls.
Y = Yearning - Extremely high, can’t get enough of you.
Z = Zzz - Pretty fast if you're in his sketch ass basement
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joel master list
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NW: @tehweeana@lokanda@blackvelveteen1339@cutesyscreenname@ele-meno-p lmk if i missed you
All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @ele-meno-p
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Hi hello :D I DONT think I ever THANKED U ENOUGH FOR THIS DAMN OF A -NOBLE-PRIZE-ENERGY IF A SERIES ITS LIKE ONE OF THE BEST FANFICTION SERIE IVE EVER READ IN A LONG TIME :D
Anyways If it isn’t too much of a pain, a friend of mine is an artist an would really like to draw a panel of a scene in like book 2 (chapter 4 if I remember correctly lol) and so I wanted to ask u:
1 - can they do it? Like Idk permission or smth idk lol
2 - (this isn’t really an ask) they can also have it private like not post it if u don’t want to (they don’t have tumblr u would have to go like on tik Tom or smth)
3 - for the art They would like Need like a reference of the scars cuz English isn’t their first language and have trouble reading and things like that (they’re blind /j), nothing TOooO drastic like a random dude png with some simple lines of where the scars are (for zuko n’ sokka obv) (like on the face, the back etc…) IK THIS IS SUCH A PAIN IM SORRY THATS WHY IM ASKING AND NOT THEM LOL (I haven’t told them I’m asking this hehe) soooo
Pls respond and don’t hate us 🙏🙏
ANYWAYS I LOVE LOVE LOVE UR WORK THE NEW CHAPTER WAS SOOOO GOOD OMG UR SO TALENTE OMG I CSNT-
hi hi hi hi hi hi hihihihihihihiiiiii
I’m so sorry it took me so long to answer this I’m a slacker for real but YES HI THANK YOU IM GLAD YOU ENJOYED LIAB!! yeah everyone has full permission always to create art from my fanfic absolutely yes yes yes yes!! your friend can post it on tumblr or TikTok idc but I don’t have TikTok so I can’t see it unless it’s on ao3 or tumblr! its not a pain at all!! I guess if you told me the scene I could give you their scarring? I don’t know if being exact is necessary because the boys tend to either be fully clothed unless it’s just the two of them. I’d be happy to help just let me know the scene & I can tell you the visible scarring.
I DONT HATE YOU AT ALL I AM JUST VERY SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO ANSWER IM SO SO SO SORRY!!
#I wish I was more helpful I feel I’m not helpful at all#You can DM me and I’ll be happy to help#As for scars the whip marks on the arms and random burn scars#zukos neck scar & the thin scar on his cheek#Sokkas scar on his nose cheek and eyebrow#Those are most of the visible ones in RIA haha#Unless the boys are doing their almost naked cuddles which then it’s just a mess haha#Again…. So sorry it took me so long to answer#I AM VERY HAPPY YOU GUYS LIKED LIAB ENOUGH TO MAKE ART#thanks again!!!!!!!!#Liab#leaving it all behind#ask#RIA
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Here is a list of all time favorite marvel and dc sagas among the biggest crossover list to see who is the baddest of them all or is it too close to say whom is the heavy weight champ of super hero lore?
Which would you vote for as the best
A) Deadpool
B) X-men Including X-men Days of Future Past and all the trilogies which X-men was the fav as we saw the rise of Professor X and Magnetto whom were a pretty damn good duo. They never got Gambit right until thank god for Deadpool once again saving the day.
However the clash of Deadpool origins as one describes his creation from a lab project gone wrong hence the first fight of Wolverine Origin and Deadpool in X-men Origina and the more current version of his timeline in which actually FRANCIS would not of been the object of hate much like wolverines hate for the Trucker in his original Wolverine Origins. Deadpool would have then been even more a foe of Wolverine but Wolverine maid it difficult for that Deadpool to even be a side note
Logan was maybe one of my stand alone Wolverine movie best thou and they were good to use that in the current Deadpool saga.
We all know what new Deadpool did with that montrasty of the old Deadpool in Deadpool 2
C) Iron Man was my favorite over the Cap America’s and really Cap got shorted a movie to make a saga as after Winter Soldier we were already in the Civil War and Avengers rise of Ultran
We had to get Buck’s story first then the Falcon was launched with the more recent 2025 Cap America.
D) The Avengers and nothing is as good a build up to End Game and the most iconic foe titan Thanos.
E) I ll take the Dark Knight my fist DC saga and yeah I am biased that went against my youth as I was a kid during my the Michael Keaton saga of Batman as well as Val Kilmer was my era of becoming a super hero movie fan along with original Superman movies with Christopher Reeves
F) I must not forget Blade
G) Guardians of the Galaxy
H) Spider-Man all of them Toby Andrew and Tom all rocked the shit out of that Spidey role I think they all great.
I) and they should have their own category Into the Spiderverse Across the Spiderverse and we know the end of this Saga is upon us in the near future
J) Thor as we do not have Loki either if we don’t have Thor
K) As well as Wakanda forever and the Black Panther saga
L) Man of Steel Batman vs Superman and Justice League I thought Man of Steel was the best but the other two didn’t make my cut for all time in my mind.
M) Dr Strange and all of his Multiverses of Madness
N) Venom one was awesome 2 I didn’t see yet but the upcoming Venom movie in the fall looks pretty good.
O) Antman was extremely great and
P) Hulk and only the Incredible Hulk not Eric Bana and Ed Norton was my preferred hulk but Ruffalo was a nice addition but he sort of was a stretch for me to be as good as Norton’s portrayal I was upset with the Hulk John Woo version and if you were around the hype was as bad as when we saw Godzilla in 1999 well actually a re vised Godzilla that was a far looking different Godzilla than the Godzilla we always saw growing up.
Q) Aquaman never really interested me but I guess we must include
R) Wonder Woman and 84 and we know she appears in Justice League as well as Batman vs Superman
S) Shazam not a big fan here but I got give respect that his series is better than anything in this next choice
T) Fantastic Four it’s a shame and hopefully they get it right with the next adaptation of Dr Doom who besides Thanos was really a bad dude in which took all Four and. Silver Surfer to take down.
U) Harley Queen as well as the Bird-of Prey and Suicide Squad
V) Spawn this needs a revision but I didn’t mind the OG.
W) Blue Beatle just saw it and it was a good start
X) Daredevil sorry Ben and double sorry as casted as Batman and that too was two strikes for Mr Afleck
Y) The Punisher
Z) Ghost Rider
Now the last few here technically didn’t make the Saga criteria but along with Logan even though it was an end but not for ever end .were decent hopefully to something that could have been even better if they did the adaptation better down the road. The Punisher series is a series I will have to revisit as well as the Flash but the Flash just could never get that mass fan fare as much as any other DC character I still think Superman or Batman is an always better draw for audiences which is a shame but it is the reality. And maybe it could have caught up to Spider-Man success but it really never launched as much as the future for DC moving forward.
If you want to vote leave your top two or three in the comments or reshare with the gif or charachter of choice if you choose to do so and thank you for voting and might of even forgot someone on this list but I think besides Flash Gordon fans people should be satisfied with the choices.
#best superhero of all time#the goat#best modern marvel saga#best dc saga#joker#the dark knight#deadpool 3#Superman#Batman
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TREVOR MOORE
The Whitest Kid You Know
As ringleader of The Whitest Kids U’ Know, Trevor Moore spent the last two years working a deliciously twisted flavor of humor into the palate of American comedy. When Hollywood handed him the keys to the big-screen machine this spring, he churned out Miss March—one of the most aggressively bizarre comedies in years. DJ Pangburn visited Los Angeles’s Griffith Observatory with Moore to explore otherworldly phenomena and seek out where the jokes come from.
By DJ Pangburn • Photos by Ray Lego • Styling by Carmel Lobello & Jill Breare
Trevor Moore and I are to meet at the Griffith Observatory in the evening. That’s what I’ve been told. As I walk towards the entrance, I notice a sticker on a sign that reads “Captain Gaylord.” In a place of public science, a bust of James Dean lords over the place. After all, this is Hollywood, and no public place would be complete without Dean’s brooding presence. The smog of Los Angeles is like a rainforest, and I wonder if it’s possible to observe anything in this sky. Pluto is no longer a planet, but the observatory is disregarding this astronomical ruling. Pluto still orbits the Sun out on the front lawn. Griffith J. Griffith was something of a madman, and the land he bequeathed to Los Angeles today still seems to suffer some otherworldly spell.
Trevor arrives wearing a Harley-Davidson jacket. But, as he will tell you, he does not have a bike and this confuses everyone he meets. After determining how much we weigh on each of the planets, we talk briefly about the masterpiece of nonsense that is Pootie Tang, which leads us straight down the absurdist trail to Freddie Got Fingered…
How do such movies make it through the Hollywood machine? Freddie Got Fingered is one of the most amazing feats ever!
[Tom Green] just had complete creative control over the thing. I enjoy watching it. But Pootie Tang—I remember I rented that in college and I watched it and thought, I don’t like that. But then I kept thinking about it the next day and telling people about it. So I watched it again, and it was a completely different movie. The second time I watched I was like, I love this movie.
Would you ever try making something like Freddie Got Fingered?
I don’t know. The critics were after us for the movie we just made [Miss March]—but yeah, if you really believe in it. You want those movies to happen. I’m glad Freddie Got Fingered got made. When it first came out I thought it was retarded. But now I rent it every now and then because it’s fun to watch.
“I dabble in conspiracy theory”
Someone noted, and I agree, that it was a Dada or Surrealist masterpiece, or it’s at least in the tradition of Dada. Let’s talk about the Abraham Lincoln sketch, which is quite inventive. It’s like alternate history, in a way.
