Blooming Blue [Pearl x Fem reader]

An explanation of sorts

A/n; Thank you as always for the support. I enjoy writing this fic but I do worry about pacing and stuff  which stresses me out. But I eventually do want to focus more on certain episodes and the show's over-arching storyline just with Pearl and the reader being girlfriends with some side plots. But also time skips make me sad. Idk dudes.

Thanks and be kind to yourself.

TW: Mentions of Addiction, drowning, overdose, (and my parental issues comforted through Greg.)

The thin flannel you wear over the Big Donut's uniform had suddenly begun to feel like a quilt, and the collar of the t-shirt felt constricting around your neck as it stuck to the sweat you now noticed coating your skin.

"Amethyst," Pearl's voice calls out from above. Startled, you turn your gaze towards her, only to witness a blur of Steven and Amethyst disappearing out the front door and down the deck steps, leaving you in a daze.

Pearl watches as you sway to the side, your head tilting towards the P.I. Your nose crinkles in a squint, brows inching together in no other expression than disgust. With your finger extended, your painted nail almost crawled into the man's tie, your body reacting with an instinctual need to protect yourself from this intrusion.

"You need to go," you manage to say, your voice wavering but firm. The words are directed at the investigator, but there was an underlying plea for this overwhelming situation to vanish, to be erased from existence.

Pearl steps forward, her graceful demeanor giving her an air of authority. "I agree with Y/n." she states firmly, her eyes locking onto the investigator's. "This is not the time nor the place for such accusations."

The investigator looks taken aback for a moment. "I understand your feelings, but I have a job to do," he replies. The man's hands rise in defense, his face relaxing as he shuffles in his suit jacket. "Miss Demayo." He reaches into a pocket, and out slips a small business card that's held out to you. "Your father is simply worried about you."

It's not until they're in your hands that you realize it's two cards stacked on top of one another. One reads Mr. Robinson's contact information, with the agency he works for.

The other is a crisp, creme color with clean black lettering of the company your father works under and his information for contact. With a simple handwriting of the words:

'Call me - Dad'

You may have well been his client instead of his daughter, with the way you both treated each other so distantly.

"Typical." You mumble under your breath, shoving the cards into your pocket.

"Please, if you will just contact him, that will solve most of the matters." The investigator spoke yet nothing that he was saying was easy. "He saids that he originally wanted to perform a wellness check on you the moment a location was discovered but he ultimately decided against it."