We do a lot of that alternate history stuff. It started a tradition we have now about presidents’ assassinations. The first season we had four or five very dark political sketches—we had two Abraham Lincoln sketches, we had another sketch where we say it’s illegal to talk about assassinating a president. It was kind of like a theme. I’m obsessed with the President Kennedy assassination. It’s a hobby of mine. I collect Kennedy memorabilia. I wanted to do this sketch where we say President Johnson is behind it, which, you know, he pretty much was—or a lot of people think he was. We did this sketch where I’m Oswald and Sam [Brown] is Lyndon Johnson and we’re sitting up in the Book Depository Building having this argument. This season we do a sketch about the Ronald Reagan assassination attempt that’s like pop-up video, with those factoids popping up. It’s all this stuff that they don’t talk about. Reagan did some good things, but he’s canonized now—as soon as he died he became this saint and historical figure. He did some good things but he also armed everybody that we’re fighting now. He got us in Rwanda.
“I’m obsessed with the President Kennedy assassination. It’s a hobby of mine.”
He armed the Contras.
He ignored AIDS for a decade and let it become a full-blown epidemic. So during this Reagan sketch, all these effects pop up with these odd facts—like, let’s slow our roll on this patron saint that is Ronald Reagan. But we’re kind of out of people now. [Laughs]
Were there any repercussions to the “It’s Illegal to Talk About Assassinating the President” sketch?
No. I checked it with my lawyer and he didn’t know. I was a little nervous about it, so I called the ACLU and they wouldn’t tell me if I could say it or not. I ended up asking them, “If I got in trouble for this, would you pick up the case?” They said, “Yeah.” But I still took part of it out. I don’t think I would have thought that sketch was as interesting or funny now. Most of the people my age that grew up during the Bush years hated him. He was our Nixon. If I came up with an idea like that during the Obama administration, I would be like, Eh, no, I don’t want to. And it’s not like you can’t make jokes with Obama, but he’s a different guy and there are different connotations.
At this point a most horrific cacophony of dog cries erupts from the hills below. Trevor looks in the direction from which the noise is coming and says, “What is that?” I say, “Holy shit… it could be a cougar, or a snake.” Trevor jumps down from the ledge on which he had perched himself and states unequivocally, “We’ve gotta go look at this.” I’m not quite sure how he intends to get us down to the crying dogs, but I play along, “You really want to go down there?” Trevor nods, “We gotta go down there.” We descend the steps of the observatory and toward the melee down slope. “It’s like flying dogs in a bat swarm,” Trevor says of the noise, and I try to make sense of what flying dogs in a bat swarm might look like. We encounter a couple Armenians smoking cigarettes and Trevor asks their opinion on the matter. One replies, “Wolves.” they smile at us and then look back out to the horizon, smoking ravenously. It’s fairly clear we aren’t going to make any headway into the crying dog matter. So we continue with our interview.
What books or films were influential to your comedic style?
All the Kings Men was always a book I really liked. It’s about backroom politics and how everyone is corrupt. And about how good people who go into politics with the best intentions ultimately become what they hate. But my big influence was always Monty Python. I grew up in a very conservative house and I wasn’t allowed to watch Smurfs, because it had witchcraft and magic in it. I was able to watch Letterman, who was my other big influence. I’d set the VCR, when I was a little kid, to tape Letterman after Carson and I’d watch it when I got home from school the next day. Also, Weird Al. I think he was one of the first people where I realized that he’s a musician, but all he does are funny songs. Lord of the Flies, too. One of the few books I’ve read more than once. In high school I was really into Hunter Thompson. The book I really liked was called Better Than Sex, which really wasn’t one of his better books. It was about the 1992 election. It’s basically about him sitting in his apartment, watching all these different televisions and filing off faxes to people, telling them what they should do. All these people you’d see on TV, he would write a fax to them because he had everybody’s numbers. And because it’s Hunter S. Thompson, everybody writes him back. A lot of the book is just basically him sending off angry faxes to people and then responding.
When Nixon left office, Hunter S. Thompson no longer had the anti-human to attack. We no longer have Bush. For the comedian, how does that affect the work? I know there is never a loss for material, but when the politics have changed—
—Well I don’t think the politics change that much. All the guys behind the scenes are still there.
But when the face of it all isn’t so abrasive and devilish…
That’s when you’re really in trouble. [Laughs] The optimist in me wants to believe it’s different. [The Whitest Kids U Know] performed at benefits to send money to Obama. I was in Grant Park election night. I flew down to the inauguration and I was on the lawn. I was swept up in it, you know. At the same time, I still think it’s the same guys smoking cigars behind the scenes. It’s still the Bilderbergers. It’s still the World Bank.
I read this book called Rule by Secrecy by Jim Marrs. And that’s where I was introduced to all those groups and theories, which came out by way of The Da Vinci Code. Ultimately, it led to aliens.
[Laughs] It usually does. I dabble in conspiracy theory. There’s a lot of it in our show because I’m very interested in it. I don’t believe all of it. But I think there’s truth in a lot of it. The problem with it is that the baby gets thrown out with the bathwater a lot. The CIA killed Kennedy. For me, all the evidence is there, or at least the reason for them to do it is there. The witnesses that died—you watch the Zapruder film, he didn’t get shot from the back. He got hit in the front!
Here’s a fact I can’t reconcile with anything: Oswald goes over to the Soviet Union… and he gets back into the United States? No way. How was he not thrown in a prison the minute he stepped foot on American soil?
Yeah—during the Red Scare. I don’t think that these people who are CIA are eventually not CIA. “Oswald was CIA a while ago, but not when he did that!” [Laughs] “Bin Laden was CIA a while back, but not when he did that!”
And you can’t prove anything because it’s the CIA, they can deny anything.
Yes! It’s the CIA! [Whispers covertly] That’s why we have to talk about this in wide-open spaces like this where there’s no microphone.
I tell him about a book called The Men Who Stare at Goats, which details New Age techniques adopted by highly placed U.S. Army intelligence officials in the seventies and early eighties. Officials who believed they could walk through walls, stare goats to death, achieve Jedi-like mental powers, astral project and remote view, amongst other select things. Moore mentions that he himself has tried to astral project.
Explain how you were going about astral projecting.
I used to work for an Asian television network and I was in charge of documentaries. I had this guy who was very into New Age and kind of out there. He talked about how he astral projected all the time, and he had crystals that protected him from the spirits that tried to get him. I was kind of into it for a while and trying to do it. It never really worked. It got to the point where I also talked to people who said they had done it, and some of the stories I kind of believed. I don’t know if I believe it now, but at the time it scared me a bit. The guy I co-wrote with for years was the voice for those commercials that would go, “SEGA!” And he swears he used to do it. But he went the wrong way and bad stuff happened. I’m not sure I want to go and mess around in that world.
You might not make it back! [Laughs]
Right, yeah! I was also doing a documentary-comedy show. I did a pilot for the Asian network. We’d take a topic and make sketches about it, but then also look into it, investigate it. We were doing alien abductions, and we got interviews with people who had been abducted by aliens. These were people abducted by aliens in famous cases. The most absurd alien abduction on American soil—I got an interview with that woman. By the end of that interview I was like, I don’t think alien abductions are real. Then there’s neurolingustic programming…
Which is?
Ever heard of The Game? That book where guys go around hitting on girls?
Yes, the book by Neil Strauss.
That is a lot of neurologistic programming, in those methods. It was a big fad in the seventies. All the books are out of print, though. But it’s a fascinating, weird, almost dark art.
It’s a bit like hypnosis, really.
Yeah, and people who know how to use it can almost apply it to anything. It’s pretty amazing.
Arianna Huffington may have studied neurolinguistic programming—she’s known to be quite hypnotic.
I’m not sure if it’s a skill or if it’s something you’re born with, but if you can get it down, it basically seems like being a Jedi. [Laughs]
According to The Men Who Stare at Goats, within the army there’s three levels of awareness, and level three is “Jedi Master.” These men are fuckin’ crazy!
I’m going to find it.
We joked about our conversation being overheard by the CIA or some other cloak and dagger operation, and how we’d both end up in an interrogation room and neither of us would be surprised to see each other. And with that we departed the observatory—me back to my apartment and Trevor, well, perhaps he went in pursuit of the flying dogs in a bat swarm. ⇼
__________
This article appeared in Issue 19 of Death+Taxes, published on April 8, 2009. Death+Taxes (2008-2010) is a defunct music and men's lifestyle print magazine; it relaunched as a website in 2010 and was eventually acquired by SpinMedia in 2014, where it remains a culture and politics vertical of Spin.
Text and spread screenshots taken from Issuu.
#trevor moore#the whitest kids u know#wkuk#death+taxes#magazine#digital archives#april 8 2009#archive#death and taxes#death and taxes issue 19#2009
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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 20/01/2024 (Ariana Grande, 21 Savage's american dream, D-Block Europe)
The story of this week is… well, there are a lot of stories, and the moral of nearly all of them is: don’t get your hopes up. Noah Kahan’s “Stick Season” has halted a certain someone off the top spot, and welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!
Rundown
As always, we swiftly ignore you-know who and instead spend a little time on the notable dropouts, songs exiting the UK Top 75, which is what I cover (read the FAQ), after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40. As one would expect, there’s quite a lot of movement this week so we do have a hefty list, bidding farewell to… “Just Another Rainbow” by Liam Gallagher and John Squire after just one week at #16, “Entrapreneur” by Central Cee, “You’re Losing Me” (From the Vault) by Taylor Swift getting three-song-ruled out and exchanged for another Taylor song, and then “Standing Next to You” by Jung Kook, “Murdaside” by Mazza_l20 and friends, “First Person Shooter” by Drake featuring J. Cole, “adore u” by Fred again.. and Obongjayar, “Daylight” by David Kushner, “Flowers” by Miley Cyrus and the Selena Gomez-assisted “Calm Down” by Rema. Yeah, some massive losses this week, it really is ushering in the 2024 hit parade this quickly
As for our notable gains, well, we see a return for “Anti-Hero” by Taylor Swift at #69 due to the swap I talked about earlier - it really isn’t a good trade-off in my opinion. Aside from that, there are boosts for “Black Friday” by Tom Odell at #31 which I can’t complain about, and same goes for “Never Lose Me” by Flo Milli at #24. I will complain about “Unwritten” by Natasha Bedingfield at #18, but that brings us neatly to our top five, where we have Teddy Swims fly in at #5 with “Lose Control”, followed by familiar faces, “Lovin’ on Me” by Jack Harlow at #4 and “Murder on the Dancefloor” by Sophie Ellis-Bextor at #3, and then, despite multiple versions and a music video, Noah Kahan fended off Ariana Grande’s comeback single “yes, and?”, stalling out narrowly at #2. It’s fully the season of the sticks, and also the season of 11 Goddamn song reviews, some of which were expected and don’t give me much to say, or much that I want to say, and some that just came out of thin air. I guess let’s just get this party started.
New Entries
#73 - “Scared to Start” - Michael Marcagi
Produced by David Baron
This episode is brought to you by our sponsor, Who the Hell is This Guy? So, Mr. Marcagi started out as the lead singer for non-starter indie rock band The Heavy Hours, before the release of two very recent and very obviously trend-chasing solo singer-songwriter singles. This is the second of them, and seems to have been his breakout and yeah, I suppose we have Noah Kahan at home. The song is overall about a youthful relationship that gets them into undetailed recklessness and escapism, particularly getting away from a small boring town into being on-the-road nomads, without much care for where the future actually takes them. I like the heartland rock pianos and the tried-and-true drop into half-time for the second chorus, though by the time he does it again in the final chorus, I mostly wish he just picked up the pace as the momentum needs to accelerate from there if it’s such a carpe diem track, it feels like a missed opportunity to really go hard at the final hustle, like Kahan would do. As a whole, it’s really not that difficult to see why this is here or even why people could love it, but I feel like it needed more refining to truly make it worthwhile.
#63 - “Praise Jah in the Moonlight” - YG Marley
Produced by Lauryn Hill, YG Marley and JohnnyG
When I say everything will chart in January, I mean everything. This is one of Bob Marley’s many grandchildren, and yes, that is the Lauryn Hill you’re thinking of. She married into the Marleys, this is her son, she co-produced and co-wrote the song, which additionally samples the original Marley’s “Crisis”, a 1978 track with the Wailers, an uplifiting song about living it up through crisis, staying aware of tragedy but taking time to yourself to allow for fun to be had, peace to be found. I like the song a lot, but it was an album track and hence never charted until it was sampled on this newer song from late last year, which - this is not the first time this week we’ll see this either - turns the otherwise conscious track into a love ballad, but sonically, it’s incredibly faithful, even down to the liquidy reggae groove and charming background singers. Sadly, YG does not have the presence of his grandfather, sounding mostly like a nervous, Auto-Tuned child stumbling onto the school talent show, but that’s also partly due to the mix crushing his nasal croon a bit, it feels smashed in between different elements of the mix instead of resting carefreely in it like Bob would. I do actually appreciate the shift in content for the second verse, which I can only assume was written by Ms. Lauryn Hill considering its cynical, conscious stabs at soul-taking and standing your ground. In fact, I actually like this song quite a lot - whilst it starts off as a love ballad, it ends up using more of an appreciative worship angle that fits much better with the lax, improvisational performance, especially once Lauryn comes in for the outro, it’s just nice to hear her singing again, to be honest. The guitars are also surprisingly sludgy by the end, it feels, fitting the mix’s general vibe, which makes it feel a tad sinister or at least defiant, which makes the sample flip - or really, recreation - a lot more sensible. So, yeah, I think this turns around to actually being quite good, if not great? I guess you can’t go wrong when you just plod in that classic Bob Marley tune as a loop for so long and get Lauryn Hill to do backup, I mean, it really does not seem like you can go wrong placing those two together on a track, albeit posthumously. I know it’s never coming but part of me wants to at least hope this may mean we get, if not a solo album, a wider array of collaborations from Lauryn Hill in the future.
#61 - “No Man’s Land” - Marshmello and venbee
Produced by Marshmello, Digital Farm Animals and Earwulf
To be completely honest, I thought Marshmello’s time in the Sun was over. He’s been latching onto Fuerza Regida and Latin music overall Stateside, so I figured his hit-making days could be far behind him, yet here he is without a reggaetónero or corrida band, and instead venbee, who has yet to really replicate the success of “messy in heaven”, but maybe this will be a winning combination and not another desperate last-minute attempt by Marshmello to find a final niche before the spark dies completely. Surely by now, you know where this is going. Mr. Mello even got Digital Farm Animals to co-write and produce so there really is a distant scent of imminent failure written into this one. That’s not to say the song isn’t good because, well, despite all my cynicism, it’s a damn good track, I actually really love this one. It has all the 2018 plastic tropical flavour but due to going for a faster-paced drum and bass rolick and surprisingly compressed and gross-sounding mix on venbee’s vocals, it doesn’t have any of the effortless sheen and instead sounds a bit rough around the edges, with even the little intricate details in that second verse sounding a bit out of place. That lines up pretty perfectly with venbee’s self-loathing that she feels has buried her into an isolation that she can’t really handle considering how much she hates that cycle. Now I don’t think this’ll be a hit: it sounds like something that could be a sleeper success, but by the time it would get much traction, the song is rather too depressive to be dropped into a Summer EDM mix, and honestly, we have no track record for venbee in terms of any consistent success, and it’s not like Marshmello is a pull anymore. So whilst I actually think this is brilliant, I would have to say to Marshmello: Maybe don’t get your hopes up.
#59 - “J CHRIST” - Lil Nas X
Produced by Omer Fedi, Gesaffelstein and Lil Nas X
“The biggest comeback” since Jesus and he couldn’t even break top 50? In this chart climate? In this economy? I did see a lot of social media disillusionment with Lil Nas’ religious angle, none of which I agreed with because really, it’s only his second time doing so and who decided that artists suddenly couldn’t use themes in their music? Yet that may explain the lack of success out of the gate for… “J CHRIST” - God, what a terrible song title - and I can’t say it’s unfortunate, this song is terrible, and not in an honest-sounding way either. LNX has never sounded more bored and typical, going for a vocal take that doesn’t even fully sound like him, as if he was pitched up in post, and the lyrics seem absolutely unfinished if not unchanged from a mumbling reference track. Even the catchy hook is pretty gimmicky with the “high note”, and the second verse just repeats itself sloppily over this piano-based trap beat, that doesn’t really go anywhere at all. In fact, if left on its own, one could consider this a bit of a feat: gawk in awe at Lil Nas X trying and failing to inject life into an amateur YouTube remake of “HUMBLE.” made by a guy with 12 subscribers! Yet due to the promising, alien outro from Gesaffelstein, we know that more effort could have been put into this to make it much more unique and refreshing, and his springy synth bounce lingers throughout the rest of the track, especially that pre-chorus, as a tease for something to come, which would be promising if that “something to come” wasn’t the absolute lowest barrier of entry for decent music: being interesting. Again, don’t get your hopes up.
#46 - “Alibi” - Ella Henderson featuring Rudimental
Produced by Aidan Glover, Cliff Masterson, Rudimental and Punctual
It is with the deepest of sighs that I say the late Coolio’s iconic Dangerous Minds soundtrack cut “Gangsta’s Paradise”, that has long outlasted its film companion, debuted at #1 upon release in 1995 and stayed there for two weeks total, and has returned intermittently to the UK Singles Chart since 2009 due to just how great of a song it is, a timeless Stevie Wonder flip with L.V. on the chorus and some of the most harrowing yet accessible conscious verses that have ever appeared on a chart hit. Ella Henderson, we are not doing this. Why Rudimental decided to credit themselves onto this… thing they barely produced is beyond me, because this is a worthless parody of the original, a dead-on-arrival concept with little respect for its source material… but that makes it sound cool, doesn’t it? It makes it sound risky, like it’s trying new things, when in reality, that’s far from the case. Ms. Henderson copies inflections and melodies directly from L.V., who already took them from Stevie, and replaces the lyrics with meaningless relationship platitudes. The beat is stock drum and bass, the main lead sample is from the most famous and memed part of the song. This kind of song makes me question whether I can even consider it art at all because what human aspect could have possibly been involved in this? Ella’s singing, sure, but not only are the vocals touched-up in post, it’s not like she or her choir care all too much about emoting these lyrics, and they really shouldn’t. Sure, a human - or several, according to the credits - programmed this song, but would you really be surprised if it was done algorithmically based on a TikTok search of the original song? I love sampling, it’s possibly the most interesting thing about popular music past the 1990s, but some reinventions are little more than fleeting insults at artists not alive to repel them. The man rejected Weird Al’s parody and even after he’d lightened up about that, I have serious doubt he would sign off on this garbage. May he rest in peace - I personally really love his other single “Fantastic Voyage”, maybe even more than “Gangsta’s Paradise”, and I’ll always remember his voice performance as the Kwanzaabot in Futurama. This? I’m trying not to remember it. Hopefully the UK can realise this for its cheap distasteful novelty and leave it buried in the dregs of Spotify where it belongs.
#42 - “Heather on the Hill” - Nathan Evans
Produced by Alan Jukes and Stevie Jukes
I’m… genuinely surprised Nathan Evans is still popping up, especially with a song like this. The title may be referring to the song of the same name in the 1947 musical Brigadoon, set in the Scottish Highlands, perhaps most well known in its version by Grace Kelly. Now that is a beautiful composition with a surprisingly frail performance in the verses that really gives a lot of lackadaisical charm to the track, even if I’ve never even heard of the musical before. This track by everyone’s favourite sea-shantier has nothing to do with that song. The traditional Scottish folk strings may interpolate the original slightly but this is a pop song through and through, with Lewis Capaldi-esque vocal and guitar production, it’s all compressed and staccato and aimless but at least you can tell Evans is Scottish given all the references which would seem tacky if there weren’t just so many of them, and Hell, I’m not Scottish, I can’t judge how a Scotsman expresses his Scottishness. There is a great dramatic charm in the absolute joyfulness this seems to at least want to display, especially with the Scottish folk chaos in the back of the mix and Evans just giving it all he can. In fact, I kind of love this: it’s an adorable love song that ends very abruptly for no good reason, is littered with little Scottish lyrical details, and whilst it doesn’t hit the same as the song from the musical, it’s going for an entirely different vibe: one of folkish lovestruckness and awe, admiration. This feels like a first crush, if my first crush was from Orkney. She wasn’t, of course, but I can dream; both songs I discovered from this entry I appreciate in largely different ways but are pretty admirable all the same.
#27 - “n.h.i.e.” - 21 Savage and Doja Cat
Produced by Kurtis McKenzie, Scribz Riley, Jonah and Nineteen85
Okay, so 21 Savage released a new album, american dream, last Friday, and it debuts at #2 on the UK albums chart, with three new songs debuting here because the entire album was new material, and quite frankly, next to none of it fit the concept of the album, and that includes pretty much everything we have here. It’s really frustrating when ambition, especially conceptual ambition, seems to be promised and whilst the product itself is completely fine, serviceable and in the case of this 21 album, frankly quite good, it does not abide by the ideas that were presented in, say, the introduction, the soundtrack connection, how 21’s mother appears on both the opener and closer to speak frankly about her experiences and how they relate to her son’s, especially in regards to travelling from London to the US. Given that 21’s finally gained US residency and this seemed like his way of commemorating his escape from the confusing citizenship debacle, wherein he can be proud of both his British and American heritage, I was quite disappointed when it was 90% a typical rap album with soul samples, trap beats, flexing on haters, having sex with women, killing people in comical detail and even having a second half largely consisting of R&B just for the ladies, I suppose. With all that, like I said, I enjoyed the album! 21 is a lyrically and vocally quite fun presence nowadays, and the production was incredibly cohesive in its sound despite trying out some different rhythms and vibes throughout. It is, by all means, a good 21 Savage album, but if you’re hoping for more than that, again, don’t get your hopes up. As for the tracks that debuted, they are by far the least interesting and actually some of my least favourites. This one has an eerie guitar lick but also Doja Cat all over the track just whispering and distractingly so, with 21 kind of on autopilot, even if his short verse is pretty good. Doja is doing the whole quirked-up not-a-rapper schtick with the “ad-lib!” ad-lib and basic flow accentuated by again, those multi-tracked whispers and outright refusal to write a verse of considerable length. It’s just lazy on mostly her part but pretty much everyone else as well, there’s little to care for here.
#23 - “née-nah” - 21 Savage, Travis Scott and Metro Boomin
Produced by Metro Boomin
Why is the song called that? Anyway, this is my least favourite track easily. You have a straight minute of Travis wasting my time - without the Auto-Tune, without the spacey production, without the atmospheric concepts and ambition, who even IS this guy, really, other than an unconvincing cornball who never decides on a solid flow and fills up time with ad-libs, including some weird Westside Gunn riffing this time around? Also, considering how much time he’s spent with Kanye, I’m getting slightly worried to who this villainous “they” he’s referring to in this verse all the time might actually be, he’s been oddly defensive and conspiratory since UTOPIA at least. This is a completely serviceable Metro beat, though it actually gets kind of hard on the ears midway through due to that shrill sample that doesn’t really have much to blend with when the chopped, vintage sample isn’t present. It’s a shame that the rest of the track is pretty much garbage because 21 delivers some of his most violently funny and out-of-pocket verses on this whole album, with a cold-as-Hell chorus and lines about Virgil Abloh and Usher that hit pretty hard as punchlines. Again, a shame it’s all placed here on what was for everyone else, a throwaway track.
#19 - “Eagle” - D-Block Europe and Noizy
Produced by Da Beatfreakz
DBE sold like 10 million USB sticks or something, their album is #1 yet here’s their sole track in the top 75. Now this is the kind of so-bad-it’s-enjoyable DBE I like to hear, with Beatfreakz on production, an unusually long, minimal intro, an array of deranged ad-libs, terrible Auto-Tune, Young Adz stammering helplessly and not understanding how disparate some of the consecutive lyrics are from each other. He barely sticks to a coherent flow and starts the chorus with declaring that he thinks he’s Albanian, but he doesn’t enunciate so it sounds like he just calls himself the country of Albania. We even have Dirtbike Lb going for a verse that completely washes whatever Youthful Advertisement was doing, he actually kind of kills his verse, it’s impressive. The flow switch is much clearer and well-done than whatever Adz tries his hand at, his slurring and naturally slow, droning delivery is used to its best extent here. Oh, and like half the song belongs to this one extended verse from an actual Albanian rapper, Noizy, who goes in… I think? He says near the end, “I’m Albanian, you’re not supposed to like me” and I really don’t know what to make of that, or this song in general, it’s kind of a fascinating mess with some genuine flow highlights but mostly just bizarre choices. In that regard, classic DBE.
#11 - “redrum” - 21 Savage
Produced by London on da Track and Peeb
My favourite track from this album is “see the real”, a sassy, witty and dismissive hyphy-esque bop that inflects a lot of melody into 21’s sound but not enough to dissuade you from his cold demeanour. Some of my other favourite tracks include the sincere PSA “dark days”, the needlessly catchy R&B track “should’ve wore a bonnet” and yeah, “redrum” has none of what I just described. It’s pure violence, it got the music video set in London, so here it is, with its Italian classical music sample in the intro that just eventually forms into a menacing, unchanging loop. It sounds great, but with the caveat that it also just sounds like that the whole time. If 21 weren’t generally an incredibly compelling and more importantly convincing presence as a killer on the mic, this would be a pretty unimpressive beat, so it really shows how much better an instrumental can sound when the right pocket’s found, and for 21, who is on his A-game punchline and ad-lib wise on this track, it seems almost effortless. I’ve obviously not got much else to say about this song or the album as a whole, but I do think it’s a shame that its most unique and enlightening moments didn’t make their way to the charts, or that they were so few and far between to begin with. Hey, at least we didn’t get any shreds of that terrible Kid Cudi project, right? Sheesh.
#2 - “yes, and?” - Ariana Grande
Produced by Ariana Grande, Max Martin and ILYA
It’s fine. I know it’s the big story of the week but there’s nothing too celebratory, triumphant, badass or even interesting about this comeback single from Ariana, that clearly goes for an attitude it couldn’t fully commit to, given the cheaper-than-usual sounding vocaloid chop behind the diva house pianos and a cooing that sems to miss the point of its own genre. Lyrically, it’s self-motivation but I mean, we have “BREAK MY SOUL”, and the genuinely experimental and explorative RENAISSANCE from just two years ago, we really don’t need a lacklustre Ariana Grande rendition of this genre, especially when she’s completely phoning it in. She’s not someone who’s meant to chant mantras, that’s not the kind of loose, parading singer she is, it’s why she never worked on trap beats. The spoken word bridge is pitched-up - because sure, Ariana needs pitching up of all singers - and practically egregious: going for the censor during the Ethan Slater-related line is exactly the “serve” it was intended to be, given that it’s the one time the song actually feels like it exists, but it also just drills this hole further that Ari cannot sell this at all, and should absolutely not be trying to when the audience, even if invested in the “I’m fucking the SpongeBob guy” drama, cannot find themselves motivated by because, well, last time I checked, the only other person fucking the SpongeBob guy was the mother of his child. If someone can point me to the passion and empowerment in this song and its seven other versions instead of a lingering tinge of desperate acting-out, please do, because every listen just leaves an even sourer note in my mouth. Ugh, let’s move on.
Conclusion
I actually did not dislike “yes, and?” before writing this episode, but several listens and caring to look at the lyrics more have really prevented me from enjoying it the way I wanted to so, yes, it will get the Dishonourable Mention, with the Worst of the Week being so obvious I really don’t have to say it, do I? Best of the Week goes to Marshmello and venbee for “No Man’s Land” with an Honourable Mention to Nathan Evans of all people with “Heather on the Hill” and I suppose that’s it. It was a bit of a long ordeal this week, but thank you for reading, see you… a bit earlier than next Friday, I think, but still, next week.
#uk singles chart#pop music#song review#ariana grande#21 savage#american dream#d-block europe#noizy#travis scott#metro boomin#doja cat#nathan evans#ella henderson#rudimental#lil nas x#marshmello#venbee#yg marley#lauryn hill#michael marcagi
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( muse j / 25 / cis woman / she, her, hers ) — did you see CARLOTA “LOTTIE” HERNANDEZ PÉREZ wandering around the island today? they kind of look like BECKY G from certain angles? i heard around town that the RECEPTIONIST is CLEVER, and FRANK, but also CYNICAL, and INSENSITIVE. people say that they remind them of LAST NIGHT’S SMUDGED EYELINER, A SHINY UMBREON, and A FERAL KITTEN, and DISLOYAL ORDER OF WATER BUFFALOES by FALL OUT BOY is definitely their theme song. they seem like a nice enough person, but we all know how hard it is to keep a pristine reputation in a small town. ( admin jay / 26 / cst / she, her, hers )
✧*・゚𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒂��𝒉𝒚
first of all, lottie wants to butt in and inform you that it’s lottie, not carlota––and if that’s too difficult for you to remember, don’t talk to her at all. this is not a joke. you have been warned.
clearly, this attitude stems from somewhere, and it’s from being the middle child of her family of four (( ya girl had to get attention Somehow )). she has an older sister who she loves to hate and hates to love, and a younger brother who takes after every early 2000s disney channel show’s annoying little brother character. lottie was the resident goth stuck in the middle.
her dad split when she was in middle school with no explanation and left her mom to pick up the pieces and his massive credit card debt. lottie’s really close to her mom, but her mom is kind of a mess lmao. her mom writes trashy romance novels, and she’s really whimsical and fun...but she’s also impulsive and forgets when the bills are due.
a lot of that is because her mom grew up really quickly. her grandparents expected her mom to be perfect from a very young age, so her mom reverted to the child she never got to be once she got away from her parents––but y'know...we don't talk about generational trauma in this household.
lottie assumed the responsibility of being her mother’s keeper, and she’s pretty jaded because of it tbh. lottie vc: if you want something done At All, do it yourfuckingself.
she was Super motivated in high school and college. like she had to be the best at everything in school, and she had to get into the best universities with the best programs to prove to the world how fucking great she was.
it worked for a while. she graduated valedictorian from high school and with honors from boston u, and then she got accepted into the harvard medical program. she lasted a year and then flunked out.
lottie doesn’t talk about it ever bc like she’s so fucking humiliated that she failed, so most people wouldn’t know she went to med school at all. she kind of gave up on life after she dropped out of harvard.
her dreams were crushed, so when the hotel was hiring just about anyone with a bachelors to be a receptionist, she applied so that she’d have a paycheck to buy video games and comic books.
thanks for coming to my ted talk.
✧*・゚𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕
so i know you aren’t technically Supposed to open with a disclaimer, but, disclaimer–lottie is annoying as fuck for a variety of reasons:
1) if you get to know her, she doesn’t shut up. like, i’m just apologizing for her in advance. even when she got her tonsils out, she just used a text to speech app to pontificate on eeveelutions and jason todd despite Many protests to stop.
2) she’s incapable of admitting she’s wrong. it will never ever happen. you know that scene in malcom in the middle where they show lois the tape of her pulling out in front of the car when the cop pulled her over, and she was like the tape is wrong. that’s lottie–and she’d like to point out that lois was proven to be right, thank you very much.
she’s a giant nerd. obvi. she’s obsessed with quantum theory, organic chemistry, and biology, specifically, but also, y’know, ridiculous superheroes and anime.
she’s also a punk nerd; music is v, v important to her. her favorite bands are probably fall out boy pre-mania, blink before tom delonge left for the final time, green day always, the offspring, and sum 41. pls roast her. who does she think she is.
also, not a personality trait but v important, she was a goth in high school, and not a cool one lmao.
she doesn’t believe in relationships bc she’s like that’s so much effort for so little reward, so she mostly sleeps around with men who she knows are completely wrong for her no matter the consequences.
she’s a not-so-secret pessimist. it’s v annoying, and i’m sorry.
✧*・゚𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅
best friend: ( m, f, nb ), squad ( m, f, nb), childhood friends: ( m, f, nb ), roommates: ( m, f, nb ), fwb: (m, nb), casual hookups ( m, nb), ex: ( m, nb )
all the connections tbh. slide into my dms, or like this and i’ll hit you up !
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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
#kwritersworldnet#johnny seo x reader#johnny suh x reader#nct scenarios#nct x reader#johnny angst#johnny fluff#kpop angst#kpop scenarios#kpop au#nct au#nct 127 x reader#nct 127 scenarios#IM FINALLY DONE THIS IS SO OVERDUE#god im so happy sdhskdjsh
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Congratulations on 500 followers!! Could you do nr 2 with Tom please <3
thankyou <33 im very in my feels abt friends to lover atm, so ik this is a completely unoriginal concept but here we are
warning: nothing much- maybe homesickness? (+ the fact tom has poor choice in popcorn )
^^^ sorry I couldn't not put this on here and I will reuse it lots n lots
/////////////////////////
“Right I got two options annnnddddd there is only one correct answer.” Tom hummed up at you, pulling his tired gaze away from the phone screen and up towards the kitchen where you were standing triumphantly - having just raided his cupboards. From behind your back you whipped out a bag of popcorn in each hand.
“Sweet…. or salty?” Sighing with a small chuckle Tom shook his head at your playfulness. He didn’t know how you did it but you always always made his smile.
“I’m not a psychopath…” You huffed in relief, already turning around to throw the salty back in the cupboard where it belonged. “So salty of course.”
You were trapped in a house with an absolute psychopath.
You scowled at him, for having such poor taste, expecting some sort of argument to start. That wasn’t the case though, instead he just stared at you expectantly.
He must really really be unhappy.
You’d sensed it on set that morning - it wasn’t hard to miss. Not when it was your best friend, who for the past two months you’d been spending at least 6 hours a day with whilst shooting. Even when you were supposed to have a day off, when Tom had some solo shots or vice versa, you’d still come to keep the other company. It didn’t make sense but you both just sort of liked it that way.
This wasn’t your first rodeo working together either. Your first joint project had been almost four years ago, when both of you were barely adults, still figuring everything out. Ever since it had been bumping into each other every so often, always with an easy and effortless relationship.
Your current director had noted your chemistry at an awards show (the man never switched off) and decided in that moment he HAD to cast you together for a project. And a year later, here you both were, shooting in Australia for what was set to be a record breaking new release.
And it had been going great - better than great even. But as soon as Tom had shown up to makeup this morning, you’d known something was up. It was fair to assume it was something from home, maybe even just a bit of homesickness, or perhaps something more severe. Either way, the situation was probably exacerbated by the fact he didn’t have his brother or bestfriend or manager or normal syltist with him right now. Tom was pretty renowned within the industry for always having a massive entourage - which was normally made up with his family and friends. This time though he was going it solo.
Today had been long and you’d had to do press at stupid oclock in the morning last night for your current release - which meant your plan had always been to leave promptly and collapse into bed as soon as physically possible.
But Tom needed your company. So you hadn’t. Instead, you’d somewhat subtly invited yourself to his rented house for a movie night - blaming it on your director wanting you both to study the relationship dynamics in ‘out of sight’ (a J Lo and Clooney romance movie).
“You think you know a person and then they loose all your respect… just like that.” You sigh jokingly, gesturing to the bag of ‘foul’ popcorn your costar seemed to like.
“Well we’ve come to a crossroads.”
“It’s been nice knowing you but this…” you scoffed and dramatically rolled your eyes “… I see no way out.”
“Isn’t it better if we have a bag each? Then I might manage to actually get some before you scoff them all.”
You yelped in protest, though really you were just grateful he was still up for a bit of a laugh. He had been much less jokey the whole day, though was seeming to warm up a bit.
Once you had poured the two bags of popcorn into two separate bowels and prepared the film on TV; you plopped yourself onto Tom’s sofa, so your back was against the corner and your feet were over his lap (it wasn’t weird, just normal for the two of you). Instinctively, Tom lightly grabbed your ankles, repositioning you on his thigh slightly before leaning across the pull the blanket over the both of you. Whilst he smoothed out the crinkles in the fluffy navy fabric you took the opportunity to poke your toe into his side - garnering his attention.
“I take it you don’t wanna talk about it?” After he froze, Tom then nodded jerkily. “But if you change your mind, you know I’m here right?” His demeanour changed at your second statement as his body literally sagged into the cushions, with a grateful if small smile.
He respond by mouthing an ‘I know’ and that was enough for you. Shuffling down the side a bit you pressed play, settling in for the evening. Tom still had a hand resting on your ankles, occasionally rubbing his thumb up and down the bony bit.
Honestly you didn’t really see what your director was going on about when he raved about their on screen chemistry and it seemed that neither did Tom. It wasn’t a scathing commentary that gave it away, instead it was his silence. Which you quickly realised was the he had drifted off, his head lolling a little so he was facing you, palms now completely lax on your legs. It was whilst you were just taking in the sight before you, that a buzzing cut through the otherwise soft noise from the TV - which you had turned down for Tom’s sake.
It wasn’t your phone but you instinctively still reached for it from the coffee table and seeing that the name just read “Harry H” you thought it’d be fine to answer.
“Harry?” You whispered into the receiver, slightly cupping your hand round your mouth just to make sure you weren’t too loud for Tom.
“Hello?”
“Harry it’s me”
“Who?” You’d met Harry countless times, though given the fact Tom had been alone all shoot - you shouldn’t of expected the kid to be able to recognise your voice.
“Oh sorry Y/n um Y/n L/n”
“Oh no my fault sorry Y/n. How are you?” The conversation was jilted, you could practically feel the awkward energy radiating all the way from the otherside of the world.
“I’m alright thanks, how about you.”
“Yeh not bad I uhm… I - is my brother there?” Oooh. How to answer that question.
“Um sort of, we er… we were having a movie night and he’s fallen asleep. It’s why I’m whispering like a weirdo.” Harry laughed at that and you continued. “Is everything okay? You need me to wake him?”
“No no, mum just said he was having a rough time so was going to cheer him up with my exquisite sense of humour but if you’ve bored him to death then no need.”
“What can I say I’m just talented. Anyway I should be heading back to mine anyway so um I’ll let you go?”
“Oh yeh no worries, and uhm thanks-um thanks for keeping an eye on him.”
“Someone has to” You chuckled softly back, before bidding a final farewell to Harry.
Having hung up the phone, you leaned over to gently place it back on the coffee table but making a mental note to put it on charge before you left. Your next job was to manoeuvre your legs away from him without disturbing him but before you could even start planning the movement, you noticed his weary eyes blinked over at you. Freezing, your mouth made a little ‘o’ shape as you winced at yourself for disrupting his peace - today really wasn’t the day for that. There was a silence as Tom swallowed thickly, attempting to shake off the heavy lull of rest before he spoke. “Will you stay with me… please.”
Undoubtedly, your body didn’t play it as cool as you wanted it to. Thinking you’d heard him wrong, your chin protruded forward and his eyes widened. “ Sorry not like-not like that just um-just on the sofa… theres-theres spare blankets and I can-“
“-course T, no worries…Oh and um your brother just phoned if you-“
“I know.” He spoke softly and with a nod, but didn’t move at all, apparently no interest in calling his brother back.
With a stammered nod, you stood up, finally removing your legs from his touch in order to nip to the loo. You splashed your face with water, ate some toothpaste ( better than not brushing your teeth at all) before going to collect Tom’s quilt off his bed. By the time you re-entered the living room, Tom hadn’t appeared to have moved at all. The hood of his purple jumped was still up, the blanket still only half covering him, the excess lying cold were you had been sitting. He laughed lightly at you trying to wrangle with the king size duvet and get it in without tripping over yourself or knocking anything over.
“You sure you don’t mind? I’m just being stupid and-“
“Honestly I’m too tired to walk back to mine so this is perfect.”
“You live across the road.”
“Thats like 50 steps too far.” You deadpanned back, as he raised his eyebrows and locked you direct eye contact - which you very stubbornly returned.
The both of you sat like that for a minute, Tom eventually gave up with a sigh as he motioned for you to lie back.
There wasn’t an issue at all with space. A listers rental homes were never lacking in space - the grey sofa was a U shape, with ample space for the both of you to lie down. Each of you took a respective corner, your legs meeting in the middle and gently brushing against each others.
“Thanks for babysitting me today by the way.”
“I wasn-“ You were about to deny it, except one look and Tom saw straight through you.
“Thankyou Y/n/n” Seeing there was no way out of receiving his thanks, you instead opted to just shut him up. Nudging his leg with yours and leaving it touching you murmured you last words of the evening - eyes already closed.
“Fuck off Holland, ‘m tryna sleep.”
~~~~ let me know if you have any feedback or anything (but pls not too mean this isn't proof read so blame that) <33 ~~~~~~
tagging : @thefernandasantana @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove @msmimimerton @thegirlwiththeimpala
#tom holland fluff#tom holland x reader#tom holland#tom holland blurb#harry holland#tom holland fic#tom holland x you#tom holland x y/n#tom holland angst#peter parker
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Gojo Satoru A to Z
Do I need to explain? I doubt it.
A = Aftercare
Aftercare with gojo is as light hearted as he is, he’s chatting you up as he grabs the towel and you’re drinking water
B = Body Part (fav of theirs and fav of their partners)
I would think for him it’s his legs. Man is 97% legs 3% body lol and on a partner I see him being a hips kind of man, something about grabbing onto them just gets him going
C = Cum
The question isn’t does he cum, the real question is where is he cumming? Cum amount is average, with a preference for cumming on you(like face or chest, or ass)
D = Dirty Secret (of theirs)
He’s a fucking vouyer and no one can tell me otherwise. He lives for being a peeping tom and watching you shower or undress without knowing he’s there. There’s just something so naughty about it, and he loves to watch you when you think you’re all alone
E = Experience (how experienced are they and do they know how to clap cheeks)
Oh he fucks, believe that lol he knows how to get down with the get down
F = Favorite Position
Good ol’ missionary so he can make out, but your legs are vice gripped around his waist as he fucks
G = Goofy (are they serious or are they clowns)
Do I even need to say this mans is the biggest clown in the circus next question
H = Hair (how well groomed are they)
I’m getting hairless king energy lmao and not even on purpose, like he just doesn’t grow body hair like that and the little that he does grow on the pubic region he shaves off
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect)
On a scale of 1 to 10 intimacy, 10 being the highest, I give gojo a maximum of 7. He has serious potential, but sex is really just fun for him, so why bog it down with needless seriousness
J = Jack off (how often are dicks in hands)
If he wasn’t busy being a teacher and a sorcerer, I would say everyday. But since he has a busy schedule, I think he could allow like 3 jack offs per week
K = Kink
Bondage is way too obvious of a kink for him, I think he’d be into crying. But not in a sad way, just you crying from too much pleasure with tears down your cheeks :)
L = Location (fav place to clap cheeks)
I think in the hallway right outside the bedroom, because it has the air of ‘you’re so close to getting to the bed but any second longer without his cock stuffed inside you and he would have gone crazy’
M = Motivation (what gets it up and keeps it up)
I think like any normal person, some good heavy petting and making out really does it for him, he doesn’t need a bunch of things to get him hard
N = NO (something they won’t do/turn offs)
I can’t see him having any no’s, honestly. Tries anything once
O = Oral (preference in giving/receiving, skill, allathat)
Why go one at a time when you can 69? Slight preference on receiving over giving, but it’s only 1% lol he could go down for hours
P = Pace (how fast are we clapping cheeks)
Slightly faster than average, but not an ungodly speed
Q = Quickie (opinion on quickies vs proper fuckin and how often)
Yes a quickie give it to him lol he’s totally one to follow you to the bathroom at dinner and finger you real quick because you’re just so fucking hot
R = Risk (are we fucking in public or nah)
He is a risky ass man, guaranteed. Would fuck you in an alleyway right off a busy street if you wanted
S = Stamina (how many rounds like it’s a boxing match and he came here to BEAT IT UP!)
Max two rounds, but there’s a lot of build up during those rounds
T = Toys (do they own them, do they use them, on who and do they use a discount code)
Has one bullet vibrator, uses it on you to tease you, but other than that no
U = Unfair (how much they tease)
Once again on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the highest I give him a 10 and I do not need to explain further
V = Volume (are they screaming or serial killer silent)
Average amount of noise, he’ll moan if it feels good and get a little louder when he cums, and if you want him to make more noise during sex to kind of boost your confidence in what you’re doing, he has no problem with that
W = Wild Card (random sex shit I think of)
Going back to voyeurism, he will purposefully leave clothing out just so he can see you wearing it, bonus points if you have his hoodie on and no pants on and he sees you bend over. Cue the over dramatic anime nosebleed as he passes out on the floor with an instant hard on
X = X-Ray (what the schmeat looking like?)
Even though he’s 6.3ft/190cm, I don’t think his dick is like crazy big. If I had to put a measurement, it’d be 6in when hard and on soft as well
Y = Yearning (how strong is the desire to clap thou cheeks)
Oof he wants to fuck like every night, but logistically that’s unrealistic, so he’ll settle for 3 or 4 times a week
Z = ZZZ (how quick they fall asleep once nut has been dispensed)
Unless it’s sleepy morning sex, he doesn’t go to bed that easily. He needs aftercare, and at least a couple minutes of pillow talk before he feels comfortable going to sleep
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru smut#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen fanfic
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T O M H O L L A N D B L U R B S
tom holland masterlist / full masterlist
(arranged from oldest to newest in each category)
smut indicated by *
p r o m p t s :
fluff
“no, i don’t know how i got a boner, it just kind of happened! it’s because of how you were eating that ice cream, i bet!”
“i’m personally offended that you didn’t get me to be your fake date.” + “i’m personally offended that you didn’t get me to be your fake date.”
"I accidentally called you my girlfriend/boyfriend today."
“stop doing that tongue thing, it’s strangely attractive.” + “i just kissed you because i didn’t know what else to do.”
“i’m too sober for this.” + “it’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”
“there’s so much blood” + “hold my hand until it’s over?”
“she’s in your bed, isn’t she?” + “why didn’t you call me?”
“i could punch you right now.” + “we’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” + “i’m too sober for this.“
smut/smutty
“sometimes i feel like i wanna make out with you, is that a friend thing to do?” + “i keep telling him we’re not dating, but they keep saying that friends don’t usually make out when they’re drunk”
“you’re not going out in that outfit.” + “don’t make me take you home and punish you.”
“c’mere, you can sit on my lap until i’m done working.” + “what? does that feel good?”
“come here.” + “make me.” + “behave.”
“i’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.” + “mine.”
“you’re in trouble now.” + “take off your clothes.”
“you can’t tease me like that and expect not to be punished“ + “your ass is going to be seven different shades of red after that little stunt.”
“i didn’t know you were so sensitive.”
b l u r b s :
fluff
you’re not ready to go all the way and tom reassures you that he doesn’t mind
tom’s off his game at work and a surprise visit from you fixes everything
when you and tom get dared to kiss during truth or dare with the spider-man cast, your secret relationship is revealed
when his agent doesn’t think you’re good for his image because of your size, tom doesn’t think twice about defending you
prince!tom falls for his maid
tom reacts to your shaved head
tom gets really affectionate when he’s drunk
a picture of you and tom at a sex shop goes viral
your waitress flirts with you when you’re out with tom and he gets jealous
your tom’s doctor but he wants to see you one day for a reason other than a broken nose
you get sick while tom is away filming and he’s sad that he can’t take care of you
you get emotional watching onward with tom and he thinks it’s adorable
the boys make fun of you for your donchaster accent, but tom thinks it’s cute
you post a cute video of you and tom kissing and break the internet
smut/smutty
shy and inexperienced tom cums too quickly
neighbor!tom sees you touching yourself through the window and comes over to help
you and tom fuck loud in the shower to piss of haz
you and tom left a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and haz cleans up after you, annoyed
snuggling with your boyfriends tom and haz, always leads to something more
threesome with tom and haz
enemies with benefits with tom
taking care of tom after a stressful day
you want to wait until marriage, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do other things
you get tipsy and admit what you, tom and haz have all been thinking
you and tom experiment with handcuffs
the two outcomes when you tease tom too far in public
being roommates with benefits with tom
soft lazy morning sex
enemies to lovers
tom calling you babygirl for the first time
you find out that tom had a sex dream about you
you and tom can’t agree on who gets to be on top
the boys tease you for all the marks tom left on you the night before
tom teases you during a fancy event
a threesome with tom and shawn mendes
tom is a giver and really likes going down on you
teasing tom until he almost comes in his pants
you ride tom for the first time
tom having semi-public kink
a lazy day on the couch with tom turns steamy
tom likes seeing his name on your shirt
skype sex doesn’t exactly go as planned
tom gets jealous of your sex scene with haz in your new movie
you tease tom at an award show
tom teasing you on the red carpet
you and tom often play a game of cat and mouse and tonight is no different
you distract tom while he’s cooking
you eat a peach and tom wonders what you taste like
you and tom feel guilty for having loud sex all the time so you invite harrison to join in on the fun
tom gives you way more than a new year’s kiss
you and tom try fisting
haz teaching tom how to please you
you overhear tom brag about his sex life
tom takes polaroids of you after a good night
you ride tom while he’s on the phone
threeway with haz
you tease tom during a family barbeque
you sit on tom’s face
you’re greedy but tom doesn’t mind
tom gets turned on seeing his cum leak from your pussy
you release a music video to your song ‘nasty’ and you and tom take the lyrics to heart
you and tom practice for your sex scene
after you release your song 34+35, you and tom 69 for the first time
after a rough day of shooting cherry, sometimes all tom needs is to bury his head between your thighs
you post thirst traps on your insta and tom flies over to remind you who you belong to
you lose weight and tom is proud of you
you’re shy but tom wants you to be more vocal
making love with tom in front of the fireplace
dom!tom
tom telling you what he’s going to do to you while you’re at dinner with friends
sugardaddy!tom buys out the store and has you try on lingerie for him
tom fucking you in his childhood bedroom
you’re a stripper and tom recognizes you at the club
you tease tom by wearing a very revealing dress
tom watches you touch yourself
plane sex
car sex
tom overstimulates you
tom gets needy after not being able to fuck you for a week
you’re being a brat and tom punishes you
tom puts you in your place at a halloween party, in front of the window
tom gets jealous and fucks you hard
tom teases you all day but the outcome makes it all worth it
messing around with tom while he’s doing zoom press
sub!tom
riding tom makes him submissive
tom gets jealous of the child you’re babysitting, and you calling him baby boy doesn’t help
you touch yourself in front of tom when he’s not allowed to touch you or himself
e m o j i b l u r b s :
fluff
🥰🌸💕
🧸⛈💋
😂🍓🥵
🐸🍺🏝
smut
🌊🏄♂️🏝
⛳️
😏😳🥶
🥇👄💄 (only mentions of smut)
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I love tour work sm! Please could you do a sfw alphabet for Tom?
Author’s note: yeees omg !!! I’ve been waiting for this one ! Turn in up ! 😂 (thank you for your compliment btw, means the world to me ❤️)
Masterlist
_____________
A = Attraction (how do they show their attracted to you?)
Compliments, a lot of them, all the time. He wants you to feel like the most beautiful thing in the world and it started before you even started dating. He was just so pleased by your smile when he was complimenting you so he never stopped since then.
He also tease you a lot, but it’s never in a rude way, as a genuine funny men it’s really just in his nature to annoy the persons he likes so he always make a little fun of you before making himself apologise to you by complimenting you. It’s his way of having your intention.
B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/why not?)
It’s a big YES ! You actually talked about it really seriously and considered having a family in a close future. Partly because Tom is already 33 years old so he don’t want to wait to much but also just because he knows you would do an amazing mother at his side.
Not that he wants to put pressure on you but he does talks about it a lot and likes to give slight clues that he wants to make a baby with you really soon. It’s actually a matter of time before you start expanding the family.
C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)
Tom’s favorite activity with you is probably it, he could spend his life cuddling with you. Something he loves to do is laying on the couch, his head on your lap as you play with his hair while you’re watching tv. He easily fall asleep in this position which can’t help but making your heart melt every time.
He also loves to lay in bed with you while you read your favorite book. You’ll have you head on his chest and it will be his turn to play with your hair or caress your skin, never failing to give you goosebumps.
D = Dates (What are dates like with them?)
Really cheesy and romantic, one thing he loves to do is prepare surprise meal so you’ll get back from work and discover the whole house decorated in a romantic ambiance. Candles, roses, warm light and Tom in his best costume. Than you’ll share the meal he either spent the whole day making and almost burn the house at least 3 times or pay someone to do it, but it’s always delicious anyway.
One day he brought you to a fairground and you both went back in childhood for a night it was magical ! One of your best date with Tom.
E = Emotions (Do they express their emotions? If so, how?)
Yes ! Tom is a very emotional person and you’re the only one that even if he wanted to, couldn’t hide they’re feeling. He’s also a really authentic person so if he’s happy he will smile and laugh with you but if he’s sad he won’t be scared to cry if front of you because he feels safe enough around you.
F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love)
One day he was just looking at you while you were telling him about your day while cuddling on the couch like you both love to do, and it just hit him, he realised how he loves to just sit and look at your beautiful face. He could listen to your voice for the rest of his life.
G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)
Yes, he’s the most gentle person in the world. Every time he touches you it’s always super soft and loving. He loves to caress your skin and never falling to give you chills down your spine.
He’s also super gentle in his words, he always careful of what he says to not hurt you or say something you could take wrongly.
H = Hands (Do they hold hands? If so, how?)
Yes, all the time, but literally ALL THE TIME. He just need to feel you hand in yours, so outside when you’re walking together he takes you hand, when you’re sitting on the couch, he takes your hand, even in public when there’s paparazzi following you around he takes your hand to make sure everyone knows you’re his.
Btw, Interlacing your fingers together is a must for him.
I = Impression (What was their first impression of you?)
The first thing he noticed about you is your smile, you directly seems like a sympathetic person which he loved. So he had a really good impression of you.
J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)
A little bit, like every relationship there’s always a bit of jealous when a guy compliment you a little too much but he genuinely trust you so you are not the person to make him jealous.
K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who intiated the first kiss?)
Kissing Tom is always soft, passionate and just full of love. Also, you do it all the time, it’s like he can’t get enough of your lips, he could kiss them for hours if he didn’t need to breath to survive.
He’s the one who kissed you first, he just couldn’t control himself anymore that night so he kissed you in a passionate and hungry kiss and let me tell you, it was the best kiss of your two lives.
L = Love language (What are their love languages?)
Affection, Tom gives you a lot of affection, he wants you to feel loved and appreciated. He likes to cover you with kisses all over your skin, or hug you for hours. He’ll never get enough of feel your body against his.
M = Mornings (Are they a morning person? What are they like in the morning?)
Definitely not a morning person, it takes him ages to wake up, you usually have to return in your room a few times for him to actually wake up. And when he’s up, he’s really grumpy and slow in his movement, it’s funny and cute to see and you love to annoy him in the mornings.
N = Nickel (Do they spoil you? Do they buy the person they love everything?)
Yes ! Your smile, is the most precious thing to him and he just love to see it when he buys you something. But, Tom offer gifts pretty rarely, one occasion like your birthday, Valentine’s Day, any important day in your couple and maybe a few times between them. But when he offers something it’s always full of meaning !
Like, one time he bought you a shelf necklace because one day, when you were at the beach without him, you took a shelf and brought it back to offer it to him.
O = Open (Do they say everything about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or overtime?)
Tom is a really open person, very talkative so even before you two were dating he already like to talk about his life considering the fact that he had a pretty crazy one. But it’s was mostly about his work and anecdotes on set etc. When he started catching feeling for you he felt comfortable enough to talk to you about more personal things like his past relationships or the problems he struggled with in the past and he just got you two even more close.
P = Patience (Do they have patience? Are they angered easily?)
Tom is the most patient guy on earth, You often wonder how he puts up with you. He needs a lot to get angry at you or anyone else, this is something you’re really wanting to learn from him.
Q = Quaint (What’s their favorite non modern thing to do?)
Take Polaroid pictures, he has that old camera that he carries everywhere and he takes photos of every moment he feels like to picture. He stock his photos in a little hidden box, sometimes you two like to open it again and just remember memories you made together. The pictures are mostly you and willow or him with you.
Your favorite picture is one you took the first night you slept at his house, you can see the naked man being the goofy Tom he is by walking out of the shower with a “hat” made of bubble from the bath you took together. It was hilarious and you two always laugh when you see the images.
R = Remember (What’s their favorite moment in the relationship?)
The first time you told him: “I love you” ! You said it without even realising it, it truly came from your heart and it surprised the both of us but it was such a important moment for Tom that he will never forget it.
S = Security (How protective are they?)
Tom is really protective, he cares about your security a lot and always gets worried when you’re about to do something dangerous and he only calms down when you’re safe again.
T = Talking (what do they like to talk about?)
Everything and anything as long as it means talking to you but the two subject he could talk for hours are dogs and music. You can sit in front of him and just nod a couple time without even responding and he would go on a full conversation about the different breeds of dogs and how they are amazing. And honestly it’s super cute to look at him all excited and passionate about these two subjects.
U = Ugly (Whats a bad habit of theirs?)
Does Tom even have defaults ? Oh yeah, He loves to devalue himself, for absolutely no reason. This breaks your heart every time and always comfort him so that he can love himself more. He’s so perfect to you that sometimes you don’t understand why he’s so hard on himself.
V = Vaunt (Do they like to show you off?
Yes...all the time, the little smile on his face every time he present you as his girlfriend is just too adorable. Then he would talk to everyone about amazing you are and how lucky he is to have you in his life. He’s just proud of himself and proud of your union.
W = Whole (Do they feel incomplete without you?)
Tom is a different person without you. When he has to leave to a set for a movie he looks a little sad. He misses you every time you’re not together and always count the days before retrieving you.
X = Xylophone (What’s a song that reminds of your guy’s relationship?)
It will rain - Bruno Mars
Z = Zzz (Are they a heavy or a light sleeper ?)
Heavy sleeper for sure, like said before you have to shake him up a few times before he actually make up so yeah. He loud snores can testify it !
#sfw alphabet#tom felton fluff#tom felton request#tom felton x reader#tom felton imagine#tom felton one shot
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would you do your own A-Z nsfw alphabet for tom?
funny you should ask, i was just thinking about this
(nsfw below the line, obviously tee hee)
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Okay look, Tom does aftercare but it’s subtle. He doesn’t outright ask if you feel alright after, he watches you very carefully, observing how you move and speak to make sure that he didn’t accidentally push you over the edge. He’s not a cuddly person but if you happen to rest your head on his chest, he’ll put an arm around your shoulder, maybe rub the smallest of circles in your back once you’re asleep.
If you spend the night and feel super sore in the morning, he’ll use his status as Head Boy to pull a few strings and get you excused from class. If you have somewhere you need to be, he’ll help you get dressed. If you take a shower right after, he’ll join you and wash your hair for you.
You know, simple things so no one catches him simping.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Tom loves your lips. He likes to watch them tremble and quiver as he makes a mess out of you. He loves the shape they make when you call out his name. He likes how soft they feel against his own because he’s the only one who gets to kiss you.
As for himself, Tom supposes that he likes his hands. He likes how they look wrapped around your neck and the power rush it gives him to be able to squeeze around your throat. It always makes you look so small underneath him.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Inside you, it makes him feel like he’s marking you as his or something. That being said, seeing it spread across your face also makes him smile.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He’s pretty straight forward with you about what he wants to do in bed but he does have a fantasy about bending you over and fucking you in front of his followers. It would be the ultimate power move but he never actually suggests it because he knows you probably wouldn’t go for it and he doesn’t really like the idea of his lessers seeing you naked, no, that’s just for him and him alone. So, I guess you could say that he’s a secret voyeur.
(and he turns into a cuddler when he’s asleep)
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Oh, Tom fucks. He knows what he wants to do and how to do it, no need to worry about that.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Probably having you bent over something or on his lap while he’s sitting up. Against the wall would also probably make his top ten. But having you underneath him is always a classic.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Tom is...sadistic. He likes to tease you, poke fun at how desperate you are, but he can also be very serious, especially if he’s jealous.
“Does Dolohov get to fuck you? Does he get to make you feel this good?”
“N-no, my lord! Only y-you do!”
“Mmh, that’s what I thought.”
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
I mean, Tom lived in the 40s so I doubt that anyone was clean shaven back then. He’s not too picky or worried about it, but I could see him keeping himself neatly trimmed.
Once he becomes Voldy, he just straight up doesn’t have any, lol.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
He’s not romantic but he lets you know that you’re the center of all his attention in the moment. He’s focused on you and only you.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Doesn’t do it often, doesn’t really see the point if he has you. Will indulge if you’re not up to a session or are otherwise unavailable.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Choking, of course, is one of his sadist go-tos. He doesn’t really do the whole ‘daddy’ thing but call him ‘sir’ or ‘lord’ and you’re in for a treat.
Tom will degrade and praise you at the same time. One minute he’s calling you a filthy little whore and the next, he’s telling you how good you’re being for him. He’s also the type to spit in your mouth.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Tom doesn’t really have a favorite spot to fuck you but he’s got some designated places for it. His bed naturally, the Room of Requirement is quite nice for it, the Chamber of Secrets if he’s feeling particularly powerful. One time you did it in the Forbidden Forest and it was surprisingly romantic. If someone pisses him off, he won’t hesitate to fuck you in their bed or their office (you can only hope that that phoenix doesn’t snitch to Dumbledore about what you did on his desk).
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Anger is one of his biggest motivators. Envy, pride and sheer boredom as well. If you’re in the mood, it’s not hard to get him in the mood. If he feels like he’s letting in too much emotion, he’ll probably end up fucking you to distract himself from it but sometimes that doesn’t really help because the way you look drifting off to sleep in his arms is so...
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Tom’s not really the type to have boundaries but he doesn’t like to beg and he won’t do anything you don’t want to. He won’t have sex with you if you’re too drunk to understand what you want, he much prefers it when you’re genuinely able to want him.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He likes receiving much more than giving (another reason why he loves your lips). There’s something about having you on your knees in front of him, looking up with an adoring expression that just drives him wild. He’ll let you do most of the work, but you can bet that he’ll have a hand in your hair the whole time.
While he doesn’t like to give you oral, he does enjoy fingering you.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Tom can go either way here, it depends on his mood. He likes to be rough, he’s not at all a very soft fellow, but sometimes he likes to hold you out for as long as possible or simply just be able to appreciate your lovely body.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
He’s not opposed to them at all but they’re not his favorite. He likes to plan things out ahead of time and take his time, but he won’t say no to a spontaneous blowjob in a supply closest or to fingering you before transfigurations.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Tom tends to be a creature of habit but he most definitely has an adventurous side to him. He’s willing to experiment, especially if it means experimenting with spells.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
He can go for several rounds, until he feels that he’s gotten everything he can out of it.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Not toys, necessarily, but his wand or better yet, your wand. If he’s got you tied up or immobile, he likes to drag it over your body or hold it to your throat to remind you whose in charge.
When will we finally get that book of sex spells
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Tom likes to tease quite a bit. He’ll let you squirm and beg for your release, he’ll make you earn it.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He’s not loud but god damn, does he make a lot of noise. Lots of grunting and growling in a low tone. Tom is, without a doubt, the king of dirty talk and has a way of making insults sound endearing. He likes to sound like he’s in control, even when he’s not.
You, on the other hand, he loves to hear you to come unfurled for him. He’ll make fun of your high pitched squeals and cries, but don’t be fooled, he lives to hear them.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
“I hate you, Riddle.”
“I find that hard to believe considering how much you’re whining right now.”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
“Not if you don’t show some respect.”
“Please shut up and fuck me, sir.”
“If you insist, darling.”
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
I feel like you have to have the biggest set of balls to do half of the shit that Tom does
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Very high, he’s a very horny bastard (unless he’s already busy with something).
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Tom doesn’t fall asleep right after. He waits until you’ve already drifted off and then lets himself have a few moments to admire you and think about how glad he is that you’re his. Just a few moments though, least he end up going soft.
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Tom and the reader at a party
And someone stares at her then tom gets jealous
Then tom starts fighting with the guy
(BTW u can add anything u want)
(Ik I'm dry😭)
Nah, i liked this one!
Read more here and request something here
Warnings: unwanted advances, slut shaming, victim blaming, harassment(like cat calling and saying reader a sl*t) Blood and fighting.
It was supposed to be a calm night, a fun night out with Tom and your friends to get drinks and dance, it was supposed to be relaxing, and it was oh it was a great time, until it wasn’t. You were standing at the bar with your palms flat on the wood that you were trying to avoid thinking about how sticky it was. You knew that Tom was near you, you just didn’t know exactly where, probably on the other end of the bar, hidden behind rows of people chatting with Harrison. You finally got the bartender's attention, leaning in closer to him so that you could assure he heard what you said, but just as you were about to open your mouth something interrupted you, well more like someone. A voice that on any other occasion would have been perfectly fine but in this moment sounded like the vocal embodiment of nails on a chalkboard, just something you don’t want around.
“What are you getting to drink?” the voice asked, making you look over your shoulder and lose the bartender to another patron.
“Well looks like nothing now, thanks” you bit at the man, he was taller than Tom but no more good looking, something you would describe as bland and if you had to guess probably had a name that started with J, Jackson or something.
“Aw, don’t be like that, let me buy you a drink and I can restart my first impressions” he offered with a smile but it resembled more of a sneer than anything else.
“Don’t be like what? Annoyed that you interrupted my ordering and now you’re trying to come on to me when I am clearly not interested” your words were harsh but you didn’t really know what else to do, this dude was really annoying you.
“You’re so much prettier when your mouth is shut” he spoke and his voice was like venom, annoying you to your very core but also making your skin crawl, you no longer felt safe in this guys presence but he was moving closer to you, motioning to trap you between the bar and his body, but just as he was about to press against you a hand gripped into his overly cologne soaked shirt, curling fingertips into his chest and pulling him away from you. Your eyes widened in shock as you looked up, seeing Tom holding a man much larger than him by the collar and delivering a blow to his cheek, letting the man fall to the floor.
“For fucks sake, what the hell?” The Jackson looking man spoke up, spitting out some pink saliva as he rubbed his jaw, Tom shook his hand out trying to rid the pins and needles that the blow had spread through his digits.
“What the fuck is with me? Really? No, what the fuck is with you, all creepy and gross and getting all up near my girlfriend” Tom seethed at the idiot in front of him.
“Sorry mate, she's not dressed like she has a boyfriend” Tom’s eyes widened comically as did yours.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, dressed kinda like a slag, ya know? An ea-” The man didn’t get to finish his sentence instead being cut off by a loud crunching noise as Tom delivered a jab straight to the guy's nose. The man fell back, yelling something incoherent as blood began to stream down his face but neither you nor Tom paid attention as Tom turned to you.
“You alright love?” he asked, throwing his coat around your shoulders and pulling you into him, pressing a kiss to your temple as he guided you out of the bar.
“Yeah, my guardian angel came and saved me” you smiled up at Tom, taking his hand and kissing his bruised knuckles.
“It’s a job I take very seriously” Tom assured, squeezing your shoulder and tucking you even more into him.
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